Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Himura estate loomed in front of him, a cold, imposing structure nestled among the frost-covered grounds. Enji Todoroki, a man of strength and ambition, wasn’t used to feeling discomfort, but today, as he approached the gates, there was an unsettling chill in the air. It wasn’t just the autumn wind; something about this place felt… otherworldly.

Enji’s purpose was clear. He was here to secure a future—a union that would elevate his bloodline and combine his quirk with one that could temper its destructive heat. A Quirk Marriage. He had heard of the Himura family’s ice abilities; their descendants were said to possess beauty as cold and untouchable as the frost they commanded. That was what he needed. An heir that could surpass even him.

But nothing had prepared him for **her**.

Rei Himura sat beside her father in the modest, sparsely decorated room, her presence as stark as the frozen garden beyond the windows. She wore a pale blue kimono, its soft fabric seeming to blend into her alabaster skin. Her long, silver hair was carefully arranged, but it was her eyes—eyes like frozen lakes—that captured Enji’s attention. 

Enji had expected her to be delicate, given what he knew of her quirk, but this woman was more than fragile. She was untouchable. Ice incarnate.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Todoroki-san," Rei's father began, his voice formal yet laced with hope. He was a man on the edge of desperation, and Enji could sense it in every word.

Enji barely heard the family head’s words. His focus was on Rei, her silence, her stillness. She sat there as though carved from ice, barely acknowledging the conversation happening around her. Her hands, resting in her lap, were pale, fingers delicately folded as if holding onto something fragile. Yet her stillness was unnerving. It was more than composure—it was detachment.

*Like she’s not truly here,* Enji thought, his gaze lingering on her frozen expression. Her mind seemed far away, wandering in some distant, unreachable place.

He broke his stare for a moment, directing his words to her father. “I am prepared to offer support to your family in exchange for a union with Rei-san. My goal is clear—our quirks combined will create an heir stronger than either of us. My quirk needs balance. Your family's ice... will provide that.”

Rei’s father nodded eagerly, the relief in his face poorly hidden. "Yes, yes, of course, Todoroki-san. The Himura family will be honored to strengthen its bond with your lineage. Our daughter... she understands her duty."

Enji’s eyes flicked back to Rei. She had not flinched, not even when her father spoke of her so plainly. There was no hint of rebellion or resistance, but neither was there any warmth or emotion. Her compliance was as cold as her demeanor.

*She is like ice herself,* he thought. Beautiful, but cold. Fragile, yet untouchable. 

Something about her unnerved him. Her quirk wasn’t the only thing chilling about her presence—it was something deeper. A shadow in her eyes. Enji prided himself on his strength, his ability to intimidate and dominate any situation, but Rei… she felt different. Not strong, not in the way he was, but there was something underneath her icy exterior that made him feel as though he were walking on thin ice.

Her gaze drifted, her eyes unfocused, as though she were looking past him, past everything in the room, into a place no one else could see. It gave him the strange sensation that she wasn’t fully present. What was she thinking? Where was her mind wandering?

"Rei," her father said softly, as though prodding her awake. "You understand the terms, don’t you?"

Slowly, almost languidly, Rei turned her gaze toward Enji, her eyes meeting his with the faintest flicker of awareness. For a fleeting moment, her expression softened. It was brief—so brief that Enji almost thought he imagined it. But then he saw it. A small, almost imperceptible smile when her gaze fell on the vase of flowers nearby. Tiny, delicate lilies of the valley. Her favorite flower, her father had mentioned in passing.

*She smiles for those?* Enji thought, strangely fascinated. A woman so cold, so distant, could smile for something so small? It made no sense. But that flicker of life in her eyes disappeared as quickly as it had come. She was ice again.

“I understand,” Rei finally said, her voice as soft as a winter breeze. There was no joy, no sadness, no anger. Just... emptiness.

Enji’s brow furrowed. She had agreed, but not because she desired the union. Her voice, her eyes—they spoke of duty, not love or ambition. She wasn’t like him. She didn’t burn with a desire for greatness or power. She was like a vessel, agreeing to this for her family’s sake, but nothing more.

“Then it is settled,” her father said, his tone almost reverent, as though Enji had bestowed a great blessing upon their family. “Our families will be united.”

Enji gave a curt nod, his mind racing with thoughts of the future, of the powerful children they would have, of the quirk he would pass on. But as he stood and prepared to leave, he spared one last glance at Rei.

She had returned to her distant, faraway stare, her mind drifting once again. Enji didn’t know what it was about her, but the feeling gnawed at him. Not just in her agreement to this marriage, but in her as a person. Something… hollow.

He would never admit it aloud, but the thought unsettled him.

As he left the Himura estate, the cold autumn air biting at his skin, Enji couldn’t shake the feeling that he had stepped into something far colder than he had anticipated. This marriage would serve his ambitions, but there was something in Rei—something beyond the ice and the stoicism—that he did not yet understand. And it unnerved him. 

She was cold, distant… and something about that felt dangerous.

Chapter Text

Enji had never considered himself the sentimental type. Ambition drove him; power was his singular focus. But when Rei told him she was pregnant, he had expected something—anything—more from her. Excitement, joy, maybe even a hint of fear. Instead, she had stood there in the doorway of their home, pale as ever, her face unreadable.

"I'm pregnant," she had said, as if reciting the weather. No smile, no flicker of emotion in her steel-grey eyes.

For a moment, Enji felt a strange hollowness—a discomfort at the way she delivered such significant news. He had nodded, grunted his approval, and returned to his training without another word. He thought that was the end of it. Rei was always distant, cold. That was who she was. Fragile and untouchable.

But as the days passed, something in Rei began to shift.

At first, it was subtle. Her gaze, once distant and vacant, seemed to focus more. She started to move differently, with a kind of lightness that had been absent from her before. Her pale, ghost-like presence warmed, ever so slightly. When he mentioned the baby in passing, she didn't simply nod and brush it off as she had with most things. Instead, she paused.

"What do you think?" she asked one evening over dinner, her voice softer than usual. "About what kind of clothes we should get for the baby?"

Enji blinked, caught off guard. Rei had never shown interest in such mundane matters. Her tone wasn't indifferent—it was curious. Gentle, even. And then she smiled, a small, fleeting thing, but genuine. He hadn't seen her smile in so long, and it stirred something strange within him.

As the weeks passed, her interest grew. Rei began talking more, asking him all sorts of questions about the baby's future, their room, and how they should design the nursery. At first, Enji brushed it off, but as her excitement grew, so did his quiet fascination with her transformation.

One evening, as Rei was folding a small piece of fabric she had prepared for the nursery, she started singing under her breath. It was soft, barely audible at first, but as he drew nearer, he could make out the strange, lilting melody.

"Pinky promise, pinky promise, your mother will protect you. I will protect you; I promise you that. Until you get big and strong."

Her voice was light and melodic, almost playful—an entirely foreign sound to Enji's ears. She glanced at him and laughed, her face lighting up in a way that made her seem almost unrecognizable from the woman he had married. She had always been composed, stoic, but now… there was warmth. A bubbling, cheerful energy that enchanted him, though he couldn't explain why.

"Where did you learn that song?" he asked, half curious, half amused by her sudden lightheartedness.

Rei tilted her head, thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure," she admitted, her smile unwavering. "It just came to me. I suppose it's something a mother would sing to her child."

Her songs became a regular part of their evenings. Each night, the lyrics would change, but the core of it remained the same—a promise. A mother's vow to protect her child. Enji found it… endearing, even though the melody itself was strange, otherworldly, like something from a distant memory neither of them could place.

As the months wore on, her excitement grew in tandem with her belly. Rei would chat endlessly about baby names, outfit colors, and nursery themes. She would trace her fingers across her growing bump and laughed;—actually laugh—when the baby kicked. Enji, who had always seen Rei as something fragile and faraway, now found himself drawn to this newer version of her. She was still delicate, but now there was something more, a lightness to her being that enchanted him.

And still, she would sing those peculiar songs.

"Pinky promise, pinky promise, I'll keep you safe forever. I will protect you; you're my precious one. Until you're strong enough to walk alone."

Enji found himself lingering in the doorway of the nursery, watching as Rei hummed and swayed, her hands caressing her swollen belly. There was something mesmerizing about the way she moved as if she were dancing to a rhythm only she could hear. Sometimes, he caught a glimpse of something in her eyes—a flash of... what? Nostalgia? Longing? It was gone before he could place it, leaving him with more questions than answers.

As her due date approached, Rei's demeanor shifted once more. She became more introspective, often staring off into space with a small, secret smile on her lips. When Enji asked her what she was thinking about, she would simply shake her head and say, "I'm just imagining our future."

Nine months passed, and with it came the day Enji had been waiting for. Rei's labor was long and grueling, and for a moment, as he watched her breathe through the pain, he saw the icy composure from before return to her face. But there was something else there too—a determination, a fierce protectiveness that he had never seen before. She gripped his hand with surprising strength, her grey eyes locking onto his blue ones with an intensity that took his breath away.

"We're going to meet our baby," she whispered between contractions, a smile ghosting across her lips even as sweat beaded on her brow.

Hours ticked by, and Enji found himself pacing the delivery room, his usual stoic demeanor cracking under the pressure of the moment. And then, finally, the cry of their child filled the room, and Rei's features softened again, that familiar warmth returning.

Their son, Touya, was placed in Rei's arms, and for the first time, Enji saw her eyes shimmer with something close to tears. The baby had a shock of bright red hair, a vivid contrast to Rei's pale coloring, and blue eyes as piercing as Enji's own. But it was his smile that caught their attention.

As Touya yawned and blinked up at them, his mouth opened in a gummy smile that revealed two tiny, but unmistakable fangs at the front of his upper gum. They were small, barely noticeable unless one looked closely, but they were undeniably there—sharp little points that glinted in the light of the delivery room.

Enji stared, his mind reeling. He blinked, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. "Rei?" he said, his voice low and uncertain.

"Enji?" Rei's voice broke the silence. She didn't sound disturbed or alarmed. There was a soft, almost affectionate smile playing on her lips as she looked at the baby's mouth. "What's wrong?"

He didn't know what to say. His first thought was that something was wrong, that this wasn't natural, but Rei... she seemed unfazed. As if the boy's unusual trait didn't surprise her at all.

Enji reached out, brushing the boy's cheek with his thumb, his skin cool beneath his touch. "He has... fangs," Enji said, almost to himself.

Rei chuckled softly, her fingers tracing Touya's tiny hand. "Perhaps it's just a sign of strength," she whispered, her voice light and serene. "Look at him, Enji. He's perfect."

And as Enji looked down at his son, he found it hard to argue. Despite the unusual dental feature, Touya was indeed beautiful. His skin was pale like Rei's, but there was a healthy flush to his cheeks. His little hands were balled into fists, and as Enji watched, one tiny hand opened and closed, as if reaching out to him.

"Do you want to hold him?" Rei asked, her voice gentle.

Enji hesitated for a moment before carefully taking Touya into his arms. The baby felt so small, so fragile, yet there was an undeniable strength in the way he squirmed and cooed. As Touya blinked up at him, Enji was struck by how much the boy's eyes resembled his own—a deep, piercing blue that seemed to hold untold potential.

"Hello, Touya," Enji murmured, surprised by the softness in his own voice. "Welcome to the world."

As if in response, Touya gave another gummy smile, his tiny fangs glinting once more. And in that moment, Enji felt something shift within him. The fangs were unusual, yes, but they were part of his son. And his son was... perfect.

Rei's soft humming drew his attention back to her. She was watching them with a tender expression, her grey eyes filled with a warmth he had never seen before. As she began to sing her now-familiar lullaby, Enji couldn't help but join in, his deep voice a low counterpoint to her melodic tones.

"Pinky promise, pinky promise, your parents will protect you. Until you grow up strong, we'll always be here."

Chapter Text

Enji Todoroki sat in his quiet corner of the living room, observing the scene that had become so familiar over the past few months: Rei, sitting cross-legged on the floor, cradling Touya in her arms, a soft smile gracing her lips. Her voice, bright and cheerful, filled the room as she chatted endlessly with their son, talking about the weather, news, and even stories of ancient samurais and demon slayers. It was surreal to witness this side of her, this warmth that had appeared so suddenly after Touya's birth.

Touya, for his part, was the very picture of innocence. His little face lit up as Rei spoke, his chubby hands reaching for her hair or the edge of her kimono, giggling at the sounds and faces she made. He was a sweet baby, more than Enji had expected. Touya babbled and squealed, the high-pitched sound of his baby voice filling the house with a joy Enji had never quite known. It was endearing. Adorable, even.

And yet, as Enji watched them, there was a flicker of unease in his chest.

He glanced down at his hands, trying to ignore the tight knot of concern that had settled in his gut. The truth was, despite how normal things seemed, he couldn't shake the sight of those tiny, sharp fangs. Touya had been born with them—two delicate, but unmistakable fangs poking through his gums. The doctors hadn't found anything concerning in their tests, but Enji couldn't help but wonder. Would it affect his quirk? Was there something deeper, something they weren't seeing yet?

He knew Rei had noticed them too, but she didn't seem concerned. She'd brushed it off as though it were nothing, and in her current state, Enji didn't want to ruin things by bringing it up again. Over the past few months, Rei had been almost unrecognizable from the stoic, cold woman she used to be. There was a lightness to her now, a bubbly energy that spilled over in her interactions with Touya. 

She was always laughing, always talking to their son as if he understood every word. The way she told him about heroes, about the old tales of warriors who fought demons and saved villages, it was captivating. Enji had caught himself listening more than once, mesmerized by the passion in her voice when she spoke of those ancient heroes.

"And then, Touya," Rei was saying, her grey eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, "the brave samurai raised his sword against the demon. Do you know what happened next?"

Touya gurgled in response, his tiny hands waving in the air as if he was trying to grasp the story itself. Rei laughed, a sound so light and musical that it seemed to brighten the entire room.

"That's right! The samurai defeated the demon, saving the entire village. One day, you'll be strong and brave like that too, won't you, my little hero?"

Enji felt a pang in his chest at those words. He wanted that for Touya too—to be strong, to be a hero. But the weight of his expectations, the pressure of his own ambitions, felt suddenly heavy on his shoulders. He didn't want to break the spell of this moment, this beautiful interaction between mother and child.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a quiet breath. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing. As a father, he was supposed to be responsible, to think ahead, plan for Touya's future. His son's quirk, the fangs, everything about Touya's potential was supposed to be his priority. But the idea of ruining Rei's happiness, of pulling her away from the joy she seemed to find in caring for Touya, weighed on him more than the unknowns about their son.

Touya giggled, reaching for Rei's face with wide eyes full of wonder. He was so small, so innocent, that it felt almost ridiculous to worry about things like quirks and power right now. Touya was just a baby—a sweet, babbling, bright-eyed baby who loved to hear his mother's voice and play with her hair.

*What kind of father am I?* Enji thought bitterly, his gaze softening as he looked at them. He wanted to be a good father, the kind who protected his family, the kind who provided and guided his children with strength and wisdom. But for now… was it so wrong to let them enjoy this time? To let Rei laugh and talk to Touya without worrying about the future?

He pushed the thoughts of quirks and power aside. For now, Touya was healthy, happy. And Rei was glowing with life, more vibrant than he had ever seen her before. He didn't want to be the one to take that away.

Rei's voice cut through his thoughts again, soft and musical as she told Touya about another hero from the past. Her laughter was infectious, and soon Touya was squealing in delight, clapping his tiny hands.

"Isn't that right, Touya?" Rei cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "You're going to be strong and brave, just like the heroes of old."

Enji's heart squeezed. He wanted that too. For Touya to grow up strong, for their family to remain close, for this warmth to never fade.

And then, in the midst of Rei's laughter and Touya's happy babbles, it happened.

"Mama."

The word was quiet, a little garbled, but unmistakable. Enji froze, his breath catching in his throat. Rei stopped, her eyes widening as she stared down at their son, a look of disbelief on her face.

"Mama," Touya repeated, this time a little louder, his tiny hands reaching for Rei's face with an expression of pure delight.

The room fell silent for a moment, as if the world itself had paused to witness this milestone. Then, Rei's eyes began to shimmer, tears welling up and spilling over her cheeks. Her lips trembled as she tried to form words, overcome with emotion.

"Oh, Touya," she whispered, her voice cracking with a mixture of joy and something deeper—something that seemed to reach beyond the present moment. "You said Mama!"

She pulled Touya close, pressing her forehead against his, her tears falling onto his chubby cheeks. Touya, sensing the shift in mood, reached up with his tiny hands to pat her face, babbling "Mama" over and over, as if he knew exactly how much it meant to her.

Rei laughed through her tears, a sound so full of pure, unbridled happiness that it made Enji's chest ache. He had never seen her like this—so open, so vulnerable, so completely and utterly filled with love.

"That's right, my sweet boy," Rei said, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm your Mama. And I'll always be here for you, always protect you. I promise."

As she spoke, she began to hum that familiar lullaby, her voice wavering slightly but growing stronger with each note. "Pinky promise, pinky promise, your mother will protect you. I will protect you; I promise you that. Until you get big and strong."

Enji felt his own eyes stinging, a lump forming in his throat. He wasn't a man given to displays of emotion, but this moment... it was hitting him in ways he hadn't expected. The sight of Rei, usually so composed, now weeping with joy as she held their son, singing her promise of protection—it stirred something deep within him.

He stood up slowly, moving toward them, his heart heavy yet full. As he approached, Rei looked up at him, her face streaked with tears but radiant with happiness. 

"Enji," she said softly, reaching out a hand to him. "Did you hear? He said 'Mama'."

Enji nodded, unable to trust his voice. He knelt down beside them, placing one large hand on Touya's head and the other on Rei's shoulder. 

"He did," Enji managed to say, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion. "He's growing up so fast."

Rei leaned into his touch, still cradling Touya close. "He is," she agreed, her voice filled with wonder. "But no matter how big he gets, no matter what challenges he faces, we'll be there for him. Won't we, Enji?"

Enji looked at his wife and son, feeling a surge of protectiveness and love that almost overwhelmed him. In that moment, his worries about quirks and fangs and the future seemed to fade away. What mattered was this—his family, together, happy.

"Yes," he said, his voice firm with resolve. "We'll be there. Always."

As Touya babbled "Mama" again, reaching out to grab Enji's finger with surprising strength, Enji felt a smile tugging at his lips. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. Whatever the future held, whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—as a family.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Enji sat on the couch; his gaze fixed on the walls of their home as the faint sounds of construction echoed from upstairs. Workers moved through the halls, setting up the new nursery for their growing family. Boxes of baby clothes, toys, and furniture littered the living room, all in preparation for their second child—this time, a girl.

Rei was pregnant again, and this time, with a daughter. Fuyumi. The name Rei had chosen, delicate and soft, like winter snow. It suited her, Enji thought. Their daughter hadn’t been born yet, but already, Rei spoke about her with the same cheerful enthusiasm she had with Touya.

He glanced over at the corner of the room, where Touya sat on a soft blanket, playing with his favorite set of wooden blocks. The little boy babbled happily to himself, unaware of the changes that were coming. He was only a year old—far too young to understand the idea of a sibling—but whenever Rei mentioned the word sister, Touya would squeal in excitement, his tiny hands clapping as if he already knew something good was on the way.

Enji leaned back, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The sight of Touya playing so peacefully, content in his own world, made it easier to forget the worries that still lingered at the back of his mind. The fangs that had unnerved him when Touya was born hadn’t caused any issues, not yet. And while he still wondered about how they might affect his son’s quirk as he grew, for now, things were… normal. Almost serene.

Rei’s laughter drifted from the kitchen, where she was preparing snacks for Touya. Her voice was light and full of warmth as she called out to Enji.

"Enji, could you help me with these? I’m trying to decide what Fuyumi’s room should look like." Her tone was casual, but there was a spark in her eyes whenever she talked about their daughter. Ever since she found out about the pregnancy, Rei had been radiant, full of life in a way that almost made Enji forget the cold distance she used to carry.

He stood and made his way to the kitchen, where Rei was sorting through color swatches for the new nursery. She held up two options, one pale pink and the other a soft lavender.

"Which do you think will suit her better?" Rei asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I want it to feel… peaceful, you know? Something that will make her feel safe."

Enji studied the swatches, but his focus wasn’t on the colors. His gaze drifted to Rei’s round belly, where their daughter was growing. There was something magical about seeing her like this—bubbly, energetic, always planning and preparing. It was like watching her transform into a different person with every child.

He reached out, placing his hand gently on her belly. "I think… either would be fine. As long as it makes you happy," he said softly. "It’s your touch that’ll make the room feel right."

Rei smiled at that, a soft and genuine smile that warmed Enji’s heart. "You’re right. I’ll make it special for her."

They stood there for a moment, their hands resting on the small swell of Rei’s stomach. Enji could feel the faintest movement beneath his palm—the fluttering sensation of life. It was a reminder of how much had changed, how their family was growing faster than he had ever anticipated. First Touya, now Fuyumi.

Their home, which had once felt too big and too quiet, was now filled with noise, with laughter, with the sounds of life moving forward.

Rei turned back to the table, her hands still busy sorting through the designs, but Enji stayed where he was, watching her carefully. She had been so much more engaged with Touya than he had ever expected, always talking to him, always singing those strange little lullabies that had become so familiar. And now, with another child on the way, Rei seemed even more at peace.

"Do you think Touya will like having a little sister?" Rei asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "He’s been so excited whenever I mention her."

Enji glanced over at their son again. Touya was now stacking blocks, a look of concentration on his face as he tried to balance them as high as possible. He was a sweet child, full of energy and joy, always babbling and reaching for Rei whenever she was near.

"I think he’ll love her," Enji replied, his voice quiet. "He’s already excited, even if he doesn’t fully understand it yet."

Rei chuckled. "I hope they grow up close. It’ll be nice for Touya to have someone to play with, someone to protect."

Enji’s eyes softened at her words. The idea of Touya being protective, of him becoming the older brother to Fuyumi, made his chest swell with an emotion he couldn’t quite describe. He had grown up without much warmth or sibling connection, but he hoped—he desperately hoped—that their children would have the kind of bond he had never known.

"You’re really looking forward to this," Enji murmured, his hand lingering on Rei’s belly as he glanced at her face. "You’ve been… different since the pregnancy."

Rei’s gaze flickered toward him, her smile fading slightly as she considered his words. There was a hint of something distant in her eyes, something that reminded him of the way she used to be—cold, unreachable. But just as quickly, it disappeared, and the warmth returned to her expression.

"I guess I have been," she admitted softly. "It feels… nice, having something to focus on. Something to look forward to." She glanced at Touya, her eyes softening as she watched him. "They bring a kind of light to my life that I didn’t expect."

Enji nodded, understanding what she meant. He didn’t want to dwell on the past, on the way Rei had been so distant before Touya was born. He didn’t want to think about the worries that still gnawed at him in the quiet moments—about Touya’s quirk, about the fangs, about the future. For now, their family was growing, and there was happiness here. That was enough.

A sudden crash pulled them from their thoughts, and both Enji and Rei turned to see Touya sitting in a pile of blocks, the tower he had been building now toppled over. His wide, blue eyes blinked up at them in surprise, before a giggle bubbled up from his chest.

Rei laughed, her hand resting on her belly as she leaned down to pick up the scattered blocks. "I guess we’ll have to teach him to be more careful," she said, her voice light with amusement.

Enji knelt beside her, helping gather the toys. "It’ll be a good lesson for him before his sister arrives."

Touya crawled toward Rei, his chubby hands reaching for her lap as he babbled something incomprehensible. Rei scooped him up, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"You’ll be a good big brother, won’t you, Touya?" she cooed, her voice full of affection.

Touya grinned, clapping his hands as if in agreement. Enji felt a warmth spread through his chest as he watched them, his family—his wife, his son, and soon, his daughter. The house was becoming full, and with it, his life felt fuller too.

Nine months had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. The Todoroki household had been full of anticipation, as Rei’s belly swelled with the weight of their second child, and Touya—though too young to understand fully—grew more excited with each passing day. The room for their daughter was complete, filled with soft pastels and delicate furniture, all lovingly chosen by Rei.

Then, on a crisp winter morning, Fuyumi Todoroki was born.

Enji stood at Rei’s bedside in the hospital, his breath caught in his throat as he looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms. Fuyumi was small and delicate, her skin pale like snow, so much like Rei’s. But what caught his attention immediately were the tiny red splotches in her hair, scattered across her white locks like flickers of fire trying to break through. It was as though she carried a touch of his flame, mingling with Rei’s icy beauty.

Rei gazed down at their newborn daughter, her face soft with love and warmth. The calm that had enveloped her during the pregnancy remained, and she smiled as Fuyumi wriggled in her arms, letting out a soft, sleepy sigh.

"She’s perfect," Rei whispered, her fingers gently brushing the soft tufts of Fuyumi’s hair. "So peaceful…"

Enji nodded, feeling a strange weight lift from his chest. Unlike with Touya, there were no strange signs—no fangs, no unusual features to worry about. Fuyumi was as perfect as a child could be, a picture of serenity. For the first time in a long while, Enji allowed himself to feel… at peace. He had a daughter now, a son and a daughter, and for a moment, the future didn’t seem as uncertain as it once had.

Touya was only a year old when Fuyumi was brought home, and while he was still too young to grasp the gravity of it, his reaction was everything Enji had hoped for. When Rei introduced him to his little sister, Touya’s eyes widened with delight. He toddled over to the bassinet, his chubby hands reaching for her, his face full of innocent curiosity.

"Sister," he babbled, his voice full of awe as he leaned in close. He giggled when Fuyumi squirmed, her tiny hand flailing as if to greet him.

Enji felt a lump form in his throat at the sight. It was a scene he hadn’t known he needed until it unfolded before him. Touya, his sweet boy, full of life and energy, now a big brother. And Fuyumi, a quiet little bundle of softness, with no signs of the strangeness that had plagued Enji’s thoughts with Touya. Everything felt… right. Even if only for a moment, everything was in its place.

Rei thrived in this environment, doting on both of their children with the same warmth and joy that had appeared after Touya’s birth. She would laugh and chat with them, sing those strange little songs as she rocked Fuyumi to sleep or played with Touya in the living room. The house, which had once felt empty, was now full of life, full of sound. It was almost too good to be true.

And perhaps it was.

A year passed in relative peace. Fuyumi grew quickly, showing no signs of quirks just yet, but she was calm and quiet, much like her mother. Touya, now three, continued to grow as well, his bright blue eyes always full of curiosity and mischief. He had grown more attached to his sister over the year, often trying to help with her, bringing toys to her crib or sitting beside her as Rei read them stories. He was sweet, full of love for the little family they had built.

But then, the peace shattered.

It was an afternoon like any other. The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light through the windows of the Todoroki home. Rei was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared lunch, while Enji sat in the living room, watching Touya play with his blocks on the floor. Fuyumi, now a year old, was napping in her crib.

Touya’s babbling filled the room as he stacked block after block, his little face full of concentration. Enji found himself relaxing in the quiet, content to simply watch his son enjoy the simple things.

And then, without warning, the temperature in the room seemed to change.

Enji’s attention snapped back to Touya, who had stopped stacking his blocks. His small hands hovered over the wooden pieces, his brows furrowed in confusion as if he didn’t quite understand what was happening. The air around him felt warmer, hotter, and Enji’s heart leaped into his throat.

Before Enji could react, a small flame erupted from Touya’s palm, flickering to life like a candle. It was tiny, harmless on its own, but it was fire. Touya’s quirk had manifested—too early, far earlier than Enji had expected.

"Touya!" Enji’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air as he shot up from his seat. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved toward his son, ready to snuff out the flame before it grew out of control. But the flame didn’t spread. It danced in Touya’s palm, flickering and glowing, but it didn’t harm him.

Touya looked up at Enji, his wide blue eyes full of wonder and confusion. "Papa… look!" he squealed, holding up his hand with excitement, completely unaware of the danger.

Enji knelt beside him, his heart racing as he examined the flame. He couldn’t quite believe it—Touya’s quirk had come, and it was fire. A perfect match for Enji’s own. But as he looked closer, something caught his eye. Beneath the flame, at the edge of Touya’s skin, there was something different. A faint shimmer of blue, almost like ice, glinting beneath the heat.

Enji’s chest tightened. Fire and ice, mingling together in their son’s quirk. It was impossible. It shouldn’t be.

But there it was, plain as day.

"Papa!" Touya’s voice pulled him back to reality. "It’s like you!"

Enji forced a smile, reaching out to gently cup Touya’s small hand, his fingers brushing against the flame. It was warm but not painful. "Yes, Touya," he said softly. "It’s just like me."

But inside, his mind was racing. This quirk—it was more than just fire. There was something else, something that sent a shiver down his spine despite the warmth.

Rei appeared in the doorway; her eyes wide with concern as she took in the sight of Touya’s flaming hand. She didn’t speak, but the question was clear in her gaze.

Enji shook his head, his voice quiet but firm. "His quirk… it’s manifested."

Rei’s gaze flickered between Touya and Enji, a shadow crossing her expression. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she moved closer, her hand resting on Touya’s head as she smiled down at him. "You’re growing up so fast, Touya," she murmured, her voice gentle.

Touya beamed, the flame in his hand flickering out as quickly as it had appeared. He looked up at his mother, his eyes bright with pride. "I’m like Papa!" he said, his voice full of excitement.

Rei smiled, but there was something distant in her eyes, something that mirrored the unease Enji felt deep in his bones.

Their family was growing. Their children were special. But something about this… something about Touya’s quirk felt like a warning.

Enji stood, his hand still resting on his son’s shoulder as he exchanged a glance with Rei. There was no going back now.

Chapter Text

The low hum of the heater filled the room, its warmth attempting to push back the cold that seemed to always linger in the Todoroki household. Enji sat at the kitchen table, his fingers lightly tapping against the surface as he reviewed the notes he had prepared for Touya’s training. His son was talented—more than talented. His flames burned hotter and fiercer than anyone could have imagined, and Enji was determined to push Touya to his limits. He has to be the one to surpass All Might, Enji thought, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The sound of soft footsteps drew his attention, and he glanced up to see Rei entering the room. She smiled, that same gentle, serene expression that had greeted him ever since they had married. But there was something else in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite place—an undercurrent of worry, a shadow of something deeper.

“Enji,” she began, her voice soft yet firm, “I wanted to talk to you about Touya’s training.”

Enji exhaled slowly, already sensing where the conversation was headed. “Rei, I know what you’re going to say,” he replied, his tone measured. “But Touya is strong. He needs this if he’s going to reach his full potential.”

Rei’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she moved closer to him. “I understand that,” she said, her voice steady. “But he’s still a child, Enji. He’s only Five and you’re pushing him so hard. He’s not ready for this.”

Enji’s jaw tightened. He had heard this argument before, not just from Rei but from others, whispering behind his back. They don’t understand, he thought. They don’t see the potential that Touya has. He pushed his chair back, standing to his full height as he turned to face her.

“Touya is going to be great,” Enji said, his voice rising with conviction. “He needs to be pushed. He’s the only one who can surpass All Might. He just has to—”

“ And what if he breaks, Enji? ” Rei’s voice cut through his words like ice, sharp and cold. Her eyes locked onto his, no longer filled with the warmth and tenderness he had grown accustomed to. There was something else in her gaze now—a flicker of warning, of something dangerous beneath the surface.

Enji stared at her, momentarily taken aback by the shift in her demeanor. Rei had always been calm, poised, and supportive. But now, the air around her seemed to shift, a chill creeping into the room despite the heat from the fireplace. He opened his mouth to respond, but Rei stepped closer, her voice lowering as the cold around them grew more intense.

“I’ve supported your dream for Touya, Enji,” she continued, her voice softer but carrying an edge that sent a shiver down his spine. “I’ve encouraged him to be the hero you want him to be, and I’ll continue to do that because I love him. But if you push him too hard, if you hurt him in any way…” She paused, her eyes flashing with an intensity that froze the words in Enji’s throat. “It will be you and me.”

For a brief moment, the temperature in the room dropped sharply. Enji felt the cold bite into his skin, his breath coming out in a mist despite the warmth of his flames that naturally radiated from his body. The very air around them seemed to freeze, the walls creaking as if under pressure from the sudden shift in temperature.

Enji’s flames flared slightly in response, instinctively pushing against the cold, but it wasn’t enough to melt the ice that had formed between them. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at his wife, the unease he had felt when they first met bubbling up to the surface once more.

This…this feeling. It was the same presence, that unnerving sensation that had gripped him the first time he had laid eyes on her. Back then, he had dismissed it, attributing it to nerves or the weight of the decision to marry for the sake of his bloodline. But now, standing before her, he realized what it was.

Rei was dangerous.

Despite her calm demeanor, despite her gentle smiles and soft laughter, there was something beneath it all—a power, a will that was as cold and unyielding as the ice she controlled. And now, with Touya caught in the middle, Enji could see it clearly. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to her son. Not even him.

The realization hit him like a physical blow, and for the first time in a long while, Enji felt a surge of fear. He was Endeavor, the second strongest hero, a man who commanded fire hotter than any other—yet, standing before Rei now, with the air around them freezing despite his flames, he felt powerless.

Rei tilted her head slightly, her smile returning, but it no longer reached her eyes. The chill in the air lingered, and for a moment, Enji wondered if she was capable of using her ice against him if it ever came to that.

“I’ll always support Touya,” she said, her voice light and bubbly once more, as if the tension of the last few moments had been nothing more than a passing breeze. “I want him to be happy, and if becoming a hero makes him happy, then I’ll do whatever I can to help him.”

Enji swallowed, the fear still gripping his chest. He forced himself to nod, his mind racing as he tried to process what had just happened. He had always seen Rei as gentle, nurturing—the perfect mother for his children. But now, he realized there was a depth to her that he had never fully understood.

She was willing to do anything to protect her family.

And that included standing against him if she believed he was pushing Touya too far.

“I understand,” Enji finally said, his voice quieter than he intended. “I’ll… be careful.”

Rei’s smile widened, and just like that, the warmth seemed to return to the room. The ice in the air melted away, and the tension dissipated as if it had never existed. She stepped closer to him, resting a hand gently on his arm.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said sweetly, her tone soft and loving again. “I knew you would understand, Enji. After all, we both want what’s best for Touya, don’t we?”

Enji forced himself to nod again, but the unease remained. As Rei turned and left the room, humming softly to herself, he stood frozen in place, staring at the spot where she had stood moments before.

Rei is dangerous.

The thought echoed in his mind, louder and more persistent than ever before. He had always been focused on his ambition, on raising the perfect child to carry on his legacy, but now, for the first time, he realized that Rei had her own desires—her own limits. And if those limits were crossed, she would not hesitate to protect what she loved, no matter the cost.

Even if it meant standing against him.

As the door closed behind her, Enji’s shoulders slumped, the weight of realization heavy on him. He had always seen himself as the one in control, the one guiding their family’s future.

But now, he wasn’t so sure.

And for the first time in years, the fire inside him flickered with doubt.

Chapter Text

The soft autumn light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the Todoroki household. Enji stood at the doorway of the nursery, his broad shoulders slightly slouched in an uncharacteristic moment of relaxation. His eyes scanned the room—freshly painted pale blue walls, a crib being assembled in the corner, and toys scattered across the floor, left there by Touya and Fuyumi as they eagerly helped set up for their baby brother.

Rei sat in a chair by the window, her hand resting on her growing belly, the smile on her face soft and genuine as she watched their children play. Fuyumi was giggling, her little hands clapping together in excitement as Touya tugged at the blanket they were laying over the crib, trying to straighten it out. 

“Do you think he’ll like it, Mama?” Touya asked, his voice full of energy as he bounced on his toes, looking at Rei with his bright blue eyes.

Rei chuckled softly, her gaze warm. “I’m sure he’ll love it, Touya. You and Fuyumi are doing such a great job.”

Enji watched the scene unfold in quiet contemplation, his hands resting in his pockets. He didn’t often allow himself to dwell on these small, intimate moments, always more focused on his work and training Touya, but lately, something had shifted. The house was filled with an infectious joy, a bubbling energy that seemed to come from Rei herself. The children were laughing more, the air was lighter, and even he, Endeavor, felt a strange contentment creeping into his bones.

It was a life he hadn’t imagined when he first proposed the Quirk marriage, but now, standing here, watching his family prepare for the arrival of another child, Enji realized that maybe this was what he had been missing all along. He had always chased the idea of greatness, of creating the ultimate hero, but now… now there was a different kind of satisfaction blooming inside him.

Rei’s voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention back to her. She was singing—softly, almost like a lullaby. The same song she used to sing to Touya and Fuyumi when they were babies. The “Pinky Promise” song.

“Pinky promise, pinky promise,” she sang, her voice light and lilting, “your mother will protect you. I will protect you; I promise you that. Until you get big and strong.”

Fuyumi joined in, her tiny voice mimicking her mother’s. “Pinky promise, pinky promise, I’ll always stay with you…”

Touya, ever the energetic one, tried to match his mother’s tone, though his singing quickly turned into more of a chant as he swayed on his feet. “And we’ll be happy, always happy! Pinky promise, we won’t be apart!”

Rei’s laughter rang out, full and bright, and for a moment, Enji found himself smiling too. It was rare—so rare—that he allowed himself to indulge in this kind of softness. His life had always been about pushing forward, about strength and ambition. But here, in this room filled with his children’s laughter and Rei’s warmth, everything felt… right.

“Enji,” Rei called softly, her gaze meeting his. “Why don’t you come join us?”

He hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure what to say. He had never been the type to join in these playful moments, feeling too awkward, too out of place. But something in Rei’s eyes, in the way she looked at him with that quiet expectation, tugged at him.

He stepped into the room, feeling the weight of his presence as the kids turned to look at him. Touya’s face lit up, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Dad! You have to sing too!” Touya exclaimed, rushing over to tug on Enji’s sleeve. “It’s a family song, you can’t just watch!”

Fuyumi nodded eagerly, clapping her hands. “Yes, Daddy, sing with us!”

Enji glanced at Rei, who was smiling at him softly, her eyes glimmering with amusement. He exhaled, a deep sigh escaping his chest as he knelt down beside his children.

“I don’t think you want to hear me sing,” Enji muttered, his deep voice rumbling.

Touya laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, you can do it! It’s easy.”

Rei’s eyes met Enji’s again, her smile widening just a fraction. “It’s a simple song, Enji. Just follow our lead.”

He shook his head slightly, feeling the warmth of the moment tug at something deep inside him. His children were happy—genuinely happy—and Rei was glowing with that radiant cheerfulness that had returned after Touya was born. For the first time in a long while, there was peace in their home.

Reluctantly, Enji joined in, his voice low and unsure at first, but soon enough, he found himself swept up in the moment, following along as his children laughed and sang. 

“Pinky promise, pinky promise,” they all sang together, “your mother and father will protect you. We’ll always be with you, no matter what.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their voices and the soft rustle of the wind outside the window. The world seemed to pause, and Enji allowed himself to feel the contentment settling into his bones.

As they finished the song, Touya clapped his hands together, his face flushed with happiness. “That was fun! I can’t wait to sing it to the baby!”

Rei chuckled softly, her hand resting on her belly. “I’m sure your baby brother will love it, Touya.”

Enji watched the scene unfold, his heart swelling with a strange, unfamiliar warmth. He had never imagined this—the simple joy of family life, the laughter, the songs. But now, standing here, with Rei and the kids, he realized that this was something worth holding onto.

As the days passed and the nursery was completed, the house continued to fill with the sounds of laughter and singing. Rei’s “Pinky Promise” songs became a staple in the Todoroki household, a small tradition that carried with it a sense of protection and love. The kids would hum the tunes as they played, and even Enji found himself humming the melody under his breath during training.

The weeks flew by, and soon enough, Rei’s pregnancy was nearing its end. The anticipation of welcoming another child into their family filled the house with a sense of excitement. Touya and Fuyumi were constantly talking about their baby brother, discussing what toys they would share and what stories they would tell him.

Enji, though still focused on Touya’s training, found himself growing more invested in these moments. His ambition still burned fiercely, but there was now something else—something softer—guiding him. He had never imagined that fatherhood could feel like this, that there could be more to life than just chasing his dreams.

As he stood by the window, watching Rei play with the kids in the backyard, Enji allowed himself a rare moment of peace. Everything was falling into place. Touya was progressing well with his training, Rei was happy, and their family was growing. 

The air was crisp that winter morning, the chill biting at Enji's skin as he stood outside the hospital, watching the pale sky slowly brighten. A few hours had passed since Rei had gone into labor, and now, here he was, pacing back and forth, his mind racing.

Despite everything—the hero work, the pressures of training Touya, and his relentless ambition to surpass All Might—this was one moment where none of that mattered. His thoughts drifted back to Rei, to the calm, almost ethereal way she had handled her pregnancy. The memories of their children—Touya and Fuyumi—came flooding back. The laughter in the house, the "Pinky Promise" songs, and the happiness that had settled into their lives. This time, though, there was an undercurrent of something more—hope, perhaps. Maybe this child would be the one. The one who could balance his dreams and the family’s well-being.

The door to the delivery room opened, snapping Enji from his thoughts. A nurse appeared, smiling softly.

"Mr. Todoroki," she called gently, "you can come in now."

Enji felt his chest tighten for a moment as he stepped through the door, his heartbeat slightly quickening. He walked through the quiet halls, his boots thudding softly against the tile floor until he reached the room where Rei lay resting, a soft glow on her face.

Rei looked tired but peaceful, cradling a bundle wrapped in a soft blue blanket. The light streaming through the window illuminated her features, and for a moment, Enji felt a pang of something—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. Gratitude.

"Enji," Rei’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, "come meet him."

He stepped closer, eyes drawn to the tiny face peeking out from the blanket. His breath caught in his throat as he realized how big the baby was. Larger than Touya and Fuyumi had been—at least eight pounds, maybe more. The baby’s cheeks were round and flushed, his eyes barely opening as he squirmed slightly in his mother’s arms.

“Natsuo,” Rei whispered, her eyes shining with the kind of joy that only a new mother could possess. “His name is Natsuo.”

Enji nodded, his gaze fixed on his son’s small but sturdy form. “Eight pounds,” he murmured, still surprised by the baby’s size. He had expected a smaller, more delicate child, but here was Natsuo—robust and strong, even in his infancy.

Touya and Fuyumi burst into the room not long after, their faces glowing with excitement. Touya, as energetic as ever, rushed over to his mother’s side, peeking over the edge of the bed to get a glimpse of his baby brother.

“Can I hold him?” Touya asked eagerly, bouncing on his toes as Fuyumi, a step behind, looked on with wide, expectant eyes.

Rei smiled softly, her voice warm but firm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Touya. Natsuo is very heavy, and he’s still very little.”

“But I’m strong!” Touya protested, puffing out his chest as if to prove his point. “I can hold him!”

Fuyumi nodded in agreement, her small face scrunching into a pout as she stood by Touya. “Please, Mama? Just for a minute?”

Rei chuckled, shaking her head gently. “Not today, you two. But you can still sit beside me and look at him.”

Both children groaned in unison, their pouts deepening as they realized their request wouldn’t be granted. Enji, watching from the side, couldn’t help but smile slightly at their persistence. Even in disappointment, they were still full of life and energy.

Touya, undeterred by his mother’s refusal, climbed onto the bed beside Rei, his blue eyes gleaming as he examined his baby brother up close. “He looks strong,” Touya muttered, as if sizing Natsuo up for the future. “Do you think he’ll be able to train with me when he gets bigger, Dad?”

Enji raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Natsuo’s tiny form. “One day, maybe,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But not for a long time, Touya.”

“Can he be a hero too?” Fuyumi chimed in, looking up at her father with a hopeful expression.

Enji knelt beside them, his eyes softening for just a moment as he looked at all three of his children. “We’ll see,” he said quietly. “He’ll have to grow strong first.”

As he spoke, his eyes drifted to Natsuo’s face, taking in every detail. He looked for anything unusual—any sign that this child might be different like Touya had been. The fangs, the telltale sign of something strange, hadn’t appeared. A small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief escaped him. For now, at least, there was nothing to worry about.

Rei leaned her head against the pillow, watching the children interact with their baby brother. Her usual cheerfulness radiated from her as she hummed one of her familiar tunes—a soft melody that floated through the room like a gentle breeze.

Enji watched her, his mind momentarily free from the weight of his usual concerns. His family was here, safe, and growing. For now, that was enough.

As the room filled with laughter and the soft cooing of a newborn, Enji allowed himself a brief moment of peace. This—this moment, this family—was something he had helped build. He could hear Rei's soft song in the background, a lullaby that filled the room with warmth and a strange, unexpected sense of tranquility.

For now, life was content, and Enji was more than happy to hold onto this fleeting sense of calm. There would be time for training and ambition later. But here, in this room, surrounded by his family, he found something he rarely allowed himself to feel.

Peace.

Chapter Text

The training room echoed with the sound of crackling flames and excited laughter. Five-year-old Touya Todoroki stood in the center, his small hands engulfed in brilliant orange fire. His father, Enji, watched from the sidelines, a rare smile of approval on his face.

"That's it, Touya!" Enji called out, his deep voice filled with pride. "Channel your power, feel the heat coursing through you. You're going to surpass All Might one day, I know it!"

Touya's eyes sparkled with determination, his grin wide and confident. "I'll be the strongest hero ever, Dad! Just watch me!"

It had been a couple of years since Touya's quirk had manifested, and Enji had wasted no time in his son's training. Every day after school, weekends, and holidays were dedicated to honing Touya's fire quirk. The boy threw himself into the training with a fervor that matched his father's, his young mind fixated on the dream of becoming the number one hero.

From the doorway, Rei watched the scene with mixed emotions. "Enji," she called softly, her grey eyes filled with concern. "Don't you think that's enough for today? Touya needs to rest."

Enji turned to her, his expression softening slightly. "He's fine, Rei. Touya's strong, just like his old man. Aren't you, son?"

"Yeah!" Touya cheered, punching the air with a flaming fist. "I can keep going, Mom! I'm gonna be the best!"

Rei forced a smile, but the worry didn't leave her eyes. She had noticed changes in Touya over the past year - his once carefree demeanor replaced by an intense focus, his playful nature overshadowed by a driving ambition that seemed beyond his years. It was as if her sweet little boy was being consumed by the very flames he wielded.

"Alright, Touya," Enji said, clapping his hands together. "Let's try something new. I want you to create the hottest flame you can. Really push yourself!"

Rei's heart skipped a beat. "Enji, I don't think-"

But her words were drowned out by Touya's enthusiastic cry. The boy closed his eyes, his face scrunched in concentration. The orange flames around his hands grew brighter, hotter, expanding outward in a brilliant display of power.

"That's it!" Enji shouted, his eyes gleaming with pride and ambition. "More, Touya! Show me what you're capable of!"

Touya gritted his teeth, pushing harder, the flames growing wilder, more intense. And then, suddenly, a scream tore through the air.

The fire vanished in an instant as Touya fell to his knees, clutching his arms. Angry red burns marred his pale skin, blisters already forming.

"Touya!" Rei cried, rushing to her son's side. She gathered him in her arms, careful not to touch the burns. "Enji, call the doctor! Now!"

Enji stood frozen, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. How could this have happened? Touya had his fire quirk, he shouldn't be burning himself...

The next few hours passed in a blur of sirens, antiseptic smells, and hushed conversations with doctors. Finally, in a sterile hospital room, they received the devastating news.

"I'm afraid Touya's body isn't fully compatible with his quirk," the quirk specialist explained, his voice gentle but firm. "He has inherited Endeavor's powerful fire quirk, but also his mother's ice resistance. His body can produce incredibly hot flames, but it lacks the durability to withstand that heat."

The words fell like hammer blows on Enji's heart. He stared at his son, bandaged and small in the hospital bed, and felt his dreams crumbling around him.

Rei's voice broke through his stunned silence. "What does this mean for Touya? Can he still use his quirk?"

The doctor sighed. "He can, but he'll need to be extremely careful. Overuse could result in severe burns or worse. I would recommend limiting his quirk use until he's older and we can reassess."

As they left the hospital that night, a heavy silence hung over the family. Touya, exhausted and in pain, had fallen asleep in Rei's arms. Enji walked beside them, his face a storm of emotions - anger, disappointment, and a flicker of something that might have been guilt.

In the weeks that followed, a pall seemed to settle over the Todoroki household. Enji threw himself into his hero work, staying late at the office and taking on extra patrols. When he was home, he was distant, his interactions with Touya stilted and awkward.

Touya, for his part, was determined to push through. Despite the pain, despite the warnings, he continued to practice his quirk in secret, driven by a desperate need to prove himself to his father.

It was during this tumultuous time that Fuyumi's quirk manifested - a beautiful display of ice crystals that danced in the air around her. But Enji barely seemed to notice, his focus still fixed on his shattered dreams for Touya.

Rei watched it all with a growing sense of dread. She saw the pain in Touya's eyes when Enji brushed off his attempts to show his progress. She noticed how Fuyumi's excitement over her new quirk dimmed in the face of her father's indifference. And she felt the growing distance between herself and Enji, a chasm widening with each passing day.

One night, as she stood in the doorway of Touya's room, watching her eldest son sleep fitfully, his arms still bandaged from his latest secret training session, Rei felt a tear slip down her cheek. This wasn't the family life she had dreamed of. This wasn't what she wanted for her children.

As she turned away, closing the door softly behind her, Rei couldn't shake the feeling that their family was beginning to tear at the seams. And she didn't know how to stop it.

Touya sat alone on the training grounds, the cool evening air brushing against his flushed skin. His small hands were still warm from the flames he had been trying to conjure, the orange-red fire flickering weakenly before dying out. He panted softly, his body aching from the strain, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of his father.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues that reminded Touya of his own flames - vibrant oranges and deep reds. He held out his hand, trying to summon a fire that would match the beauty of the sunset. A small flame sputtered to life in his palm, glowing a warm orange, but it was nothing compared to the brilliant flames his father could produce.

Lately, Enji hadn't been around as much. He was always leaving—out on missions, interviews, or training to surpass All Might. The once regular training sessions they'd shared had become less frequent, replaced by long hours where Touya was left to practice on his own. His father was still the towering figure in his life, a symbol of everything Touya wanted to be, but the distance between them was growing, and it gnawed at him.

Why isn't he here with us? With me? Touya thought, frustration boiling under the surface. He wanted to understand, but all he could feel was the sting of being left behind. He clenched his fists, trying to summon the flames again. This time, a larger burst of orange-red fire erupted from his hands, but it quickly fizzled out, leaving behind a faint smell of smoke and disappointment.

"Not good enough," Touya muttered to himself, echoing words he'd heard his father say countless times. "I need to be stronger, hotter, better."

He closed his eyes, concentrating hard. He could feel the heat building inside him, a warmth that started in his core and spread outwards. With a cry of effort, he thrust his hands forward. A stream of orange flames shot out, brighter and more intense than before. For a moment, Touya felt a surge of pride. 

Big, strong flames like his father’s. But as quickly as it appeared,it vanished. Touya fell to his knees, exhausted and frustrated.

A soft breeze carried the scent of something sweet, familiar. He looked up to see his mother approaching. Rei's delicate frame moved gracefully across the courtyard, her face a mask of calm as always, her soft smile brightening the darkening sky. But something about her today was different, or maybe it was the way her eyes flickered as she watched him.

"Touya," she called gently, her voice almost melodic as she came to kneel beside him. "You've been out here for hours. Maybe it's time for a break?"

Touya shook his head, determined. "No, Mama. I can't stop. I need to keep going. If I'm going to be like Papa, I have to keep trying. I almost made blue flames today!"

Rei's smile faltered for just a second, her gaze darkening. Her eyes became distant, hollow, as if some unseen shadow passed through her. For that fleeting moment, Touya swore he saw her face—expressionless, void of emotion, like a doll left on a shelf for far too long. It was chilling.

"Mama?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

The blankness in her eyes disappeared just as quickly as it had come, and she smiled brightly once more, her cheerful demeanor returning in full force. "Oh, Touya," she laughed softly, her eyes crinkling with warmth. "You're so dedicated. I'm proud of you. But you have to take care of yourself, or else…"

Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, and for a moment, there was a coldness in her words that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Or else… I won't be so happy."

Rei's smile remained, but there was something sharp beneath it, something he couldn't quite place. It reminded him of a threat, but a gentle one, wrapped in sweetness. "You wouldn't want to see me sad, would you?"

Touya felt his heart stutter, a strange fear gripping him. He loved his mother—more than anything. She was always so kind, so supportive, so full of life. But that face she made… the one devoid of all feeling—it terrified him. He didn't want her to ever look at him like that again.

"I…" he stammered, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling creeping up his spine. "I won't, Mama. I'll make you proud. I'll be the best hero ever. Better than All Might! I promise. I'll make sure you're always smiling."

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to gently stroke his hair, her touch cool against his heated skin. "That's my boy," she cooed, her voice warm and comforting once more. "Just remember, you're precious to me. I want you to be strong, but I also want you to be safe. Promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay?"

He nodded vigorously, pushing the unease deep down inside him. He couldn't disappoint her. He wouldn't disappoint her. If making her happy meant becoming the hero his father envisioned, then he would do whatever it took. He would train harder, push himself further, until he surpassed even the greatest heroes.

"Yeah, I promise, Mama," Touya whispered, forcing a smile. "I'll make you and Papa proud."

But even as the words left his lips, the weight of his promise settled like a stone in his chest. He loved his mother, and he loved his father. He would do anything to live up to their expectations, to see the pride in their eyes.

Chapter Text

The training dummy before Touya was little more than ash and melted plastic, yet his father's retreating back told him everything he needed to know—it still wasn't enough. His flames, azure and brilliant, had burned hotter than ever today, but they'd left their mark on more than just his target. The skin of his arms was angry and red, blistering in places where his quirk had rebelled against his own body.

Touya ran his tongue along the sharp points of his fangs, a habit he'd developed whenever anxiety gripped him. They were different from Fuyumi's perfectly straight teeth, from Natsuo's baby smile. Even as a child, he'd noticed how his father's eyes would linger on them during dinner, a slight furrow in his brow as if trying to solve a puzzle that shouldn't exist. They were just another imperfection, another way his body had failed to meet the ideal his father had envisioned.

"Touya?" His mother's voice floated across the training yard, gentle as always. "Would you like to help me with lunch?"

He turned to find Rei standing at the edge of the yard, her white hair catching the afternoon light. She held her hand out to him, an invitation he'd grown familiar with over the years. These moments in the kitchen had become their refuge, a space where the weight of expectations seemed to lift, if only for a while.

"Can I help too?" Fuyumi peaked out from behind their mother, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. At eight, she was already showing signs of their mother's grace, though her dual-colored hair marked her as undeniably Enji's child as well.

"Of course," Rei smiled, though Touya caught the slight tension in her shoulders as she glanced at his injuries. "We're making kuzumochi today. Your father's favorite."

The mention of Enji made Touya's chest tighten, but he followed them inside anyway. Natsuo, barely three, was already settled in his usual spot at the kitchen table, happily scribbling with crayons. The scene was almost painfully normal—a mother cooking with her children, the youngest entertaining himself nearby. But the empty chair at the head of the table loomed like a shadow.

As Rei guided Touya's hands through the process of kneading the dough, she hummed her familiar tune. "Pinky promise, pinky promise, your mother will protect you..." The melody wrapped around them like a warm blanket, but Touya couldn't help noticing how her fingers trembled slightly when they brushed against his burned skin.

"Mom," he started, voice quiet enough that Fuyumi wouldn't hear as she measured out flour, "do you think Dad will come home for dinner today?"

Rei's movements faltered for just a moment. "He's been very busy lately, darling. The hero rankings—"

"He doesn't even look at Natsuo anymore," Touya cut in, the words burning his throat like his own flames. "He used to at least check on him, but now..."

His mother's hands stilled completely. When Touya looked up, he caught a glimpse of something dark passing behind her eyes—a shadow of the woman she'd been before, when the cold had seemed to follow her like a shroud. He'd been young then, but he remembered the way she'd sometimes stare out windows for hours, her reflection in the glass as still as a porcelain doll.

"Your father loves you all," she said finally, but her voice carried an edge that made Touya's skin prickle. "He just... he has his own way of showing it. But I'm here, Touya. I'm always here."

She reached out, gently running her cool fingers through his hair, and for a moment, Touya could almost believe her. But then he caught his reflection in the kitchen window—red hair, sharp fangs, skin marked by his own flames—and the illusion shattered.

Later that evening, after another dinner with an empty chair, Rei found Touya in the dojo. She didn't say anything at first, just watched as he moved through the defensive stances she'd taught him—movements that didn't require his quirk, that wouldn't burn him.

"You don't always need flames to be strong," she'd told him once, demonstrating how to redirect an opponent's force. "Sometimes the greatest strength is in knowing when not to use your power."

But as Touya executed a perfect block, all he could think about was how his father would scoff at such training. Heroes needed power. All Might had power. And Enji... Enji wanted an heir who could surpass even that.

"He used to watch me train," Touya said suddenly, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Every day, he'd be there, pushing me to be better, to burn hotter. But now..."

"Touya..." Rei stepped forward, and in the dimming light, her white hair seemed to glow. She reached for him, but stopped short when she noticed the fresh burns on his hands. Her expression flickered—guilt, fear, determination cycling rapidly across her features.

"Let me show you something else," she said finally, her voice steadying. "A different way to channel your energy."

She led him through a series of breathing exercises, techniques she claimed had helped her control her own ice powers when they threatened to overwhelm her. Fuyumi joined them partway through, always eager to learn anything their mother taught, and even Natsuo toddled over, mimicking their movements with childish determination.

But even as Touya felt his racing heart slow, even as his mother's voice washed over him with promises of protection and love, he couldn't shake the image of his father's back, getting further and further away. The darkness inside him churned, fed by each distant look, each missed dinner, each moment of silence where praise should have been.

His flames burned beneath his skin, eager to prove their worth, to show that he could be the heir his father wanted. But with each passing day, as Enji grew more distant and Touya's body continued to betray him, that dream seemed to slip further from his grasp.

And no amount of his mother's lullabies could change that truth.

"Pinky promise, pinky promise," Rei sang softly as she tucked Natsuo into bed that night, her voice carrying down the hallway to where Touya sat in his room. "Your mother will protect you..."

But as Touya stared at his burned hands, at the reflection of his fanged smile in his bedroom window, he wondered who would protect him from himself—from the flames that burned too hot and the dreams that seemed increasingly out of reach.

In the distance, he heard the front door open and close, heavy footsteps marking his father's late return. For a moment, Touya considered going downstairs, showing Enji the new defensive moves he'd learned, anything to catch his attention. But the memory of that turned back, of those disappointed eyes, held him in place.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow he would train harder, burn hotter, be better.

Tomorrow he would be enough.

But deep down, in a place he barely dared to acknowledge, Touya knew that tomorrow would be just like today. And no amount of training, no amount of burning himself raw, would bring his father's gaze back to him.

The darkness inside him grew a little deeper, and somewhere in the house, his mother's lullaby faded into silence.

Chapter Text

The kitchen was filled with afternoon light, dust motes dancing in the golden beams that streamed through the windows. Rei watched as Touya carefully chopped vegetables, his movements precise and controlled—so different from the wild, desperate energy she often saw in his training.

"Like this?" he asked, showing her the perfectly diced carrots.

"Perfect," Rei smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of red hair from his forehead. "You have steady hands, Touya."

He beamed at the praise, and for a moment, he looked so young—just seven, just her little boy. Not the desperate child she'd watched burning himself raw in the training yard, not the one whose eyes sometimes held shadows too dark for someone so young.

"Now, watch this," she demonstrated, gathering the vegetables into a neat pile. "When you're cooking, control is just as important as it is in training. Every movement should have purpose."

Touya's eyes followed her hands intently. "Like when you showed me those blocking moves?"

"Exactly." Rei nodded, pleased he'd made the connection. "Whether you're in the kitchen or the dojo, it's about precision, not power."

She guided him through the rest of the meal preparation, showing him how to test the broth's temperature, how to time the noodles perfectly. These moments in the kitchen had become their sanctuary—a place where flames were only for cooking, where precision didn't leave scars.

"Mom?" Touya's voice was quiet as he stirred the pot. "Can we practice those moves again later? The ones without quirks?"

Rei's heart clenched at the hopeful note in his voice. "Of course, sweetheart. After dinner?"

He nodded eagerly, and Rei found herself humming as they worked, her familiar lullaby filling the comfortable silence between them.

"Pinky promise, pinky promise, your mother will protect you..."

Later, in the dojo, Rei guided Touya through the defensive stances she'd been teaching him. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the training mats, but for once, there were no flames, no burning flesh, no desperate attempts to prove worth through power.

"Remember," she said, positioning his arms, "it's about redirecting force, not meeting it head-on. Sometimes the strongest defense is knowing when to yield."

Touya moved through the forms with natural grace, his face set in concentration. But even here, in these peaceful moments, Rei could see the darkness lurking beneath the surface—the way his eyes would drift to the burn marks on the training dummies, the slight tension in his jaw that spoke of contained flames.

"You're doing wonderfully," she praised, and meant it. "Your form is perfect."

"But..." Touya's movements faltered. "But it's not enough, is it? Not for him."

The words hung heavy in the air between them. Rei stepped forward, placing her cool hands on his shoulders. "Touya, look at me. Your worth isn't measured by your flames."

"But I need to be stronger," he insisted, and there was something in his voice that sent a chill down Rei's spine. "I need to be perfect. For Dad, for you, for—"

"For yourself?" Rei asked gently.

Touya fell silent, his eyes dropping to the floor. Rei pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. He was getting tall, she realized with a start. Soon he'd be too big for these embraces.

"Listen to me," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. "You are perfect exactly as you are. Your fangs, your flames, your gentle heart—all of it makes you who you are. My beautiful boy."

She felt him trembling slightly in her arms, and began to sing softly:

"Pinky promise, pinky promise,

Your mother will protect you,

Through the darkness, through the flames,

I'll always be beside you..."

For a moment, Touya melted into her embrace, allowing himself to be just a child seeking comfort. But Rei could feel the heat simmering beneath his skin, the barely contained power that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

Something stirred in the depths of her memory—a darkness, a cold that had nothing to do with her ice quirk. Sometimes, when she looked at Touya, she saw shadows that felt... familiar. As if she'd known this kind of darkness before, in another life, another time.

The thought sent an inexplicable wave of guilt through her, though she couldn't understand why. She held Touya tighter, as if she could shield him from whatever darkness threatened to consume him—whether it came from his father's ambitions or something deeper, something she couldn't quite remember.

"Again," Touya whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "The song... please?"

Rei nodded, rocking him gently as she had when he was small. But as she sang, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping through her fingers—some crucial piece of understanding that might help her save her son from whatever path he was walking.

"Pinky promise, pinky promise..."

The words felt different now, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and half-remembered shadows. In the dying light of the dojo, Rei held her firstborn son and sang of protection and love, even as she sensed the darkness growing within him—a darkness that echoed something inside her own soul, something she'd forgotten but could feel stirring in the depths of her mind.

"I'll always be beside you..."

But as Touya finally pulled away, his eyes holding that familiar determined gleam, Rei wondered if love alone would be enough. If her promises of protection could stand against the flames that burned so hot within him, against the shadows that seemed to call to both of them in ways she couldn't understand.

Later that night, after Touya had gone to bed, Rei stood in the garden, watching the moon rise over the training yard. The peaceful scene before her contrasted sharply with the turmoil in her heart. Something about Touya's struggle, about the darkness she sensed in him, felt like a reflection of something inside her—something ancient and cold that she couldn't quite grasp.

"I won't let you fall," she whispered to the night air, though whether she was promising Touya or herself, she wasn't sure. "Whatever it takes, whatever darkness comes, I'll find a way to protect you."

But as she turned back toward the house, she caught her reflection in the window—white hair glowing in the moonlight, eyes holding shadows she couldn't explain—and for a moment, she didn't recognize herself. It passed quickly, but the unease lingered, along with a desperate need to understand why her son's struggles felt like an echo of a past she couldn't remember.

Inside, she could hear Touya training in his room, the soft whoosh of carefully controlled flames. She began to hum her lullaby again, letting the familiar melody chase away the shadows of things half-remembered, focusing instead on the present, on the son who needed her now.

Yet even as she sang of protection and love, she couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere, in the depths of her forgotten memories, lay the key to saving Touya from whatever darkness called to him—a darkness that whispered to her too, in voices she almost recognized.

Chapter Text

Touya stood in the training yard, his chest heaving with each breath as sweat poured down his face, mingling with the ash in the air. His hands trembled, fingers curled into tight fists as fire flickered and sputtered from his palms. He had been pushing himself for hours now, training without pause, without rest. His body ached, his skin felt raw, and every muscle screamed for him to stop—but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

The flames burned too hot for his body to handle. Red marks—burns—began creeping up his arms, the skin already blistering in some places. But Touya gritted his teeth, willing the pain away. He had to keep going. He needed to.

His father’s voice echoed in his mind: "You’ll surpass All Might. You’ll become the greatest hero. You are my legacy."

But lately, those words had felt like a distant dream, growing further and further from his grasp. Touya’s body couldn’t keep up with his ambition, with his father’s expectations. His quirk, his flames, they burned too brightly, too hot for his body to endure. No matter how hard he pushed, how much he trained, the pain always came. And with each day, it got worse.

He winced as another searing pain shot through his arm, but instead of stopping, he let the fire blaze hotter, his resolve hardening. I have to do this. I have to prove to him I can handle it. His vision blurred, but he didn’t care. He’d make his father proud. No matter the cost.

Inside the house, Rei watched from the window, her eyes narrowing as she saw the faint flickers of firelight coming from outside. She could see the strain in Touya’s movements, the way he pushed himself too hard, too fast. Her heart clenched. He’s going to hurt himself again.

Rei stepped out into the yard, her voice soft yet firm. "Touya," she called out, approaching her son carefully, trying not to startle him. "That’s enough for today."

Touya barely acknowledged her, his flames dimming slightly but still burning. "I can do more," he muttered, his voice strained from exhaustion. "I just need to keep going."

Rei’s hand touched his shoulder, her grip gentle but steady. "No. You need to stop. You’re hurting yourself." Her voice carried a warmth that Touya hadn’t heard in a long time, a warmth that felt like home.

For a moment, Touya hesitated. He turned to face his mother, the flames in his palms flickering out. Her eyes, filled with concern, softened his heart in a way nothing else could. He could feel her pulling him back from the edge of his obsession, back to something softer, kinder. For the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe.

They spent the next few weeks together more often. Rei taught him how to cook simple dishes, showed him old books about samurai and the heroes of the past. Sometimes, they would sit outside, Fuyumi and Natsuo playing nearby, while Rei hummed one of her strange lullabies. For a while, the obsession faded into the background. Touya felt a little more like himself—like a normal kid.

But everything changed the day Enji came home with news.

Touya sat at the dinner table, absently picking at his food. He had been in a good mood earlier, having just finished practicing one of the new defense moves his mom had taught him. But when his father came in, the air in the room shifted.

Rei sat beside Enji, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She seemed unusually quiet, her expression unreadable. Beside her, Fuyumi swung her legs back and forth under the table, humming softly to herself as she arranged her vegetables into neat little patterns. Natsuo, barely able to see over the table, was more interested in making his spoon float in his water glass than eating.

Enji cleared his throat and glanced at Touya before speaking.

"We're having another baby."

The words hit Touya like a punch to the gut. He froze, the fork in his hand slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the plate. Another baby? His eyes flicked between his parents, confusion and dread swirling in his chest.

"A baby?" Fuyumi's excited squeal pierced through the heavy silence. She clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling. "Like Natsu when he was tiny?"

"That's right," Rei said softly, reaching out to smooth Fuyumi's hair.

"I'm not tiny!" Natsuo protested, standing up in his chair. "I'm big now!" His declaration was somewhat undermined by the fact that standing barely brought him level with Fuyumi's shoulder.

"Sit down," Enji commanded, though his voice lacked its usual edge. Natsuo plopped back into his seat, but his grin remained unchanged.

"Will it be a girl?" Fuyumi asked, bouncing in her seat. "I want a sister! We can play dress-up and have tea parties and—"

"Can it be a brother?" Natsuo interrupted. "I want someone to play heroes with!"

Their excited chatter faded into background noise as Touya's mind raced. Another child meant less attention, less time for him. His father was already distant enough.

Enji's words from so long ago echoed in his mind. "You are my legacy."

But now, with each new sibling, Touya began to see the truth. It wasn't just him. He wasn't the only one. His father was having more children—more potential heirs.

"Can I help pick the baby's name?" Fuyumi's voice cut through his thoughts. She was practically vibrating with excitement, her half-eaten dinner forgotten.

"Me too!" Natsuo chimed in, waving his spoon enthusiastically. "I want to name it All Might!"

"That's not a real name, silly," Fuyumi giggled, reaching over to ruffle her little brother's hair.

Suddenly, it clicked. Touya wasn't special. He was just one of many in his father's plan to create the perfect hero. If he failed, there was always someone else. Another child to take his place. This new baby was the one Enji had set his sights on now. And this new baby—this new baby would only push him further down the line.

A storm of emotions welled up inside Touya: anger, fear, desperation. His flames flickered at the tips of his fingers as he clenched his fists under the table.

"The baby can share my toys!" Natsuo declared proudly, oblivious to his older brother's turmoil.

"And I can teach them how to draw," Fuyumi added, already planning out her role as a big sister. "And read stories, like Mom does for us!"

He had to prove himself. He *needed* to show his father that he could do it, that he could be the hero Enji always talked about. But his body—his cursed body—kept betraying him.

His mother's voice broke through the whirlwind of his thoughts. "Touya," Rei said gently, sensing his distress. "Are you okay?"

For a split second, he saw it again—her face. That cold, expressionless face she sometimes wore, like she wasn't really there, like she was someone else entirely. His heart skipped a beat, fear flashing through him. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, and she smiled softly at him, her eyes warm again.

"I'm fine," Touya lied, forcing a smile back. Fuyumi and Natsuo continued their excited chatter about the baby, their innocent joy a stark contrast to the darkness churning inside him.

"Can we go shopping for baby things tomorrow?" Fuyumi asked, tugging at her mother's sleeve. "I saw cute baby clothes in the store window!"

"Yeah! Baby stuff!" Natsuo echoed, though he probably had no idea what baby shopping entailed.

But inside Touya's mind was racing. I have to become stronger. I have to make him see me. I'll surpass All Might. I'll become number one. And then... then he'll finally look at me.

As his siblings continued their happy planning, completely unaware of his inner struggle, Touya clenched his fists tighter, feeling the heat start to burn under his skin. He knew that if he wasn't careful, his flames would consume him first.

"Big brother?" Fuyumi's voice suddenly cut through his thoughts. "Aren't you excited about the baby?"

Touya looked at his sister's innocent, hopeful face, and managed another fake smile. "Yeah," he lied, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "Really excited."

Chapter Text

The house hummed with a strange energy as the Todoroki family prepared for the arrival of their newest member. Boxes of baby clothes cluttered the living room, and Rei moved quietly between rooms, organizing with a careful focus, as though if she concentrated hard enough, everything else would fall into place. Fuyumi and Natsuo played nearby, excitedly chattering about their baby brother, while Touya sat apart, his gaze distant.

Enji had grown more absent with each passing day. His focus was elsewhere—at work, in training, and in his obsessive thoughts about the child Rei carried. Shoto. That name held weight, heavier than anything in their home. Enji had hardly spoken it aloud, but everyone knew. He believed this child was special. This time, he would get it right.

It wasn’t that Enji didn't love his other children, but his vision of a perfect heir had always loomed larger than anything else. Touya knew this too well.

From his corner of the room, Touya watched his siblings laugh as they helped their mother fold blankets. He felt a pang of something deep inside, an emotion he couldn't quite place, like an itch under his skin that grew worse with every passing moment. That laughter, those bright smiles, and even his mother’s soft humming—all of it grated against him.

Rei glanced over at him, and for a moment, her face softened with concern. She had noticed it too—how distant he’d become, how often he disappeared into the backyard to train alone, the way his body carried more burns than before.

He had tried to talk to his father once, tried to show him the progress he’d made. But Enji barely looked at him, only muttering, "Focus on something else, Touya. You’re not meant for this."

The words echoed in his mind, a dull ache that festered in his chest.

Touya wasn’t meant for this? Then why had he been born at all? Why had he been pushed to train, to burn, to hurt, if his father never saw him as enough?

He shook his head and stood, his body aching from the day's exertion. He had pushed himself harder, staying out longer, his flames burning hotter than they should. He knew his body wasn’t handling it well—his skin blistered under the heat, and the pain was a constant reminder of how far he was willing to go to prove his worth.

But that didn’t matter. If his body had to break to make his father notice him, then so be it.

As Touya turned to leave, Rei’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Touya,” she called softly, her tone a mixture of warmth and worry. “Come help me with this.”

He paused for a moment, torn between ignoring her and following the request. He glanced back, catching her gentle smile as she held up a small blue blanket. Fuyumi and Natsuo had already moved on to some new distraction, but Rei’s attention was fully on him now.

He sighed and walked over, sitting down next to her. The blanket felt soft in his hands, but the softness only made the tension inside him worse.

“You’ve been working too hard,” she said quietly, her fingers deftly folding the fabric. “I’ve noticed how much time you’re spending outside, training by yourself.”

Touya didn’t respond, keeping his eyes on the blanket, but he felt the weight of her gaze on him.

“You don’t need to push yourself so much,” she continued, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re already so strong. You’re special, Touya. You always will be.”

Special. The word felt like a knife in his chest. His fists tightened around the blanket.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he muttered, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Rei’s smile faltered for a moment, her eyes clouding with worry. She reached out, placing a hand on his. “Touya... I know it’s hard, with your father—”

“Don’t,” Touya cut her off, his voice sharper than he intended. “Don’t talk about him.”

Rei’s hand froze, and for a brief second, her face hardened into that doll-like expression he’d seen before—cold, distant, as if she were retreating into herself. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by her usual warmth.

“All right,” she said softly, her voice calming. “But promise me, Touya—promise me you’ll take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Touya bit back the words he wanted to say. His father was the one hurting him, not physically, but in ways that burned deeper than his flames ever could. But he couldn’t say that to her. Instead, he nodded stiffly, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation.

Rei smiled again, a soft lullaby escaping her lips as she folded the last of the blankets. The melody filled the room, its sweet, soothing tones wrapping around him like a gentle breeze.

“Pinky promise, pinky promise, your mother will protect you...” she sang, the words light but laced with something more. “I will protect you; I promise you that. Until you get big and strong.”

Touya froze, the song striking a nerve. His mother had sung it to him when he was younger, and to Fuyumi and Natsuo too. It had always been comforting, but now, as she sang it again, something about it unsettled him.

The words haunted him, crawling under his skin, as if mocking his very existence. "Until you get big and strong." What was the point? What good was getting strong if it meant nothing in the end? If his father could so easily cast him aside?

The lullabies that once filled him with warmth now felt like chains around his heart, weighing him down with a sense of worthlessness. Every note was a reminder of the growing distance between him and his father, and the hollow feeling inside him deepened.

Rei’s voice continued to fill the air, but Touya could no longer listen. The sound of her lullabies, the laughter of his siblings—it all became noise, grating against the ache in his chest. He stood up abruptly, excusing himself from the room.

As he stepped outside into the cold night air, he could still hear the distant hum of his mother’s song, but it felt like it was meant for someone else. Someone who wasn’t him.

Touya clenched his fists, the fire within him flaring hotter than ever, burning in tandem with his resentment. His mother’s lullabies, his father’s indifference—none of it would matter once he proved himself. He would make them all see him. He would become the hero his father dreamed of, no matter the cost.

Because if he couldn’t be enough, what was the point of his existence at all?

_____

The room was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief and joy as Shoto Todoroki came into the world. Rei held the newborn in her arms, her soft smile radiating warmth as she gazed down at him. His tiny hands curled around her fingers, and Enji could hardly believe what he saw. Shoto's hair was a striking blend of his parents’ powers—half-white and half-red, as though the flames and ice had been perfectly fused into one. His eyes were equally divided, one the deep blue of his mother's ice, the other a blazing ember like his father's fire.

Enji's breath caught in his chest. This was it. The child he had been waiting for. The perfect heir.

The doctors spoke in low murmurs, congratulating the Todorokis on a healthy baby, but Enji’s mind was already racing ahead. Shoto. He could see it now—this child had both quirks, the power of ice and fire within him. This child was destined to surpass even All Might. His vision, his dream of creating the ultimate hero, was no longer just a distant hope. It was here, in Rei's arms, in the form of their newborn son.

"He's perfect," Enji whispered, not taking his eyes off the baby.

Rei smiled at him, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze—concern. She could feel the weight of Enji's expectations, the gravity of what Shoto represented in his mind. But for now, she said nothing, choosing instead to focus on the moment.

Meanwhile, Touya stood in the doorway, watching from the shadows. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with a mixture of emotions he couldn't untangle. He should be happy—his little brother had been born, another addition to the family. Fuyumi and Natsuo were already bouncing with excitement in the hallway, waiting for their turn to meet him. But Touya couldn't move.

His eyes stayed locked on his father, on the way Enji looked at Shoto with that burning intensity, as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Touya had never seen his father look at anyone like that—not him, not Fuyumi, not Natsuo. And it hit him like a tidal wave.

This is it, Touya thought, his stomach sinking. He’s finally found his perfect heir.

The realization washed over him, icy and sharp. All the training, all the pain, all the times he had pushed himself to his breaking point—it had been for nothing. His father no longer saw him. Enji had moved on, shifted all his hopes, dreams, and ambitions onto Shoto, and left him behind.

But no. Touya wasn’t ready to accept that. He wasn’t ready to let go of his father’s vision for him, the dream that had consumed him since childhood. He could still prove himself. He had to. Shoto’s birth didn’t change that. He would work harder, push further, surpass his limits. He wouldn’t let his father forget about him.

As Enji gently took Shoto into his arms, his proud expression faltered for a moment. Something caught his eye. He leaned in closer to the newborn, staring at the small, yet unmistakable detail.

Fangs.

Tiny, sharp fangs, just barely visible when Shoto opened his mouth in a soft cry. Enji’s face darkened, his joy replaced by an unsettling sense of déjà vu.

Rei, who had been watching him, noticed the shift in his expression. Her eyes flicked to Shoto’s face, and she saw what Enji had seen—the fangs. Her smile faded, replaced with a coldness that made the room feel like it had dropped several degrees.

But then, just as quickly, she smiled again, her voice light and cheerful. “It’s nothing, Enji. He’s perfect, just like we wanted.”

Enji didn’t reply immediately. His mind whirled with thoughts, with questions he couldn’t put into words. First Touya, now Shoto. He had brushed it aside when Touya was born, but now it was undeniable. Something wasn’t right. Yet, in this moment, he couldn't let his doubts cloud what should have been a celebration.

“Yeah… perfect,” he muttered, though the word felt strange on his tongue now.

But Touya hadn’t missed it—the way his father’s face had shifted, the way his joy had been tainted by uncertainty the moment he saw the fangs. He stepped back from the doorway, his heart pounding.

Even Shoto has them. That one tiny detail stirred something in him, an unease he couldn’t explain.

As the family gathered around to welcome the newest Todoroki, Touya lingered in the background. He watched as his mother cradled Shoto, as Fuyumi and Natsuo giggled and reached out to touch their baby brother’s hand. Everyone seemed so happy, so content.

But all Touya could feel was the growing storm inside him.

Over the next few days, the house was filled with an unusual sense of peace. Rei’s soft singing echoed through the halls as she rocked Shoto to sleep. The other children played and laughed, excited about their new baby brother. Even Enji seemed calmer, though he was still distant, his mind always somewhere else—always thinking about the future, about Shoto’s potential.

Touya trained harder. He stayed out longer, pushing his body beyond its limits, ignoring the searing pain in his skin, the way his flames burned too hot for him to control. He could feel himself breaking down, both physically and emotionally, but he refused to stop. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when his father had all but abandoned him for Shoto.

Every time he saw his father holding Shoto, pride in his eyes, it felt like another nail in the coffin of Touya’s existence. His entire purpose, everything he had worked for, was slipping away, and all he could do was try harder. He would make his father see him again. He had to.

But no matter how hard he trained, how much pain he endured, it was never enough. His body couldn’t handle the flames like his father’s could. He was burning from the inside out, and he knew it. But he didn’t care.

Rei noticed. Of course, she did. She watched her son with a mixture of sadness and helplessness, seeing the darkness growing inside him. She tried to reach him, pulling him into the kitchen to help her cook, teaching him how to defend himself without his quirk. Sometimes Fuyumi would join in, and Natsuo would tag along, his usual bubbly self. For a while, it seemed to help. Touya would smile again, even laugh. But it never lasted.

And all the while, her guilt weighed heavier. The fangs, the strange darkness in her children—it was her past life, her sins, creeping into this one. And no matter how hard she tried, it was never enough to keep Touya from spiraling.

But Touya didn’t want his mother’s comfort. He didn’t want her lullabies or her attempts to make things better. He wanted his father’s approval, his father’s love. And now that Shoto had been born, it felt like that was something he would never have again.

So he kept training. He kept pushing. And the flames kept burning.

Touya promised himself one thing: no matter what, he would prove to his father that he was still worthy. Even if it killed him.

Chapter Text

It had been several weeks since Shoto's birth, and the household had settled into a new rhythm, albeit an uneasy one. Shoto, now nestled in the family home, had become the center of attention. His quiet cries filled the rooms, and Rei doted on him with her usual warmth. Fuyumi and Natsuo adored their youngest sibling, always asking if they could help feed him or rock him to sleep. But something in the air was shifting—an undercurrent of tension that was growing by the day.

Enji Todoroki, for all his ambitions, was becoming more and more aware of it.

He found Touya in the yard, training again. His son's small frame moved with reckless determination, flames roaring far hotter than his body could handle. The bright reds and oranges flickered violently, out of control. Sweat poured down Touya's face, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

Enji approached, his expression dark. He had warned Touya countless times to ease up on his training, that his body wasn't equipped to handle the intensity of his flames. But Touya had ignored him again and again. Today, Enji had enough.

"Touya," Enji's voice was sharp, commanding. "Stop. Now."

Touya turned, his flames sputtering out as he faced his father. His face was flushed from the heat, but more than that, it was filled with desperation. His red eyes locked onto Enji's, searching for something—approval, pride, anything.

"Why?" Touya snapped back, his voice trembling. "Why do you want me to stop now? You said I was supposed to surpass All Might. That's what you wanted, right?"

Enji's face hardened. "Touya, you're hurting yourself. I told you before, your body can't handle the flames. You need to stop this before you cause permanent damage. There's more to life than being a hero. Play with your siblings. Make friends at school. You need to let this go. One day, all of this will be a distant memory."

Tears welled up in Touya's eyes, blurring his vision. He clenched his fists, his body trembling, not from exertion this time, but from the overwhelming weight of his emotions.

"How can you tell me that?" Touya's voice cracked, thick with frustration and pain. "You lit the fire in me to surpass All Might, and now you want me to just forget it? Everyone at school wants to be a hero, Dad! But none of them understand what it's like to have *you* as a father!"

The words hit Enji harder than he expected. He stood there, silent, unsure of what to say.

Touya's voice rose, frantic, desperate for something, anything that would make sense of his world. "You don't get to tell me to stop! Not when you were the one who started all of this!" His tears fell freely now, and with a tone so bitter it cut through the air, he spat out, "You're *Endeavor*, not my father."

The sting of hearing his son call him by his hero name, as though he was just another person, another obstacle, struck Enji deeply. The gap between them was widening, and he could feel it, like a chasm growing larger with every word Touya spoke.

The argument had drawn the rest of the family. Rei appeared at the doorway, baby Shoto cradled in her arms. Fuyumi and Natsuo stood behind her, watching in confusion, their eyes flicking between their father and brother.

"Touya..." Rei's voice was soft, filled with concern.

But Touya didn't hear her. He didn't see anyone. His entire focus was on his father, and the swirling storm of emotions inside him was reaching its breaking point. Without thinking, without fully realizing what he was doing, Touya's flames erupted again, hotter and more uncontrollable than before. His eyes blazed with fury, and in a fit of blind rage, he lashed out, flames shooting toward Rei and baby Shoto.

"No!" Enji shouted, his own flames flaring to life.

But before either father or son could act, Rei stepped forward. Her cold, calm demeanor vanished in an instant as ice surged around her, freezing Touya's flames in midair. Her eyes, usually so warm and kind, were suddenly emotionless, cold as the ice that spread across the ground. 

"Touya," she said, her voice as sharp as broken glass. "That's enough."

For a moment, everything was still. The family stood frozen in place, the air thick with tension. Touya's chest heaved, his face pale as he realized what he had done. He had attacked his own mother—his baby brother.

The flames disappeared, leaving only silence in their wake.

Rei's expression shifted, softening slightly as she looked at her children. "Fuyumi," she called, her voice gentle but firm. "Take your brothers inside. All of them. Go play in the front room."

Fuyumi, always the responsible one, nodded quickly. She took Natsuo's hand and approached Touya carefully. "Come on, big brother," she whispered, reaching for him. Touya, still trembling, allowed himself to be led away. His eyes, full of shame and confusion, darted between his parents before he disappeared inside with his siblings.

Rei waited until she heard the distant sound of the front room door sliding shut. Then, she turned to Enji, and the temperature around them dropped dramatically. She walked to Shoto's nursery first, laying the baby in his crib with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the ice in her eyes when she faced her husband again.

"Study. Now." Her voice left no room for argument.

Inside Enji's study, away from the children's ears, Rei's composure cracked. The cheerful mask she wore for their children fell away completely, revealing something darker, more dangerous underneath.

"We can't continue like this," she said, her voice low and trembling with barely contained rage. "Touya is... breaking. And it's because of you."

Enji's gaze snapped to her. "Rei—"

"All he wanted was your acknowledgment," Rei continued, stepping forward. The air around her chilled even further, making even Enji's flames flicker weakly against the cold. "But all you can show him is this world of heroes. Is that all you are? A hero? Or are you still his father?"

Frost began creeping up the walls of the study, spreading from where Rei stood. Her hands trembled, but her voice remained steady, sharp as an icicle.

"I've watched you push him away, watched you destroy everything he believed in. And for what? Your obsession with creating the perfect heir?" She laughed, a hollow sound that seemed to freeze the air itself. "Look what you've done to our son. Look what you're doing to all of them."

Enji's mouth opened, but no words came out. He knew she was right. He had pushed Touya too far, wrapped him too tightly in his own ambitions. But what else could he do? This was the world he knew. This was all he could offer.

"I'm doing this for him," Enji muttered. "For all of them."

"No," Rei's voice cut through him like ice. "You're doing this for yourself. You're running away from your responsibilities as a father. Those children—*our* children—they need their father. Not Endeavor. Not the Number Two Hero. Their *father*."

She stepped closer, and for the first time in his life, Enji found himself taking a step back. The temperature in the room plummeted further.

"You're on thin ice, Enji," she whispered, her smile not reaching her eyes. "The only reason I'm letting this continue is for Shoto's safety... and for Touya's sanity. But if you hurt him—if you hurt any of them—"

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. The threat hung in the air, cold and unyielding. Instead, she turned away, her hand trembling as she reached for the door. For a moment, her fingers brushed against a vase on the shelf, accidentally knocking it over. It shattered on the floor, the sound echoing in the frozen silence of the study.

Rei stared at the broken pieces, and something in her eyes shifted—a flash of something primal, dangerous. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by her usual gentle demeanor. But the ice didn't retreat from the walls, and her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Clean this up," she said softly, gesturing to the broken vase. "And then go spend time with your children. All of them. Not as a teacher, not as a hero. As their father."

She left him there, surrounded by frost-covered walls and broken ceramic, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Enji swallowed, a deep pit forming in his stomach. He had never been afraid of anyone before, not even his most dangerous enemies. But Rei... she terrified him.

And the worst part was, she was right. He was losing control—of everything.

In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of his children in the front room. Fuyumi's gentle voice trying to organize a game. Natsuo's excited chatter. And somewhere among them, Touya, silent and burning.

Chapter Text

Enji Todoroki stood at the window of his study, staring blankly into the night. The city lights flickered in the distance, but his thoughts were far away from his work as a hero. He had faced countless villains, survived battles that would leave most men broken, and yet, here he was—standing still, heart pounding, mind racing, terrified of what awaited him at home.

The house was quiet now, save for the occasional soft murmur from Rei, who had just put Shoto to bed. Shoto. The son who, on the surface, seemed to be everything Enji had hoped for. Fire and ice. A perfect balance. A prodigy born with the potential to surpass All Might—his ultimate dream. And yet...

Enji exhaled heavily, his gaze dropping to his hands, rough from years of flame and combat. He clenched them into fists. Shoto had been born with fangs , just like Touya. The sight of them had sent a cold shiver down his spine when he first noticed, though he tried to push the unease away. It didn’t make sense. What did it mean?

There was something wrong, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and it haunted him.

His mind drifted back to his first son, Touya—the boy who had once been his pride, the boy he had raised with the singular goal of surpassing All Might. Touya had potential, too much of it perhaps. His flames burned hotter than anything Enji had ever seen, but Touya's body couldn’t withstand it. His skin cracked and blistered under the heat. And yet, Touya kept going . He trained harder, fought through the pain, all to please him.

That realization tightened something deep in Enji’s chest—guilt, anger, regret. Touya idolized him, and for a time, Enji had believed that this obsession was a good thing. He was so focused on creating the next number one hero that he’d overlooked what truly mattered.

And now, when Enji looked at Touya, all he saw was the toll that ambition had taken. The boy was falling apart, his body failing him, but more than that, his spirit was breaking. The fire in his eyes, once full of hope, was now flickering with desperation and anger. Enji had ignited that fire, and now he didn’t know how to put it out without destroying his son.

Touya needed him, that much was clear. But how could Enji help him now? He had always been better at commanding than nurturing. His life as a hero made sense; it was structured, clear. But fatherhood? That was an entirely different battlefield. Touya wasn’t just a boy with a quirk; he was his son, and Enji was failing him.

And then there was Rei.

Enji’s jaw clenched as he thought of his wife. She had always been an enigma to him. When they first met, he had thought her to be fragile, her pale beauty cold and untouchable, like the ice she controlled. She had agreed to the quirk marriage without complaint, and he’d believed that their union, while practical, would work. After all, it was a means to an end—a family that could produce the next top hero.

But Rei was not fragile. Not anymore. Over the years, she had shown him glimpses of something far more terrifying beneath her calm demeanor. Her love for their children was fierce, protective in a way that unsettled him. And ever since Shoto’s birth, that protectiveness had taken on a more dangerous edge.

He thought of the conversation they had after Touya’s outburst. The way she had coldly threatened him, the way the air had frozen around them. Rei wasn’t the passive, supportive wife he had imagined her to be. There was something deeper, something darker inside her—something that scared him. When she spoke, when her eyes went cold, it was as though the woman he thought he knew vanished, replaced by a being that could freeze him where he stood.

But then, just as quickly, she would return to her cheery self, smiling as if nothing had happened. Enji wasn’t sure which side of her unnerved him more.

And yet, for all the fear and confusion Rei stirred in him, there was something else—a sense of admiration, maybe even awe. She kept the family together in ways he never could. The children adored her, even Touya, who had grown distant from everyone else, found solace in her presence. She had a way of calming the storms that brewed in their household, even if it was only temporary.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Rei was on the verge of something—that her cheerful facade was only a mask for the real danger lurking beneath. A danger that, if provoked, could tear their family apart. And for the first time in his life, Enji wasn’t sure how to handle it.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. His family was slipping through his fingers, and no amount of hero work could save them. Touya was hurtling down a path of self-destruction, Shoto was already being prepared for the same fate, and Rei... Rei was a mystery he couldn’t solve.

As much as he feared her, he also knew that Rei was the only one who might be able to save their children from the path he had set them on. But what did that mean for him? Was there even a place for him in their family if all he brought was pain?

He had built his entire life on the idea of becoming the number one hero of surpassing All Might. And yet, here he was, the number two hero, but nowhere close to being the father his children needed.

Shoto’s birth had brought hope for Enji—hope that his legacy would continue through his youngest son. But it had also brought fear, fear that the mistakes he made with Touya would be repeated. The fangs only deepened that fear. What did they mean? Was there something in his family he didn’t understand?

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. He had to focus. He still had time to fix things—to be better. For Shoto. For all of them.

Chapter Text

Five years had passed since Shoto Todoroki had come into the world, and in that time, the Todoroki household had settled into an uneasy peace. Like frost forming over a burning ember, the family had found ways to exist around their father's smoldering ambition. Enji had grown more distant as a father, his massive frame casting long shadows through the traditional Japanese house, but over the last few years, his relationship with his children had slightly improved—or perhaps they had simply learned to navigate around his volatile moods, like sailors charting a course through treacherous waters.

Touya, now thirteen, had developed a close bond with his younger siblings, often guiding Fuyumi and Natsuo in games and play. His white hair, streaked with crimson like fresh snow marked with blood, had grown longer, partially hiding the burn scars that crept up his neck—testament to training sessions that pushed his body far beyond its limits. Despite everything, he had become a protective older brother, perhaps because he knew all too well what it meant to be alone in this house.

The garden had become their sanctuary, a place where laughter could exist without fear of reprimand. On warm afternoons, when their father was away on hero duty, Touya would organize elaborate games of hide-and-seek, teaching Fuyumi how to create the perfect snow fort while Natsuo practiced his ice sculptures. Even on the coldest days, Touya's natural warmth kept them comfortable, though using his quirk always left him with a lingering ache that he carefully hid from his siblings.

Shoto, though separated from the others for most of his life, was a shy but cheerful boy with his mother's bubbly personality. He had inherited Rei's gentle features—soft white hair on his left side that seemed to capture moonlight, while his right side blazed with Enji's fierce crimson. His heterochromatic eyes—one gray, one turquoise—seemed to reflect the duality of his heritage, though no one yet knew if this physical split would manifest in his quirk.

However, there was one thing that had not yet manifested in Shoto: his quirk. The absence hung over the household like a storm cloud, growing darker with each passing day. The other children had shown signs of their quirks early on, but Shoto remained dormant. Enji had remained tense about it, though over time, he had learned to manage his obsession, focusing instead on hero work and the hero rankings.

Shoto's absence from their father's fixation had been a blessing to Rei, who saw it as a temporary reprieve. She had tried to give her youngest son as much of a childhood as possible, singing her lullabies and letting him run free in the garden with his siblings whenever Enji was away. In quiet moments, she would brush his dual-colored hair, telling him stories of heroes who were kind and gentle, who saved people with smiles on their faces. Sometimes, when she thought no one was watching, she would trace the line where his colors met, as if trying to erase the boundary between two worlds.

On this particular afternoon, the house was unusually alive with laughter. The warm spring air carried the scent of cherry blossoms, and the garden was awash in soft pink petals that danced on the breeze. The three older children—Touya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo—were playing in the garden while Shoto trailed behind, his small legs trying to keep up with them. Rei sat on the wooden engawa, her pale hands wrapped around a cup of green tea that had long since gone cold.

"Touya! Wait for me!" Natsuo called as he ran after his older brother, who was leading the way in a game of tag. His white hair bounced with each step, matching the rhythm of his laughter.

"I can't wait forever, slowpoke!" Touya laughed, teasing his younger brother, though his smile seemed slightly strained. The once bright and fiery boy had grown quieter over the years, a shadow of his former self. He still trained in secret, still pushed himself beyond his limits when Enji wasn't watching. But the exhaustion showed in the way he moved, the tension in his muscles, and the dullness in his once-vivid eyes. Sometimes, late at night, Rei would hear him crying out in his sleep, his dreams haunted by flames he couldn't control.

Fuyumi, now twelve, joined in the game, her laughter brightening the air. She had become the family's emotional anchor, always ready with a kind word or a gentle touch. Her white hair, streaked with red like her brother's, was pulled back in a neat braid, and her round glasses caught the sunlight as she moved. She had learned early on how to be both sister and mother when needed, how to cool Touya's burns with her ice and warm Natsuo's spirits with her smile.

Shoto, five years old and still trying to find his place in this complicated world, watched them from a distance. His eyes sparkled with excitement, but his shy nature kept him from fully diving into the game. He was always watching, always learning, taking in the complex dynamics of his family with a child's innocent perception.

"Come on, Shoto!" Fuyumi waved him over, her voice carrying the warmth that their father's home so often lacked. "You can be on my team!"

Shoto hesitated, his small frame trembling with a mix of joy and anxiety. The duality of his appearance seemed to reflect his internal struggle—wanting to join in but afraid to fully embrace the moment. "Okay, but don't run too fast!"

As Shoto took a step forward, a sharp sneeze escaped him, and in that moment, something extraordinary happened. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.

A plume of frost suddenly spread from his left hand, while a burst of flame erupted from his right. The elements collided in a shimmering explosion of steam, and the garden fell silent. Cherry blossoms froze mid-fall, caught between ice and fire, before drifting to the ground in a shower of crystalline petals. For a split second, nobody moved. The air became charged with a thick tension that even the children could feel.

Touya's face turned white, his heart pounding in his chest. The scars on his neck seemed to burn anew as he watched his replacement emerge before his eyes. Fuyumi and Natsuo stared, wide-eyed and terrified, as Shoto looked at his hands in confusion. He had no idea what had just happened, no understanding of how this moment would reshape his entire world.

But Rei knew. Her teacup slipped from her trembling hands, shattering on the wooden boards of the engawa. The sound was like a gunshot in the silence.

Her eyes flickered to the house, where she saw him—Enji—standing in the doorway, his figure looming like a shadow. He had come home early from patrol, unnoticed by the children, and had seen everything. His hero costume, still bearing the smell of smoke from whatever villain he had defeated that day, seemed to glow in the afternoon light.

And he was smiling.

It wasn't just any smile. It was a smile of delirium, the kind of smile that sent shivers down Rei's spine and made frost form unbidden at her fingertips. Enji's eyes were alight with an unspoken hunger, turquoise flames dancing in their depths. He had finally seen it—the quirk, the perfect combination of fire and ice that he had been waiting for. His heir had arrived.

Rei's heart sank, her body freezing in place as she watched the scene unfold. The children, oblivious to the storm that was about to come, continued to stare in awe at Shoto's newfound power. But Rei's expression darkened with a mixture of despair and resignation, her pale face becoming almost ghostly.

It's too soon, she thought, her mind racing with memories of Touya's screams during training, of Fuyumi's tears, of Natsuo's growing anger. I wanted him to have more time.

She had hoped that Shoto would remain quirkless for a little while longer—that he could live as a child, free from Enji's suffocating ambition. But now, with the manifestation of his power, that dream was over. She knew what was coming. She knew that Enji would take Shoto and begin the same grueling training he had once imposed on Touya. And she feared what it would do to him—to all of them.

Enji stepped forward, his smile widening, flames beginning to dance along his shoulders in excitement. "It's time," he muttered under his breath, but Rei heard him clearly. The words seemed to echo through the garden, causing the cherry blossoms to tremble.

Shoto, blissfully unaware of the weight of his quirk, looked up at his mother with a smile that broke her heart. "Mom! Did you see? I did it!"

Rei forced herself to smile back, but it didn't reach her eyes. Frost began to form where her hands gripped the fabric of her kimono. "Yes, sweetie, I saw." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

Touya's body tensed as the realization set in, his own flames flickering dangerously close to his skin. His little brother—his replacement—was finally here. The heir to Enji's dream. He had known this day would come, but seeing it now, the burning jealousy in his chest flared into something darker, something that scared even him. Shoto, with his perfect quirk, had unknowingly taken everything from him. The last thread of his father's approval, the last hope of being good enough, had just gone up in steam.

Natsuo, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, clung to Fuyumi's arm. "What's going to happen now?" he whispered, fear creeping into his voice. Ice crystals formed where his fingers gripped his sister's sleeve.

Fuyumi didn't answer. She was just as scared, her glasses fogging up from the tears she was trying to hold back. She had seen this before, had watched as Touya transformed from a bright, loving brother into someone haunted by his own power. Now history was about to repeat itself.

Rei stood up from her chair, her movements slow and deliberate, like someone trying not to startle a wild animal. Her eyes met Enji's across the garden. There was a silent understanding between them, but her gaze was filled with sorrow, while his was full of anticipation. She had lost this battle before it even began, just as she had lost every battle before it.

"Enji," Rei said, her voice low and measured, carrying both a plea and a warning, "he's just a child." The words hung in the air like icicles, sharp and fragile.

Enji didn't respond to her. His eyes were fixed on Shoto, seeing not a son but a vessel for his ambitions. All he saw was potential—the chance to create what he himself could never be. His hand reached out, a silent demand for Shoto to come to him, flames dancing between his fingers in barely contained excitement.

Shoto, still beaming from his accomplishment, hesitated for a moment. Then, with his small feet padding over the grass, he walked toward his father. Each step seemed to echo in Rei's ears like a funeral bell.

Rei's heart broke as she watched her youngest son being pulled into the very world she had tried to protect him from. She could already see the future unfolding—the endless training sessions, the burns, the tears, the slow death of that innocent smile she loved so much.

And in the background, Touya stood motionless, the fire inside him burning hotter than ever. His quirk responded to his emotions, raising his temperature until the grass beneath his feet began to smoke. He watched as his father's hand came to rest on Shoto's shoulder, and something inside him cracked.

This was the beginning of the end.

Rei glanced once more at her eldest son, whose pale face showed the depths of his internal struggle. She saw in his eyes a reflection of her own pain, her own helplessness. She knew this moment would change everything. It wasn't just Shoto's quirk that had manifested today—it was the start of a fracture in their family, one that might never heal.

The cherry blossoms continued to fall, some frozen, some burning, all of them caught in the crossfire of a family being torn apart by the weight of a dream that was never theirs to begin with.

And somewhere deep inside, Rei feared that the cracks that had formed over the years were about to break wide open, releasing something that none of them would be able to control.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the garden, Enji led Shoto away. The boy looked back once at his siblings, confusion and worry finally beginning to cloud his excitement. Touya turned away, unable to watch. Fuyumi held Natsuo tighter, and Rei stood alone on the engawa, surrounded by the shards of her broken teacup.

The garden, which had been filled with laughter just moments ago, fell silent except for the sound of cherry blossoms hitting the ground, each one like a tear falling from heaven itself.

Chapter Text

It had been weeks since Enji had dragged Shoto away from the family, training the boy like a prized possession. Shoto’s cries echoed through the halls whenever Enji would take him away from Rei’s arms. The once-lively Todoroki household had grown eerily quiet, the weight of Enji’s ambition suffocating the air. Shoto was never around anymore, and neither was their father. 

In the dimly lit room, Natsuo lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was only eight, but the tension in the house weighed on him. He had learned to tune out the growing fractures in their family, focusing on little joys like reading or simply playing with Fuyumi when she wasn’t busy helping their mother. Today, though, the silence was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Natsuo barely had the chance to respond before it creaked open, revealing Touya standing in the doorway. His brother’s face was pale, and his red-rimmed eyes told the story of sleepless nights and silent tears. Natsuo sat up, instantly sensing something was wrong.

"Touya?" Natsuo asked, blinking at him.

Touya stepped inside without a word, closing the door quietly behind him. His body slumped as he dragged himself over to Natsuo’s bed, sitting down beside him. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, his eyes fixed on the floor. The tension in the room grew heavier, like a storm waiting to break.

“I… I don’t understand anymore,” Touya finally whispered, his voice cracking. “Why does he ignore me now? Why doesn’t he see me?”

Natsuo furrowed his brows, unsure of what to say. He had always looked up to Touya, who had been his guide in the absence of their father. But seeing him like this, broken and lost, made his chest tighten. He didn’t know how to comfort his brother, didn’t have the words to fix whatever was eating at him. 

“Dad… he barely even looks at me anymore,” Touya continued, his hands trembling as he wrung them together. “Every time he drags Shoto away, he glares at me like I’m nothing. Like I’m a failure.”

Natsuo’s heart sank. He had noticed how Enji had begun to treat Shoto differently, separating him from the rest of them. But he hadn’t realized just how much it had hurt Touya. He always thought his older brother was strong, too strong to be affected by their father’s coldness.

“I don’t… I don’t even know why I exist anymore,” Touya whispered, his voice barely audible.

Those words hit Natsuo like a punch to the gut. He sat up straighter, staring at his brother in disbelief. He had never seen Touya like this before, so vulnerable, so lost. The confident, brash older brother he admired seemed like a shadow of himself now.

“Touya… don’t say that,” Natsuo murmured, not knowing what else to offer. He wasn’t good at talking about feelings. That was Fuyumi’s thing, or even Mom’s. He just wanted things to be normal, but nothing in their family had been normal for a long time.

“It’s true!” Touya snapped, his voice rising as he finally let out the emotions he had been bottling up for weeks. “Dad… he only cares about Shoto now. I’m nothing to him! Every time he walks past me with Shoto begging him to stop, he doesn’t even acknowledge me. He just looks at me like I’m a mistake!”

Tears welled up in Touya’s eyes, but he wiped them away angrily, refusing to let them fall. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. But the pain in his chest was too much. His father had abandoned him, and it was tearing him apart from the inside.

“It’s my fault,” Touya muttered, his voice shaking. “For attacking Shoto. I know… I know he didn’t do anything wrong. But I couldn’t take it anymore. I was so angry—at Dad, at myself. And now, it’s like I don’t even exist to him.”

Natsuo shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure what he could say to make this better, but Touya wasn’t finished.

“I think… I think Dad sees us as failures,” Touya whispered, his voice hollow. “Like… like we’re just creations he made. And when we don’t turn out the way he wants, he just throws us away. That’s what heroes do, right? They make kids, and when they don’t need them anymore, they discard them.”

Natsuo’s stomach churned at Touya’s words. He had never thought about it like that, but hearing his brother say it out loud made his skin crawl. Was that really how their father saw them?

Touya’s eyes flickered to Natsuo, desperate for some kind of reassurance. “You get it, right? You’re the only one who can understand me. The women in this family… they don’t get it. They don’t know what it’s like to be a failure in Dad’s eyes.”

Natsuo winced at the harshness in Touya’s words. He knew Touya was lashing out, but it still stung to hear him dismiss their mother and Fuyumi like that. He wanted to say something, to tell Touya that he wasn’t alone, that they could figure this out together. But the words didn’t come.

Instead, Natsuo shifted in his bed, glancing at the clock on the wall. He was tired—too tired for a conversation like this. “Maybe… maybe you should talk to Fuyumi or Mom,” he said quietly. “They’re good at… at this kind of stuff.”

Touya’s face fell, his expression twisting in hurt and disbelief. “Are you… are you brushing me off?” he asked, his voice trembling. “I thought you… I thought you understood me, Natsuo.”

Natsuo felt a pang of guilt but didn’t know how to fix it. He wasn’t brushing Touya off, not really. He just didn’t know how to handle this kind of conversation. He was only eight, after all.

“Touya, I’m not…” Natsuo started, but his words trailed off. He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. 

Touya stood up abruptly, his hands shaking at his sides. “You don’t get it either,” he muttered bitterly. “No one does.”

Before Natsuo could stop him, Touya stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Natsuo sat in the silence that followed, feeling helpless and lost. He didn’t know how to help his brother, didn’t know how to fix the growing rift in their family.

All he knew was that things were getting worse. And he didn’t know how long they could hold on before everything broke.

_____

It was early morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, casting long shadows across the Todoroki household. Touya was preparing to leave the house, his heart set on Sekoto Peak. His trembling hands stuffed supplies into his worn backpack—bandages, water bottles, and a small first aid kit that had become his constant companion. The cold wind outside barely touched him; his quirk kept him perpetually warm, too warm, like a furnace that couldn't be turned off. His body ached from the strain of pushing himself harder every day, each muscle screaming in protest of the abuse he'd put it through. The mirror in his room reflected a boy whose white hair was beginning to show signs of singeing at the edges, whose pale skin was marked with fresh burns that hadn't quite healed from yesterday's training.

He could feel his flames threatening to burn him from the inside out, a constant crackling beneath his skin that felt like thousands of tiny needles pricking him from within. But he didn't care. The pain had become a familiar friend, a reminder that he was still fighting, still trying. He had to prove himself. He had to show his father that he wasn't a failure, that the hours spent training alone on that mountain weren't wasted on a defective heir.

Rei stood in the doorway, her white hair catching the early morning light, making it look almost ethereal. Her eyes, usually soft with maternal warmth, were filled with a deeper concern as she watched her eldest son prepare for another round of self-inflicted torment. She wore a simple blue yukata, its pattern of snowflakes seeming to shift in the dim light, and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white with tension. Her heart ached, not just from watching him suffer but from the growing distance between them—a chasm that had been widening with each passing day, each failed training session, each new scar on his skin.

She had been Touya's biggest supporter since the beginning, always trying to comfort him, encourage him, and protect him from Enji's relentless expectations. She remembered the nights spent holding him as he cried after particularly harsh training sessions, the way she would sing to him until he fell asleep, her cool hands soothing his burning skin. But today, something felt different. The air between them was charged with an unfamiliar tension, like the moment before a storm breaks. She had to speak up before it was too late.

"Touya," she called softly, stepping into the room. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, a sound that seemed too loud in the morning quiet. He barely glanced at her as he continued packing, his movements sharp and aggressive, each item thrown into the bag with barely contained fury.

"Touya," she said again, her voice firmer now,

 "Please... don't go today. Just take a moment and think about what you're doing." Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken fears.

Touya paused, his hands frozen mid-movement. His mother rarely spoke like this when it came to his training. She was usually there with gentle encouragement, telling him that he could still be a hero, even without a quirk as powerful as his father's. But now, there was a tension in her voice he hadn't heard before, an edge of desperation that made his stomach twist.

"I know you want to be a hero," Rei continued, taking another step closer. The distance between them felt like miles, though it was only a few feet. "But you've been pushing yourself too hard. I see the burns, Touya. I hear you crying at night when you think everyone's asleep. You don't have to follow this path just because it's what your father wants. There are other options—"

Touya whipped around, "Other options?" he snapped, his voice cracking with emotion. The temperature in the room began to rise, the air shimming with heat waves around his body. "What other options, Mom? All I've ever wanted is to be the kind of hero Dad believes in! What else is there for me? What else have I ever been trained for?"

Rei flinched at his tone, but she didn't back down. Instead, she straightened her spine, "There's more to life than being a hero, Touya," she said, her voice softer now, pleading. Frost began to form where her feet touched the wooden floor. "You can find something that makes you happy, something that isn't about chasing your father's dream. You're so bright, so talented. You could be anything—"

Touya's anger only grew, the frustration that had been building inside him for years finally finding its release. The flames beneath his skin roared louder, threatening to break free. "Oh, so now you're some kind of philosopher, huh?" he spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His hands began to smoke, small blue flames dancing between his fingers. "Been reading any self-help books lately, Mom? Found some nice quotes about following your dreams?"

Rei's eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face like lightning across a winter sky. She hadn't expected him to react like this—hadn't expected her gentle, passionate son to turn his anger on her. But Touya didn't stop. His hands clenched into fists as he continued, the words pouring out in a torrent of rage and resentment that had been building for years.

"You think I don't know about you?" he shouted, his voice rising with each word. The flames around his hands grew larger, casting dancing shadows on the walls. "About how you never even wanted to be here in the first place? You were sold to Dad! You didn't have a choice, and now you're stuck in this house just like the rest of us!" His breath came in short gasps, each word burning his throat like acid. "But you—" He pointed a trembling finger at her, a small flame escaping and singeing the wallpaper behind her. "You're just as much to blame for this as he is! You gave birth to me! You brought me into this mess! You knew what he wanted, what he was planning, and you still..."

Rei took a step back, stunned by his words. Her son—the boy she had always protected, always tried to comfort—was tearing into her with a bitterness she didn't recognize. His words cut deeper than any knife, reaching into the darkest corners of her guilt and shame. For a moment, she felt herself crumble, the weight of his accusations threatening to break her. But then something inside her snapped, like ice cracking under too much pressure.

Her expression shifted, the warmth and concern in her eyes freezing over. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and the woman who had always been Touya's refuge was suddenly gone, replaced by someone cold, calculating, and distant. The temperature in the room plummeted, frost spreading across the windows in delicate patterns.

"You ungrateful child," Rei said, her voice as sharp as ice shards. The words fell from her lips like frozen daggers. "I have done everything for you. Everything. I have been your biggest supporter, your constant defender. I told you that you could be a hero even without your quirk. I convinced Enji to spend time with you, to see you as more than just a failure. I have spent nights cooling your burns, days arguing with your father to give you breaks, years trying to protect you from yourself. And this is how you repay me? By throwing my own past in my face?"

Touya took a step back, his eyes wide with shock, the flames around his hands flickering and dying out. He had never seen his mother like this before—so detached, so…uncaring. It was like looking at a stranger wearing his mother's face. The gentle woman who had always been his safe harbor was gone, replaced by someone who seemed carved from ice.

"You want to burn yourself alive for a dream that isn't even yours? Fine," Rei continued, her voice cold and emotionless. Frost crept up the walls behind her, creating intricate patterns that looked like frozen tears. "Go ahead. It's not my problem anymore. I have other children to take care of—children who aren't trying to kill themselves for the approval of a man who barely even sees them. Children who still need their mother, who haven't thrown her sacrifices back in her face."

Touya's heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling from the weight of her words. This wasn't his mother. This couldn't be the same woman who had always been there for him, who had sung lullabies to him when he couldn't sleep, who had whispered promises that everything would be okay. The flames inside him dimmed, leaving him feeling cold for the first time in years.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was frozen in place, his mind unable to process what had just happened. The words he wanted to say—I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't give up on me—stuck in his throat like ash.

Rei turned her back to him, her voice eerily calm, like the surface of a frozen lake. "When you're ready to apologize, you know where to find me. But until then, I won't say another word to you. I won't watch you destroy yourself anymore." The frost around her feet had spread across the floor, creating a barrier between them that seemed both physical and symbolic.

And with that, she left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she disappeared from sight. Each step seemed to take her further away from the warmth of their relationship, into a cold distance that Touya wasn't sure he could bridge. The door clicked shut behind her with a finality that felt like a death knell.

For the first time in his life, Touya felt completely and utterly lost. His mother had been his last line of support, the one person who had always believed in him, no matter what. And now, even she had turned her back on him, leaving him alone in a room that felt too big, too empty, too cold despite the heat of his quirk.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. They would only turn to steam anyway, like everything else he touched. He had broken his promise—the promise he had made to himself to become the kind of hero who would make his mother proud, who would keep her smiling. And now... now he had nothing but the burning beneath his skin and the weight of his failures.

Without another thought, Touya grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the house, his heart heavy with guilt and anger. His feet carried him toward Sekoto Peak, the one place where he could be alone, where he could scream into the wind and let the flames consume him without anyone watching. The morning air was crisp and cold, but he barely felt it through the heat of his quirk and his shame.

As he reached the base of the mountain, Touya collapsed onto the ground, his body trembling with exhaustion and emotion. The grass beneath him began to smoke, small flames licking at the edges of his clothing. He buried his face in his hands, finally letting the tears fall, watching as they evaporated before they could reach the ground. He had failed. He had failed everyone—his father, his siblings, and now his mother.

The sun continued to rise over Sekoto Peak, casting long shadows across the ground, but Touya remained motionless, lost in the depths of his despair. The mountain loomed above him, a silent witness to his breakdown, its peak disappearing into the morning mist like all his dreams of becoming a hero.

And for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure if he could ever make things right again. The path before him seemed to split in two—one leading back to his family, to apologies and reconciliation, the other leading up the mountain, to more training, more pain, more burning. But as he sat there, watching his tears turn to steam, he realized that maybe there was a third path, one he hadn't considered before.

Maybe it was time to stop trying to be the hero his father wanted and start being something else entirely. The thought settled in his mind like an ember, small but persistent, waiting to ignite into something new, something different.

Something that would change everything.

Chapter Text

The winter wind howled across Sekoto Peak, carrying with it the first flakes of snow. Touya Todoroki stood alone on the mountainside, his breath visible in the frigid air—at least, it would have been, if the heat radiating from his body hadn't turned each exhale into steam. At thirteen, he had recently hit a growth spurt that left him gangly and uncertain in his own skin, his limbs too long and his movements awkward. But it wasn't just his height that had changed.

The flames that now danced across his palms were different. What had once been the familiar crimson of his father's fire had transformed into something else entirely—a brilliant, scorching blue that seemed to consume the very air around it. Touya watched, fascinated and terrified, as the flames responded to his quickening heartbeat, growing larger and more intense with each surge of emotion.

"Why..." he whispered, his voice cracking. Tears began to well up in his eyes, immediately evaporating in the heat of his quirk. "Why do I keep crying when this happens?" The flames flared higher with his frustration, and he noticed how they seemed to pulse in sync with his emotional state. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.

The discovery had been accidental. During one of his solitary training sessions, his anger at his own perceived weakness had peaked, and suddenly his usual red flames had erupted into azure infernos. The power was intoxicating, but it came at a cost—his skin, already prone to burning, seemed even more vulnerable to these hotter flames.

But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was showing his father what he could do.

Later that evening, Touya approached Enji in the training dojo, his heart pounding with anticipation. His father was reviewing some case files, his massive frame casting long shadows in the dim light.

"Dad," Touya said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Next time you have a day off... could you come to Sekoto Peak with me? I want to show you something. I've improved—I've really improved!"

Enji looked up from his work, his turquoise eyes narrowing as he studied his eldest son. Without warning, he stepped forward and yanked up Touya's shirt, revealing a patchwork of fresh burns across his torso. Some were still raw and weeping, while others had begun to scar over.

"You've been training again," Enji growled, his voice low and dangerous. The temperature in the room began to rise with his anger.

"Of course I have!" Touya shot back, pulling away from his father's grip. His own flames threatened to emerge, that new blue power itching beneath his skin. "I'm destined for greatness! I can be everything you wanted me to be! Just... just come and see. Please, Dad. I need you to see—"

"Enough!" Enji's voice boomed through the dojo. "You're just hurting yourself. This ends now."

"But Dad—"

Enji turned his back, effectively dismissing his son. "I said enough, Touya."

From the doorway, Rei had witnessed everything. She took a step forward, reaching out toward her son. "Touya, wait—"

But Touya was already running, his feet carrying him away from another rejection, another failure. The last thing Rei saw was a flash of blue flame as he disappeared into the gathering darkness.

That night, after putting the younger children to bed, Rei confronted Enji in their bedroom. 

"You need to listen to him, Enji," she said, her voice firm but controlled. "Just try. That's all he's asking for."

"He's going to kill himself if he keeps this up," Enji responded, his back to her as he changed out of his hero costume. "The boy needs to accept his limitations."

"Limitations?" Rei's voice rose slightly. "He's your son! He needs his father to—"

The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed through the room. For a moment, neither of them moved. Enji stared at his own hand in horror, then at Rei's reddening cheek. In all their years of marriage, through all their arguments and struggles, he had never struck her.

"Rei, I..." he began, reaching toward her.

But Rei wasn't frozen in shock or fear. Something else entirely flickered in her eyes. Without warning, she struck back, her fist connecting with Enji's jaw with enough force to send the massive man stumbling backward.

"How dare you," she hissed, and her voice seemed to carry echoes of something else, something that made the air around them grow impossibly cold. "How DARE you!"

Enji steadied himself against the wall, his eyes wide with shock. He had never seen his wife like this—had never imagined she possessed such strength.

"Do you even know your son?" Rei continued, advancing on him. Frost began to spread across the floor from her feet. "Do you know what he dreams about? What he fears? What makes him smile? What keeps him awake at night? No! Because you've been too obsessed with your own ambitions to see him—to really see him!"

Her voice rose with each word, carrying years of suppressed anger. "I've told you so many times to just talk to him. To listen. To be there. But you never do! You're so focused on creating the perfect heir that you can't see what you're destroying in the process!"

In the doorway, unnoticed by either parent, little Shoto watched with wide, mismatched eyes.

"I'm done," Rei declared, her breath visible in the now-frigid air. "I'm done standing on the sidelines. I'm done watching you break our children. If you can't be a father to him, then you've failed. Not Touya—YOU!"

Suddenly, the night was illuminated by an otherworldly blue glow. Both parents turned to the window, where they saw massive azure flames erupting from the top of Sekoto Peak, turning the winter sky into a canvas of supernatural fire.

Rei's heart stopped. "Touya," she whispered, and then she was moving.

Enji reached for her arm. "Rei, wait—"

What happened next defied explanation. Rei's body moved with impossible speed and strength, her hand gripping Enji's wrist and literally throwing him across the room. As she moved, something began to change—her teeth lengthened into delicate fangs, and her eyes... her eyes began to shine with all the colors of the rainbow.

Memories flooded her mind It started with a scent. Blood.

The metallic tang filled her senses, so vivid she could taste it on her tongue. She gasped, her breath catching as her vision blurred, the cold mountain air around her replaced by something else— a room bathed in red , where bodies lay scattered across the floor. The blood dripped, pooling at her feet. Her feet? No. Not her feet.

Douma’s feet.

The name hit her like a blow to the chest. Douma. That was her name.

She remembered laughter— her laughter —echoing through the air as she looked down at the broken bodies of humans who had once believed in her. They had followed her, worshiped her, and in return, she had consumed them. Their faces twisted in agony , their cries fading as they gave their final breaths. She had relished their pain, her eyes gleaming with cold indifference.

Flash.

Another memory—this time of the demon realm , a place bathed in moonlight, its silence broken only by the sound of footsteps. Her footsteps, as Douma, walking through halls of ice, where demons knelt before her. Her power was absolute. She was one of the strongest demons to ever exist—her ice could freeze even the blood in their veins.

A child’s voice. “Why do you eat them?” The memory was quick, fleeting. A girl. She couldn’t remember her name, but she remembered her answer: “Because I’m hungry.”

Flash.

Suddenly, the taste of human flesh was on her tongue, rich and sweet, the ultimate delicacy. She remembered the way her jaw had snapped, the feeling of muscle tearing between her teeth . It had been exhilarating. She’d craved more. Always more. No amount of human life could satisfy her hunger.

Her eyes widened in horror as the memories tumbled in faster, each one more vivid than the last.

The twisted smiles of demons surrounding her , waiting for her commands. The moonlight glinting off her sharp fangs as she laughed, watching the world burn around her. She was cruel—no, she was beyond cruelty. She had never felt a single shred of remorse, not even in her final moments. Not even when she had been defeated.

Flash.

The final battle. She was in a room ablaze with ice, the cold pressing in on her as she fought, her fan blades slicing through the air. But she was no longer invincible. She remembered the pain as her body was torn apart, piece by piece, her regeneration unable to keep up. Her icy blood turned purple turing into liquid, her bones shattering as the that little girl’s blade cut through her neck. She had not care the entire time, even as the flames consumed her as she went to hell.

But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was reaching her son.

Rei ran through the night, her feet barely touching the ground as she ascended Sekoto Peak with impossible speed. Her body continued to change as she ran—her muscles growing stronger, her senses sharpening, her very being seeming to shift between human and something else entirely.

When she reached the summit, the sight that greeted her was horrifying. Touya stood in the center of a massive conflagration of blue flames, his skin literally burning off his body as he screamed into the night sky. His emotions had fed his quirk until it had grown beyond his control

Without hesitation, Rei ran straight into the flames.

"MOM, NO!" Touya screamed as she wrapped her arms around him. "LET GO! YOU'LL DIE!"

"Never," Rei replied, her rainbow eyes glowing brighter as she held him tighter. "I'm never letting go again. I'm never going to let you feel alone again. Never going to let you hurt like this again."

Her ice power surged forth, but it was different now—stronger, more controlled, infused with something ancient and powerful. The ice spread outward in a massive wave, not just extinguishing the flames but seeming to freeze the very concept of fire itself.

Touya's last conscious sight was of those impossible rainbow eyes, shining with a mother's love and something more—something eternal and profound. Then darkness took him, his badly burned body going limp in his mother's arms.

Rei cradled her unconscious son, her rainbow eyes scanning his injuries. The burns were severe, covering most of his body, but then she noticed something strange. Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, his skin was beginning to regenerate.

A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with her quirk. She knew what this meant—somehow, some way, her past life as Douma had affected more than just her. The demon blood that had awakened in her had left its mark on her firstborn son as well.

As she held him, feeling his skin slowly knit itself back together, Rei was torn between relief and terror. Her son would live, would heal, but at what cost? What other changes would this awakening bring to their family?

Rei clenched her teeth, struggling to hold on to herself, to Rei , the woman she had become, not the monster she once was.

But she couldn’t deny it—Douma was inside her. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that Douma had never truly left.

She glanced down at Touya, who was still cradled in her arms. His regeneration continued, but so did the pain on his face, even in his unconscious state. 

In the distance, she could hear Enji approaching, his heavy footsteps echoing up the mountain path. But she didn't move. She just held her son tighter, her rainbow eyes glowing in the darkness, a mother's love mixing with a demon's power to create something entirely new.

The night wind carried the scent of smoke and ice across Sekoto Peak, and somewhere in the distance, a new day was beginning to dawn. But for the Todoroki family, nothing would ever be the same again.

Chapter Text

My mom is the prettiest person in the whole world. Her hair is white like snow, and when she smiles, it feels like everything is going to be okay. Even when it's not okay at all.

I hate training with dad. He makes me use my fire over and over until I throw up, and then he makes me do it more. Sometimes when I fall down, he grabs my arm so hard it leaves marks, pulling me back up even though everything hurts. But mom is always waiting for me after, with cool cloths for my burns and gentle hands that make the pain go away a little.

"You're so strong, Shoto," she whispers when she puts ice on my bruises. Her hands are always cold, but not in a bad way. In a safe way.

I'm not allowed to play with Fuyumi and Natsuo. Sometimes I watch them from my training room window, playing tag or drawing with chalk on the concrete. Mom catches me watching sometimes, and she sneaks me their drawings later, hiding them under my pillow like treasure.

The best times are when dad is away on hero work. Mom lets me sit in her lap while we watch TV, and she tells me stories about heroes who help people instead of hurting them. One time we watched All Might on TV together, and he said something that made mom squeeze my hand.

"Remember, young heroes," All Might said with his big smile, "your quirk is yours! It doesn't matter where it came from – it's what you do with it that counts!"

Mom turned to me with tears in her eyes but she was smiling. "He's right, Shoto. Your power is yours. Not his. Never forget that."

I didn't understand everything that happened that night when mom and dad were fighting. I was supposed to be in bed, but I heard yelling. Dad hit mom, and I wanted to run in and help her, but my legs wouldn't move. But then... then mom did something amazing.

She hit him back.

I'd never seen anyone stand up to dad before. Mom looked different somehow – stronger, scarier, but in a good way. She wasn't the quiet mom who stepped aside anymore. She was like a completely different person, yelling about Touya and about how dad was hurting us.

Then the night turned blue with fire, and everything changed.

Mom ran so fast I could barely see her. She threw dad across the room like he was nothing – dad, who's so big and strong and scary, just flew through the air! And then she ran straight up the mountain, right into Touya's blue flames.

Her eyes were glowing with all these colors, like a rainbow caught in ice, and she looked... she looked like a real hero. Not like dad, who hurts people and calls it training. She looked like All Might, running in to save someone no matter how dangerous it was.

That's when I knew what I wanted to be. Not dad's masterpiece. Not the thing he's trying to make me into. I want to be like mom. I want to be the kind of hero who protects people, who stands up to bullies even when they're bigger and stronger. I want to have gentle hands that can make pain go away, and I want to be strong enough to run into fire to save someone I love.

Dad says heroes have to be tough and that feelings make you weak. But mom showed me that's not true. She showed me that loving people so much you'd do anything to protect them – that's what makes a real hero.

I'm only five, but I know what I want now. I'm going to be a hero like my mom. Not because anyone is making me, but because I choose to. And maybe someday, I'll be strong enough to protect her too.

When I told her this, sitting on her lap after she brought Touya home, she hugged me tight and those rainbow eyes glowed again, just a little. "You already are a hero, Shoto," she whispered. "You already are."

Chapter Text

The first thing Touya felt was the weight of the bandages, tight and scratchy against his skin. His body was sore—every part of him aching like he'd been dragged through fire. Which, of course, he had. But this time, the pain wasn't overwhelming. It was dull, a background hum, nothing compared to the firestorm that raged inside his mind.

When his eyes finally blinked open, the first thing he saw was his siblings, curled up around him like a protective barrier. Fuyumi, Natsuo, and little Shoto all nestled close, fast asleep on the floor beside his bed. For a moment, Touya just stared at them, taking in the steady rise and fall of their breathing. There was something soothing about it. Something that made him smile, even if just for a second.

He didn't deserve them. That much he knew.

Suddenly, Natsuo stirred. His sleepy eyes widened when he realized Touya was awake, and without a word, tears began streaming down his cheeks. "I-I thought you were gone," Natsuo whispered, his voice cracking. "I thought—"

Touya reached out, weakly ruffling his younger brother's hair. "I'm here, Natsu."

Natsuo sobbed openly now, clinging to Touya's hand as if afraid he'd disappear again. The noise stirred Fuyumi, who blinked groggily before noticing what was happening. "Touya!" she gasped, her face lighting up with relief. "You're awake! I'll go get Mom!"

Before Touya could protest, Fuyumi was already running out of the room. Shoto, who had been curled up against her side, stumbled to his feet, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists. Natsuo hesitated, his hand still gripping Touya's.

"Natsu," Touya said softly, managing a small smile. "Go with them. I'll still be here when you come back. Promise."

Natsuo's bottom lip trembled. "You promised before. When you went to the mountain."

The words hit Touya like a physical blow. He remembered now—Natsuo asking him not to go that night, and his casual promise to be back soon. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry. But this time is different. This time I mean it."

Natsuo studied his face for a long moment, then slowly nodded. He gave Touya's hand one final squeeze before following his siblings, though each step seemed to pain him.

Touya leaned back into his pillows, still feeling groggy and out of place. The last thing he remembered was flames—blue flames that should never have existed. The wildfire... Sekoto Peak...

His door creaked open, and Rei stepped inside, holding a tray with a bowl of soba—his favorite. Through the crack in the door, he could see his siblings huddled together, Natsuo still wiping tears from his eyes as Fuyumi held both him and Shoto close.

Rei smiled gently at them. "Let me talk to him for a bit, okay?" The door clicked shut, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Touya was alone with his mother.

She sat down beside him, placing the tray on the nightstand. Her eyes, usually so warm and full of life, seemed tired now. But she smiled, like she always did. "You're awake, Touya," she said softly. "You're okay."

Touya shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, staring at his bandaged hands. "What... what happened?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but Rei heard him.

She sighed, gently brushing his hair back. "You had a quirk accident. It... it started a wildfire."

The memories crashed over him like a wave—Sekoto Peak, his flames burning out of control, his desperate need to prove himself, to show his father that he was still worthy. And then—his mother. She had been there, different somehow, stronger. He remembered the cold, the ice, the impossible rainbow in her eyes as she held him, saving him from his own flames.

Tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them. "Mom... I'm so sorry," he choked out. "I didn't—everything I said, everything I did, I was wrong. I was so obsessed with being a hero, with making Dad proud... I didn't think about you or anyone else." His voice broke. "I hurt you. I said you didn't care, but that was a lie. I knew it was a lie even then, but I didn't want to admit it. I—I blamed you when I should've been blaming myself."

"Do you remember," Rei said softly, "when you were six? You had that terrible nightmare, and you were convinced there was a monster under your bed."

Touya blinked at the sudden change in topic. "I... yeah. You stayed with me all night."

"You were so scared," Rei continued, her fingers gently combing through his hair. "But you wouldn't let me check under the bed. Do you remember why?"

"Because..." Touya's voice caught. "Because I was afraid if you looked, and there really was a monster, it would hurt you instead of me."

"Even then," Rei said, her voice thick with emotion, "even at six years old, you were trying to protect everyone else. You've always been like that, Touya. Always trying to shoulder everything alone, always trying to be strong for everyone else." She cupped his face in her hands, and he saw that her eyes were shining with tears. "But you don't have to be strong alone anymore. You never did."

"Mom..." he whispered, his voice breaking.

"I'm sorry too," she said firmly. "I thought that if I stepped back, if I just kept the peace, that things would work themselves out. I should have stepped in sooner. I should've fought harder for you and your siblings. I thought keeping things calm would make it better, but that wasn't true." A tear slid down her cheek. "You shouldn't have had to go through any of this alone. I let you down by not confronting the problem sooner. I never want to see you suffer like this again. I promise, I'll do better. I'll protect you."

Touya stared at her, his world shifting on its axis. All this time, he had been so wrong—about everything. His mother had always been there, and he had been too blinded by his own desperation to see it.

"Mom..." he whispered, trembling, "can I still be a hero?"

Rei smiled through her tears, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Hero, villain, unicorn—it doesn't matter, Touya. As long as you're happy, I'm happy. And you know what?" She leaned closer, pressing her forehead against his. "You're already my hero. You always have been."

Something broke inside him then—some wall he'd built up over years of trying to be what everyone else wanted. The tears came freely now, and Touya threw his arms around his mother, burying his face in her shoulder. She held him tightly, stroking his hair, humming softly like she used to when he was little.

"I love you, Mom," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I love you so much."

"I love you too, my brave, beautiful boy," she whispered, rocking him gently. "More than you'll ever know."

From outside the door came the unmistakable sound of sniffling. Rei pulled back slightly, smiling through her tears. "I think we have an audience."

She opened the door to find all three siblings huddled together, tears streaming down their faces. Natsuo was clutching Fuyumi's hand so tight his knuckles were white, while Shoto clung to his sister's leg, his mismatched eyes wide and wet.

"Come here, all of you," Rei said softly, opening her arms.

They didn't need to be told twice. In seconds, they had all piled onto the bed, careful of Touya's injuries but desperate to be close. Natsuo immediately grabbed Touya's hand again, while Fuyumi curled up against his side. Little Shoto crawled into their mother's lap, reaching out to pat Touya's cheek with a tiny hand.

"No more mountain," Shoto said seriously, his child's voice full of conviction. "Stay here."

Touya laughed through his tears, reaching out to ruffle Shoto's dual-colored hair. "Yeah, little brother. No more mountain. I'm staying right here."

Rei pulled them all closer, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Touya wasn't angry. He wasn't sad or desperate for approval. He was just at peace, surrounded by the people who truly loved him.

No expectations, no pressure. Just family.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Chapter Text

It was a quiet morning when Touya found himself alone with his mother in the garden. The first traces of dawn painted the sky in soft pinks and lavenders, the air crisp and cool against his skin. Steam rose from the cup of green tea his mother had brought out with her, curling into the morning air like wisps of memory. Rei was tending to her winter roses, hands gently brushing over the frost-kissed petals as if she could talk to them. In these early hours, she looked more at peace than anywhere else.

Touya watched her for a moment, remembering all the mornings he'd seen her here from his window, finding solace in her garden while the rest of the house slept. How many times had she come out here after one of father's rages, seeking comfort among her flowers? How many tears had these plants witnessed?

"Mom," Touya's voice broke the silence, slightly rougher than he intended.

Rei looked up, and the warm smile that lit her face made his heart ache. She wiped her hands on her apron, the one with little snowflakes that Fuyumi had helped him pick out for her birthday last year. "Good morning, Touya."

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. The words he'd rehearsed all night suddenly seemed inadequate. "I... I want you to train me, Mom."

Rei's expression softened, but a slight frown tugged at her lips. Her rainbow-tinted eyes – still strange and wonderful to him since that night on the mountain – studied his face carefully. "Why me, Touya?" she asked gently. "I don't have the kind of training your father does."

"You're the only person who's always believed in me," Touya said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. His hands clenched at his sides, but not from anger this time. "Even when I thought I couldn't be a hero because of my quirk, you gave me ways to believe in myself. You showed me that I didn't need powers to be someone who could protect others." He swallowed hard, meeting her gaze. "I don't want to be a hero for Dad or to beat All Might anymore… I want to be a hero because I want to protect others and challenge what it really means to be a hero. And no one else can help me with that but you."

Rei's eyes filled with a mixture of pride and warmth that made his chest tight. She reached out, her cool hand gently holding his, and he noticed the small scars on her fingers from years of gardening – proof of her own quiet kind of strength. "Touya," she murmured, "I'd be honored to help you. But you understand it won't be easy?"

Touya nodded, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a genuine smile spread across his face. Not the determined grimace he wore during training, or the forced smile he put on for his siblings, but something real and warm. "I'm ready, Mom."

Just then, the sound of small footsteps came pounding through the garden, accompanied by the rustle of disturbed leaves and the distinct sound of Natsuo trying (and failing) to whisper. The rest of his siblings burst onto the scene like a small avalanche of enthusiasm.

Natsuo was practically bouncing, his white hair catching the morning light like fresh snow, his energy as infectious as always. "Touya! We heard everything!" he blurted out excitedly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to join them. "I wanna train too! Can I, Mom? I promise I'll work super hard!"

Fuyumi, her glasses slightly askew from running, was practically glowing with enthusiasm as she joined in, clapping her hands together. Her red-and-white hair was still in its messy sleep-braid, evidence that they'd probably been spying from the moment they woke up. "Please, Mom? We can all train together! It'll be fun! I can help with first aid, and-and I can make snacks for everyone!"

Even little Shoto, who was usually more reserved, looked up at Rei with shy determination. He was still in his All Might pajamas, his small fists clenched in a way that reminded Touya painfully of himself at that age. But there was something different in Shoto's eyes – not desperation or fear, but hope. "I-I want to train too, Mom," he said softly, his mismatched eyes wide and hopeful. "I want to be a hero like you."

Rei looked at each of them in turn, her smile growing as she took in their eager faces. The morning light caught her eyes, making the rainbow within them dance, and Touya saw something there he'd never noticed before – a fierce kind of love, protective and proud all at once. She let out a soft, joyful laugh that seemed to make the flowers themselves perk up, her heart visibly swelling with pride.

"Alright," she said, her voice gentle yet full of resolve. "But remember, this won't be easy. Training means hard work, dedication, and a lot of sweat and grit. It means supporting each other, protecting each other, and never giving up – not just on yourselves, but on each other too."

Each of the children nodded fervently. Touya noticed how Natsuo straightened his shoulders, trying to look more serious despite his excited bouncing. How Fuyumi's eyes shone with purpose behind her glasses. How little Shoto stood a bit taller, his chin lifted in a way that spoke of courage rather than defiance.

"All of you, then," Rei said with a glimmer in her eye that made her look younger somehow, more like the mother in the old photos Touya sometimes found hidden away. "We'll train with all our might. Together."

The garden erupted with joy – Natsuo whooping and punching the air, Fuyumi clapping and spinning in circles, Shoto jumping up and down with uncharacteristic excitement. They all piled onto their mother in a group hug that nearly knocked her over, but she just laughed, wrapping her arms around all of them as best she could.

Touya found himself in the middle of it all, surrounded by the warmth of his family's love and excitement. His throat felt tight, but not from holding back tears this time. This feeling was different – like something long frozen was finally thawing, making room for something new to grow.

In that moment, watching his mother's rainbow eyes shine with joy, feeling Natsuo's elbow dig into his ribs as they all tried to squish closer together, hearing Fuyumi's giggles mix with Shoto's quiet happy sounds, Touya felt something he hadn't in a long time—a sense of hope, like the future was suddenly brighter, not just for him, but for all of them.

The morning sun climbed higher, painting the garden in gold, and somewhere in the distance, birds began to sing. It was like the whole world was celebrating with them, marking the beginning of something new and wonderful. The Todoroki family was about to embark on their own journey to becoming heroes, not in the way their father had envisioned, but in a way that was uniquely, perfectly their own.

And as Touya looked at his mother's face, radiant with joy and determination, he knew that this – this was what being a hero was really about. Not power or fame or proving yourself to others, but love. The kind of love that could freeze wildfires, that could heal old wounds, that could make four siblings and their mother stand together against whatever the world might throw at them.

The kind of love that could make heroes out of anyone who was brave enough to try.

______

Rei clapped her hands together, the sound echoing through the dojo. "Alright, my little heroes! Who's ready for weekend training?"

"Me! Me!" came the chorus of excited voices. Even Natsuo, usually the most reluctant, was bouncing on his toes. Fuyumi adjusted her glasses with a determined smile, while Touya tried and failed to hide his eagerness behind a practiced teenage slouch. Shoto, the youngest, was already in position on his mat, practically vibrating with anticipation.

"Remember," Rei said, kneeling down to their level, her rainbow-flecked eyes twinkling, "these aren't just games. These are the secret techniques passed down through..." she paused dramatically, "the Ancient Order of the Awesome Moms!"

"First up," Rei announced, "who's ready to face... THE STRETCH MONSTER?"

"Me first!" Shoto volunteered, flopping onto the futon with complete trust.

Rei demonstrated to the others, her hands gentle but firm as she worked on Shoto's small limbs. "See how the monster carefully helps our hero prepare for battle? We don't want any pulled muscles during our grand adventures!"

The children took turns, partnering up to help each other stretch. Touya, despite his perpetual attempt to seem cool, was particularly good at it, his warm hands helping to loosen tight muscles without causing pain. When it was Fuyumi's turn to help Natsuo, she made monster noises that had him laughing so hard he could barely stay still.

"Remember," Rei guided, moving between the pairs, "we're helping our bodies learn to move freely. Just like water flowing around rocks in a stream." She gently adjusted Fuyumi's position. "Feel how the tension melts away when you breathe into it?"

The children giggled, but they all knew there was truth behind her playful words. Since that night of blue fire on the mountain, since the day their mother had shown them what real strength looked like, weekends had become something magical.

After stretches, Rei set up the tables with rows of water cups, the surface gleaming like a miniature lake. "Now," she said with a mischievous smile, "who's ready for some aquatic warfare?"

The rules were simple, but the game was anything but. Rei had designed it to teach them speed, judgment, and the ability to read opponents – all while making them laugh so hard they sometimes fell off their cushions.

"Watch your opponent's eyes," she instructed as Touya and Fuyumi faced off. "Sometimes they'll try to trick you by looking at one cup while reaching for another."

Shoto, despite being the youngest, had an uncanny talent for the game. His heterochromatic eyes would narrow in concentration, small hands moving with surprising speed. But Rei remained undefeated champion, her reflexes almost supernatural as she blocked and countered their attempts.

"Mom's using her super-secret technique!" Natsuo complained good-naturedly after another loss.

Rei winked. "The secret technique of paying attention to your breathing patterns, my dear. You always inhale sharply right before you make your move."

The final game was everyone's favorite. They moved outside to the courtyard, where the afternoon sun painted everything in warm gold. Rainbow Tag, Rei called it, because everyone brought their own color to the chase.

"Remember," she called out as they took their positions, "quirks are allowed but safety first! Touya, keep the flames controlled. Fuyumi, no massive ice walls this time – we still need to fix the garden from last week!"

Touya was indeed nearly impossible to catch, his movements enhanced by careful bursts of blue flame that let him practically dance through the air. But it was the way he used his agility to help his siblings that made Rei proudest – catching Shoto when he stumbled, creating diversions when Natsuo was cornered.

"You're getting better at temperature control," she praised when they finally collapsed on the grass, panting and laughing. "All of you are. It's not about overwhelming power – it's about precision, control, and knowing when to hold back."

As the sun began to set, they gathered in a circle for their final exercise. Rei led them through their breathing exercises, her voice soft but clear.

"Feel the air filling your lungs," she guided. "Let it reach every part of you. Your quirk is part of you, but you are more than your quirk. You are your choices, your kindness, your determination to protect what matters."

From the corner of her eye, she caught movement – Enji, standing in the doorway of the house. Their eyes met, and something passed between them. Not forgiveness, exactly, but understanding. He was different now, smaller somehow, but also more human. The man who had once ruled their home through fear now stood at its edges, watching their children laugh and grow strong in their own way.

He gave her a slight nod, respect in his eyes where there had once been only possession and pride. Rei nodded back, then returned her attention to their children.

"Again," she said softly. "Breathe in strength, breathe out fear. Breathe in love, breathe out doubt."

As they breathed together, the setting sun painted them all in shades of gold and rose, their shadows stretching long across the courtyard. These weekend sessions were more than training – they were healing, one breath, one laugh, one moment of joy at a time.

Rei smiled, her rainbow eyes reflecting the light of her family's quirks mixing together in the twilight. This was what training should be – not a forge to hammer out weapons, but a garden where each of them could grow into their own kind of hero.

And if she caught Enji later, practicing breathing exercises alone in the dojo, well... perhaps there was hope for growth in unexpected places.

Chapter Text

In the silent dojo, as snow whispered against the windows, Rei and Enji knelt facing each other, both aware that this moment held the weight of years—years of misunderstandings, love, ambition, and regret.

Enji looked at Rei with a flicker of the same reverence he’d once held for her, back when their marriage was young. Back when he saw her as something ethereal, almost untouchable. Rei had once been his promise, his ideal partner to create the hero who would go beyond anything he could ever achieve alone. She was his perfect complement, his carefully chosen counterpart, someone he respected for her own power as much as for her delicate, icy beauty. He saw her then as an equal, a partner on the same mission of family strength. But that admiration had been poisoned by his ambitions.

Rei could see his conflicted feelings, his attempts to reconcile his past actions with his love for her, hidden in the rigid way he held himself. Her rainbow-flecked eyes met his turquoise gaze, seeing past the silence and into the man who was finally coming to grips with who they had become to each other.

Rei’s voice was calm as she broke the quiet. “Do you remember, Enji, what you said to me the day Shoto was born?” Her words were gentle, but he could hear the pain behind them. She didn’t wait for his answer, knowing it already. “You said he was perfect. Your masterpiece.” Her voice softened, almost reverent. “But he’s not just a masterpiece, Enji. He’s our child. A child who has feelings and fears of his own, just like we did when we were younger.”

Enji’s jaw clenched in reflex, a defensive habit, but he didn’t look away. “I wanted him to be… stronger than I ever was. And for a long time, I thought that was the only way to protect you, protect all of them.” He sighed, the admission seeming to sap some of the rigidity from his frame. “But in trying to build something greater, I lost sight of what I was doing to him. And to you.”

Rei felt a pang in her chest at the rare vulnerability in his tone. She had once loved him deeply, and for her, that love had never fully disappeared, even when things turned dark between them. She remembered the moments he’d looked at her with something more than ambition, the times they’d spent together before ambition had twisted his love into something sharp and demanding.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve thought a lot about why we hurt each other, why we let ambition and fear drive us to such desperate actions.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “For a while, I thought that maybe it was my fault too. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough to understand you… maybe I should have been more open, more…” She took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing. “But that doesn’t change what happened.”

Enji’s voice was barely audible. “Rei… I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you and for taking your trust in me and using it as a weapon. I thought I was protecting you, protecting all of us… but I see now that I only pushed you all further away.”

Rei nodded, a flicker of emotion crossing her face as she absorbed his words. “I know, Enji,” she replied, her voice soft but resolute. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have let my anger overtake me. I shouldn’t have struck you that night. There were so many things we both should have done differently.”

They sat there in silence, each carrying the weight of those apologies. It wasn’t enough to erase the pain, but for the first time in years, it felt like a beginning.

A part of Enji was reluctant to meet her gaze fully, still struggling with the shame of what he’d done, but he forced himself to look up. She deserved to see the sincerity in his eyes. “I wanted to create something greater than myself, but in doing so, I failed as a father. And as a husband.” He swallowed, his voice raw. “I still don’t know how to make it right.”

Rei held his gaze, and the vulnerability in his eyes stirred something in her. She reached out, resting her hand lightly on his for a moment. “Then let’s try, Enji. Not just for them, but for us. I think we both deserve the chance to become who we were meant to be… together.”

For years, their relationship had been defined by ambition and distance, both of them lost in their roles of protector, hero, mother, and father. Now, in the silence of the dojo, with their children’s laughter echoing faintly in the background, they felt something new—a shared desire to heal.

Enji clenched and unclenched his hands, his voice almost a murmur. “Rei, how do you… how do you make them stronger without… without fear? Your training sessions—they come back laughing, happy. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

She gave him a small, knowing smile. “Because I let them be children first, heroes second. You always saw strength as a tool, a means to an end. But there are other ways to build strength, Enji. When was the last time you praised Shoto for something other than his quirk? When was the last time you noticed Touya’s agility, or Fuyumi’s patience?”

Enji’s eyes softened. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize that strength could grow from such simple things.” He looked at her with new understanding, a sense of longing to learn from her. “I… I want to know how.”

“Then come join us, Enji,” she said gently. “Come to our weekend sessions—not to take over or correct, but to watch. To see them as they are.” She rose gracefully, turning toward the door before looking back at him. “Start small. Ask them about their day. Be there for the little things.”

As she opened the door, he called her name. “Rei.” She turned, waiting for his words. “Thank you… for giving me another chance. I’ll prove I can be better. To them… and to you.”

The next morning, he was there. The children noticed his presence at breakfast, and while they were surprised, they took it in stride. Shoto shyly showed him a tiny, wobbly ice sculpture of All Might, and for the first time in years, Enji did something none of them expected.

He smiled—a small, almost uncertain smile, but real. And as Rei watched, she saw something she hadn’t seen in him for so long: the beginnings of hope.

With Rei beside him, he might just learn to be the father—and the man—he was meant to be.

Chapter Text

Touya had always been self-conscious about his features. His fangs, the slight sharpness in his eyes, and even his unnaturally bright hair made him stand out, and despite his family's acceptance, there were whispers. He could feel their stares, see the looks people threw his way. Even though he knew his family loved him and supported him, there was still something inside him that felt… different, like he was something else, something not quite right.

His classmates at school were the worst. Some days, they wouldn't even look his way; other times, they'd stare or whisper just loud enough for him to hear, calling him "monster" or "vampire." He'd gotten used to ignoring them, but every time he caught his reflection, the doubts grew. Touya tried hard not to show it—he wanted to be strong, like his mom, to brush it off. But each time, the looks and whispers seemed to cut a little deeper.

One afternoon, he was packing up after class, getting ready to head home, when a group of classmates cornered him by his desk. Makoto, the ringleader, stood front and center, flanked by his usual crew – Jinsei and Katsuro. Touya recognized the predatory gleam in their eyes; they'd been waiting for this moment.

Makoto sneered, his gaze zeroing in on Touya's fangs. "Hey, vampire," he taunted, his voice low but dripping with malice. "Why don't you go bite someone else? Or maybe just stay away from us normal people."

Jinsei chimed in, shoving Touya's shoulder hard enough to scatter his books across the floor. "Or better yet, go back to where you came from. Some monster den, right?"

Touya's heart pounded in his chest, his hands clenching into fists. His mother's voice echoed in his mind: Breathe through it. Center yourself. Find your balance. The weekend training sessions had taught him control, had shown him how to channel his energy. He tried to take a deep breath, tried to remember the peaceful moments during their family games.

But Katsuro stepped forward, deliberately grinding his heel into one of Touya's fallen notebooks. "Oh, what's wrong?" he sneered, moving closer. "Monster too scared to do anything?"

Something inside Touya snapped.

The first punch caught Makoto completely off guard. Touya's fist connected with his jaw in a perfect arc, just like his mother had taught him during their reflex training. The crack of impact echoed through the empty classroom, and Makoto stumbled backward, eyes wide with shock.

Jinsei and Katsuro lunged forward together, but Touya was ready. Months of weekend training kicked in, his body moving with fluid precision. He ducked under Jinsei's wild swing, using the momentum of his dodge to drive his elbow into Katsuro's solar plexus. The larger boy doubled over, gasping.

Jinsei managed to grab Touya's uniform, but that was exactly what Touya had been waiting for. He shifted his weight, just like in their family's tag games, using his opponent's grip against him. In one smooth motion, he pulled Jinsei forward while stepping aside, sending the boy crashing into a row of desks.

Makoto had recovered by then, and he came at Touya with a switchblade – a thin, nasty piece of metal that gleamed in the afternoon light. Touya's eyes narrowed, time seeming to slow as his training took over. He could almost hear his mother's voice: Watch their breathing. See the tension in their shoulders. Read their intent before they move.

The blade sliced through the air where Touya's face had been, but he was already moving. He stepped inside Makoto's guard, grabbed his wrist, and twisted – not enough to break, but enough to make the blade clatter to the floor. His other hand shot up in a perfect palm strike to Makoto's nose, causing the bully to stumble back with a howl of pain.

Katsuro tried to tackle him from behind, but Touya had been keeping track of all their positions, just like in Rainbow Tag. He sidestepped at the last moment, letting Katsuro's momentum carry him forward. As the boy stumbled past, Touya's leg swept out, catching Katsuro's ankle and sending him sprawling.

The fight should have ended there, but Jinsei had recovered, and this time he came at Touya with desperate fury. His wild punch caught Touya's forearm, the force of it driving the edge of a broken desk into Touya's flesh. Pain flared, hot and sharp, as the metal sliced deep into his arm.

But the pain only fueled something primal in Touya. His next series of strikes were a blur of precision and power – a knee to Jinsei's stomach, an elbow to his back as he doubled over, and finally a devastating uppercut that left him crumpled on the floor.

Standing amid the aftermath, his breath coming in ragged gasps, Touya finally felt the sting of his wounded arm. But as he looked down at the deep gash, something impossible happened. The torn flesh began to knit itself back together, the edges of the wound crawling toward each other like magnetized metal shavings. Within moments, only a faint pink line remained where the serious injury had been.

Touya stumbled back, his heart racing as he watched the impossible unfold. His skin had regenerated, the pain fading into a strange, tingling sensation. He looked around quickly, making sure no one else had seen, but the bullies were all still down, groaning softly.

"What… what is happening to me?" he whispered to himself, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. His body shouldn't be able to do that. Healing wounds? Regenerating? The thought was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

The familiar warmth of his blue flames flickered at his fingertips, wanting to be released, but he forced them back. One display of inhuman ability was enough for one day. As the adrenaline faded, the reality of what just happened began to sink in. He backed away from the scene, confusion and fear warring within him. Was he becoming something even further removed from normal, something that would only make him stand out more? And if that were true… what did it mean for him?

That night, lying in bed, Touya couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness. He could still feel the phantom sensation of his flesh knitting itself back together, could still see the looks of fear in his bullies' eyes – not because he'd fought back, but because even they had seen something different in him during those moments. For all the training, all the strength his mom had helped him gain, there was something in him now that he didn't understand. And it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

He touched the spot where the wound had been, now perfectly smooth skin, and wondered if this was what the others saw when they called him monster. If maybe, in some way he didn't want to face, they'd been right all along.

Chapter Text

The morning sun cast long shadows across the dojo floor as Rei gathered her children for their weekend training. Something felt different today - there was an electricity in the air, a sense of anticipation that made even the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams seem to sparkle with possibility.

"Today," Rei announced, her rainbow eyes gleaming, "we're going to do something special. We're going to find your fighting styles."

"Why do we need specific styles?" Natsuo asked, bouncing on his toes. "Isn't fighting just... fighting?"

Rei smiled, memories of another life flickering at the edges of her consciousness. "Every person moves differently, breathes differently, thinks differently. Finding your own style means leveraging your natural strengths, your unique way of moving through the world." She demonstrated with a fluid movement that seemed to bend the air itself. "When your fighting style aligns with who you are, it becomes less about combat and more about self-expression."

Fuyumi's eyes lit up behind her glasses, while Natsuo pumped his fist in excitement. But Touya... Rei's smile faltered slightly as she watched her eldest son. He stood slightly apart from the others, his usually bright eyes distant, troubled. Something was weighing on him, something new.

"Touya?" she called softly. "Is everything alright?"

He startled slightly, then forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Mom. Just... thinking about what style might suit me."

Rei wanted to press further, but years of experience - both in this life and her last - had taught her when to wait. Sometimes, pushing too hard only made people retreat further into themselves. She knew that better than most.

They began with basic movement exercises, Rei watching carefully as each child responded differently to various forms. Fuyumi moved with unexpected grace, her movements precise and economical. Natsuo was all explosive energy, bouncing and dynamic. Touya...

Rei's breath caught as she watched Touya begin to move. Despite his distraction, his body naturally fell into a rhythm that was hauntingly familiar - fluid, acrobatic movements that used momentum and flexibility rather than brute force. She recognized it immediately: Capoeira, the dance-like martial art that combined kicks, spins, and ground movement.

The morning progressed, each child exploring different movements under her guidance. Then, unexpectedly, the dojo door slid open. Enji stood there, holding a tray with steaming cups of tea.

"I thought... you might need refreshment," he said, his voice gruff but uncertain, still learning this new role he was trying to fill.

Rei nodded, grateful for the interruption. "Perfect timing. Everyone take a break - we'll continue at one."

As the children grabbed their tea and scattered to various corners of the dojo, Enji moved closer to Rei, his voice low. "Something's wrong with Touya."

"You noticed too?" Rei sighed. "He's been distant all morning. Different."

"I could... I could try talking to him?" The offer was hesitant, but sincere. Another sign of how much things had changed.

Before Rei could respond, Enji's eyes fixed on her face, particularly her fangs that showed slightly when she spoke. "Rei... I never asked before, when things were... different between us. But your features - the fangs, your eyes... they're like Touya's now. Did something happen at Sekoto Peak? Was it a quirk awakening?"

Rei's hand unconsciously touched her face, feeling the sharp points of her fangs. Memories of snow and blood and rainbow eyes flickered through her mind. "It's... complicated," she said finally. "More complicated than you might believe."

The afternoon session revealed more natural inclinations. Fuyumi, to everyone's surprise, showed a natural aptitude for Wing Chun, her precise movements and quick hands perfect for the close-range style. Natsuo's boundless energy found its home in Muay Thai, his powerful kicks and aggressive forward movement suited to the art.

But Shoto... Rei watched with growing concern as her youngest son tried style after style, becoming increasingly frustrated as nothing seemed to click. She saw it in his movements before he did - the way he naturally flowed between hot and cold, the precise, fan-like movements of his hands when he used his quirk. It was painfully familiar.

"I can't do it," Shoto finally said, his small voice thick with disappointment. "Everyone else found their style, but I'm no good at any of them."

Rei knelt beside him, pulling him close. "That's not true at all. Sometimes it takes time to find your path. We can try again tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

As she watched him run off to join his siblings, Rei felt a chill that had nothing to do with her ice quirk. She'd seen it all day but had been trying to deny it - the way Shoto moved, the natural grace in his movements, the perfect balance between sharp precision and flowing forms. He would be perfect for Tessenjutsu, the war fan techniques she had mastered in another life, another time, when she had worn a different face and carried a different name.

Douma.

The name echoed in her mind, bringing with it memories of blood on snow, of rainbow eyes reflecting death, of fans that danced through the air leaving destruction in their wake. She had been different then but now….

Now she was a mother, watching her youngest son unknowingly mirror movements she had once used to end lives. The irony might have amused her once, in that other life. Now it terrified her.

"Mom?" Touya's voice broke through her thoughts. He stood nearby, looking uncertain. "Can we... can we talk?"

Rei pushed away her dark thoughts, focusing on the present, on her son who needed her now. "Of course, sweetheart. Always."

As they walked together toward a quiet corner of the dojo, Rei glanced back at Shoto, who was practicing his forms alone, his movements already showing the beginnings of a style she knew too well. She sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening - let him find his own path, let him make this art his own, let him never know the darkness it once served.

But as she turned to Touya, ready to hear whatever was troubling him, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that the past - both his and hers - was catching up to them in ways she hadn't anticipated. The question was, would they be strong enough to face it together?

Behind them, Shoto continued to move, his hands cutting through the air in perfect arcs, like invisible fans painting pictures of a future yet to be written.

Chapter Text

The setting sun painted the Todoroki home in hues of amber and purple, its dying rays filtering through the traditional shoji screens and casting latticed shadows across the tatami floors. In the family room, Touya perched on the edge of the plush couch, his fingers working nervously at a loose thread on his school uniform pants. The fabric had worn thin from his constant fidgeting throughout the week, a physical manifestation of the anxiety that had been eating at him.

Across from him, his parents sat with the kind of careful composure that made his heart race. His mother, Rei, wore a simple cream-colored cardigan that seemed to glow in the evening light, her white hair tucked neatly behind her ears. Next to her, Enji's impressive frame filled his side of the couch, but his usual stern demeanor was tempered by something softer—concern, perhaps, or understanding.

The silence stretched between them like a living thing, broken only by the distant sounds of his younger siblings playing in another room. Natsuo's laughter echoed down the hallway, followed by Fuyumi's gentle scolding, while baby Shoto's occasional coos provided a gentle backdrop to the heavy moment.

"Mom... Dad..." Touya finally managed, his voice catching slightly. He swallowed hard, feeling the sharp edges of his fangs press against his tongue—the very source of his current predicament. "Something happened this week at school. Something I should have told you about sooner."

Rei leaned forward, and Touya caught the subtle shift in her eyes—that otherworldly gleam that sometimes appeared when she was deeply focused. It used to frighten him when he was younger, but now it brought a strange comfort. "Take your time, Touya," she encouraged, her voice carrying the gentle chill of a winter morning. "We're listening."

Touya's fingers moved unconsciously to his mouth, tracing the shape of his fangs through his closed lips. They felt more prominent than ever, though he knew they hadn't grown. "The kids in class..." He paused, shame coloring his cheeks. "They've been saying things. About how I look. The fangs, mainly, but also..." He gestured vaguely to his face, to the features that had always made him stand out—the sharp angles, the predatory cast to his expression even when he smiled.

"They called me a monster," he continued, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. "Said I belonged in a horror movie, not a hero course." His hands clenched into fists, and he felt the familiar heat of his quirk simmer beneath his skin. "I tried to ignore them. I did. For days, I just kept my head down and pretended I couldn't hear them. But yesterday..." He drew a shaky breath. "One of them cornered me after training. Said maybe they should put me down before I hurt someone. And I just... lost it."

Enji's expression darkened, a flash of his infamous temper showing through. "And did they deserve what they got?" he asked, his voice carrying an edge that made Touya look up in surprise.

"Dad, I—" Touya stammered, thrown by the unexpected response.

Enji's large hand found Touya's shoulder, the grip firm but reassuring. "Those little shits made you feel like there was something wrong with you. Like you were less than them." His other hand curled into a fist. "They can fuck right off."

A startled laugh escaped Rei, though she quickly covered it with a cough. "Enji!" she admonished, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone. She turned to Touya, her expression growing serious. "What your father means, in his... unique way, is that you're not wrong for being different. You're not a monster, Touya. You're our son."

The weight that had been crushing Touya's chest began to lift slightly, but anxiety still gnawed at his edges. "There's more," he admitted, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a faint pink line on his forearm. "During the fight, one of them had a cutting quirk. He got me good—or at least, he should have." Touya traced the nearly invisible scar. "It was deep. I saw bone. But then..." He swallowed hard. "It just... closed up. Like watching a video in fast-forward. The bleeding stopped, the skin knit together, and now..." He gestured to the faint mark. "This is all that's left."

The silence that followed was heavy with implications. Rei and Enji exchanged a look that spoke volumes, years of shared secrets passing between them in an instant. Enji's brow furrowed deeply, the flame-shaped scar tissue around his eyes crinkling. "Regeneration like that... it's not part of either of our quirk sets."

"Sometimes quirks can manifest in unexpected ways," Rei offered carefully, but there was something in her voice—a slight tremor, perhaps—that suggested she didn't quite believe her own words. "Quirk evolution is still a developing field of study."

Touya watched his mother closely, noting how her hand unconsciously moved to her throat, where he knew a collection of small scars lay hidden beneath her high collar—scars from Sekoto Peak, from the night that had changed everything. He'd never asked about that night, about how she'd walked through his flames without a mark, about how her eyes had glowed with an inner light that had nothing to do with quirks.

Rei must have noticed his scrutiny because her expression softened further. "Whatever this is, Touya, it doesn't change who you are. Not to us." She reached out, her cool fingers closing around his warm ones. "You're our son. Nothing will ever change that."

"The world's full of people who will try to tell you what you are," Enji added, his voice unusually gentle. "They'll label you, judge you, try to put you in a box they understand. But they don't know shit." He squeezed Touya's shoulder again. "You decide who you are. Nobody else."

Something warm and fierce bloomed in Touya's chest—pride, maybe, or determination. He nodded, feeling stronger than he had in days. "Thanks," he managed, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "I needed to hear that."

Standing up, he felt lighter, as if sharing his burden had physically freed him. He left the room with his head held higher, the sound of his siblings' play drawing him toward a more carefree evening.

As the door slid shut behind their eldest son, Enji turned to his wife, his expression grave. "Rei," he began carefully, "we need to talk about what's happening. Sekoto Peak wasn't just a quirk awakening, was it?"

Rei's hands folded in her lap, her fingers interlacing tightly. "No," she admitted quietly. "What I felt that night... what I feel sometimes when I look in the mirror..." She touched her temple gently. "There are memories here, Enji. Ancient ones. Of ice and darkness and..." She shuddered slightly. "Power. The kind of power that shouldn't exist anymore."

"And Touya?" Enji pressed. "These changes in him..."

"He's inherited something from me," Rei acknowledged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Something older than quirks. Something I thought was just stories my grandmother used to tell." She looked up at her husband, her eyes carrying that otherworldly gleam again. "There were beings once, before quirks, before the age of heroes. Beings of great power and greater cruelty."

Enji absorbed this in silence, his jaw working as he processed the implications. Finally, he asked, "Are you afraid? Of what this means for our children?"

A small, fierce smile crossed Rei's face. "I'm terrified," she admitted. "But not of what they might become. I'm afraid of what might come looking for them, if others discover what they are." Her hand found Enji's, gripping it tightly. "We have to protect them, Enji. Not just from others, but from the weight of this knowledge itself."

"Then we will," Enji stated simply, with the kind of absolute certainty that had made him one of the top heroes in Japan. "Whatever's coming, whatever this means, we face it together." He pulled her closer, his natural warmth enveloping her like a shield. "Our family, our problem. And anyone who threatens our kids..."

"Will regret it," Rei finished, her voice carrying an edge of ice that seemed to drop the temperature in the room.

They sat together in the growing darkness. Outside, the last rays of sun disappeared behind the mountains, and somewhere in the house, their children's laughter echoed—innocent, unaware of the ancient blood stirring in their veins, of the legacy they would one day have to face.

But for now, they were just children, and their parents would do anything to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through Shoto's bedroom window as he meticulously straightened his brand-new school uniform for the fifth time. His small hands smoothed down the front of his jacket, checking his reflection in the mirror. The boy staring back at him was almost vibrating with excitement—and maybe a little fear.

"Shoto?" His mother's voice called from downstairs. "Are you ready, sweetheart?"

"Coming!" he called back, grabbing his All Might backpack—a birthday gift from Touya that had made their father scowl. As he bounded down the stairs, taking them two at a time despite his mother's constant reminders not to, Shoto couldn't help but grin. After a whole year of asking, of promising to be careful, of showing he could control both sides of his quirk, she'd finally agreed to let him go to real school.

Rei was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her white hair caught in the morning light. Her expression was a mixture of pride and worry that Shoto had become very familiar with. "Remember what we talked about?" she asked, kneeling to adjust his collar.

"Yes, Mom," Shoto recited, trying not to fidget. "No using my quirk unless there's an emergency. Don't talk to strangers. If anything feels wrong, tell a teacher." He paused, then added hopefully, "And try to make friends?"

Something flickered in his mother's eyes—that strange, silvery gleam that sometimes appeared when she was concerned. But she smiled, pressing a cool kiss to his forehead. "That's right. And remember, if you want to come home—"

"Mom," Shoto interrupted, putting on his best grown-up face. "I'll be fine. I'm six now!"

Rei laughed softly, though Shoto noticed she still looked worried. "Of course you are. My brave little man." She stood up, taking his hand. "Let's get you to school before your father wakes up."

The walk to school was both too long and too short. Shoto's stomach was doing funny flips by the time they reached the gates, where other parents were saying goodbye to their children. He saw kids his age running, laughing, greeting friends they seemed to already know. His grip on his mother's hand tightened slightly.

"Shoto?" Rei squeezed his hand gently. "We can try again next year if you're not ready."

But Shoto shook his head firmly. He'd waited too long for this. "I'm ready," he declared, though his voice came out smaller than he'd intended.

One more hug, one more kiss, and then Shoto was walking into the school building alone. His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he followed the signs to Class 1-A, his heart pounding with each step. What would his classmates be like? Would they want to be his friends? Would they think his quirk was cool?

The moment he stepped into the classroom, all conversation stopped. Twenty pairs of eyes turned to stare at him, and Shoto felt his confidence waver. He tried to think of what his mother would do in this situation. She always knew how to make people feel comfortable, how to smile in a way that put others at ease.

So he smiled his best smile, the one that usually made his sister Fuyumi ruffle his hair, and said brightly, "Good morning! I'm Todoroki Shoto. It's nice to meet you all!"

The staring didn't stop. If anything, it intensified. A few girls in the front row whispered to each other behind their hands. A boy near the window actually took out his phone to take a picture before the teacher stopped him.

Throughout the morning, Shoto tried to stay positive. He raised his hand to answer questions (but not too many, remembering how Natsuo had told him nobody likes a know-it-all). He smiled at his classmates. He even tried to start conversations during break time, complimenting one boy's cool dragon backpack and another girl's pretty hair clips.

But everyone seemed to step back when he got close. They'd mumble quick thanks or excuses and hurry away, leaving Shoto standing alone, his practiced smile feeling more and more forced.

By lunchtime, the weight in his chest had become almost unbearable. Instead of going to the cafeteria, Shoto found himself climbing the stairs to the roof, his mother's carefully packed bento box clutched in his hands. The spring breeze ruffled his dual-colored hair as he sat against the wall, finally letting his smile drop.

"Maybe Mom was right," he whispered to himself, poking at his rice with his chopsticks. "Maybe I'm not ready for—"

"Whoa! Your hair is so cool!" 

The sudden exclamation made Shoto jump, nearly dropping his lunch. A girl with pink skin and the wildest hair he'd ever seen was standing over him, grinning from ear to ear. Behind her, partially hidden, was a boy with black hair who seemed to be trying to make himself smaller.

"Were you born like that?" the pink girl asked, plopping down next to him without waiting for an invitation. "I'm Ashido Mina, by the way! And that's Kirishima Eijiro!" She gestured to the black-haired boy, who gave a tiny wave before sitting down on Shoto's other side.

"Um, yes," Shoto answered, touched the white half of his hair self-consciously. "I was born like this."

"That's amazing!" Mina exclaimed. "Ei-chan, isn't it amazing?"

"Y-yeah," Kirishima mumbled, his cheeks almost as red as his hair. "You're really cool, Todoroki-kun. The way you handled yourself in class... so manly..."

Shoto felt his own face heat up. "Really? I thought everyone hated me..."

Mina burst out laughing. "Are you kidding? Everyone's totally intimidated! They think you're like, some kind of child model or something. Matsuda-chan in the back row is convinced you're actually an angel."

"An... angel?" Shoto blinked, completely thrown off guard. This was not how he'd expected his first day of school to go at all.

"It's 'cause you're so pretty," Kirishima blurted out, then immediately covered his face with his hands. "I mean—not that—I just—"

"What Ei-chan means," Mina intervened, still grinning, "is that you've got this whole mysterious prince vibe going on. Plus, you're super nice to everyone even though you could probably be all stuck up if you wanted to."

Shoto looked between his two new companions, feeling something warm bloom in his chest. "I just... wanted to make friends," he admitted quietly.

"Well, you've got two now!" Mina declared, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Right, Ei-chan?"

Kirishima nodded enthusiastically, seeming to find his courage. "Yeah! If... if you want to be friends with us, that is..."

For the first time since entering the classroom that morning, Shoto's smile was completely genuine. "I'd like that a lot."

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but a much happier one. When the final bell rang, Shoto found himself walking home with Mina and Kirishima, listening to Mina chat about her favorite heroes while Kirishima occasionally added his own thoughts in a soft but increasingly confident voice.

As they reached the point where they had to split up, Mina turned to Shoto with a serious expression. "Same place for lunch tomorrow?"

Shoto nodded, his heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. "Same place."

Walking the last few blocks home alone, Shoto couldn't stop smiling. Wait until he told Mom about his new friends! Although... maybe he'd leave out the part about everyone thinking he was an angel. Somehow, he had a feeling that would only make her more worried.

Looking up at the afternoon sky, Shoto decided that even if his first day hadn't gone exactly as planned, it had turned out pretty perfect anyway.

Chapter Text

Fuyumi gazed around the family dinner table, a soft warmth settling over her as she watched each of her family members absorbed in their own conversations. It had been a few months since Shoto started elementary school, and in that short time, the entire family felt different—closer, stronger. Though things hadn’t always been this peaceful, tonight it seemed like they had truly found their way back to each other. 

As they chatted and ate, Fuyumi found herself reflecting on how much their training sessions had changed. Her mother’s patient, encouraging approach had made the once-strict drills into something she genuinely looked forward to. Each sibling had found a style that felt natural to them. Fuyumi loved Wing Chun; the gentle but firm, fluid movements felt grounding and strong, fitting her well. The techniques required her to be close to her opponent, using their own momentum against them, and this had come in handy at unexpected moments—like when she’d been helping Natsuo up a steep hill last weekend and managed to stop his fall without breaking a sweat. Her training was making her more resilient, more aware of herself, and she loved feeling capable.

The training also provided an escape from the memories of past tension between their parents. Fuyumi still remembered the harsh words and the cold silences, the way her father’s expectations used to cast a shadow over Shoto. But now, she marveled at how her parents were changing. Enji, once a looming, powerful figure who only showed interest in their training, had softened. He still spent time with Shoto in training, but it was different now—gentler, with more emphasis on family and skill-building rather than power alone. When Fuyumi looked at her father now, she saw a man earnestly trying to make things right, a man who seemed genuinely happy to spend time with them beyond the training room.

Shoto’s school life had also brought light into their family. When he came home every day, he was full of stories about his friends Mina and Eijirō. Fuyumi loved seeing the light in his eyes when he talked about their playground adventures and games. Shoto had been so nervous about making friends at first, always a bit shy, but now he was flourishing. Mina, with her vibrant energy, had taken to Shoto instantly, making him feel welcome in a way that warmed Fuyumi’s heart. Eijirō, though quieter, was loyal and kind, someone she knew Shoto could depend on.

These days, Fuyumi saw her family opening up in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Touya, though he still had his moments of reserve, seemed genuinely interested in reconnecting with their father. Enji was different around him now, patient and open, often asking Touya about his interests or how he was doing. It was as if they were finally seeing each other beyond expectations and regrets. Piece by piece, Fuyumi could see the hurt in Touya’s eyes giving way to something like forgiveness, though it would take time. She was proud of him, and of their father for making the effort to show up, to be there for all of them.

And then there was her mother, a source of quiet strength and kindness. Rei guided them all through the breathing techniques that were at the core of their training. It was demanding, but Fuyumi felt her own progress every day, and she knew her siblings did too. Rei often said that once they mastered Total Concentration Breathing, they’d be able to maintain it constantly, a skill Fuyumi could barely imagine achieving. Her mother was always encouraging, and Fuyumi was motivated by her guidance. 

“Don’t forget, children, breathing isn’t just about fighting. It’s about life—about living fully, feeling deeply, and accepting yourself,” Rei had said during one of their sessions, her eyes filled with a wisdom that Fuyumi admired but couldn’t quite understand. She often wondered about her mother’s past, about the strength and resilience that seemed almost supernatural. It was as though Rei was connected to something much older and deeper than any of them could fathom, but Fuyumi didn’t question it. To her, her mother was a pillar, someone who held the family together with quiet dignity and grace. 

Tonight’s dinner was especially lively, with the family catching up on each other’s days and weeks, and Fuyumi felt a warmth spreading through her chest, thinking of how far they had all come. They laughed together, talked together—it felt like all the cold years of misunderstandings were being replaced by these moments of simple joy.

Then Touya’s voice cut through the hum of conversation. “I’ve been thinking…” He paused, his gaze intense. “I want to be an underground hero.”

The table fell silent as everyone turned to look at him. Fuyumi’s father, who had been listening intently to Shoto’s stories, straightened, his eyes wide with surprise. But Rei was the first to respond, her face lighting up in a soft, understanding smile.

“That sounds perfect for you, Touya,” she said, her voice warm. “I think you’d be incredible at it.”

Shoto, looking a bit puzzled, leaned forward, asking, “What’s an underground hero?”

Fuyumi smiled, leaning toward her younger brother. “Underground heroes work in the shadows, Shoto. They’re the heroes people don’t often see or hear about, but they help keep everyone safe—even from threats that others don’t even realize are there.”

Shoto’s eyes widened with awe as he turned back to Touya. “That’s really cool,” he said, and Fuyumi could see the pride in his expression as he looked at their older brother.

Touya’s usual stoic expression softened into a rare smile as he looked around the table. For the first time, Fuyumi saw him as he truly was—not just her brother, but a young man with his own dreams and ambitions, someone who wanted to make a difference in his own way. Her heart swelled with pride.

As the meal continued, Fuyumi found herself feeling profoundly grateful. Her family wasn’t perfect; they all carried their scars, some more visible than others. But they were healing, coming together, flaws and all. Fuyumi felt that the future was brighter than it had ever been, and she knew that no matter what happened, they would face it as a family.

She watched her father carefully, noting the way he now leaned into his role not as a taskmaster, but as a protector and supporter. He spoke to each of them with a gentleness that was new, and he had stopped pushing them as hard as he once did. Now, training sessions with Enji were collaborative, even enjoyable at times, and she could see how much it meant to her brothers to see their father so engaged, not just with Shoto but with all of them.

And then, after dinner, Rei took a moment to praise them all, a ritual that had become so natural in their household. Fuyumi felt her cheeks warm at the compliment, but what struck her most was the look on her mother’s face. Rei was proud of them, and Fuyumi could sense how much joy it brought her to see them together like this. 

As the family cleared the table, Fuyumi felt a soft contentment settling over her. Their mother’s words echoed in her mind: *It’s about living fully, feeling deeply, and accepting yourself.* And tonight, in the warm light of the family table, Fuyumi felt that more deeply than ever.

In that moment, she looked around the room, at her parents who were learning to forgive each other, at her siblings who were finding their own paths, and she thought, *This is what family truly is.*

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the windows as Natsuo sat by himself in the corner of the dojo, watching his siblings train with their usual intensity. Touya was deep into his Capoeira practice, moving with fluid, agile grace, while Fuyumi practiced her Wing Chun with a calm, focused expression. Even Shoto, the youngest, was spinning his tessen with surprising precision for a six-year-old, his face lit up with the joy of mastering something new.

Natsuo looked down at his hands, flexing them as he tried to imagine his own strength. Despite all the training they’d done, he couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t quite fit. Touya had agility and speed, Fuyumi had balance and grace, and even Shoto, young as he was, had taken to their mother’s techniques with an eagerness that seemed to light up his whole face. But for Natsuo, each training session felt like a reminder that he didn’t seem to have a natural talent for combat. He was strong, but it didn’t feel like enough.

Rei noticed him sitting apart from the others, his expression distant, and excused herself from the training session. She knelt beside him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her gaze soft and understanding. “Hey, Natsuo,” she said quietly, “want to take a little walk with me?”

He hesitated, then nodded, standing up to follow her out into the garden. The air was cool, and he took a deep breath, feeling the crispness of early autumn. Rei walked beside him in silence for a moment before she spoke.

“You’ve seemed a little down lately,” she said, her voice kind. “Want to talk about it?”

Natsuo looked down, kicking at a pebble. “It’s just… I watch Touya, Fuyumi, and Shoto, and they’re all so good at what they do. I just don’t think I’m as… I don’t know, as talented as them.”

Rei smiled gently. “You know, Natsuo, not all strengths look the same. You have a way of seeing people’s feelings and helping them, even when they don’t realize they need it. That’s not something everyone can do, and it’s not a small thing.”

He thought about that. He’d always enjoyed helping his siblings, whether it was by cheering them up after a rough day of training or giving Shoto a shoulder to lean on. But it still felt different from the skills they were developing. “But I don’t know if that’s enough,” he admitted. “Sometimes I feel like… like I don’t fit.”

Rei stopped and turned to face him, her eyes full of warmth. “It’s okay to feel that way, Natsuo. But I want you to know that just because you’re different doesn’t mean you don’t belong. You have a quiet strength that I think will surprise everyone—even you.”

She reached into her pocket and handed him a small notebook. “Take this with you. Write down the things that make you feel happy, things that interest you, or things that make you feel alive. It doesn’t have to be about fighting or training. I want you to find what makes you feel like… you.”

Natsuo took the notebook, looking at it thoughtfully. “Thanks, Mom.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Remember, strength comes in many forms.”

Over the next few weeks, Natsuo began to take Rei’s advice. He wrote down things that made him happy—helping Shoto with his homework, making tea for his family, and even moments spent watching his siblings train from the sidelines, cheering them on. He found himself interested in medicine, in learning how the body worked, and how he might help people heal.

One day, as he sat in the dojo, he looked up to find Enji watching him. His father’s usual intensity was softened, his gaze warm.

“Natsuo,” Enji said, sitting beside him. “I know I haven’t always been… the best father. But I’ve been watching you, and I see a strength you don’t even realize.” Enji took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. “You have a way of bringing calm to this family, and that’s something even the strongest heroes can’t do.”

Natsuo felt his face flush with a mixture of surprise and pride. He looked up at his father, seeing a softness there he hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t have to be like Touya, Fuyumi, or Shoto to be strong, do I?” Natsuo asked.

Enji shook his head. “No, you don’t. Be yourself, Natsuo. You’re already more than enough.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Natsuo felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

As they walked back to the house, Natsuo’s notebook tucked safely in his pocket, he felt a new sense of purpose. For the first time, he felt sure that his path might be different from his siblings, but it was no less valuable.

At the dinner table that night, he looked around at his family with a new perspective. Touya was chatting animatedly about his latest training session, and Fuyumi was teasing Shoto, who looked up at her with a gleeful grin. His parents exchanged a quiet, warm glance. And Natsuo, watching it all, felt a quiet pride swell in his chest. He didn’t need to be just like them to belong. He was part of this family, exactly as he was, and that was all he needed to be.

Chapter Text

The sun was still rising over the schoolyard when young Shoto Todoroki arrived, his small frame radiating nervous tension. Despite having been at this school for a few months, the experience hadn't quite become the carefree, welcoming environment he had envisioned from the stories he'd read. Instead of the easy friendships he'd hoped for, Shoto found himself feeling a strange distance from many of his classmates.

As he walked the halls, Shoto started noticing the sidelong glances and hushed whispers of his peers, their words filled more with awe and excitement over his family's fame than genuine warmth. At first, he'd felt a flicker of pride hearing his family's renowned name spoken in such glowing terms. But over time, the nature of those looks and comments began to make him uncomfortable. He missed the easy camaraderie and playful rapport he shared with friends like Mina and Eijirō, who never seemed to care about his lineage or quirk.

One day, during the lunch break, a group of boys approached Shoto, their eyes wide with a palpable eagerness. "Hey, Todoroki!" one of them called out, flashing an excited grin. "Wanna hang out with us? We heard you're really strong - maybe you could show us some cool moves?"

Shoto hesitated, feeling confused by their sudden, almost fawning interest in him. "Um, I guess..." he murmured, unsure if he should feel honored or wary of their attention.

As he sat with them, the boys bombarded Shoto with rapid-fire questions, barely allowing him to answer before launching into the next inquiry. But their queries weren't about Shoto himself - they were all focused on his father's heroic exploits, his family's quirks, and their various battles and accomplishments. Shoto felt a growing twist of discomfort in his stomach, realizing that to these classmates, he was more of a novelty than a true friend.

That evening, as Rei found her son slumped on the couch, barely picking at his dinner, she gently inquired about his downtrodden mood. "Shoto, sweetheart, you seem a bit down today. Did something happen at school?"

Shoto hesitated, then slowly nodded. "Some kids wanted to hang out with me...but I think they just wanted to hear about Dad." He glanced down, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. "They don't really care about me. Not the way Mina and Eijirō do."

Rei's heart ached as she recognized the confusion and hurt in her son's eyes. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, she spoke softly. "Sometimes, Shoto, people are drawn more to the external trappings - the fame, the quirk, the family name. They think they want to know you because of those things, but they don't truly see who you are underneath."

Shoto looked up at her, silently pleading for understanding. "But how do I know who's really my friend?"

Rei smiled gently. "True friends, the ones who will be there for you through thick and thin, are the ones who care about the things that make you happy and sad, not just the things that make you impressive. They'll ask about _you_, not just the things around you." Her expression warmed as she recalled the stories he'd shared of Mina and Eijirō. "Like Mina and Eijirō - they don't seem to care about your family's fame, do they?"

Shoto's eyes brightened with realization. "No, they don't! Mina's always asking about my drawings, and Eijirō just...listens, you know? He gets quiet, but he really listens."

"Exactly," Rei affirmed. "Mina and Eijirō appreciate you for who you are, Shoto. People like that are the ones who will be your friends for life. Hold on to them."

The next day at school, Shoto carried himself with a newfound sense of confidence. When he spotted Mina and Eijirō, he eagerly waved them over, already feeling a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Their warm, familiar greetings made him realize that with them, he didn't have to worry about impressing anyone or living up to his family's lofty reputation.

At lunchtime, Shoto found himself alone on the secluded rooftop, his bento box in hand. As the door creaked open, he glanced up to see Mina and Eijirō, their faces lighting up at the sight of him.

"We figured you'd be up here," Mina said with a playful grin, plopping down beside him. "Your own little fortress of solitude." She gave him an affectionate nudge.

Eijirō smiled shyly, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "We...uh, thought you could use some company. If that's okay."

Shoto felt a swell of gratitude, the warmth spreading through his chest. They ate together, laughing and talking, and for the first time in a long while, Shoto felt completely at ease, no longer burdened by the weight of his family's legacy.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, Shoto turned to his two friends, a wave of heartfelt appreciation washing over him. "Thank you...for being my friends."

Mina looked at him with an expression of bewilderment, as if he'd just said something utterly ridiculous. "Duh, Shoto! Of course we're your friends! You're like...our favorite person!" She stuck out her tongue playfully, drawing a laugh from him.

Eijirō's face grew serious, but his voice was filled with genuine kindness. "Yeah, Shoto. Friends for life." 

That evening, as Shoto recounted the entire story to Rei, she listened with a proud, beaming smile. "You see, Shoto? The right friends will always see the real you, beyond the surface-level expectations and assumptions. They'll cherish you for who you are, not just what you represent."

Shoto embraced his mother tightly, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace and belonging. And as he drifted off to sleep that night, he knew he had found true friends he could count on - people who saw him, Shoto Todoroki, exactly as he was.

Chapter Text

The final bell of the school semester rang out, and Touya slung his bag over his shoulder after the exams with a mixture of excitement and nerves. It was the last day of Junior High for this semester—a day he once thought he’d never see, back when his life had been consumed by anger, pain, and an obsession with surpassing All Might. But now, he felt like he was finally moving beyond that dark part of himself.

Over the past year, school had become more bearable, even enjoyable at times. His classmates no longer saw him as some angry outcast but rather as a strong, dependable guy with a sense of humor and, thanks to his siblings, a more playful side. He had a close-knit group of friends who knew him as Touya and didn’t care about the weight his last name carried. It felt like he’d finally carved out a life that was his own, not defined by anyone else’s expectations.

That afternoon, he sat on the roof of his school building, looking over the familiar view, thinking about the changes he’d gone through. His obsession with All Might had slowly faded, replaced by a deeper sense of purpose. Instead of proving himself to anyone, he now wanted to be a hero because of the person he had become.

“Hey, Touya!” one of his classmates called up to him, giving him a thumbs-up from the courtyard below. “See you at U.A., man! You’re gonna crush it there!”

Touya waved back, grinning, feeling a burst of confidence. U.A. had been the dream school he’d first wanted to enter because of his need to compete, to prove himself, but now, as he filled out the application for the hero course, he knew he was applying for all the right reasons. He wanted to make a difference—to help others, to honor his mother and father, and to inspire his siblings. And for the first time, he felt like he was doing it for himself.

That evening, the Todoroki family gathered for dinner. The atmosphere was warm and filled with laughter, the kind that once would’ve felt foreign in their household. Fuyumi was talking about her latest breathing training, and Natsuo was proudly explaining his own progress in Muay Thai. Shoto looked up to Touya with a bright grin, clapping when Touya shared that he’d finally completed his U.A. application. Even Enji, who had once put so much pressure on Touya, gave him a proud nod, a rare but welcome sign of approval.

“Touya,” she began, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. “I was thinking… Enji and I could work with you directly for a while. To help you prepare for U.A. together.”

Touya’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open slightly, quickly replaced by a huge, barely-contained grin. He straightened in his chair, practically glowing with excitement. “You mean…like personal training? With both of you?”

Rei nodded, smiling at the way he was already preening at the thought. But Enji’s expression was more hesitant. His brow furrowed, and he shot Rei a questioning glance, still haunted by the mistakes of his past. Though he’d tried to make things right, the weight of the training he’d once forced on Touya lingered, making him hesitant to step back into that role—even with Rei beside him.

“Are you sure?” Enji asked Rei, his voice low. “With everything that’s happened… Maybe it should be just you.”

Rei gently shook her head, reaching across the table to rest her hand on his. “You know better now, Enji. You’ve changed,” she said firmly, her gaze reassuring him. “This isn’t just about Touya’s strength. It’s about giving him the guidance and support he deserves—from both his parents. And besides,” she added, a playful smile touching her lips, “I think you might actually have a few things to teach him now.”

The kids watched this exchange with wide eyes. Touya looked like he’d won the lottery, his grin stretching from ear to ear. He leaned back, barely containing his pride as he looked over at his siblings.

“I guess that makes me the star pupil, huh?” he said with a smirk.

Natsuo, who’d been sitting quietly beside him, folded his arms with an exaggerated pout. “Unfair. You get Mom and Dad? And I don’t even get extra dessert?” he grumbled, although there was a teasing edge to his voice.

Rei chuckled, patting Natsuo’s head. “You’ll get your turn, don’t worry. For now, this training is to prepare Touya for U.A. It’s a big step, after all.”

Shoto, wide-eyed with curiosity, piped up. “Are we still going to have our family sessions on the weekends?”

“Of course,” Rei assured him. “This family training is for all of us—it’s a time to grow and have fun together, and nothing will change that.”

Shoto sighed in relief, a small smile forming as he settled back into his chair. “Good. I want to keep training with everyone.”

Rei smiled at her youngest’s loyalty to the family sessions, then looked around the table at her children. “We’re all learning, aren’t we? Together.”

Enji’s shoulders relaxed a little, seeing the ease and excitement in his children’s faces. Perhaps it was true that he could now contribute to their growth in a way that wasn’t solely based on power or discipline. As the warmth around the dinner table returned, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the chance to move forward as a different kind of father.

For the rest of the meal, Touya was practically buzzing with excitement, and everyone took turns teasing him about his newfound “star pupil” status. As the night wore on, the Todoroki family felt more connected than ever, each of them filled with their own anticipation for the road ahead.

When dinner was over and the dishes were cleared, Touya found himself still grinning as he hugged his mom and dad goodnight. For the first time in a long time, his future didn’t feel like a battleground but a path he was eager to walk.

Chapter Text

Dawn hadn't yet broken when Rei gently shook Touya awake. The boy's white hair was tousled from sleep, his turquoise eyes bleary as he tried to focus on his mother's face. Before he could protest, she pressed a finger to her lips and pointed to where his siblings slept peacefully.

"Training starts today," she whispered, and despite his exhaustion, Touya felt a flutter of excitement in his chest.

The previous evening had been... unexpected. When Enji had offered the recommendation letter, Touya had straightened his spine and looked his father in the eye.

"Absolutely not," Touya said firmly, standing before his father in the family dojo. The recommendation letter sat untouched on the low table between them.

Enji's eyebrows rose slightly. "You understand what you're turning down? With your quirk—"

"I want to earn it," Touya interrupted, then added more softly, "I need to know I can do this on my own."

He'd expected anger, perhaps disappointment. Instead, his father had studied him for a long moment before nodding once, something like respect flickering in his eyes. Soon the dojo door burst open with a dramatic slam. Six-year-old Shoto stood there, chest puffed out importantly, clutching a notebook decorated with an impressive array of tiger stickers that Fuyumi had helped him apply.

"I have a plan!" he announced, marching forward with all the gravity a small child could muster. "It's called... The Eye of the Tiger Plan!"

Fuyumi poked her head in behind him, trying not to giggle. "He's been working on it all afternoon."

Shoto opened his notebook with a flourish, revealing pages of crayon drawings and wobbly writing. "See? First, Touya needs to run... um..." He squinted at his own writing.

"From Sekoto Peak," Fuyumi supplied helpfully.

"Right! And then..." Shoto flipped through more pages, each filled with increasingly elaborate training scenarios, including what appeared to be Touya fighting a dragon (though it might have been a particularly spiky bush).

Rei, who had quietly entered behind her younger children, stepped forward. "Actually," she said, sharing an amused look with Enji, "Shoto might be onto something here."

The next morning arrived far too early for Touya's liking. As Rei shook him awake, he heard Natsuo's sleepy mumble from the next futon: "Go get 'em, Tiger."

"I regret everything," Touya groaned, but he was already getting up.

Outside, the pre-dawn air was crisp and biting. Rei held up what looked like an oversized gourd.

"What's that for?" Touya asked, eying it suspiciously.

"This," Rei said with a smile that made Touya slightly nervous, "is your first challenge. But before we get to this..." She gestured toward the mountain path. "Run.

The training regiment was unlike anything Touya had imagined. Each morning began with the run from Sekoto Peak – a grueling journey that left him gasping those first few weeks. Rei ran beside him, demonstrating the breathing technique she called "Total Concentration Breathing Constant."

"It's not just about endurance," she explained as they jogged. "It's about understanding the rhythm of your own body, the flow of your power."

Touya, too winded to respond, could only nod.

The martial arts training that followed was equally intense. Rei's movements were like flowing water, teaching him forms that seemed to dance between offense and defense. "Your flames are powerful," she would say, correcting his stance, "but power without control is just destruction waiting to happen."

During their four-hour break, Touya would often find Shoto studying his "training manual" with intense concentration, adding new ideas with crayon illustrations. Sometimes, Fuyumi would bring them all cold barley tea, and Natsuo would demonstrate his latest "super move" (usually just a cartwheel, but Touya always clapped).

The first week was brutal. By day three, Touya was convinced his legs would fall off.

"I can't... feel... anything..." he gasped, collapsing onto the engawa after their morning run.

"Perfect time to start the breathing exercises then," Rei said cheerfully, setting the gourd in front of him. "Now, watch carefully."

She demonstrated the breathing technique, explaining how it would help him control his flames more precisely. Touya tried to copy her, but his first attempt at blowing into the gourd produced nothing.

"Again," Rei instructed. "Feel the breath moving through your entire body. Like this—"

"Like a dragon!" Shoto piped up from where he'd been watching, adding another drawing to his training manual. "Touya's gonna be a blue dragon!"

"More like a wheezing lizard right now," Natsuo commented, dodging the half-hearted swipe Touya aimed at him.

The martial arts training that followed was equally challenging. Rei moved like water, demonstrating forms that made Touya feel clumsy and uncoordinated.

"Mom," he panted after falling for the tenth time, "I don't see how this helps with my flames."

"Your quirk isn't separate from your body," Rei explained, helping him up. "The better you understand one, the better you'll control the other. Now, show me that kata again."

From the sidelines, Fuyumi called out encouragement while Shoto diligently added stick-figure illustrations to his manual, complete with motion lines and sound effects written in careful hiragana.

During their afternoon break, Touya found himself surrounded by his siblings. Fuyumi brought cool towels and snacks, while Natsuo demonstrated what he called "victory poses."

"You need these for when you pass!" he insisted, striking another dramatic pose.

"He's been practicing those all week," Fuyumi whispered to Touya, giggling.

Shoto, meanwhile, had spread his training manual across the floor, adding new notes with intense concentration. "Look," he said, pointing to a new page. "I drew you breaking the biggest gourd ever! It's as big as the house!"

"Let's maybe start with the smaller ones," Touya suggested, ruffling his little brother's dual-colored hair.

When Enji returned home each afternoon, the training shifted gears.Where Rei was water, Enji was fire – direct, intense, but lately, there was something different in his approach. He would stop, explain, demonstrate again when needed. Once, Touya even caught him smiling when a particularly difficult maneuver was mastered. Today, they stood in the dojo, blue and red flames illuminating the space.

"Your flames are hot," Enji observed one afternoon, watching Touya's blue fire dance. "But heat isn't everything. Control, precision – these make the difference between a hero and a human torch."

"Again," Enji commanded, watching Touya's form. "Your stance is too wide. You're sacrificing control for power."

Touya adjusted, feeling the difference in how his flames responded. To his surprise, Enji nodded approvingly.

"Better. Now, target practice." He set up several small targets. "Hit each one without singing the surroundings."

From the doorway, Shoto watched with wide eyes, whispering to Fuyumi, "Write that down! Write that down!"

The evening study sessions became an unexpected family affair.while Rei helped him understand complex hero laws and Fuyumi quizzed him on ethics scenarios. Even little Shoto would participate, solemnly holding up flashcards Rei had helped him prepare. Fuyumi proved to be an excellent tutor, especially in history and ethics.

"Okay," she said,  while Shoto held up a flashcard. "Scenario: A villain has taken hostages in a crowded area. What's your first priority?"

"Um..." Touya thought carefully. "Civilian safety?"

"Correct! Now, what factors do you need to consider?"

Natsuo, sprawled nearby, called out increasingly unlikely scenario additions ("What if the villain is actually three kids in a trench coat?"), while Shoto solemnly added "CIVILIAN SAFETY!!!" to his manual in large, sparkly letters.

Sleep training proved... interesting.

The first time Touya dozed off and stopped his breathing exercises, he was awakened by three siblings armed with blanket beaters, giggling as they "enforced training protocol" (Shoto's words, clearly repeated from someone else).

"You stopped breathing properly!" Natsuo announced gleefully at 2 AM, armed with a blanket beater.

"We're helping!" Shoto added, wielding his own beater with determination.

"This was definitely your idea," Touya grumbled to Fuyumi, who tried to look innocent.

"Actually," she admitted, "it was Mom's. But we added the blanket beaters!"

As weeks passed, changes became evident. The morning runs became easier, his breathing more controlled. The gourds that once seemed impossible to break now shattered with precise bursts of a single breath.

One evening, during a family game of tag in the garden, Touya realized he was keeping pace with his father. Enji noticed too, his eyebrows rising slightly as Touya dodged past him with newfound agility.

Later, Rei found Touya practicing with the largest gourd yet – one nearly as tall as he was. "You've come far," she said softly, "but there's still much to learn."

Touya nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "I know. But... I think I can do this."

Rei smiled, and for a moment, Touya saw the strength that had always been there – not in flames or ice, but in determination and love.

"Of course you can," she said. "You're not just training your quirk, Touya. You're learning who you are." She picked up a training gourd. "Now, show me that breathing technique again. Your form's still a bit off."

Touya groaned but complied, hiding his smile as he heard Shoto in the background, earnestly updating his training manual with new observations.

"Speaking of which..." Rei nodded toward the door, where three heads quickly ducked out of sight. "I think your fan club has some new training ideas."

Shoto burst in, unable to contain himself any longer. "I drew a new plan!" he announced excitedly. "It's called 'Eye of the Tiger Part Two: The Rising!'"

"The Rising?" Touya asked, amused.

"Because you're gonna rise up! Like a phoenix! But blue!"

The days fell into a rhythm: dawn runs with his mother, martial arts training that left him sore but stronger, afternoon sessions with his father that grew more focused and less frightening, evening studies that sometimes dissolved into impromptu family storytelling sessions.

Through it all, the sound of breathing – steady, controlled, purposeful – became his constant companion. Sometimes, late at night, he could hear his siblings practicing too, their breaths synchronizing unconsciously in their sleep.

One morning, two months into training, Touya stood before the largest gourd yet. His family gathered around – Rei with her gentle encouragement, Enji with his arms crossed but eyes attentive, his siblings barely containing their excitement.

Rei's hand rested on his shoulder. "Ready for the next phase?"

As he began the exercise, he heard Shoto's excited whisper: "This is going in chapter five: 'The Blue Dragon Rises!'"

"That's actually a pretty cool title," Natsuo admitted.

"Of course it is," Fuyumi said proudly. "Our little brother's a genius."

Touya took a deep breath, feeling the power flow through him, controlled but potent. His flames, when they came, were focused and precise. The gourd didn't just break – it shattered in a perfect pattern, each piece falling exactly where he'd intended.

In the silence that followed, Shoto's voice piped up: "Does this mean we need a bigger gourd?"

The laughter that followed was warm and genuine, and Touya smiled that somewhere along the way, this training had become more than preparation for an exam. It had become a bridge, connecting their family in ways he hadn't thought possible. With his family behind him, U.A.'s entrance exam didn't seem quite so daunting anymore.

Though he could probably do without the 2 AM blanket beater attacks.

"Your breathing's getting sloppy!" Shoto announced, right on cue.

Touya groaned. "You're enjoying this way too much, little brother."

"It's in the manual!" Shoto protested, waving his notebook. "Page twelve: 'Constant Vigilance!'"

As his siblings dissolved into giggles, Touya couldn't help but laugh too. This wasn't just training anymore – it was becoming one of the best summers of his life.

Even if he never quite managed to dodge those blanket beaters.

Chapter Text

The quiet hum of the house surrounded Touya and Rei as they sat together on the veranda, the early afternoon sun painting warm shadows across the garden. Enji was at work, and his siblings were at school, creating a rare moment of privacy between mother and son.

"Mom, what kind of people become villains?" Touya asked, his young face serious in the filtered sunlight.

Rei was quiet for a moment, her eyes distant as if looking into another life. "It's more complex than most people realize," she began carefully. "Not all villains are born from the same darkness, and not all of them choose their path willingly."

She turned to face him fully. "Some people become villains out of necessity – to protect someone they love, to survive in a world that's turned against them. I once knew of a man who became a monster to save his dying sister. Every atrocity he committed was fueled by desperate love." She paused, her voice softening. "These villains often believe they have no other choice, that the end justifies their means."

"Then there are those who are molded into villains by circumstances beyond their control. Children raised in darkness, taught that cruelty is strength. I knew of someone who was trained from childhood to be a killer, never knowing any other way of life. His hands were stained with blood before he ever had a chance to choose differently."

Touya leaned forward, drawn in by the personal weight in his mother's words. "But those aren't the worst ones, are they?"

"No," Rei confirmed, her expression growing grave. "There are three types that are far more dangerous. First are those who have nothing left to lose. When someone has lost everything – family, hope, purpose – they become unpredictable. I knew of a warrior who, after losing his beloved sibling, became so consumed by vengeance that he would sacrifice anyone, destroy anything, just to achieve his goals. There was no reasoning with him because death held no fear for him anymore."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "The second type are those who do it for pleasure. These are the ones who find joy in others' pain, who treat cruelty like an art form. I once encountered someone who would create elaborate 'games' with human lives, watching families tear themselves apart for his amusement. He saw suffering as entertainment, treating people like toys to be played with and discarded."

Touya shivered, but couldn't look away from his mother's intense gaze.

"But the third type..." Rei's voice grew quieter, heavy with memory. "Those who have completely discarded their humanity – they're perhaps the most terrifying of all. I knew one who could smile warmly while ending lives, who would speak of love while committing unspeakable acts. He had no genuine understanding of human emotion, merely mimicking it like wearing a mask. He saw people as fascinating insects to be studied and crushed, all while maintaining a peaceful, almost serene demeanor."

"What makes these three so much worse than the others?" Touya asked, though part of him already understood.

"Because the others still retain something human within them," Rei explained. "Those who act out of necessity or circumstance often carry guilt, regret, or at least understanding of their actions' weight. Even those shaped by cruel upbringings can sometimes find their way back to humanity if shown another path."

She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "But these three types? They're beyond redemption in different ways. Those with nothing to lose can't be deterred by threats or reasoned with through consequences – they've already accepted their own destruction. Those who do it for pleasure can't be appealed to through morality or empathy – suffering is their entertainment. And those who've discarded their humanity?" She shook her head slowly. "They don't even see themselves as human anymore. They've elevated themselves to something else, something that views humanity as beneath them."

"Each has their own way of seeing the world," she continued. "The ones with nothing left view it through a lens of despair and rage. The pleasure-seekers see it as their personal playground. And the ones who've abandoned humanity? They see the world as a stage for their own superiority, where human lives are merely props in their grand performance."

Touya absorbed this in silence, noting the way his mother's hands trembled slightly. "You've... seen these kinds of villains before, haven't you?"

Rei's smile was sad but gentle. "Let's just say I've learned these lessons through experience, Touya. That's why I want you to understand. The world isn't simple, and neither are its villains. Some are created by circumstance, others by choice. Some can find their way back to the light, while others..." She trailed off, looking out at the garden again.

"The ones who've lost their humanity," she finished quietly, "they're like black holes, Touya. They'll draw in everything around them, destroying it all while wearing a peaceful smile. They're the ones you must be most careful of, because they've not only rejected their own humanity – they actively seek to corrupt or destroy it in others."

Touya nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his mother's words settle into his bones. He could sense there was something deeply personal in her warnings, some past pain that made her voice shake when she spoke of these monsters wearing human faces. But he didn't ask. Instead, he simply reached out and placed his hand over hers, offering silent support.

Rei squeezed his hand gratefully. "Remember, Touya, understanding the darkness doesn't mean surrendering to it. Sometimes, knowing what makes monsters can help us stay human in a world that too often tries to turn us into something else."

They sat together in comfortable silence after that, watching the afternoon light play across the garden. But Touya knew he would never forget this conversation, or the look in his mother's eyes when she spoke of those who had chosen to become monsters. Some lessons, he realized, were written in scars that never fully healed.

Chapter Text

Dawn painted the sky in streaks of gold and pink as Touya knelt before the family shrine. Steam rose from his breath in the crisp morning air, his hands clasped in quiet meditation. The worn wooden surface of the shrine held years of his family's prayers, hopes, and dreams. Today, he'd add his own.

"Touya?" Rei's soft voice broke through his thoughts. "It's time for breakfast."

He found his family gathered around the kitchen table, a spread of traditional breakfast items laid out with care. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, but his mother had maintained their usual morning routine—a touch of normalcy on this extraordinary day.

"Made your favorite," Fuyumi announced, sliding a bowl of miso soup towards him. "You'll need the energy."

Natsuo was practically bouncing in his seat. "You're gonna crush it! Remember that move we practiced? The spinning flame kick thing?"

" Armada de fogo ," Touya corrected with a slight smile, using the Portuguese term from his capoeira training. "And yes, I remember."

Shoto, sitting cross-legged in his chair, was practically vibrating with excitement. "Can you show us? Please? One last time?"

Rei gentle cleared her throat. "After breakfast, Shoto. Let your brother eat."

As they finished their meal, the family gathered by the front door for their farewells. Rei adjusted Touya's collar, her cool fingers brushing against his neck. "Remember your breathing," she said softly. "No matter what happens in there, stay centered."

"Total Concentration Constant," Touya nodded, taking a deep breath to demonstrate.

Fuyumi pressed a small charm into his hand. "For luck," she whispered. "Though you won't need it."

"Bring back a piece of robot!" Natsuo grinned. "I bet you'll destroy tons of them!"

Shoto tugged at Touya's pants leg. "Will you fight like All Might? Are you gonna do the thing where he goes SMASH?" His small face was serious with the question.

Touya knelt down to his youngest brother's level. "I'm going to fight like me," he said, ruffling Shoto's dual-colored hair. "Sometimes that's even better than being All Might."

The trip to U.A. felt surreal. The iconic H-shaped building loomed before him, its windows gleaming in the morning sun. Other examinees streamed through the gates, some looking confident, others clearly nervous. Touya took another centering breath, feeling the familiar calm of Total Concentration Constant settle over him.

Inside the auditorium, the air buzzed with nervous energy. Touya found a seat, observing his fellow examinees. Some were quietly muttering to themselves, others showing off their quirks in small displays.

A stern-looking examiner stepped onto the stage, his professional demeanor commanding immediate attention. "Welcome, future heroes," his voice carried through the auditorium with practiced authority. "Today, you'll be showing us whether you have what it takes to join U.A.'s hero course."

The examiner's clear, precise explanation laid out every detail of the test. Points for different robot types, time limits, battle centers—Touya absorbed every detail. Then came the crucial addition:

"One final point," the examiner's expression turned serious. "Each battle center contains a special obstacle worth zero points. Consider it a hurdle to avoid rather than engage. Focus your efforts on the pointed targets."

In his battle center, Touya took stock of his surroundings. Concrete buildings created an urban maze, perfect for both combat and stealth. He could hear his mother's voice: "Analysis before action, Touya. Know your battlefield."

The moment the exam started, chaos erupted. Examinees scattered in all directions, quirks blazing. Touya moved with purpose, his capoeira training evident in every fluid step. A one-pointer appeared around the corner, its red sensors scanning for targets.

"Swing," Touya whispered, falling into the basic rocking step of capoeira. Blue flames wrapped around his arms as he moved, the fire dancing with his movements. The robot charged, but Touya was already spinning into a cartwheel kick that sent concentrated flames through the robot's core.

"First points," he murmured, already moving to his next target.

A two-pointer burst through a wall nearby. This one was faster, more agile. Touya dropped low, using an esquiva to dodge its initial strike. His flames curved around the robot's legs, weakening its joints. As it stumbled, he launched into a meia lua de compasso —a signature capoeira spinning kick—his flames intensifying at the point of impact.

"Participant 269 showing exceptional control!" a voice echoed from somewhere above. The examiners were watching, analyzing every move.

A group of three-pointers converged on his position. Touya's breathing remained steady, his movements precise. He wove between their attacks, his flames leaving blue trails in the air. Each strike was calculated, targeting weak points he'd studied in his preparation.

"Nice moves!" called another examinee said. "You're like a dancing flame!"

Touya acknowledged her with a nod, then spotted movement in his peripheral vision. A fellow examinee had tripped, their ankle twisted, and a two-pointer was bearing down on them. Without hesitation, Touya changed direction.

"A hero's first duty is to protect," his mother's words guided his actions.

He launched himself between the fallen examinee and the robot, his flames forming a protective barrier. With a series of quick strikes, he disabled the robot, then turned to help the injured participant.

"Can you walk?" he asked, already moving to support their weight.

"I think so—look out!"

A thunderous crash echoed through the battle center, drawing Touya's attention. Rising above the demolished buildings was a monstrous robot—the infamous zero-pointer. Its massive form towered over the landscape, dwarfing the other examination robots. While most examinees scattered in terror, Touya felt a familiar surge of determination.

"Now this," he muttered to himself, "is where all my training comes together."

His mind flashed back to the countless hours of training. The zero-pointer's massive mechanical arm swept toward him, intending to crush everything in its path. But Touya was already moving, his body low to the ground, channeling the swing.

"Total Concentration: Constant," he whispered, blue flames erupting around his body, creating a dynamic aura that shifted and moved with his fighting style.

In the observation booth, the examiners leaned forward. Principal Nezu's eyes narrowed with intense interest, while Recovery Girl muttered, "Now that's an interesting approach."

Touya dodged the first massive strike, using a rolling dodge that allowed him to avoid the robot's attack while maintaining momentum. His flames trailed behind him, leaving momentary afterimages that confused the robot's targeting systems.

"The boy's using misdirection," one examiner noted. "He's not just fighting—he's dancing with the machine."

Another zero-pointer victim lay trapped nearby—a girl with a trembling leg pinned beneath concrete. Touya spotted her in a split second, his mother's words echoing in his mind: "A hero must think of others before themselves—always."

But he couldn't simply run to her. The zero-pointer was blocking the path, its massive form threatening to crush everything in its vicinity.

"I need to draw its attention," Touya muttered, his mind racing.

He began a series of acrobatic movements, combining capoeira's fluid kicks with precise flame manipulation. A high spinning kick trailing blue fire caught the robot's sensors, forcing it to track his movement. The mechanical monstrosity began to focus entirely on Touya, its massive limbs creating shockwaves with each movement.

"Come on," Touya taunted, his voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Let's dance."

The zero-pointer's arm came crashing down. At the last possible moment, Touya dropped into a near-impossible low stance, the mechanical limb passing mere inches above him. His total concentration breathing kept him perfectly balanced, each inhale and exhale calculated to maintain absolute control.

In that moment of proximity, Touya unleashed his quirk. Blue flames concentrated at his fingertips, burning with an intensity that went beyond mere heat—these were precision strikes designed to exploit mechanical weaknesses.

"Target identified," he whispered, striking at the robot's critical joint mechanisms.

The examiners watched in stunned silence as Touya systematically dismantled weak points in the zero-pointer's structure. It wasn't about raw power, but about surgical precision.

"He's not trying to destroy it," Recovery Girl observed. "He's neutralizing its functionality."

With a final series of spinning kicks trailing azure flames, Touya created an opening. He darted beneath the now-compromised robot, reaching the trapped examinee.

"Hold still," he called to her, his voice calm and controlled. Using a technique he'd learned from years of helping Fuyumi move furniture, he leveraged his body to lift the concrete just enough for her to crawl free.

The zero-pointer began to topple, its systems critically damaged. Touya grabbed the girl and rolled them both to safety, his flames creating a protective barrier around them.

As dust settled, silence filled the battle center. The girl looked up at him, her eyes wide. "You... you saved me."

Touya offered a small, slightly tired smile. "Just doing what any hero would do."

In the observation booth, Principal Nezu turned to his colleagues, a knowing glint in his eye. "Now that," he said, "is a promising candidate."

After the practical exam, Touya moved to the written portion with the same focused determination. The questions ranged from hero laws to ethical scenarios, each one bringing to mind lessons from his family.

A question about disaster response reminded him of Fuyumi's practical advice: "Sometimes the best solution isn't the most obvious one."

Another about quirk regulations brought back Natsuo's endless questions about hero licenses and responsibilities.

The ethics portion made him smile, thinking of his mother's gentle but firm teachings about the moral weight of being a hero. "Power without compassion is just force," she'd always said. "True heroism lies in how we use our strength to help others."

When he finally returned home that evening, exhausted but satisfied, the house was filled with the warm aroma of Udon—his favorite celebration meal. His family surrounded him the moment he stepped through the door.

"Did you beat up lots of robots?" Shoto asked, eyes shining.

"Was the written test hard?" Fuyumi inquired, already guiding him toward the dining room.

"Did you bring me back a piece?" Natsuo grinned hopefully.

Rei simply watched him with knowing eyes, a proud smile gracing her features. "Wash up," she said softly. "Then you can tell us everything over dinner."

Later that night, as Touya lay in bed, he reflected on the day. The practical exam, the zero-pointer, the written test—all of it had been challenging, but he'd faced each obstacle with the strength his family had helped him build. Whether he passed or failed, he knew he'd given it everything he had.

Just before sleep claimed him, he heard a soft knock at his door. Shoto peeked in, clutching his All Might action figure.

"Touya?" his little brother whispered. "Do you think you'll be as strong as All Might when you become a hero?"

Touya smiled in the darkness. "I'll be something different," he replied. "I'll be me."

As Shoto padded back to his own room, Touya closed his eyes, feeling peace settle over him. Tomorrow would bring what it would bring, but today—today he had made his family proud. And in the end, that was what mattered most.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun filtered gently through the branches, dappling the playground with warm, golden light. Shoto sat on a bench beside Eijirō, whose bright, gap-toothed grin never seemed to fade, even with his hair still black and unruly. Mina, her pink skin glowing under the sunlight, was swinging so high she nearly touched the sky.

"Shoto!" she called, twisting around mid-swing and nearly losing her balance, "Come push me higher!"

Shoto's lips quirked into a rare smile as he stood and walked over, pushing her lightly at first before applying more strength. Mina laughed, the sound ringing across the playground like bells, while Eijirō cheered them on, pumping his fists into the air.

"This is what being a hero should feel like, right?" Eijirō said suddenly, his voice filled with earnestness. Shoto turned to see him, eyes widening at the question.

"What do you mean?" Shoto asked, pausing his gentle pushes to Mina.

"Being with friends, having fun, helping each other out." Eijirō's gaze met Shoto's with an intensity beyond his years. "It's not just about being strong and saving people, y'know? It's about this, too."

Mina jumped off the swing, landing with her feet apart and arms spread wide. "Yeah! Plus, you can't be all serious all the time. That's how you turn into a villain in the movies!" She giggled, a touch of mischief in her eyes.

"Mina, careful!" Eijirō called out, instinctively stepping forward. "You could've hurt yourself!"

"Oh, come on!" Mina spun around, her movements fluid and dance-like. "Life's no fun without a little risk!" She grabbed both boys' hands, pulling them toward the monkey bars. "Let's see who can do the most tricks!"

Shoto found himself caught between Mina's infectious enthusiasm and Eijirō's cautious concern. It was a familiar position – being the steady fulcrum between Mina's wild ideas and Eijirō's protective nature. "Maybe we could take turns," he suggested, a compromise that made both his friends beam.

"That's our Shoto!" Mina declared, ruffling his red and white hair. "Always finding the middle ground!"

Eijirō nodded approvingly. "Yeah, but someone's got to keep an eye on you two daredevils." His words carried no real admonishment, just fond exasperation. Despite his shy nature, he had grown comfortable enough with his friends to voice his concerns.

They spent the next hour taking turns on the monkey bars, with Mina attempting increasingly complex spins that made Eijirō nervously bite his nails. Shoto, meanwhile, discovered he enjoyed spotting for his friends, ready to catch them if they fell – though Mina's acrobatic grace rarely required his intervention.

"Hey, watch this!" Mina announced, preparing for what looked like her most ambitious trick yet.

"Maybe we should take a break?" Eijirō suggested, twisting the hem of his shirt. "We could go get ice cream instead?"

Shoto watched the familiar dance: Mina's boundless energy meeting Eijirō's careful consideration. He felt a warmth bloom in his chest, a small, unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, he could be more than just what his training demanded of him. These moments, balanced between Mina's fearless joy and Eijirō's gentle wisdom, taught him more about being a hero than any combat training ever could.

"Ice cream sounds good," Shoto said, and Mina immediately abandoned her trick attempt, bouncing over to link arms with both boys.

"Only if we can try that new triple-scoop supreme!" she declared.

Eijirō's eyes widened. "But that's huge! We'll get sick!"

"We'll share it," Shoto suggested, earning grateful looks from both friends – Mina for enabling her adventure, Eijirō for containing it.

The sun dipped lower as the trio headed to the ice cream shop, their laughter echoing through the streets. By the time they said their goodbyes, promising to meet again soon, Shoto's walk home was filled with a gentle contentment. The city's buzz around him felt like a comforting hum, a reminder of the afternoon's perfect balance of excitement and peace.

When he pushed the front gate open and stepped inside the Todoroki home, he was greeted by an electric anticipation. 

The entire family was gathered in the living room, a rare sight that filled the space with warmth and murmurs. Touya stood at the center, a letter clutched in his hand, his blue eyes wide and bright with barely-contained excitement. Fuyumi, with a grin that reached her eyes, stood beside him, leaning in to read over his shoulder. Natsuo fidgeted next to their mother, a pout tugging at his lips that was half impatience, half eagerness.

"Shoto!" Rei called, her voice soft but warm. "You're just in time. We've been waiting for you." Enji, who stood at the back, his massive frame casting a long shadow, wore an expression of uncharacteristic tenderness. The tension that once accompanied his presence had mellowed into something more bearable, almost comfortable.

Shoto nodded at his father, receiving a gentle nod in return – their new language of acknowledgment, built carefully over months of family therapy and quiet dinners. He joined his siblings, feeling Fuyumi's hand squeeze his shoulder as he settled beside them.

"Read it, Touya!" Natsuo urged, crossing his arms but leaning in all the same. His impatience was no longer born of anger or resentment, but of genuine excitement for his older brother's achievement.

Touya took a deep breath, his hands steady – so different from the trembling, frustrated movements of years past. He unfolded the letter, eyes skimming over the words before he read out loud:

*"Congratulations, Touya Todoroki. You have passed the U.A. Entrance Exam."*

The room erupted in cheers, but it wasn't just noise – it was healing made audible. Shoto's eyes widened with a mix of pride and awe as he caught the triumphant gleam in Touya's expression, remembering late nights when they'd trained together, Touya teaching him how to control his flames with patience instead of force.

Their mother's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and even Enji's stern face broke into a small, proud smile. The sight no longer felt impossible, just rare and precious.

"76 points in the practical exam," Touya said, voice steady but tinged with joy, "and a 98 on the written exam."

"That's my boy," Enji murmured, soft enough that only Rei heard him. She reached back and squeezed his hand – a gesture that would have been unthinkable months ago.

Fuyumi clapped, unable to contain her excitement. "You did it, Touya! You're going to U.A.!" Her joy was infectious, as it had always been, but now it reached every corner of the room without hesitation.

"Remember when we used to sneak into the dojo to practice?" Natsuo chimed in, grinning. "Look at you now – all official and everything!"

Rei stepped forward, hands clasped over her heart. The ice in her veins had long since melted into something warmer, stronger. "I knew you could do it," she said, her voice full of warmth and pride. "You worked so hard, and it's paid off." She glanced at Enji, including him in the moment rather than shying away.

Shoto found himself smiling as Touya met his gaze, eyes gleaming. "Are you gonna tell them about the 'Eye of the Tiger' plan?" Shoto asked, a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth, referencing their family  training sessions where Natsuo would blast the song to pump them up.

Touya let out a laugh, a genuine, full-hearted sound that seemed to wash away the last traces of old pain. "Maybe another time, little brother. Today's just for celebrating." He ruffled Shoto's hair, an affectionate gesture that had become natural over time.

"We should have a proper celebration," Rei suggested, her confidence in making family decisions growing stronger each day. "Maybe that hot pot place you all love?"

"Only if Dad promises not to make it too spicy this time," Natsuo teased, and the fact that he could joke with their father now spoke volumes about their healing.

Enji chuckled – a sound that had once been foreign in these walls. "I make no promises," he replied, but his eyes were warm.

They all laughed, a sound that filled the house and echoed down hallways that had once held only silence and strife. Enji stepped forward, placing a large, warm hand on Touya's shoulder. For a moment, their gazes met, and Enji's eyes shone with something deeper than pride—acceptance, understanding, and maybe even hope. The gesture was gentle, nothing like the crushing weight his touch had once carried.

"Congratulations, son," Enji said, voice low and sincere. "You found your own way to be a hero."

"Thanks, Dad," Touya replied, and it was enough to make the entire room fall into a stunned silence before Rei's gentle smile returned them to warmth and celebration. She moved to stand beside her husband and eldest son, completing a circle that had once been broken but now stood whole.

Fuyumi wiped happy tears from her eyes as she watched her family – really watched them – and saw how far they'd come. The therapy sessions, the awkward family dinners, the tentative steps toward reconciliation, it had all led to this moment: a family celebrating together, their shadows finally giving way to light.

"Group hug!" Natsuo declared suddenly, throwing his arms wide. There was a moment of surprised laughter before they all moved in, even Enji, albeit awkwardly. They stood there, a tangle of arms and quiet thank-yous and pride, their quirks mixing in the air – cool and warm, ice and fire, finally finding their balance.

Chapter Text

Toshinori Yagi, known to the world as All Might, sat at his usual spot in his favorite tea shop, sipping a warm cup of green tea. The soft hum of people chatters from the cafe filtered in, mixed with the crisp autumn breeze that swept through the open window. His eyes, once perpetually gleaming with unmatched confidence, were now softer, carrying the weight of years as a hero.

Today, however, something else occupied his mind. He had heard murmurs in the hero community about Endeavor—not just his recent successes, but whispers of change in the man himself. Present Mic had mentioned witnessing Endeavor patiently coaching a group of civilians through emergency procedures. Midnight spoke of seeing him at a children's hospital, flames dimmed to gentle warmth as he read stories to young patients. Even Aizawa, typically dismissive of such matters, had noted a marked difference in how Endeavor conducted joint training sessions.

Intrigued and uncertain, Toshinori resolved to see for himself what had become of his old rival and colleague. He remembered their past encounters—tense meetings filled with barely contained rivalry, Endeavor's burning determination to surpass him often overshadowing any potential for real connection.

Later that day, a meeting brought him to Endeavor's agency, a towering building that seemed less imposing now, the sharp edges softened by new banners promoting community outreach and hero safety. It was a far cry from the fortress of fierce ambition he remembered. The lobby, once stark and intimidating, now featured walls adorned with children's artwork and thank-you letters from citizens.

As he stepped through the sliding glass doors, he caught sight of Enji Todoroki himself, mid-conversation with a group of interns. The fiery hero's frame was as powerful as ever, but there was a notable difference in how he carried himself. Gone was the rigid posture that seemed to constantly challenge the world. Instead, his shoulders were relaxed, his stance open. The students seemed at ease, their expressions free of the tension that usually accompanied interactions with him. And when Enji nodded at a young woman's comment and cracked a rare, albeit small, smile, Toshinori's brows shot up.

"Ah, Toshinori!" Enji's deep voice cut through the room as he spotted him. The surprise in Endeavor's eyes softened quickly into a look of acknowledgment. He dismissed the interns with a word, who left with energetic waves and whispers, before striding over to his former rival.

"Toshinori," Enji greeted, extending a hand. It was not the curt, tense handshake of old, but one offered with open sincerity. All Might grasped it firmly, a smile breaking across his face. He noticed calluses on Enji's palm—not just from combat, but from what seemed like construction work. He'd heard about Endeavor personally helping rebuild areas damaged in recent villain attacks.

"Enji," he replied. "I've been hearing some things about you. Thought I'd come see if the stories are true."

Enji let out a low chuckle, a sound so unfamiliar that for a moment, Toshinori wondered if he was meeting a doppelgänger. "Depends on what stories you've heard," Enji said, his turquoise eyes carrying a hint of humor Toshinori couldn't recall seeing before. "Come, walk with me. I've been meaning to show you something."

The two heroes walked to the agency's training yard. It was filled with young recruits, practicing drills and sparring under the supervision of Endeavor's sidekicks. The scene was vibrant, filled with an energy that spoke of mentorship rather than just raw, demanding power. A young hero-in-training stumbled during a maneuver, and instead of the harsh rebuke Toshinori expected, he watched Enji step forward with measured patience.

"Remember," Enji called out, his voice carrying across the yard, "strength without control is just destruction waiting to happen. Take your time. Build the foundation first."

Toshinori's eyes widened slightly at the words. They seemed to carry a weight beyond mere training advice—a hard-earned wisdom that spoke of personal lessons and growth.

"Your son Touya mentioned you've been training together," Toshinori ventured, watching Enji's reaction carefully.

A complex emotion flickered across Endeavor's face—pride mixed with something deeper, more vulnerable. "Yes," he replied after a moment. "Though sometimes I think he's the one teaching me. All of them are, in their own ways." He paused, watching as a trainee executed a perfect flame control exercise. "I spent so many years focusing on power, on being the strongest. I never understood that true strength comes in many forms."

Toshinori watched as Enji called out tips to another trainee attempting to balance fire control with speed. His voice, while commanding, lacked its usual sharp edge. The trainee responded with a smile and a nod before executing the move perfectly.

"You know," Enji continued, his flames flickering softly in the autumn breeze, "I used to think being number one meant standing alone at the top. Now I realize it's about lifting others up with you." He turned to face Toshinori fully. "I owe you an apology, old friend. I spent years resenting the shadow you cast, never understanding that it wasn't about competing with your light—it was about finding my own way to shine."

The sincerity in Enji's voice struck Toshinori deeply. Here was a man who had faced his demons and emerged not unscathed, but transformed. The flames that once burned with consuming ambition now seemed to radiate a steady, nurturing warmth.

"You've changed," Toshinori said after a moment, turning to Enji. The wind tousled his blond hair, and a shadow of his former self flared in his eyes—a gleam that spoke to heroism and hope. But this time, instead of seeing a rival to overcome, Enji saw something else: a fellow hero who had always been trying to show him a better way.

"We all must," Enji replied, watching as his trainees worked together, supporting and encouraging each other. "Otherwise, what example are we setting for the next generation?"

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled only by the sounds of training and the gentle rustle of autumn leaves. Toshinori felt something shift in that moment—the last remnants of their old rivalry transforming into something new: mutual respect, understanding, and perhaps even friendship.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Enji asked suddenly, surprising them both. "Rei's making her special udon, and the kids... well, they've heard enough of my old All Might stories. Maybe they'd like to hear some from the source."

Toshinori smiled, recognizing the invitation for what it was—not just a meal, but a bridge between past and present, between who they were and who they were becoming.

"I'd be honored," he replied, and meant it.

As they walked back inside, Toshinori caught sight of their reflections in the agency's windows—two of the world's greatest heroes, no longer separated by competition and pride, but united in their commitment to building a better future. The Symbol of Peace had always believed in the power of change, but watching Endeavor's transformation had taught him something new: sometimes the most heroic act wasn't saving others from villains, but saving oneself from the darkness within.

Chapter Text

The Present Day

The low, monotonous buzz of Enji's office phone broke the quiet hum of activity in his agency. Endeavor, who had been reviewing reports on recent hero activities, paused, the sharp, red-gloved fingers of his hand hovering over the paperwork. The number flashing on the screen made his eyes narrow instinctively: the Hero Public Safety Commission.

With a deep breath that burned through his chest like embers, he pressed the answer button and brought the phone to his ear. "This is Endeavor."

"Good afternoon, Endeavor," came a formal voice on the other end, cold and composed, as if it had never known warmth. "We hope we're not interrupting, but we wanted to discuss something of significance regarding the recent Hero Sports Festival."

Enji's mind immediately flashed back to that day...

Three Days Earlier - The Sports Festival

The stadium roared with excitement as Touya Todoroki stepped into the arena for his final match. In the family section, Rei sat with perfect posture, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Fuyumi leaned forward in her seat, while Natsuo practically bounced with anticipation. Shoto, usually reserved, pressed against the railing, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on his older brother.

"He's got this," Natsuo declared, pumping his fist. "Did you see how he handled that maze in the second round? Pure genius!"

Fuyumi nodded enthusiastically. "The way he used his flames to create those smoke signals to coordinate with his teammates was brilliant."

"That's my brother's technique," Shoto said proudly, glancing at his father who stood behind them, arms crossed but eyes sharp with attention.

Enji watched as Touya took his position, noting how his son's stance was relaxed but ready – a far cry from the rigid, pressure-filled posture Enji himself had demanded years ago. Touya had developed his own style, one that merged power with precision, heat with strategy.

"BEGIN!" One of these examiner’s voices boomed through the stadium.

What followed was a display that had the crowd on their feet. Touya's opponent, a student with a wind quirk, sent powerful gusts his way. Instead of meeting force with force, Touya danced through the currents, his blue flames creating beautiful arcs as he moved. He used the heated air to his advantage, creating updrafts that disrupted his opponent's control.

"Look at that control!" came the announcement. "Young Todoroki isn't just using raw power – he's thinking three steps ahead!"

Rei reached for Enji's hand, squeezing it tight as they watched their son showcase not just his quirk, but his intelligence and adaptability. The pride in Enji's eyes burned brighter than any flame he'd ever produced.

The match's turning point came when Touya feinted left, sent a precise stream of flames right, and then used the resulting thermal current to propel himself forward. In a move that combined grace with power, he managed to pin his opponent while keeping his flames in perfect check – hot enough to be threatening, controlled enough to be safe.

"WINNER: TOUYA TODOROKI!"

The family section erupted in cheers. Natsuo whooped loudly, Fuyumi wiped happy tears from her eyes, and Shoto jumped up and down, abandoning his usual composure. Rei beamed, and Enji... Enji felt his heart swell with a different kind of pride than he'd ever known before.

Present Day - The Phone Call

"Your son's performance was remarkable," the Commission representative continued. "Particularly the level of control he demonstrated with such a powerful quirk. It's rare to see that combination of raw power and tactical thinking in one so young."

Enji's jaw tightened. "Touya has always been clever. He works hard to improve himself."

"Indeed. His match strategies showed impressive maturity. The way he adapted to each opponent's quirk, the precise calculation of his flame output..." The voice paused meaningfully. "It's the kind of potential that shouldn't go to waste."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Enji's voice carried a warning edge.

"We believe Touya would benefit from specialized training programs under the Commission's guidance. Advanced combat scenarios, quirk enhancement exercises, leadership training – all tailored to his unique abilities. We could fast-track his hero career, ensure he reaches his full potential."

The words hit too close to home, echoing memories of his own past decisions. "And what about his current training? His time at U.A.? His normal school life?"

"Oh, he would continue at U.A., of course," the voice assured smoothly. "This would be... supplementary. Think of it as an investment in his future. The Commission would provide resources, connections, opportunities—"

"At what cost?" Enji cut in, his voice sharp. "The cost of his childhood? His chance to develop at his own pace?"

"Endeavor," the voice took on a slight edge, "surely you understand the importance of nurturing exceptional talent. Your son could become one of the greatest heroes of his generation. With proper guidance—"

"My son," Enji interrupted again, emphasizing each word, "is already receiving proper guidance. From his teachers at U.A., from his fellow students, from his family." He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "I've seen what happens when you push too hard, too fast. When you sacrifice everything for power and ranking. I won't let that happen to Touya."

"This isn't about rankings, Endeavor. This is about national security, about preparing the next generation—"

"Then let them prepare naturally. Let them grow into their power, not be forced into it." Enji's voice softened slightly, thinking of his son's smile after his victory, of the way he had hugged his siblings and mother, of how he had looked to his father not with fear or desperate need for approval, but with genuine joy. "Touya will be a great hero, but he'll get there his own way."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, the Commission representative spoke again, their tone professionally neutral but underlined with frost. "We respect your position as both a hero and a father. We'll defer to your judgment—for now."

After the call ended, Enji sat in his office, letting the weight of the conversation settle. He reached for his phone and dialed Rei's number.

"Enji?" Her voice came through clear and concerned. "Is everything alright?"

"For now," he replied, looking out the window at the city that never stopped, never slowed. "But we need to be prepared. The Commission... they've noticed Touya."

"They want to 'help' him, don't they?" Rei's voice carried understanding and a touch of steel. "Like they 'helped' you?"

"Yes." Enji rubbed his temples. "But things are different now. We're different."

"We are," Rei agreed softly. "Should we talk to Touya about this?"

"No," Enji said firmly. "Not yet, He should have a proper time in highschool, he should have choices."

"He's at training with Fuyumi right now. I'll make sure everyone's home for dinner." There was a pause, then Rei added, "You know, watching him at the festival... he reminded me of you. Not the you from before, but the you now. Strong, but gentle. Powerful, but protective."

Enji felt warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with his quirk. "He's better than I ever was. They all are." He smiled slightly. "Though don't tell Natsuo I said that. His ego's big enough already."

Rei's laugh, once so rare in their household, came easily now. "Your secret's safe with me. I'll see you at home?"

"Yes," Enji confirmed, already starting to pack up his work. "And Rei? Thank you. For everything."

Chapter Text

Hawks—real name Keigo Takami—sat in the Hero Commission's conference room, legs crossed, wings folded tightly against the stiff back of his chair. The room hummed with the low buzz of monitors and the sharp clicks of keyboards as data was shuffled and discussed. At sixteen, he had grown used to being the youngest in these meetings, though it never stopped feeling strange.

"You seem distracted today, Hawks," observed Nakajima, his handler, a stern woman with silver-streaked hair pulled into a tight bun. She always used his code name, never Keigo. It was part of their conditioning—Heroes weren't people, they were symbols.

"Just wondering what's so important it couldn't wait until after my training," Hawks replied, keeping his tone light despite the tension in his shoulders. His wings twitched slightly, a tell he was still learning to control.

"We have a special assignment for you," Nakajima said, sliding a tablet across the polished table. "One that requires your... unique perspective."

The screen displayed a profile—Touya Todoroki, age 18, current third-year student at U.A. High School. Hawks studied the image: sharp features, White hair, and eyes that seemed to look right through the camera.

"Endeavor's eldest," Hawks murmured, pieces clicking into place. "What's the Commission's interest in him?"

"He's showing exceptional promise," another committee member chimed in. "His quirk control is remarkable, and his tactical abilities are off the charts. The Commission believes he could be... valuable."

Hawks' stomach twisted at the word. He knew what "valuable" meant to the Commission. He'd been "valuable" once too, just a kid with powerful wings and potential they could shape.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do?" Hawks asked, though he already knew the answer.

Nakajima's lips curved into a thin smile. "Get close to him. Befriend him. Help him see the benefits of working closely with the Commission."

"You mean manipulate him," Hawks said flatly.

"We prefer to think of it as guidance," Nakajima corrected. "You're not much younger than him, Hawks. You understand what it's like to have such potential, such responsibility. Use that connection."

Hawks leaned back, wings rustling. "And if he's not interested?"

"Then you make him interested," another committee member said sharply. "You're good at that, aren't you? Making people trust you?"

The words stung more than Hawks wanted to admit. He forced a lazy smile. "And what about my training? My debut's in two years—"

"This is part of your training," Nakajima cut in. "Consider it practice for your future as a pro hero. Building relationships, gaining trust—these are essential skills."

"Right," Hawks muttered. "Essential skills."

After the meeting, Hawks found himself on the roof of the Commission building, his usual retreat when his thoughts became too loud. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, reminding him of flames—Todoroki flames.

"You're brooding again," came a familiar voice. Nakajima approached, her heels clicking against the concrete.

"I'm thinking," Hawks corrected, not turning around. "There's a difference."

"Share your thoughts then."

Hawks' wings shifted restlessly. "He's eighteen. He's got a family, a future he's working toward. Is it really necessary to—"

"To what? Offer him opportunities? Guide him toward his full potential?" Nakajima's voice hardened. "Don't let your personal feelings cloud your judgment, Hawks. Remember where you'd be without the Commission's guidance."

Hawks did remember. He remembered everything. That's what made this so difficult.

"I've read his file," Hawks said quietly. "He's not like the others. He's... careful. Analytical. He'll see through any obvious attempt at manipulation."

"Then don't be obvious," Nakajima replied simply. "Be yourself—or rather, be Hawks. The charming, carefree hero-in-training. Someone he might actually want to know."

Hawks laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Right. Because that's worked out so well for me so far."

"It has, actually." Nakajima moved to stand beside him. "Your public persona is perfect. Use it. The Commission has arranged for you to visit U.A. next month. A special demonstration for the hero course students."

"Of course you have," Hawks muttered.

"This isn't a request, Hawks," Nakajima said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Touya Todoroki could be an invaluable asset to our cause. Or he could be a potential problem. The Commission would prefer the former."

The threat wasn't subtle. Hawks felt his wings draw closer to his body, a defensive gesture he couldn't quite suppress.

"I understand," he said finally, the words tasting bitter.

Later that night, alone in his Commission-provided apartment, Hawks stared at Touya's file again. The more he read, the more his unease grew. Exceptional quirk control, top marks in tactical training, noted for his ability to analyze and adapt in combat situations. But it was the psychological profile that caught his attention: "Shows strong independence and questioning nature. Potential resistance to authority figures."

"They're worried you won't fall in line, aren't they?" Hawks murmured to the image. "That's why they're sending me. Because I did."

He closed the file and walked to his window, watching the city lights flicker below. His reflection stared back at him—a sixteen-year-old boy trying to look like the hero the Commission wanted him to be.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though he wasn't sure if he was apologizing to Touya or to himself. "But we don't really get choices, do we?"

His wings drooped slightly as he turned away from the window. In two years, he would make his debut as the youngest pro hero in history. The Commission's perfect success story. And now they wanted him to create another.

The worst part was, he was good at it. The charm, the casual confidence, the carefully calculated friendliness—it was all an act he'd perfected over years of Commission training. And soon, he would have to use it on someone who, in another life, might have actually been a friend.

Hawks fell onto his couch, throwing an arm over his eyes. Next month, he would meet Touya Todoroki. He would smile, joke, and begin the careful process of winning his trust. Because that's what the Commission wanted, and what the Commission wanted, they got.

But for now, in the quiet of his apartment, Keigo Takami allowed himself to feel the weight of what he was about to do.

Chapter Text

It was an ordinary day in Musutafu, the city buzzing with life as people rushed through the crowded streets. The sun hung high in the sky, casting warm rays over the buildings and weaving golden threads through the bustling marketplace. Touya Todoroki moved swiftly through the throng, the loose strands of his red hair catching the sunlight and framing his sharp features. He was out running errands for his mother, taking a break from his usual intense training.

In the same crowd, a blonde-haired teen with piercing amber eyes moved, wings tucked tightly against his back. Keigo Takami, known in the hero world as Hawks, was still adjusting to life outside the strict confines of the Hero Commission. His mission was simple, yet daunting: approach and engage Touya Todoroki. He hadn't been given extensive training on casual interactions—after all, most of his life had been calculated and mission-focused.

"Remember, Hawks, natural and casual," the voice in his earpiece reminded him. "Don't force—"

The instruction cut off as Keigo collided with someone turning the corner. Shopping bags scattered, and he found himself face-to-face with none other than his target.

"Oh, sorry about that," Touya said, a half-smile playing on his lips as he steadied himself. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of red wings. "That's my bad—wasn't watching where I was going."

Keigo blinked, wings fluttering instinctively. "No, no, my fault," he stammered, his usual practiced confidence nowhere to be found. He bent down to help gather the scattered items. "I was totally spaced out."

"Join the club," Touya chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he picked up a fallen apple. "I've been running errands all day. Brain's pretty much on autopilot at this point."

Keigo handed him a recovered bag, trying to ignore the persistent buzz of the earpiece. "Errands, huh? Sounds thrilling."

"Oh yeah, absolutely riveting," Touya deadpanned, accepting the bag. "Nothing says excitement like grocery shopping for a family of six."

"Six?" Keigo asked, genuine curiosity bleeding through his mission parameters.

"Yeah. Mom, Dad, three siblings, and me," Touya explained, adjusting his grip on the bags. "Though sometimes it feels like more with how often my little brother's friends are over."

Keigo smiled, thinking of the dossier he'd memorized about the Todoroki family. But hearing Touya talk about them made them feel real in a way files never could. "Sounds nice," he said softly, then quickly added, "Chaotic, but nice."

Touya tilted his head, studying him. "Only child?"

"That obvious, huh?"

"Just a guess," Touya shrugged. "You've got that look."

"What look?"

"Like you're trying to figure out if having siblings is amazing or terrifying."

Keigo laughed, surprising himself with how genuine it felt. "Is it both?"

"Definitely both," Touya grinned, showing those slightly pointed fangs that hadn't been mentioned in any report. "Yesterday my little sister was helping me study, and my youngest brother decided that was the perfect time to show us his new 'special move.' Nearly singed my eyebrows off."

"Sounds dangerous," Keigo said, wings twitching with amusement.

"Nah, he's got good control for a kid," Touya said, pride evident in his voice. "Besides, I'm used to fire. Runs in the family."

"Oh?" Keigo feigned ignorance, though his heart raced. This was the opening he needed. "You're training to be a hero then?"

"Yeah, at U.A.," Touya nodded. "Third year. You?"

Keigo shifted, wings folding tighter. "Something like that. I'm... in a special program."

They fell into a conversation that, to Keigo’s relief, felt natural. Touya’s dry humor and quick wit made him easy to talk to, and Hawks found himself relaxing despite the mission looming over him. After a while, the conversation shifted to the hero scene, training routines, and small anecdotes about U.A.

"Your wings are pretty distinctive," Touya said. "I though twitch that quirk of yours you bee more cocky. Didn't expect him to be so..." he gestured vaguely, "normal."

"Normal?" Keigo snorted. "That's a first."

"Well, you did just crash into me while spacing out, so yeah, pretty normal," Touya smirked. "Unless that was part of some super-secret hero training?"

"Oh yeah, totally," Keigo played along, relaxing despite himself. "Lesson one: how to make friends by literally running into them."

"Is it working?"

"You tell me."

Touya laughed, a genuine sound that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "You know what? Yeah, it kind of is." He shifted the bags to one arm and extended his free hand. "Touya Todoroki."

"Keigo Takami," Hawks replied, taking the offered hand. It was warm, as expected from a fire quirk user. "Though they usually call me Hawks."

"Hawks," Touya repeated, testing the name. "Bit on the nose, isn't it?"

"Says the guy named 'Aegis' who can shoot fire."

"Fair point," Touya conceded with a grin. He glanced at his phone and grimaced. "Speaking of which, I should probably get these groceries home before my mom starts wondering if I got lost."

"Right, yeah, of course," Keigo nodded, trying to ignore the disappointment in his chest. This had gone better than any scenario the Commission had planned, and he wasn't ready for it to end.

Touya started to turn, then paused. "Hey, you know that cafe near U.A.? The one with the red drawing of a cat?"

"Yeah?"

"I usually stop there after training. Around four." Touya's expression was casual, but there was something warm in his eyes. "If you ever want to, you know, practice your collision techniques some more."

A genuine smile spread across Keigo's face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Cool," Touya nodded, already moving away. "See you around, Hawks."

"See you, Touya."

As Touya disappeared into the crowd, Keigo touched his earpiece. "Mission update: I've made contact with the target."

The voice crackled back, *"Good work. Proceed according to plan."*

Keigo watched the spot where Touya had vanished, his chest tight with an unfamiliar feeling. The Commission wanted him to get close to Touya Todoroki, to gain his trust. But standing there, replaying their conversation, Keigo realized something that terrified him more than any mission ever had:

He actually wanted to be Touya's friend.

And that wasn't part of the plan at all.

Chapter Text

The spring sun drenched Musutafu’s bustling streets in warm, cheerful hues. Rei Todoroki moved gracefully through the marketplace, her silver hair shimmering in the light, her eyes gentle and serene. She hummed a quiet tune as she glanced at her shopping list, the corners of her mouth lifting at the thought of her family—Enji working hard as always, the children busy with school, and the quiet house eagerly awaiting their return.

“Sukiyaki for dinner, perhaps?” she mused aloud, her voice soft and melodic. She could almost see Touya’s eyes brighten at the thought of a hearty meal after another day of intense training. Fuyumi would enjoy helping her chop the vegetables, their hands moving in a synchronized dance they’d perfected over years. And Shoto—he’d be thrilled with the surprise All Might action figure she had tucked away in her bag. Natsuo, too, would beam at the new medical textbook she’d picked out, his curious mind already hungry for more knowledge.

The marketplace thrummed with life. Vendors called out their prices, laughter spilled from passersby, and children darted between adults, their carefree shouts ringing through the air. The day was perfect, peaceful, until—

A shadow lunged from the crowd. Rei barely registered the sharp tug on her shoulder before the purse was gone, ripped from her grasp. There was a collective intake of breath from those around her, and then the thief bolted down the street, weaving through people like a snake.

Her smile didn't fade. It simply... stopped. Her eyes, once as warm as spring itself, took on an unnatural, glassy sheen. The hum of the market faded into a muffled buzz, the world narrowing to a single, sharp point of focus: the retreating figure with her purse.

"How inconvenient," she whispered.

She started to walk, each step deliberate, almost lazy. There was no rush, no panic—only a slow, creeping cold that seemed to emanate from her very being.

Once a demon, always a demon.

The thief ran, glancing behind him every few strides, expecting the frantic, disheveled woman to be flailing somewhere in the distance. But she wasn’t. She was there, still walking, her feet silent on the cobblestones, her eyes locked onto him like a predator’s.

He ran faster. Left turn. Right turn. Through a crowd.

She was there. Always there. Walking. Smiling that frozen smile.

"Impossible," he muttered, breath coming in sharp bursts. "She can't—she's not—"

The sweat on his brow froze, crystallizing into beads of ice. He could feel the temperature plummet, an unnatural chill that bit at his skin and made each breath sting.

His heart hammered as he found himself boxed in, staring at the brick wall that sealed the alley shut. He spun around, gasping for breath, and saw her.

"You took something of mine," came her voice.

Rei stood at the alley's entrance, but she wasn't quite Rei anymore. Rainbow light danced in her eyes like aurora borealis, and when she smiled, her teeth gleamed unnaturally sharp. Frost patterns spread from her feet, crawling up the alley walls.

"I—I'm sorry!" he stammered, clutching the purse. "Here, take it back! Please!"

"You misunderstand," Rei said, her voice echoing strangely. "This isn't about the purse anymore. You see, that purse held gifts for my children. You threatened their happiness. Their future moments of joy." Her smile widened, revealing more teeth than should be possible. "What kind of mother would I be if I let that go?"

“Please,” he stuttered, holding the purse out in trembling hands. “I didn’t know—I was just desperate—”

Rei tilted her head, as if considering his words. Then her lips parted in a smile, revealing a flash of sharp, gleaming teeth. The smile did not reach her eyes; those remained cold and detached, studying him as one might an insect pinned to a board.

“Desperation,” she echoed, her voice soft, lilting. “Do you know what true desperation is? It’s a mother, cornered, watching someone try to take the small pieces of happiness she holds dear.”

The frost crept up the walls, a living thing that whispered and crackled as it grew. He stumbled back, slipping on the slick ground as the temperature around him plummeted. His breath came out in ragged, misting puffs. Ice crystals began forming in the air, catching light like diamonds. Beautiful. Deadly.

"Quirks are illegal in public," he said desperately, backing against the wall. "You can't—"

"Quirks?" Rei's laugh was like breaking icicles. "Oh, no. This is something else. Something older. Something hungry."

The panic in his eyes morphed into raw, unfiltered terror when he realized he couldn’t scream—his voice was trapped by the cold, muffled in the thickening air.

Rei’s fingers twitched, and ice shot up, coiling around the man’s ankles and wrists, snapping them into place with a painful crunch. He gasped soundlessly, eyes bulging as sharp tendrils of ice snaked around his torso, squeezing, biting into flesh.

“Shh,” she whispered, stepping closer. The frost kissed her shoes, and she watched him with a calm curiosity. “No need for noise. This is just between us.”

The ice grew tighter, and he felt the searing pain of it biting deep, the sharp pressure splintering bone. Blood welled up, red against the glittering frost, but the cold numbed him before the pain could bloom fully. His eyes darted, seeking any hint of mercy in her expression, but there was none.

Rei leaned in, her iridescent eyes catching the scant light in the alley. “You won’t take from them. Not while I’m here.”

One hand reached out and traced his cheek, leaving a thin line of frostburn in its wake. He wanted to recoil, to scream, to beg, but all he could do was shiver as the ice crept higher, consuming him inch by inch.

The minutes stretched long and silent, punctuated only by the occasional snap of bone and the wet, muffled crackle as the frost did its work. When at last the man’s eyes glazed over, Rei straightened, brushing a stray hair from her face. The frost melted from her shoes as if it had never been, leaving only a trail of blood and broken ice.

Later, much later, Rei walked through her front door, humming softly her eyes no longer that sharp rainbow gleam. Her purse hung neatly from her shoulder, not a scratch on it. The groceries were perfectly arranged, and the children's gifts were safe.

"Sukiyaki for dinner, I think," she said to herself, her smile warm and motherly once more. "The children do love it so."

In an alley across town, frost slowly melted in the spring sun, leaving no trace of what had happened there. But for years after, local children would whisper stories about the White Lady who stalked the shadows, with rainbow eyes and too many teeth, hunting those who threatened the things she loved.

And if Rei noticed how criminals seemed to cross the street when she passed by, how they averted their eyes and hurried away, well—that just meant more peaceful shopping trips for her, didn't it?

She had dinner to prepare, after all. Her family would be home soon.

Once a demon, always a demon.

Chapter Text

The city's neon lights flickered against the inky black sky, casting an electric glow that made the dark corners of Musutafu seem even deeper. Touya Todoroki shifted on his perch atop a rooftop, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the street below. It had been three years since he donned the mantle of an underground hero, three years of prowling the streets when the rest of the city slept, dealing with the unseen threats that haunted the alleyways. The nocturnal life suited him, granting him the time to be with his family during the day, even if the fatigue of constant work had once taken its toll.

But something had changed in him. Something he couldn't quite name.

The wind brushed against his pale hair as he let out a breath. He remembered how, a year ago, fatigue had simply vanished. The nights no longer sapped his energy the way they used to; exhaustion was a memory that felt distant, unreal. At first, it was a welcomed anomaly—a sign that perhaps his training had reached a new level. Yet the relief was short-lived as other changes followed.

His temper shortened. The thrill of taking down villains went from being a necessary duty to an exhilarating pursuit. Touya clenched his fists, staring down at the empty street. He had always been a fierce fighter, driven by a burning will inherited from his father. But this was different. Now, when he hunted, the world around him seemed to blur. There was a moment—terrifying in its clarity—when the only thing that mattered was the chase, the palpable fear in his target's eyes, and the rush that surged through him when they finally fell.

Touya was aware that he had become something of a local legend. A blurry video of him subduing a high-profile villain one night had gone viral, catapulting him into a strange kind of fame that he neither sought nor rejected. Merchandise appeared with his likeness: stickers, shirts, even keychains that featured his fierce silhouette. It was harmless enough, he told himself, but the adoration grated on him more than it should. When strangers recognized him, their wide eyes and eager voices made something inside him recoil. Sometimes he just wanted them to disappear. The thought unsettled him.

More unsettling was the growing hunger he felt during his hunts. The first time it happened, he chalked it up to stress. But then it happened again. And again. The sensation wasn't simply a rush of adrenaline. It was predatory, raw, and primal. His chest tightened, his pulse quickened, and the world narrowed into that single, burning focus.

And then there was the bloodlust.

The first time he noticed it, he'd cornered a villain in an abandoned warehouse. The villain had stumbled, eyes wide and filled with terror as Touya approached. He felt his pulse hammering in his ears, saw the crimson trickle from a cut on the villain's cheek. The sight was mesmerizing, a siren call that drowned out reason. In that instant, the flash came—a vision so vivid it felt real. He was pinning the villain down, fingers digging into skin, and the taste of blood was sharp and metallic on his tongue.

Touya had reeled back, the vision snapping away as if burned. He'd knocked the villain out cold, refusing to look at the bloodied form as he called for the authorities. The feeling lingered, gnawing at him long after the incident.

"Why?" he muttered, watching the empty street below. The city was calm tonight, unusually so. Yet inside him, the chaos roared.

The worst moments were around Keigo. Hawks, with his red wings that seemed to ripple like fire when he moved, embodied everything bright and untamed. Every time Touya saw him, something darker whispered in the back of his mind. It wasn't attraction; it was a hunger. He felt the urge to touch the wings, to press his fingers into the feathered warmth and see what they felt like under his grip. The images that followed were worse: pinning Keigo down, feeling his blood run between his fingers, the coppery taste on his tongue. It made his stomach twist with disgust and something else—an insidious curiosity that sickened him.

"No," he said aloud, the wind catching his voice and carrying it away. The thought was wrong. It was more than wrong; it was monstrous.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the tips of his teeth with his tongue. They felt sharper lately, or maybe that was his imagination. His hand reached up to press against his chest, as if he could calm the beast that writhed beneath his skin. The sound of footsteps in the distance pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. A late-night passerby, oblivious to the turmoil above them. He forced himself to take a steadying breath.

What was happening to him?

Chapter Text

Shoto Todoroki's footsteps echoed through the empty alleyway as he made his way back from school, the weight of his books shifting on his back. The 13-year-old had been having a relatively normal day, losing himself in his studies and spending time with his friends Mina and Eijirō. But as he turned the corner, he found himself face-to-face with a group of delinquents from a rival school.

Shoto had never understood why they seemed to have a vendetta against him. He had never purposefully provoked them or done anything to draw their ire. Yet, whenever their paths crossed, they would glare at him with undisguised hostility.

One day the afternoon bell rang releasing a tide of students onto the streets of Musutafu. Shoto Todoroki walked alongside Mina and Eijirō, the three friends chatting as they made their way to the local park. Their junior high uniforms fluttered in the gentle breeze, and the air was filled with the laughter of students eager for the weekend.

But then he noticed them: a group of older boys loitering across the street. They wore the uniforms of the nearby rival junior high, a school infamous for its delinquent students. Shoto felt their eyes lock onto him.

"Well, well, if it isn't little Shoto Todoroki," the leader of the group, a burly teenager with a shaved head, sneered. "Fancy meeting you here.

Shoto glanced at his friends, catching the worry in their eyes. “Mina, Eijirō, go. Find a teacher.”

“What? We’re not leaving you alone!” Eijirō protested, his fists clenching instinctively.

Shoto’s gaze hardened. “Now. Please.”

Mina and Eijirō exchanged anxious glances before nodding reluctantly. They took off down the street, shouting for help. Shoto turned his attention back to the group, ten boys in total. The leader cracked his knuckles, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

“Looks like you’re all alone now, pretty boy.”

Shoto tensed, his heterochromatic eyes narrowing. "I don't want any trouble. Just let me go."

The delinquent leader let out a harsh laugh. "Oh, you're not getting away that easy. We've got a score to settle with you, Todoroki." He cracked his knuckles menacingly. "Get him, boys!"

He stood his ground, letting the tension coil like a spring inside him. He wasn’t afraid—he’d faced far worse under the unyielding eye of his father. But this was different. This was real. The first punch flew, and Shoto sidestepped, countering with a swift jab to the boy’s ribs. A second boy lunged, and Shoto spun away, his movements precise, instinctive.

Shoto watched as the group of 10 or so teens surged forward, their fists and feet flying. Years of training with his family had honed his reflexes, and he was able to dodge and deflect their initial attacks.Shoto steeled himself, recalling the lessons his mother had taught him. Tessenjutsu, flowed through his movements as he deflected and counterattacked. But the delinquents kept pressing forward, their sheer numbers wearing him down.

One of the larger teens landed a solid punch to Shoto's face, causing him to stagger back and taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Shoto's heterochromatic eyes widened as he stared at the crimson droplets on his fingers. He tasted blood, warm and metallic, trickling from his split lip.

He raised a trembling hand to his mouth, wiping the blood away. Without thinking, he licked it off his fingers. A strange, electric shiver ran down his spine, sparking in his veins like wildfire.

Something primal stirred within him, a darkness that he had never felt before. A smile crept across his face, sharp and unnatural, revealing glistening fangs. His heterochromatic eyes shimmered with a rainbow hue. The world seemed to slow down as Shoto's gaze fixed on the blood, a wave of ecstasy washing over him.

"The fun is just getting started," he murmured, his voice tinged with a sinister undertone.

He moved then, faster than before, each strike precise and devastating. One boy fell with a sharp cry as Shoto dislocated his arm; another screamed as a well-placed kick shattered his knee. The others scrambled back, eyes wide with terror, but Shoto was relentless. He hunted them down one by one, savoring their fear, the way their faces twisted in pain and horror.

It was as if Shoto had transformed into a demon, systematically dismantling his opponents with a terrifying efficiency. The delinquents, who had once thought they could easily overpower the young Todoroki, now cowered before him, their bravado shattered.

It wasn’t enough to defeat them. He wanted them to feel the consequences of crossing him, to understand the depths they’d dared to reach.

One of the delinquents backed into a wall, eyes darting desperately for an escape. Shoto loomed over him, that chilling smile still on his face. The boy whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“P-please,” he stammered. “I’m sorry...”

Shoto’s eyes narrowed, the world fading around him as the bloodlust surged. He raised his fist—

“HEY! STOP!”

The sharp voice of a teacher cut through the fog in Shoto’s mind. The crowd of students had scattered, replaced by the figures of teachers and police officers rushing into the alleyway. The sight snapped him back to reality, and the wild light in his eyes dimmed. He blinked, taking in the scene: the broken bodies of the delinquents, their groans filling the air, the way the adults looked at him with a mix of confusion and fear.

Shoto lowered his fist and took a step back, his breathing heavy. He glanced at the boy, who slumped to the ground, eyes wide with shock.

"Consider yourselves lucky," Shoto said, his tone flat. "Don't tell anyone about this."

With that, he turned and walked away, rejoining his worried friends. Mina and Eijirō stared at him, bewildered by the sudden change in his demeanor. Shoto simply smiled, his eyes once again the calm, heterochromatic gaze they were so familiar with.

“I’m fine,” he assured them. “Let’s go home.”

They nodded, though Eijirō’s eyes lingered on him, searching for answers. Shoto’s smile never wavered.

By the time the delinquents tried to tell their side of the story, most people scoffed. How could a 13-year-old boy, sweet and quiet, have done what they claimed? But those who had seen the light in his eyes that day, who felt the chill of his smile, would never forget.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the kitchen window as Rei Todoroki stood by the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water. The rhythmic clinking of dishes was comforting, a familiar routine in a life that had been anything but. The house was quiet—Shoto at school, Natsuo buried in textbooks, and Fuyumi assisting at the local daycare. Touya, though, had the day off, and he sat at the kitchen table, fingers drumming against the wooden surface.

“Mom,” Touya said, breaking the silence. There was something strained in his voice, something that made Rei’s heart stutter. She glanced over her shoulder, a smile just beginning to form.

“Yes, Touya?” she replied softly, her tone motherly, warm.

“I need to talk to you about something. It’s... strange.” His eyes were distant, searching for words that he wasn’t sure he wanted to find. Rei turned fully now, wiping her hands on a towel.

“What is it, sweetheart?” she asked, stepping closer. The lines of worry on his face made her stomach twist.

“It started about a year ago. I don’t get tired anymore, not like before. I mean, I’ll be up all night working, but I’m fine the next day. And then there’s my temper, Mom. It’s like... everything irritates me more than it should. The people, the noise, the fame—it gnaws at me,” he said, running a hand through his snow-white hair. He avoided her gaze. “And sometimes, it’s more than that.”

Rei’s grip on the towel tightened.

“What do you mean?” she whispered, though she already knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

“There are moments when I’m on patrol or taking down a villain. I get this feeling—this thrill when I’m hunting them. And when I catch them, there’s this flash in my mind, like I’m... like I’m killing them. And then, Mom, there’s this craving for blood.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “ I just want to bite, to taste...”

Rei gasped, and the plate she held slipped from her grasp, shattering against the floor. The sound cut through the room like a scream, and her eyes widened in raw, unfiltered fear. It was the look she hadn’t worn since Touya was 13, before Sekoto Peak, before everything changed.

“Mom?” Touya’s confusion grew, mingling with an unfamiliar twinge of dread. He stood up, stepping toward her, but Rei held up a trembling hand.

“Sit down, Touya,” she said, her voice breaking. “And... call your siblings. Tell them to come home. Now.”

“Mom, what’s going on?” Touya pressed, but there was something in her expression that made him stop. He nodded slowly, reaching for his phone as Rei turned away, bracing herself against the counter, her shoulders shaking.

Rei dialed Enji’s number with trembling fingers. It rang twice before he answered, his voice deep and steady.

“Rei? What’s wrong?”

The fear in her voice reached across the line, sharp and real. “Enji, come home. Now.”

“What happened? Is everyone okay?” His tone shifted, urgent, already rising from his chair.

“It’s about Touya. And it’s about me. Please, just come home.”

There was silence on the line before she heard him moving. The sound of a door slamming, footsteps, voices calling after him. “I’m on my way,” was all he said before the line clicked dead.

By the time Enji arrived at the house, panting and wild-eyed, all four of their children were gathered in the living room. Fuyumi sat close to Rei, holding her mother’s hand, eyes full of worry. Natsuo stood nearby, trying to mask his concern, while Shoto, still in his school uniform, looked between his parents, confusion etched on his young face.

Enji crossed the room in long strides and knelt beside Rei, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “I’m here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. She leaned into his touch for a moment before sitting up straight, eyes reddened and wet.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice steadier now. She glanced around the room at her family—her children, her husband—and took a deep breath.

“It’s about time I told you the truth,” she began, each word heavy. “About what I really am and where I come from.”

The Todoroki family sat in their living room one evening, an unusual tension in the air as Rei looked at her children with concern.

"Have any of you... experienced anything strange lately?" she asked carefully.

Touya shifted uncomfortably before speaking up. "Actually... yeah. For the past year, I've been different during my hero work. More aggressive. There's this hunger I can't explain, and sometimes I get these violent urges..."

Shoto, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke. "Last week, I got into a fight." He explained what happened with the delinquents, how he'd tasted his own blood and something inside him had changed.

"Why didn't you tell us about this?" Enji asked, concern evident in his voice.

Shoto shrugged. "I didn't think it was a big deal. I thought it was just... stress.”

Rei sighed, pressing a trembling hand to her chest. The fear in her eyes sharpened, but she nodded, regaining control. “It’s more than just stress,” she said quietly. “I need to tell you all something important.” She looked around the room, seeing only confusion and worry. “What do you know about demons?”

The room fell silent. Nobody answered.

“Demons,” Rei began, her voice taking on a solemn, almost storytelling quality, “are creatures of legend, but they were real. Carnivorous, vampire-like beings that once roamed the earth, feeding on humans. They were nocturnal, weakened by sunlight, and possessed powerful regenerative abilities that made them nearly invincible. The only things that could kill them were special weapons imbued with sunlight or decapitation. Wisteria, a certain type of flower, could repel them.”

The children exchanged wide-eyed glances, pale and silent as Rei continued. “Most demons lost their human memories, driven only by an insatiable hunger. They became monstrous versions of themselves. But some retained their emotions and personalities, twisted versions of what they once were. And they grew stronger over time, developing powers called Blood Demon Arts that reflected who they were in life.”

Rei took a breath, her hands gripping her tea cup tightly. “But demons went extinct in 1912," she finished.

"What does this have to do with us?" Touya asked, gritting his teeth.

Rei took a deep breath. "I'm a demon."

The room froze. You could hear a pin drop.

"Somehow, I was born a demon. With quirks emerging, it seems the dormant demon genes have awakened. I've always feared you children might inherit it, but I hoped..." She trailed off, tears forming in her eyes.

The silence was deafening. Shock rippled through the room, leaving everyone frozen. Touya’s mouth parted in disbelief, Fuyumi’s hand flew to her mouth, and Shoto’s eyes widened in stunned silence. Natsuo, ever the blunt one, broke it first.

"So let me get this straight," Natsuo said, breaking the tension. "So dad fucked a demon?"

The family's jaws dropped. Enji promptly smacked him on the forehead.

"What?" Natsuo grumbled, rubbing his head. "I only asked."

"Is there a chance our children might inherit this?" Fuyumi asked quietly.

Rei nodded. "Yes."

The silence that followed was deafening until Enji cleared his throat. He moved to sit beside Rei, taking her hand in his.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "I don't care what you are. Demon, human, or anything in between – you're my wife and the mother of my children. That's what matters." He looked around at their children. "We're the Todoroki family. Whatever this means for us, whatever challenges come our way, we face them together. No secrets, no shame. We'll figure this out as a family."

His words seemed to break a dam. Fuyumi burst into tears, hugging her mother. Natsuo, despite his earlier joke, joined the embrace. Touya and Shoto exchanged glances before joining in as well.

Rei sobbed, but these were tears of joy. "I was so scared," she whispered. "So scared you'd hate me..."

"Never," Enji said firmly, his arms around his family. "You've given me everything I could ever want – a family, love, purpose. Being a demon doesn't change who you are or how much we love you. We'll learn about this together, adapt together, and protect each other. That's what family does."

Rei’s tears spilled over, but this time they were of relief, of love so deep it hurt. They were still together, still hers. And together, they would face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Rei sat across from her sons, Touya and Shoto, the warm evening light softening the concern in her eyes. She took a deep breath. 

"Touya, Shoto, I wanted to talk more about managing your demonic instincts."

Touya, arms crossed, glanced between his mother and younger brother. Shoto fidgeted, his gaze uncertain.

"Can't I just sleep it off?" Shoto asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Touya shook his head. "No, Shoto. I've tried that. It doesn't go away."

Rei nodded empathetically. "Every demon is different, but there are ways to find control." She paused. "Do you remember the breathing exercises I taught you?"

Shoto's eyes lit up in recognition, while Touya's brow furrowed as he recalled the once-simple exercises.

"Those aren't just for calming nerves," Rei explained. "They can help you center yourselves when the hunger becomes overwhelming."

She leaned forward, her gaze shifting between her sons. "But there's more. You need to find something that quells the storm inside. For some demons, it's a thought, a memory, even a person. For me, it's my family."

Touya and Shoto were silent, absorbing her words.

"So, tell me," Rei continued, "what happens when you think of the family?"

Touya spoke first, his voice low. "When I'm with everyone, the bloodlust, the frustration—it fades. Everything bad gets pushed aside."

Shoto nodded slowly. "Yeah, with the family, it feels safe. The urges aren't so strong."

Rei squeezed their hands, a warm smile on her face. "Then hold onto that. That feeling is your anchor." Her expression turned serious. "But always be mindful. We need to keep a close eye on everything, to make sure things don't get out of control."

The room fell silent, the last light of day giving way to the stars.

Meanwhile the room where Hawks sat felt cold and clinical, walls lined with polished metal and sterile white. The Hero Public Safety Commission's conference room always made his wings twitch with an edge of discomfort, the same feeling he got when standing too close to the electric hum of power lines. Today was no different.

Seated across from him were three stern-faced members of the Commission, their eyes sharp and calculating. The oldest, a woman with thin, wire-rimmed glasses, leaned forward, steepling her fingers as she spoke.

"Keigo Takami, we've reviewed your progress report. While we commend your meteoric rise in the hero ranks, we need to discuss your original mission."

Hawks sat up a little straighter, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. He knew this was coming, had felt it looming like a shadow over him for weeks. But that didn't make it any easier.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

The woman's expression remained unmoved. "Your interactions with Touya Todoroki have been noted. His recent popularity as an underground hero presents us with an unprecedented opportunity. What we left on the backburner during your debut must now be resumed with urgency. Your task remains: persuade Touya to join us. Use whatever means necessary."

A subtle tremor went through Hawks's wings. The words, however expected, hit harder than he anticipated. For three years, Touya had been more than just a mission. Their casual meet-ups, shared silences, and late-night conversations weren't just reconnaissance; they were moments that let him be Keigo, stripped of the hero persona he carried like armor. With Touya, there was no pretense. He could talk about stupid things, laugh at old jokes, and feel, for just a fleeting second, like he was free.

"Understood," Hawks said, the practiced response coming out automatically, though a part of him felt like it was fracturing inside.

"Make no mistake," a second member, a man with a shaved head, added coldly. "This is now one of your top priorities. The window of opportunity may close if he becomes too influential on his own. We need him aligned with us, not against us."

Hawks nodded, though the knot in his chest tightened. He'd felt the change in Touya lately—the distance, the way his friend avoided eye contact or kept their conversations brief. It stung, but it also sparked worry. Touya had always been intense, sure, but there was something darker behind his eyes now, an edge that hadn't been there before.

Maybe this was the right time to confront him. Hawks told himself that it was practical, necessary even, but deep down, he wished it didn't have to come from the Commission's orders. He wished it was just him, Keigo, asking his friend why he was slipping away.

The meeting wrapped up with a few more formalities Hawks barely registered, and soon he found himself outside, the crisp evening air biting against his skin. He spread his wings and launched into the sky, the cool wind whipping past him as he soared over Musutafu's glistening cityscape. The lights below sparkled like scattered stars, and he scanned them, eyes unfocused, mind churning.

The pressure from the Commission was suffocating, but beneath that, there was something far more personal. A question he needed answered, not for duty, but for himself.

"Touya," he whispered into the night as he banked left, gliding toward the district where his friend would likely be. "What's happening to you? And why do I feel like I'm about to lose you?"

Chapter Text

Eijiro sat on the steps behind the school, fiddling nervously with the hem of his school uniform. It had been two weeks since the incident that left the entire school buzzing with whispers—the fight between Shoto Todoroki and a group of older delinquents from a rival school. The bruises and scrapes on Shoto’s face had long since healed, but the image of Shoto standing over those boys, their bodies crumpled and broken as if they had faced a monster, refused to leave Eijiro’s mind.

He couldn't shake the memory of Shoto's eyes that day. They hadn't looked like his friend's eyes at all.

"Eijiro?"

He startled at Shoto's voice, looking up to find his friend standing in the doorway. Shoto's dual-colored hair caught the sunlight, but there were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Hey," Eijiro managed, trying for a smile that felt weak even to him. "Can we talk?"

Shoto hesitated for a fraction of a second—so brief anyone else might have missed it—before nodding and settling beside him on the steps.

"It's about what happened two weeks ago, isn't it?" Shoto asked quietly.

Eijiro took a deep breath. "Yeah. Look, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but... man, I've never seen you like that before. The way you looked after the fight—" He broke off, struggling to find the right words. "It wasn't just that you won. It was like... like you enjoyed hurting them."

Shoto flinched, his fingers curling into fists. "I didn't—" he started, then stopped. "I didn't mean to."

"That's what scares me," Eijiro pressed on, his voice growing stronger. "Because the Shoto I know wouldn't enjoy that. The Shoto I've known since we were six wouldn't look at someone he'd beaten with that kind of... satisfaction." He turned to face his friend fully. "What's going on with you? And don't tell me it's nothing, because I've seen you fighting to keep something down. The way you sometimes zone out in class, how you've been avoiding crowds..."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant shouts from the sports field. Finally, Shoto spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes... sometimes I feel this thing inside me. Like a hunger." His hands were trembling slightly. "Mom calls it a side effect of her quirk. It makes me want to—" He cut himself off, swallowing hard. "I've been trying to control it. Sleep it off, focus on happy memories, anything to keep it quiet."

"Is it getting worse?"

Shoto's silence was answer enough.

"Damn it, Shoto," Eijiro burst out, frustration and worry coloring his voice. "Why didn't you tell me? Or Mina? We're your friends! We could've—"

"Could've what?" Shoto interrupted, a bitter edge to his voice. "Watched me lose control? Seen what I really am when this... this thing takes over?"

"We could've been there for you!" Eijiro shot back. "That's what friends do, you stubborn idiot! We don't care if you're dealing with some weird quirk side effect or—or turning into a literal demon or whatever! We care about you!"

The words hung in the air between them. Shoto stared at Eijiro, his mismatched eyes wide with surprise, and something else—something that looked almost like hope.

Eijiro's shoulders slumped. "Look, I'm not saying I understand what you're going through. But you don't have to handle it alone. Next time you feel it coming on, call me. Even if it's the middle of the night. Even if all you need is someone to sit with you until it passes."

For a long moment, Shoto didn't respond. Then, slowly, the tension began to drain from his shoulders. "I... thank you, Eijiro."

"Yeah, well," Eijiro managed a genuine smile this time, "what else are best friends for?"

The sun was setting now, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples. As they sat there, Eijiro noticed Shoto's breathing had evened out, like some of the weight he'd been carrying had finally lifted.

"You know," Eijiro added, bumping his shoulder against Shoto's, "Mina's going to kill you when she finds out you've been dealing with this alone. She's scarier than any hunger you might have."

That startled a small laugh out of Shoto—the first real laugh Eijiro had heard from him in weeks. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "She really is."

Chapter Text

The evening air was cool as Rei sat on the back porch, watching the stars emerge one by one in the darkening sky. She heard the familiar sound of Enji's footsteps behind her, followed by the warmth of a blanket being draped over her shoulders.

"You'll catch a cold," he murmured, settling beside her.

Rei smiled, leaning into his warmth. "We both know I don't get cold easily." Still, she pulled the blanket closer, touched by the gesture. It was these little moments of thoughtfulness that showed how much Enji had changed, how much they'd both grown.

"The kids are all out tonight," Enji mentioned, wrapping an arm around her. "Thought we could have dinner together. Just us."

Rei looked up at him, pleasantly surprised. "You cooked?"

"Tried to," he admitted with a slight grimace. "But after the third attempt at not burning the fish, I ordered from that place you like near the station."

A laugh bubbled up from her chest, bright and genuine. "My hero," she teased, reaching up to touch his cheek. Her fingers traced the outline of his jaw, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin. Even after all these years, his presence still made her heart flutter.

"Remember our first date after the fire?" she asked suddenly. "You were so nervous you spilled tea all over yourself."

Enji groaned. "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Never," she said, smiling. "It was the moment I realized the great Endeavor was just as human as anyone else. It made me fall for you a little bit right then."

He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I was terrified of messing things up. You were so elegant, so composed... and there I was, making a fool of myself."

"You've never been a fool, Enji," Rei said softly. "Stubborn, yes. Hot-headed, definitely. But never a fool."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the stars brighten against the darkening sky. The gentle sounds of the garden – the rustling leaves, the distant wind chimes – created a peaceful melody around them.

"Sometimes," Enji said quietly, "I wonder what I did to deserve this second chance. To deserve you."

Rei turned to face him fully. "Love isn't about deserving, Enji. It's about choosing. Every day, we choose each other. We choose to be better, to grow together, to build something beautiful from what we've learned." She took his hand, intertwining their fingers. "And I choose you, every single day."

Enji's eyes softened, and he brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "I choose you too, Rei. Always."

A cool breeze rustled through the garden, carrying the sweet scent of the wisteria they'd planted together. It was a symbol of their new beginning, a fresh start blooming from old roots.

"Shall we go in?" Enji asked. "The food will get cold."

Rei nodded, but didn't move immediately. Instead, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth.

His response was to pull her closer, deepening the kiss with a tenderness that still surprised her sometimes. When they finally parted, his eyes were bright with emotion. "I love you too."

Hand in hand, they walked back into their home, where their ordered dinner waited. It wasn't perfect – the food might be slightly cold, and they'd probably end up laughing about Enji's failed cooking attempts – but it was theirs. Every moment, every smile, every tender touch was a testament to their journey together.

And as they sat down to eat, sharing stories and soft glances, Rei knew that this was exactly where she was meant to be. Not because of fate or destiny, but because they had chosen this path together, had worked for it, had built it with love and patience and understanding.

The early morning sun filtered through the kitchen windows as Rei hummed softly, preparing breakfast. She couldn't help but smile, remembering the previous night. Her relationship with Enji had grown so much stronger since they'd worked through their issues, becoming more intimate and trusting. Though lately, she'd been experiencing some... interesting urges. The sight of his neck would sometimes make her fangs ache, not from hunger but from a different kind of desire entirely.

Enji entered the kitchen, still adjusting his collar, and gave her a soft kiss. "Morning."

"Good morning," Rei replied, her smile widening as she noticed the marks she'd left barely hidden by his shirt.

Their peaceful morning was interrupted by Natsuo walking in, still groggy. He grabbed a glass of water, turned toward his parents, and promptly choked on his drink.

"Oh my god," he spluttered, staring at his father's neck. "Are those—? Ew, ew, ew!"

Fuyumi poked her head in to see what the commotion was about. Her eyes widened at the sight, and her face turned bright red. "Oh! Um... I'll just... get my breakfast later..."

Touya, who had been scrolling through his phone at the table, finally looked up. He took one glance at his father's neck, rolled his eyes, and said, "Dad, for the love of all things holy, please wear a sweater. Some of us would like to keep our appetite."

Enji's face turned almost as red as his hair as he tried to adjust his collar higher. Rei just continued smiling serenely, humming as she flipped pancakes.

"Thank god Shoto left early for his study group," Natsuo muttered, still looking traumatized.

"I have meetings all day," Enji grumbled, retreating from the kitchen.

"Wear a turtleneck!" Touya called after him. "And Mom? Maybe aim somewhere less visible next time?"

Rei just continued smiling, a slight blush on her cheeks as she served breakfast to her thoroughly scandalized children.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Fuyumi whispered, hiding her face in her hands.

"I can't believe I have to see the evidence of our parents'—" Natsuo started.

"Don't finish that sentence!" his siblings shouted in unison.

Rei's tinkling laugh filled the kitchen, and despite their embarrassment, her children couldn't help but smile. It was nice seeing their parents so happy together, even if they really, really didn't need to see the proof.

Chapter Text

Hawks stood on the rooftop, the city lights sprawling below him like a sea of stars. The wind tugged at his feathers, ruffling them softly as if trying to soothe the unease that had taken root in his chest. The commission's words from earlier in the day still echoed in his ears, sharp and relentless.

"We need you to prioritize this, Hawks. The situation with Touya Todoroki has become a matter of strategic importance."

It wasn’t the first time Hawks had been tasked with something that made him question his loyalty. He had grown up under the shadow of the Hero Commission, molded into their weapon, sharpened to their liking. And he had accepted that role, knowing that sacrifices were necessary for peace. But this—this felt different.

He thought back to the first time he had met Touya. It had been a chance encounter, unexpected but strangely welcome. There was something in the older Todoroki’s eyes, a flicker of defiance and a sharp edge of vulnerability, that intrigued him. Touya was not like the others, not like the heroes molded by society’s expectations. He was raw, fiercely determined, and unapologetically himself. Over the past three years, their tentative friendship had grown, shaping into a bond that Hawks hadn’t realized he needed until it was there.

The problem was, Touya didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know that every meeting, every shared laugh, every moment of camaraderie had started as a calculated move on Hawks’s part. And now, with the commission breathing down his neck, the weight of that lie was suffocating.

Hawks ran a hand through his blond hair, fingers brushing against the base of his wings. The tension there mirrored the storm in his chest. Touya had become more than a mission. With Touya, Hawks wasn’t the Commission’s pawn, or a hero striving to climb the ladder. He was just Keigo—someone who could relax, someone who could let the façade drop for a few precious moments.

The past few months had been difficult. Touya had been distant, caught up in his own battles, but Hawks hadn’t pried. He wanted to respect the space, to let Touya come to him when he was ready. But now, the urgency of the mission gnawed at him. The Commission had shifted their focus, pushing the directive to the forefront again. They wanted Touya, or rather, they wanted Hawks to secure him.

Hawks’s jaw tightened at the thought. The idea of manipulating Touya any further felt like a betrayal, but refusing the mission wasn’t an option. Not without consequences that would ripple far beyond just him.

He exhaled sharply, watching his breath dissipate into the night air. The city below glimmered with life, oblivious to the struggle that played out far above. Hawks shifted his gaze to the horizon, the city’s heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He couldn’t keep putting this off. The longer he waited, the deeper the rift between truth and lies grew, and the more tangled his own emotions became.

He needed to talk to Touya. Not as Hawks, the hero molded by the Commission, but as Keigo, the man who had found an unexpected friend in him. If there was any way to keep the fragile balance between duty and loyalty intact, it would start with honesty—no matter how raw or dangerous that honesty might be.

“I need to see him,” he whispered.

The night air was crisp as Touya finished his patrol, the streets below finally quiet after a joint operation with the police. He was about to head home when a familiar whoosh of wings caught his attention.

"Thought you might need a pick-me-up," Hawks called out, landing gracefully on the rooftop with two coffee cups and a bag of convenience store snacks. "Got time to talk?"

Touya nodded, accepting the offered coffee. "Yeah, I've got time."

They settled on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over the city lights below. The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by the rustling of snack wrappers and distant traffic.

They stood in silence for a moment, the noise of distant traffic filling the spaces between them. Keigo’s mind raced as he glanced at Touya’s profile. Every time they met recently, it felt like Touya was more distant, a little colder, as if something was pulling him further into himself. The Commission’s voice rang in Keigo’s ears: Keep an eye on him. Gain his trust. But there was more at stake here than just a mission, and the weight of it pressed heavily on his chest.

“So,” Keigo began, taking a sip of his coffee to steady himself, “what’s been going on with you? You’ve been… distant.”

Touya's grip tightened slightly on his coffee cup, the warmth seeping through his gloves. The urge to tell Hawks everything was overwhelming – about his mother, about what they were, about the hunger that grew stronger each day. But the words stuck in his throat.

Meanwhile, Hawks' mind raced. Was this it? Had Touya somehow discovered his mission? The commission's orders felt like lead in his stomach. What would this mean for their friendship? Because it was friendship now, wasn't it? Somehow, without meaning to, Hawks had let Touya Todoroki become more than just a mission objective.

"Just some personal stuff," Touya finally answered, watching the steam rise from his coffee. "Been trying to figure some things out."

The evasiveness stung. Keigo’s wings shifted uneasily, the feathers quivering in the night air. “Personal stuff, huh?” he repeated, forcing a lightness into his tone. "I could help," Hawks offered, trying to ignore how genuine the concern in his voice was. This was supposed to be for the mission. Just the mission.

Touya shook his head. "Not with this. But thanks."

Keigo nodded, a tightness in his throat. He wanted to push, to dig deeper, to find out what shadow Touya was hiding behind. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He nodded, understanding the unspoken request for space. He had his own secrets after all – perhaps too many. "Well, whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here."

'It's for the mission,' Hawks reminded himself, but the words felt hollow. Miruko was his partner, sure, but this was different. Touya was... Touya was the first person who made him feel like more than just a hero, more than just the commission's perfect weapon.

"Thanks, Hawks," Touya said softly. "For understanding. For not pushing."

"Yeah, well," Hawks rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, feathers rustling. "That's what friends are for, right?"

The rooftop felt colder, but the small bridge they’d managed to build over the silence warmed something inside Keigo. He forced himself to stay in the moment, pushing the Commission’s directives to the back of his mind. Touya’s lips twitched into a real smile, and for the first time in weeks, it reached his eyes. “You know, you don’t have to act so awkward. It’s almost painful to watch,” he teased.

Keigo let out a breathy laugh, a chuckle that wasn’t forced. “Hey, I’m just trying to be the cool friend here. Cut me some slack.”

Touya's laugh was unexpected but genuine, and something in Hawks' chest loosened at the sound. The mission, the commission, the secrets – they could wait. For now, this moment was enough: two friends sharing coffee and snacks under the stars, each carrying their own burdens but finding comfort in shared silence.

As the night grew deeper, they talked about lighter things – funny patrol stories, the latest hero rankings, Hawks' ongoing feud with the office coffee machine. If either of them noticed how they carefully avoided certain topics, neither mentioned it.

For Touya, it was a reminder that even with his newfound identity crisis, some things remained constant. For Hawks, it was a dangerous reminder that some things were worth more than missions and orders.

The city lights twinkled below them, keeping their secrets in the dark.

Chapter Text

It had been a strange year, Shoto thought, staring out the window of his junior high classroom as his classmates chattered around him. He should probably be paying attention, but his mind was drifting over the events of the past few months. Things were…different, in so many ways—school, friends, family. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it, and part of him didn’t want to.

School life was a mixed bag. Between balancing studies and trying to hide his… unique quirks, Shoto felt like he was always two steps behind his classmates. He was still friends with Eijiro and Mina; they’d been friends since they were kids, and the bond they shared made everything easier. Eijiro had even gotten braver over the years, opening up little by little. Mina was still her usual bubbly self, bouncing from one topic to another, and between the two of them, Shoto felt like he could actually enjoy himself. If only he didn’t have to worry about the other things.

There were days when he could feel a darker side bubbling up from deep inside, urging him to lash out or… do things he didn’t fully understand yet. He’d tried a few ways to calm himself—breathing techniques, exercise, and even trying to sleep off the strange impulses. But sometimes, he’d catch himself staring a little too long at his own reflection, feeling an unfamiliar thrill run through him. He’d brush it off with a shake of his head, but the feeling lingered, creeping into his day-to-day life.

But there were good things happening, too. Touya, his older brother, had finally made a name for himself as an underground hero called Aegis. Shoto admired him for it. Touya was everything a hero should be—fierce, determined, and strong. And even though Touya could sometimes seem a little distant, he always had a warmth that Shoto looked up to. Lately, Touya’s popularity had soared, and more people were recognizing him as Aegis. But that wasn’t the only change in his brother. Shoto couldn’t help but notice the growing number of piercings Touya seemed to collect. It started with a few on his ear, then another, and most recently…a tongue piercing. His dad had practically hit the roof when he noticed it, and even though he’d grumbled for days, Touya hadn’t wavered. He was always calm, focused on his own path, and Shoto respected that.

Natsuo was off in his first year of college now, which felt surreal. Natsuo's absence at college left a noticeable gap in their home, but his occasional visits brought an energy that Shoto cherished. His brother's stories about campus life and the easy way he carried himself made Shoto eager for his own future. Meanwhile, Fuyumi had found her calling in teaching, her natural patience and warmth making her a favorite among her students. Watching her light up while discussing her classroom adventures reminded Shoto of all the times she'd helped him with his own studies, her gentle guidance a constant in his life.

His father was still the most intimidating presence in his life, but he’d softened. Shoto couldn’t ignore how his dad was trying to be better, more understanding and less overbearing. Even if he didn’t say it, Shoto could see the change in how his dad interacted with him and his siblings. It was like his dad was trying to make up for all those years of pushing too hard, too fast. And maybe, just maybe, Shoto could see himself starting to forgive him.

As for his mom…well, she was different, too, in a way he didn’t fully understand. She was livelier, her smiles brighter and her laughter louder. Sometimes, Shoto caught her humming as she cooked, her face lighting up when his dad came home. It was strange, seeing them so…close. And even stranger to realize that he didn’t mind it. Whatever had happened to bring them together, it was working.

Thinking about it now, Shoto realized how lucky he was. Sitting there in class, watching the world go by outside his window, Shoto felt a peculiar sense of peace settle over him. Yes, he still struggled with parts of himself he didn't fully understand. Yes, there were days when the darkness inside threatened to overwhelm him. But he wasn't alone anymore. His family had found their way to happiness, each in their own way, and somehow that made his own battles seem more manageable. Whatever came next, Shoto knew they would face it together—stronger, closer, and more united than ever before.

The bell rang, startling him from his reverie. As his classmates began packing up around him, Shoto allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps change wasn't always such a bad thing after all.

Chapter Text

The café was just as quiet and cozy as Touya remembered it, filled with the soft hum of coffee machines and the low chatter of other patrons. It felt almost nostalgic coming back here with Keigo—Hawks, he corrected himself—who had just wrapped up a patrol. They were both in civilian clothes, looking as inconspicuous as they could, especially in a place that was tied to the first time they’d met. No one here knew them as heroes; here, they were just Touya and Keigo, two friends catching up.

Touya waved at Keigo as he approached, smirking as he pulled up a chair across from him. Keigo plopped down, a bit breathless from rushing over, his eyes bright and eager, just as they always were when they got time together. Touya watched Keigo, when they were like this—slide into the booth across from him, those amber eyes bright with exhaustion and something else he couldn't quite name.

"Long patrol?" Touya asked, trying to ignore how his heart stuttered when Keigo's wings rustled and settled against his back. He'd gotten better at hiding these reactions over the years, or at least he hoped he had.

"Mm, the usual." Keigo stretched, his civilian clothes doing little to hide the grace of movement that made him so captivating in flight. "Worth it though. Couldn't miss our coffee date, could I?"

Touya nearly choked on his drink. Date. It wasn't a date, of course—just their usual meet-up, the kind they'd been having for years. Friends meeting for coffee. That's all. He had to keep reminding himself of that, even as his eyes traced the way Keigo's hair caught the late afternoon light. Three years, and somehow, it never got easier being around this idiot, especially since he’d recently realized he didn’t just feel “friendly” toward him.

They talked easily, falling into their usual rhythm, talking about anything but work, laughing at small things they’d seen or done recently. Then Keigo’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching on something as Touya spoke. "Oh!" Keigo suddenly leaned forward, eyes wide and focused. "Is that—did you get another one?"

Touya reflexively ran his tongue over the new piercing, watching as Keigo tracked the movement with an intensity that made his stomach flip. "Yeah, couple days ago. Dad nearly had a stroke when he saw it."

He could practically see the gears turning in Keigo’s head. Keigo had this weird fascination with shiny things—Touya had noticed it ages ago, how his eyes would lock onto glimmers of metal or the reflective glint of glass. And now, here he was, practically hypnotized by Touya’s new tongue piercing, and Touya couldn’t help but grin.

Keigo blinked, then leaned in even closer, tilting his head like a curious bird. "It's so shiny," Keigo breathed, then seemed to catch himself, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "I mean—it suits you. Like the others."

The others. Touya absently touched one of his ear piercings, remembering how Keigo had reacted to each new addition. He'd never seen someone so fascinated by simple metal studs and rings, but there was something endearing about the way Keigo's eyes would light up, how he'd lean in close to examine them, chirping softly in appreciation before catching himself.

Keigo was doing it now—that little unconscious sound in the back of his throat that he always tried to suppress. Touya found it unbearably cute, though he'd die before admitting it out loud. Instead, he smirked and stuck out his tongue, showing off the piercing properly.

The reaction was immediate. Keigo's wings puffed up slightly, his eyes going wide and dark. He made another soft chirping sound, then quickly grabbed his coffee cup, nearly knocking it over in his haste to hide his face.

Something warm and dangerous curled in Touya's chest. He shouldn't enjoy flustering Keigo like this, shouldn't find such satisfaction in the way his wings would twitch and his breath would catch. But he did. God help him, he did.

Keigo, for his part, was fighting a losing battle with his own instincts. The piercings drew his eye like beacons, making his heart race in ways the Commission had never prepared him for. Everything about Touya did that—his rare genuine smiles, the way his voice got rough when he was tired, how his fingers would drum against his cup when he was thinking. It was maddening, these feelings he couldn't name, this pull he couldn't resist.

"You okay there, bird brain?" Touya's voice was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of genuine concern that made Keigo's chest tight.

“Yeah,” Keigo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… shiny stuff is cool. Kinda can’t help looking.” He quickly tried to brush it off with a laugh, but his gaze kept flicking back to the piercing, and Touya didn’t miss it.

 Keigo waved vaguely, wings shifting restlessly. "You know. Shiny things. Can't help it sometimes."

"Right. The bird thing." Touya's smile was softer now, fond in a way that made Keigo want to curl up under his wings and never emerge.

Keigo was clearly still distracted, his eyes lingering on every little sparkle as they talked, until Touya finally laughed, watching Keigo squirm. “You’re a strange one, you know that?” he teased.

Keigo shrugged, trying to look casual, though his smile turned a little shy. “Maybe I’m just…interested,” he mumbled, barely audible.

That word hung in the air, and Touya felt his heart beat a little faster. He’d known Keigo for years now, and the word “interested” felt like it held way more weight than usual. Touya wanted to say something, maybe even tease him for it, but he bit it back, suddenly too aware of how close they were and how he might ruin it if he said the wrong thing.

Instead, he just leaned back, letting a comfortable silence stretch between them, pretending to drink his coffee as he thought over what Keigo had said. Whatever was going on here, whatever weird fascination Keigo had with his piercings, Touya knew one thing for sure: he didn’t want it to end.

They fell into conversation about safer topics—hero work, Touya's siblings, the new café opening down the street. Keigo cracked a few jokes and Touya laughed at his little bird-like quirks. But underneath it all was that constant awareness, that electric tension neither of them knew how to handle. When their hands brushed reaching for the sugar, both pretended not to notice how they lingered. When Keigo laughed at one of Touya's dry comments, neither acknowledged how Touya's ears reddened at the sound.

As the sun began to set outside, painting the café in shades of gold and rose, they found themselves reluctant to leave. This was their routine—meet, talk, part ways, pretend their hearts didn't ache with words unsaid. But today felt different somehow, charged with possibility.

"We should do this again soon," Keigo said as they finally stood to leave, wings drawing in close as if to hold himself together.

"Yeah," Touya agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to reach out. "Soon."

They parted ways outside the café, each turning in opposite directions, each fighting the urge to look back. Neither noticed that the other did anyway, sharing one last glance before disappearing into the gathering dusk.

Neither realized that the other lay awake that night, replaying every moment, every almost-touch, every shared smile. Neither knew that they both wanted the same thing, feared the same rejection, hoped for the same future.

But maybe, just maybe, they were getting closer to figuring it out.

Chapter Text

Detective Tanaka's Report - Metropolitan Police Department

The case files spread across my desk tell a story that keeps me awake at night. Seventeen deaths in eight months, each more puzzling than the last. The press has taken to calling our perpetrator "The Frost Demon," though we've kept certain details from the public.

What we know is frustratingly little. The victims range from known criminals to seemingly upstanding citizens, though our investigations have revealed that each had connections to various illegal activities. The most recent victim, found three days ago, was a pro hero named Switchblade, who we've since discovered had been accepting bribes to look the other way during certain Yakuza operations.

The crime scenes are nearly identical in their emptiness. No fingerprints, no DNA, no witnesses. Sometimes we find nothing but blood splatter patterns that defy physics and the occasional severed limb, preserved as if flash-frozen. The coroner's reports are equally baffling - in cases where we recover bodies, the cause of death appears to be rapid freezing of internal organs, but there's no evidence of any ice quirk being used.

The pattern suggests someone with intimate knowledge of both the criminal underworld and hero society. The precision of the kills, the lack of collateral damage, and the ability to leave virtually no evidence points to someone with extensive training. Yet none of our databases have turned up any quirks that match the methodology.

What troubles me most is the growing frequency of the incidents. The Frost Demon is becoming bolder, more efficient. And despite our best efforts, we're no closer to identifying them than we were at the first murder.

Recommendation: Form a joint task force with underground heroes. This case requires resources beyond standard police capabilities.

Eraserhead's Personal Log

Another body today. Or what was left of one. This time it was a mid-level enforcer from the Harbor District gang. Like the others, frozen from the inside out, but no trace of ice anywhere near the scene. Just blood and water.

I've been tracking these cases for months now, and I'm starting to see a pattern that others might have missed. Each victim had some connection, however tenuous, to threats against families. The enforcer had been involved in a protection racket targeting small businesses, many run by parents with young children. Switchblade's corruption had led to several families being displaced from their homes.

The vigilante - and that's what they are, make no mistake - seems to have a particular interest in protecting family units. It's almost... parental in its ruthlessness. But that doesn't narrow down our suspect list much in a society where family bonds run deep.

What's clear is that they're highly intelligent and well-connected. They know things about their targets that even I have trouble uncovering. And they're patient. Security footage from nearby cameras often shows potential victims being watched for days or weeks before they disappear.

The method is what fascinates me most. I've tried using my quirk erasure in the areas where bodies have been found, but I've never detected any active quirks. Either they're incredibly quick, or they're using something else entirely. Something we don't understand yet.

I've taken to calling them "The Ghost" in my reports. They're like a protective spirit from old folklore, dealing out harsh justice to those who threaten the family unit. But ghosts don't leave blood stains, and they don't take trophies.

Internal Memo - Shie Hassaikai

From: Overhaul Priority: Highest Re: The Frost Demon Situation

Our investigations into the recent string of deaths have yielded concerning results. Three of our lower-ranking members have disappeared in the past month alone. While we initially suspected rival organizations, the evidence points to the same entity that has been terrorizing other criminal elements in the city.

What sets these incidents apart is the surgical precision. Our men were taken despite extensive security measures and years of training. Whatever - or whoever - this is, they're not just powerful. They're methodical. Professional.

Most intriguing is the pattern of target selection. Each of our lost members had been involved in operations near schools or residential areas. The Demon appears to have a moral code, twisted as it may be. They're not just killing indiscriminately - they're choosing targets based on perceived threats to civilian families.

This presents both a challenge and an opportunity. While we must adjust our operations to avoid drawing their attention, their predictable targeting pattern could be used to our advantage. I'm hereby authorizing the development of a trap operation, using carefully selected bait to draw out this vigilante.

Additional note: The lack of quirk evidence at crime scenes is particularly troubling. Our scientists suggest we may be dealing with something beyond current quirk classification. Investigation into older, pre-quirk forms of power is warranted.

Security Footage Transcript - All For One's Compound

Date: [Redacted] Location: Primary Meeting Room

[All For One seated at his desk, Kurogiri standing nearby]

AFO: "The Frost Demon. Such a theatrical name for what appears to be a rather fascinating operator."

Kurogiri: "They've eliminated six of our potential recruits in the past three months."

AFO: "Yes, and in doing so, they've actually done us a service. Anyone who could be caught by our mysterious friend was clearly not up to our standards. But their methodology... that's what intrigues me most."

Kurogiri: "The lack of quirk signatures?"

AFO: "Precisely. In all my years of collecting quirks, I've never encountered anything quite like this. No trace of quirk energy, no registration matches, yet the power to freeze internal organs without external ice formation. It's as if they're operating outside the known laws of quirk physics."

Kurogiri: "Could it be multiple quirks working in conjunction?"

AFO: "Possible, but unlikely. The precision is too perfect, too singular in its execution. No, this is something else. Something new... or perhaps something very old that we've forgotten about. These urban legends about demons and spirits are obviously nonsense meant to frighten children, but there might be some truth buried beneath the superstition - perhaps an undocumented quirk type that inspired such tales in the first place."

Kurogiri: "What would you have us do?"

AFO: "For now, observe. Redirect our operations away from residential areas and schools. Not out of fear, mind you, but practicality. I want to understand how they're doing this. A power that can kill without leaving quirk traces... imagine the possibilities if we could replicate that ability. Watch them, study them, but do not engage. Not yet. Sometimes the best way to understand a new species is to observe it in its natural habitat."

Official Hero Commission Report

Classification: Top Secret Subject: Frost Demon Case Analysis Author: Investigative Team Delta

The string of vigilante killings attributed to the so-called "Frost Demon" represents one of the most significant threats to public order we have encountered in recent years. While the targets have been exclusively criminal elements, the brutality and efficiency of the killings risk inspiring copycat incidents.

Key Observations:

• No quirk registration matches the observed effects
• Victims show signs of internal freezing without external ice formation
• Zero eyewitness accounts despite public locations
• Perfect target selection (all victims later proved to be engaged in criminal activity)
• Focus on crimes affecting families and children

Psychological Profile:

• Probable parent or guardian
• Highly educated (understanding of anatomy and quirk law)
• Possible military or hero training
• Strong moral code despite violent methods
• Protective instincts override legal constraints

Threat Assessment: Current threat level: HIGH Potential for escalation: MODERATE Threat to civilians: LOW Threat to hero society: SIGNIFICANT

The perpetrator's ability to operate without detection and their perfect record of target selection suggests inside knowledge of both hero and criminal societies. This indicates either current or former connection to law enforcement or hero agencies.

The lack of quirk evidence at crime scenes is particularly troubling, as it suggests either: a) A previously unknown type of quirk b) Multiple coordinated perpetrators c) Non-quirk based abilities

Recommendation: Immediate formation of a specialized task force combining police, underground heroes, and quirk researchers. The perpetrator's focus on family-related crimes suggests potential for psychological profiling and predictive analysis of future targets.

Street-Level Rumors (Compiled from Various Criminal Informants)

"They say the Demon ain't human at all. Just this cold feeling in the air, and then you're dead before you know it. My cousin's friend saw it happen - said the victim's blood froze mid-splash, like time itself stopped."

"Word is they can smell guilt. You done something to hurt a kid or a family? They'll find you. Don't matter where you hide."

"There's this story going around about a guy who tried to mug a woman near a school. They found pieces of him three days later, scattered across different alleys. Each piece perfectly preserved, like they'd been kept in a freezer."

"Some say it's a mother who lost her kids to villain violence. Others think it's an old pro hero who snapped. Me? I think it's something else. Something that was here before quirks, before heroes even. My grandmother used to tell stories about spirits that protected families, dealt out justice to those who'd harm children. Maybe those stories weren't just stories."

The Frost Demon case has become more than just a series of murders - it's evolved into a modern myth. Criminal organizations have begun avoiding operations near schools and residential areas. Underground heroes report a significant drop in family-related crimes in areas where the Demon has been active.

The lack of concrete evidence has only fueled speculation and fear. Some believe the perpetrator is a disillusioned hero, others a vengeful parent, and still others something not quite human. The truth remains elusive, but one thing is clear: the Frost Demon has changed the criminal landscape of the city.

Various agencies continue their investigations, each approaching the case from different angles. The police search for physical evidence that seems impossible to find. Underground heroes track patterns and predict potential targets. The Yakuza probe their own ranks for weaknesses. And somewhere in the shadows, All For One watches with calculating interest.

Meanwhile, in a quiet house in a peaceful neighborhood, dinner is being prepared. Children are doing homework. Rei hummed softly as she arranged flowers in a vase, her mind drifting over the day’s events. She was aware, of course, that whispers of her actions had spread. She hadn’t intended to become a figure of infamy, but those who threatened her family’s happiness left her no choice. And as she moved through Musutafu, seeing the way certain people averted their gaze and hurried out of her path, she felt a strange satisfaction.

Her family knew nothing of her “other life,” and that was the way she intended it to stay. To them, she was simply their mother, their wife, dedicated to keeping them safe and happy. If she had to become the White Lady, the silent predator who dispatched threats with ease, so be it. She’d do anything to protect them.

Standing by the window, she looked out at the sunset, her smile soft and serene. The White Lady had always existed, lurking just beneath the surface, kept at bay by her love for her family. But in recent years, she’d let her loose when necessary. A small price to pay for their safety and peace. Her family would never know, and that, to Rei, was the true victory.

“Dinner soon,” she murmured, her voice gentle. And across town, criminals whispered the name of the Frost Demon in fear, never realizing that the soft, smiling mother in the Todoroki home was the very monster that haunted their darkest nightmares.

Chapter Text

The Commission's latest message burned in Keigo's pocket like a hot coal. Another demand for information, another push to get closer to Touya, another reminder that they owned every minute of his life. He'd been pacing his office for hours, wings twitching with agitation, when Touya walked in unannounced—as if Keigo's thoughts had somehow summoned him.

"You look like shit," Touya said bluntly, closing the door behind him. He was still in his hero costume, fresh off patrol, patches of soot suggesting he'd been putting out fires again. Even disheveled, he was unfairly attractive.

Keigo forced a laugh, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Thanks for that stunning observation." His feathers were ruffled, quite literally, betraying the stress he was trying to hide. The constant pressure from the Commission, running his agency, maintaining his public image—it was all becoming too much.

"Seriously." Touya's voice softened as he approached Keigo's desk. "What's going on with you lately? You've been..." He gestured vaguely. "Off."

'Off' didn't begin to cover it. Keigo had been dancing on a knife's edge for weeks, torn between his duties to the Commission and his growing feelings for Touya. Every shared moment, every casual touch, every time Touya's tongue piercing caught the light when he spoke—it all twisted something deep in Keigo's chest.

"It's nothing," Keigo said, but his voice cracked on the lie. "Just work stuff."

Touya leaned against the desk, close enough that Keigo could smell the smoke clinging to his costume, could see the concerned furrow of his brow. "Bullshit. I know you better than that."

That was part of the problem, wasn't it? Touya did know him—better than anyone else ever had. Better than the Commission wanted him to. And still not well enough, because if he really knew Keigo, he'd know how many nights he'd spent lying awake, thinking about pierced lips and turquoise eyes.

"Keigo." Touya's voice was gentle now, worried. He reached out, fingers brushing Keigo's arm. "Talk to me."

The touch sent electricity through Keigo's body. His wings spread slightly, unconsciously, as if trying to encompass Touya in their shelter. The Commission wanted him closer to Touya? Fine. He was tired of fighting this anyway.

He moved without thinking, driven by Years of suppressed wanting and the bone-deep exhaustion of keeping everything bottled up. His hands found Touya's face, and before either of them could breathe, he pressed their lips together.

The kiss was desperate, messy, perfect. Touya's lips were soft, the metal of his lip ring a cool contrast that made Keigo shiver. For one terrifying moment, Touya went still, and Keigo's heart nearly stopped. Then Touya's hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matched Keigo's own.

Keigo's wings curled forward instinctively, creating a cocoon around them both. He could feel Touya's tongue piercing, could taste coffee and smoke and something uniquely Touya. His heart was racing, every nerve ending alive with sensation. This was everything he'd wanted and more—the way Touya's fingers tightened in his hair, the soft sound he made when Keigo's teeth grazed his bottom lip, the heat of his body pressed close.

For Touya, the kiss was like being struck by lightning. Every point of contact with Keigo burned in the best way possible. He'd imagined this moment more times than he cared to admit, but reality was infinitely better. Keigo kissed like he was drowning and Touya was air, desperate and needy and perfect. The feeling of being surrounded by those powerful wings, of being held like something precious—it made his head spin.

As the kiss between Keigo and Touya intensified, their desperation grew. Keigo's mouth opened to deepen the connection, allowing Touya's tongue to explore his mouth while feeling the intimate touch of his piercing.

Their bodies pressed even closer together, as if trying to meld into one. Touya's hands moved from Keigo's hair down to his shoulders and then to his wings. He hesitated for a moment before gently gripping the feathers, feeling their surprising softness against his calloused fingers.

Keigo shuddered at the sensation of Touya's touch on his sensitive wings. It was indescribable, everything he had ever wanted and more. But it was clear that Touya wasn't satisfied just touching—there was a hunger in his eyes.

Touya, driven by his demonic instincts, pinned Keigo to the wall and began running his hands down his body, exploring every inch of him. When his hands found Keigo's wings again, he pulled them open wide and pressed his fingers into the feathers, feeling their texture and weight. Keigo gasped at the sensation, his arousal heightened.

As their make-out session continued to escalate, both men were lost in each other's touch. Touya brushed a hand down Keigo's neck, then leaned in closer to run his tongue along the same path. As he did so, he took note of Keigo's pulse quickening beneath the skin.

Unable to resist any longer, Touya let his fangs graze against Keigo's flesh before finally sinking them into the tender skin of his neck. A moan escaped Keigo's lips as pain and pleasure mixed together in a heady rush. The surprise of it left them both panting for breath as they shared a heated gaze.

"My place?" Keigo asked between pants, knowing full well that this was only the beginning.

"Yes," Touya replied, the hunger in his eyes not yet sated. 

The Todoroki household was settling into its usual evening rhythm when Rei noticed the empty chair at the dinner table. She glanced at the clock—unusual for Touya to be this late without calling. The pot of udon she'd made was still simmering on the stove, filling the kitchen with savory aromas.

"Natsuo," she called, stirring the broth thoughtfully. "Could you try calling your brother? He should have been home by now."

Natsuo, who'd been helping Fuyumi set the table, pulled out his phone. "Sure, Mom." He was halfway through dialing when a text message popped up on his screen. His eyebrows rose slightly as he read it.

"Touya says not to wait up," he reported, showing the message to his mother. "Says to go ahead with dinner without him."

Rei peered at the screen: Sorry, won't make it to dinner tonight. Don't wait up. Everything's fine.

"That's not like him," Fuyumi commented, placing the last bowl on the table. "He usually loves your udon."

"Maybe he got caught up with hero work?" Shoto suggested from his spot at the table, though he seemed more interested in the steam rising from his tea than the conversation.

Rei hummed thoughtfully, ladling the udon into bowls. Something about the message felt... different. Not concerning exactly, but interesting. Touya was always responsible, always let them know his plans, but this felt almost rushed. Still, he was an adult and a pro hero—she trusted his judgment.

"Well," she said, sitting down with her family, "I suppose we'll just have to save him some for tomorrow."

"More for us," Natsuo grinned, reaching for his chopsticks.

As they ate, conversations drifted to other topics—Fuyumi's students, Natsuo's college adventures, Shoto's latest training sessions. But Rei couldn't help glancing occasionally at the empty chair, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Sometimes, mothers just knew things, and something told her Touya wasn't tied up with hero work at all.

"I hope wherever he is, he's having a good time," she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. After all, her eldest deserved a little happiness of his own.

Enji, coming in late from his own hero work, merely raised an eyebrow at the empty seat but said nothing. He'd learned to trust their children's judgment, even if he still worried in his own way.

The evening continued peacefully, the family falling into their usual patterns, while somewhere in the city, their eldest son was finding his own kind of happiness.

Chapter Text

Keigo stood at his office window, watching the city lights flicker in the gathering dusk. His wings twitched restlessly, betraying the turmoil beneath his carefully maintained exterior. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Touya's face—the hurt in those blue eyes when Keigo had pushed him away.

He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, letting out a shaky breath that fogged the window. What did he feel for Touya? The question had been haunting him for days, circling his mind like a relentless storm.

There was attraction, certainly—that much was undeniable after that night. But it went deeper than mere physical desire. When he was with Touya, the constant performance, the endless maintenance of his public persona, all fell away. In those moments, he could just... be. No expectations, no carefully calculated moves, no watching every word and gesture. Just himself, whoever that was.

And that was part of the problem, wasn't it? Keigo had spent so long being what everyone needed him to be that he sometimes wondered if he even knew who he was anymore. How could he understand his feelings for Touya when he barely understood himself?

His fingers traced abstract patterns on the glass as memories flooded his mind. The way Touya looked at him sometimes, like he could see right through all of Keigo's carefully constructed walls. The rare, genuine smiles that made Keigo's heart skip a beat. The comfortable silences they shared, where words weren't needed and the weight of their respective responsibilities seemed to lift, if only for a moment.

"Damn it," he whispered, pushing away from the window. His wings flared out in agitation, knocking papers off his desk. He didn't bother picking them up.

The Commission wanted him to get closer to Touya, but not like this. Never like this. They wanted information, cooperation, control. They didn't care about the way Touya's laugh made something warm bloom in Keigo's chest, or how his touch felt like coming home.

Keigo ran his hands through his hair, messing up the carefully styled strands. Was this even real? Or was he just so desperate for genuine connection that he'd latched onto the first person who seemed to see past his facade?

And Touya... Touya deserved better than this uncertainty. Better than someone who couldn't even sort out their own feelings. Better than someone who was supposed to be monitoring him, reporting on him, using his trust for professional gain.

The thought made Keigo's stomach turn. He'd crossed so many lines, personal and professional, and for what? Because he couldn't control himself? Because for once in his life, he'd acted on pure impulse instead of calculated strategy?

His wings wrapped around him unconsciously, a protective gesture he'd had since childhood. The soft feathers brushed against his arms, providing little comfort against the storm of emotions raging inside him.

Love wasn't supposed to be like this, was it? It was supposed to be clear, decisive. You either loved someone or you didn't. But what he felt for Touya defied such simple categorization. It was a complicated tangle of desire, trust, guilt, and something deeper that he couldn't—or wouldn't—name.

Every time he thought he'd figured it out, doubt crept in. Was he confusing genuine feelings with the intensity of their physical connection? Was he mistaking the relief of being himself around someone for something more? Or was he just lying to himself, denying what he already knew because admitting it would make everything so much more complicated?

The worst part was that he couldn't even talk to anyone about it. His position, his responsibilities, the nature of his relationship with Touya—it all had to remain secret. He was left to wrestle with these feelings alone, going in circles in his own mind until he felt like he was losing his grip on reality.

Keigo moved to his desk and sank into his chair, his wings drooping with exhaustion. The stack of reports waiting for his attention seemed to mock him. How was he supposed to focus on work when his personal life had become such a mess?

He picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Touya's contact information. He could call him, try to explain... what? That he was a confused mess who couldn't sort out his own feelings? That he was sorry for pulling him close only to push him away? That every time he thought about that night, his heart raced and his chest ached with a longing he couldn't understand?

With a frustrated growl, he dropped the phone back onto his desk. He wasn't ready. Not yet. Not until he could make sense of this chaos in his heart. Not until he could offer Touya something more than confusion and half-formed feelings.

But as he turned back to his work, trying to lose himself in the mundane details of his job, one thought kept surfacing: what if, by the time he figured it all out, it was too late? What if his inability to understand and accept his own feelings cost him something—someone—truly precious?

Finally admitting he needed help, Keigo found himself in Miruko's apartment, sprawled dramatically across her couch while she watched him with barely concealed amusement.

"You're being a dumbass," Miruko said bluntly, taking a bite of her carrot. "And that's coming from me."

Keigo lifted his head just enough to glare at her. "I came here for actual advice, Usagiyama."

"And I'm giving it to you." She pointed her half-eaten carrot at him accusingly. "You're so caught up in what you're supposed to feel that you're ignoring what you actually feel. Since when does Hawks, the guy who can read a situation in milliseconds, need someone else to explain his own damn emotions?"

"It's complicated—"

"Bullshit." Miruko cut him off. "You're making it complicated. Tell me this: when you're with him, how do you feel?"

Keigo sat up, his wings adjusting behind him. "Like... like I can breathe. Like I don't have to calculate every word or action. Like—"

"Like you're actually living instead of just existing?" Miruko finished, her expression softening slightly. "Hawks, you've spent your whole life being what everyone else needed you to be. But this guy? He makes you want to be yourself."

The words hit Keigo like a physical blow. His wings drew in close as the truth of her statement sank in.

"And let me guess," Miruko continued, her voice gentler now. "You're scared because for once in your life, you can't control everything. You can't predict where this is going. And that terrifies you more than any villain ever has."

Keigo let out a shaky breath. "When did you get so insightful?"

"I've always been insightful, feathers. You just never listen to me." She grinned, then grew serious again. "Look, you want my honest opinion? Stop thinking about what you're supposed to feel or what you're supposed to do. What do you want?"

"I want..." Keigo closed his eyes, letting himself finally acknowledge the truth. "I want to be with him. I want to see where this goes. I want to stop pretending I don't feel what I feel."

"Then there's your answer." Miruko threw her carrot top at him. "Stop overthinking and go get your man."

A smile slowly spread across Keigo's face. For the first time in days, his chest felt lighter, the confusion clearing like morning fog. He pulled out his phone, his heart racing as he typed out a message to Touya.

[Can we meet after work? Need to talk.]

The minutes waiting for a response felt like hours. Finally, his phone buzzed.

[Fine. The usual place. 8pm.]

The response was terse, but it was a yes. Keigo's wings fluttered with excitement, earning an eye roll from Miruko.

"You're like a lovesick teenager," she teased.

"Shut up," he replied, but there was no heat in it. He stood up, his wings spreading with newfound energy. "I need to go prepare—"

"No." Miruko pointed at him firmly. "No preparing. No calculating. No strategizing. Just go and be honest with him. For once in your life, Hawks, just let yourself feel without trying to control everything."

Keigo paused, then nodded. She was right. He'd spent so long trying to analyze and control his feelings that he'd nearly lost something precious in the process. The Commission, his job, the expectations—none of it mattered compared to the way he felt when he was with Touya.

"Thanks, Rumi," he said softly.

She waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Now get out of here before you start getting sappy on me. And Hawks?" He paused at the door. "I'm happy for you."

As Keigo soared through the evening sky toward his office, his heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. His wings carried him effortlessly, powered by the anticipation building in his chest. For the first time since that night, he felt truly certain about something.

He loved Touya. Not because the Commission wanted him to get closer, not because of physical attraction, but because Touya made him feel real. Made him feel alive. Made him feel like himself.

And for once, he didn't care about the consequences. Let the Commission say what they wanted. Some things were worth the risk, and this—what he felt for Touya—was definitely one of them.

His phone buzzed with another message from the Commission about his assignment. For the first time in his career, Keigo ignored it completely, a small smile playing on his lips. They could wait. He had something more important to do tonight.

Tonight, he wasn't going to be Hawks the hero, or Hawks the Commission's agent. Tonight, he was just going to be Keigo, a man in love, following his heart instead of his orders.

And somehow, that felt more right than anything else ever had.

Chapter Text

The evening air was crisp as Keigo waited at their usual meeting spot, a secluded rooftop garden that had become their unofficial sanctuary over time. His wings rustled nervously as he heard footsteps approaching. When Touya emerged from the shadows, Keigo's heart skipped a beat—just like it always did.

"I didn't think you'd come," Keigo said softly, his wings unconsciously reaching forward before drawing back.

Touya stood still, moonlight silvering his dark hair. "I almost didn't."

"You wanted to talk," Touya said, keeping his distance. His voice was carefully neutral, but Keigo could hear the underlying tension.

"Yeah, I..." Keigo started, then stopped. All the speeches he'd half-prepared dissolved in his mind. Miruko was right—he needed to stop calculating and just be honest. "I'm sorry. For that morning. For pushing you away. For being a coward."

Touya's expression flickered briefly. "You don't have to—"

"Please," Keigo interrupted, taking a step forward. "Let me say this. I need to say this."

When Touya nodded silently, Keigo continued, his wings drawing closer to his body.

"I've spent my whole life being what everyone needed me to be. The perfect hero, the reliable colleague, the charming public figure. I got so good at playing these roles that sometimes... sometimes I forget who I actually am beneath all of it." His voice wavered slightly. "But when I'm with you, all those masks fall away. And that terrifies me."

Touya's eyes widened slightly, but he remained silent, letting Keigo speak.

"That night... it wasn't just impulse. Well, maybe the kiss was," Keigo admitted with a weak laugh. "But everything else? The way I feel when I'm with you? That's real. So real it scares me because I don't know how to handle something this genuine."

Something flickered in Touya's eyes. "Keigo—"

"Please," Keigo breathed, "let me finish. Because I finally understand." He moved closer, his wings creating gentle currents in the night air. "Love isn't supposed to make sense. It's not supposed to fit into neat little boxes or follow careful plans. It's supposed to feel like this—like my heart might burst every time you look at me, like I can finally breathe when I'm with you, like all the songs I never understood suddenly make perfect sense."

Tears gathered in his eyes as he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "You know what scared me the most? Not the intensity of what I feel for you, but how natural it feels. How right. Like every moment of my life was leading me to you, and I almost ruined it because I was too afraid to admit that for the first time in my life, I'd found something real."

Touya's carefully maintained distance began to crumble. "You pushed me away," he said, but there was more pain than accusation in his voice.

"Because I thought I had to be perfect for you," Keigo admitted, his wings drooping. "I've spent so long being what everyone needed me to be. The perfect hero, the flawless professional, the charming celebrity. But with you..." His voice caught. "With you, I just want to be me. The real me, with all my flaws and fears and imperfections. And that terrified me because I've never let anyone see that version of myself before."

Moonlight caught the tears now freely falling down his cheeks. "But now I realize—that's exactly what love is supposed to be. It's not about being perfect. It's about finding someone who makes you want to be real."

Keigo's wings spread wide, as if finally releasing all the emotions he'd kept contained. "So this is love," he said softly, wonderingly. "This feeling like I'm finally awake after years of sleepwalking. This certainty that even though I'm terrified, I'd rather face anything with you than be safe without you. This knowledge that for the first time in my life, I don't want to pretend anymore."

He closed the remaining distance between them, his hand reaching up to cup Touya's face. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking with the weight of the truth in those words. "Not because I'm supposed to, or because it's convenient, or because it makes sense. I love you because you make me feel like starlight and summer rain and freedom all at once. I love you because when I'm with you, I finally understand what all those love songs are about."

Touya's breath hitched, his own careful composure cracking. "Keigo..."

"I love how you see through every mask I wear," Keigo continued, his wings creating a gentle cocoon around them. "I love how you make me laugh when I forget to maintain my image. I love how you understand my silences and challenge my walls. I love how you make me want to be brave enough to be real."

His thumb brushed away a tear from Touya's cheek. "So this is love," he repeated softly. "Not the carefully choreographed dance I always thought it would be, but this beautiful, messy, terrifying, wonderful thing that makes everything else fade away until it's just you and me and this feeling like my heart finally knows what it was waiting for."

The night air seemed to hold its breath as Keigo's wings trembled with the force of his emotions. "I know I hurt you," he whispered. "I know I let my fears push you away. But if you'll let me, I want to spend every day showing you that what I feel for you is real. That you're worth every risk, every fear, every moment of vulnerability. Because this—us—is the most real thing I've ever known."

In the gentle glow of the fairy lights, surrounded by the protective embrace of Keigo's wings, they stood on the precipice of something new. Something real. Something that felt, finally, like coming home.

This was love—not the perfect, polished version Keigo had always imagined, but something far more beautiful in its imperfection. Something worth being brave for. Something worth being real for.

And in the silence that followed his confession, Keigo's heart beat a steady rhythm of certainty: So this is love. So this is what makes life divine.

The silence that followed Keigo's confession held a trembling weight, like the moment before dawn breaks. Touya's hands found their way to Keigo's waist, pulling him closer within the shelter of his wings.

"Do you know," Touya began, his voice rough with emotion, "how long I've waited to hear you say those words?" His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "How many times I convinced myself I was seeing things that weren't there? That the way you looked at me sometimes, the way you'd let your guard down just for a moment... that it couldn't possibly mean what I wanted it to mean?"

His fingers tightened slightly on Keigo's waist, as if afraid he might disappear. "Because who could want someone like me? Someone with all this darkness, these insecurities, these traits?”

The vulnerability in his voice made Keigo's heart ache. "But you... you never flinched away. Even when I showed you the worst parts of myself, you stayed."

Keigo's wings drew closer around them, creating an intimate world of soft red feathers and shared breaths. "Your darkness doesn't frighten me," he whispered. "It never has."

A small, broken laugh escaped Touya. "You're the only one who's ever seen me— really seen me— and didn't run away. Even when I thought you had..." His voice caught. "Even then, I couldn't stop loving you."

The admission hung in the air between them, delicate and precious. Touya took a shaky breath before continuing, "But Keigo, I need to know. What are we now? What is this between us?"

This time, Keigo didn't hesitate. There was no fear, no calculation, no careful consideration of consequences. There was only truth, simple and pure as starlight.

"We're together," he said firmly, one hand coming up to cup Touya's face. "We're a couple. Partners. Two people who love each other and aren't afraid to show it anymore." His wings quivered with the intensity of his conviction. "I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to share your burdens and your joys. I want to figure out this mess called life with you by my side."

"Even with all the complications?" Touya asked, but there was hope bleeding into his voice now. "Even with everything that comes with being with me. You don’t even know me?"

Keigo leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "Especially with all of that. Because it's part of who you are, and I love who you are. All of you. The light and the dark, the soft and the sharp, everything that makes you uniquely, perfectly you."

A tear finally escaped Touya's eye, rolling down his cheek. "I love you," he whispered, like a secret, like a prayer. "I love you so much it terrifies me sometimes."

"Good," Keigo smiled, brushing away the tear with his thumb. "Because I'm terrified too. But I'd rather be scared with you than brave without you."

Touya surged forward then, capturing Keigo's lips in a kiss that tasted of tears and truth and tomorrow. Keigo's wings wrapped around them completely, cocooning them in a world of their own making, where nothing existed but this moment, this love, this perfect understanding.

When they finally parted, staying close enough to share breath, Touya's lips curved into a small, genuine smile that made Keigo's heart skip. "So... we're a couple?"

"Yes," Keigo said, grinning. "A proper couple. One that goes on dates and holds hands and doesn't hide how they feel anymore." His wings fluttered happily. "One that faces whatever comes next together."

"Together," Touya repeated, testing the word like a precious thing. Then, with a hint of his usual sass returning, "Does this mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?"

Keigo laughed, bright and free. "Yes, you ridiculous man. You can call me your boyfriend." His expression softened. "You can call me yours, period."

The smile that bloomed on Touya's face then was like watching the sun rise – slow, beautiful, and full of promise for a new day. They stood there in their private cocoon of feathers and feelings, two hearts finally beating in sync, two souls finally brave enough to be vulnerable together.

And in that moment, surrounded by night air and starlight and the gentle glow of fairy lights, they were just Keigo and Touya – not a hero and a target, not a professional and an assignment, just two people who had found something real in a world of pretense, something true in a life of masks.

Just two people in love, ready to face whatever came next, together.

Chapter Text

Rei noticed the changes in small ways at first. Like how Touya had started humming while making his morning coffee—soft, unconscious melodies that reminded her of when he was small. His movements were different too; the predatory grace that had marked his steps since awakening his abilities had softened into something more natural, more human.

She watched him from the kitchen window as he sat in their garden, phone in hand, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he typed. That smile—it made her heart ache with both joy and worry. It had been years since she'd seen him smile like that, unguarded and genuine, without the sharp edges that had become so much a part of him.

"Who are you texting that makes you so happy?" she'd asked once, trying to keep her tone light.

Touya had actually blushed—blushed!—before mumbling something about work and disappearing to his room. But she'd seen the way his phone lit up throughout the day, how he'd drop everything to check it, how his eyes would soften at whatever message he received.

The bloodlust that had haunted him for years seemed to have quieted. During training, his movements were controlled, precise—no longer seeking to destroy but simply to improve. He'd stopped picking fights with his siblings during family dinners, instead engaging in actual conversations without teasing them that leads to a food fight. Last week, he'd even helped Fuyumi with her garden without burning a single plant.

But it was the little things that truly caught her attention. The way he'd started caring about his appearance beyond just functionality—actually styling his hair some mornings, wearing clothes that weren't just black. How he'd space out during breakfast, a faint smile on his lips like he was lost in pleasant memories. The way he'd disappear for hours and return with this glow about him, a contentment she hadn't seen since before everything went wrong.

One evening, she found him in the kitchen at midnight, making onigiri of all things.

"Midnight snack?" she'd asked, and he'd startled slightly.

"Just... practicing," he'd muttered, but she'd noticed him carefully wrapping them in plastic wrap, placing them in a bento box with surprising gentleness.

It was becoming clear that someone had entered Touya's life—someone who made him want to be better, softer, more human. And while her heart soared to see him healing, the worry gnawed at her constantly.

Finally, unable to contain her concerns any longer, she sought out Enji in his study.

"I'm worried about Touya," she said without preamble, settling into the chair across from his desk.

Enji looked up from his paperwork, reading the genuine concern in her expression. "He seems better than he has in years."

"That's what worries me." Rei twisted her hands in her lap. "You've seen how he's changed. The humming, the smiling, the way he actually joined in when Natsuo was telling jokes at dinner." She took a deep breath. "Yesterday, I found him looking up recipes online, Enji. Recipes. Our son, who once said cooking was a waste of time when you could just burn everything."

A knowing smile tugged at Enji's lips. "He's falling in love."

The words hung in the air between them. Rei's worries spilled out faster now. "Exactly! And I'm terrified. What if it goes wrong? What if this person hurts him? You remember what he was like after his abilities manifested—the violence, the rage, the way he'd lose control. What if heartbreak triggers that again?"

"Rei." Enji's voice was gentle but firm. "He's not that lost boy anymore. He's learned to control his abilities, to manage his darker impulses. If someone has come into his life who makes him want to be better, we should be grateful."

"But—"

"No buts." Enji stood, moving around his desk to sit beside her. "I've seen him during training. His control is better than ever. It's like he finally has something to focus on besides his anger. Someone to be better for. When he's ready, he'll tell us."

Rei's eyes filled with tears. "I just don't want to lose him again. I can't bear to see him suffer like that again."

"Then trust him," Enji said softly. "Trust that he's strong enough to handle whatever comes his way. He's not just surviving anymore, Rei. He's living. Finally living."

As if to prove Enji's point, they heard Touya's laugh drift up from downstairs—bright, unrestrained, probably at something on his phone. It was a sound so pure, so reminiscent of his childhood, that Rei's heart clenched.

Later that night, she heard Touya come in late, humming that same soft tune. Through his partially open door, she watched him for a moment, saw the contentment in his expression as he got ready for bed. Her boy was falling in love. And though the worry would never fully leave—she was a mother, after all—she felt hope bloom in her chest. Hope that maybe, just maybe, love was exactly what Touya had needed all along to find his way back to himself.

In the warm, relaxed glow of the Todoroki family living room, Touya sat on the edge of the couch, glancing around at his siblings and parents. He cleared his throat, a rare, hesitant smile hovering on his lips, and felt an unexpected rush of nerves.

“So… I have something to tell you all.” His voice was calm, but a slight quirk of his mouth betrayed his nervousness. The entire family’s attention was on him now, a few curious smiles breaking out as everyone tried to guess what he might be about to share.

“I, uh, have a boyfriend,” he said finally, an almost sheepish grin slipping through. The room fell silent, and he braced himself for the reaction.

There was a split-second of stunned quiet before Fuyumi let out an audible gasp, her hands clapping over her mouth in surprise and excitement. Shoto’s eyes widened slightly, then softened with a genuinely happy look for his older brother. Natsuo, predictably, cracked a smirk.

“Are you serious?” Natsuo asked, a teasing glint in his eye. “You? With a boyfriend?”

“Why not me?” Touya shot back, his grin shifting to a confident smirk.

“That’s amazing!” Fuyumi exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. “When did this happen? Who is he? How did you meet?”

Touya chuckled at her barrage of questions, but his eyes flickered to his parents, who hadn’t yet spoken. Rei’s expression was one of gentle surprise, her eyes softening with something like pride. Enji, meanwhile, gave a small nod, his gaze warm but contemplative.

“Well,” Enji said after a pause, his gruff voice carrying a note of approval, “it’s good to see you finding someone who makes you happy. Someone you can talk about.” His tone was hesitant but sincere, as if he too were feeling out new ground. Touya wasn’t sure if he had expected this, but he found himself touched by his father’s subdued response.

Rei, meanwhile, couldn’t keep the motherly pride out of her voice. “Touya, I’m so happy for you.” She reached over, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I hope he treats you well. You deserve it, dear.”

Touya’s grin softened at her words, and he nodded. “He does,” he said, the hint of warmth in his tone unmistakable. “He’s… good to me. Real, and someone I can talk to without all the pretenses.”

Fuyumi, leaning in with sparkling eyes, had clearly already appointed herself his number one supporter. “When can we meet him? Or, at least, tell us more about him! Like… what does he do? What’s he like?”

Touya chuckled at her enthusiasm, and, feeling his family’s support wash over him, he realized he hadn’t felt this at ease sharing something personal in a long time. He paused, considering how much to reveal, but settled on just enough.

“Well, he’s hardworking, smart, and… let’s just say he’s used to handling stress.” He left it there, watching his siblings exchange knowing looks. None of them pressed him too hard for details; they seemed content, for now, with this small but significant opening.

In that moment, sitting among his family, Touya felt something he hadn’t for years—an unburdened joy, a feeling of acceptance.

Chapter Text

The rain made it harder to hear movement inside the warehouse, but Keigo had learned long ago not to rely solely on his enhanced hearing. His feathers spread through the building's cracks, mapping layouts and detecting heartbeats. Most were adult—guards, probably—but there, in the basement level...

Two small, rapid heartbeats. Children.

His jaw clenched. The intel had been right.

The takedown was quick, precise. Keigo had worked with local law enforcement to ensure minimum chaos, maximum efficiency. No chances for anyone to hurt the kids or destroy evidence. His feathers disabled the security systems first, then the lights. In the darkness, he was nothing but a whisper of movement, a flash of crimson wings.

When he reached the basement, what he found made his blood boil.

Two children huddled in the corner of a makeshift cell. The older one—a boy with hollow cheeks and fierce eyes—had positioned himself in front of his sister. The girl couldn't have been more than six, her long dark hair matted and tangled. Both were severely undernourished, but it was their eyes that caught Keigo's attention. These weren't the eyes of children. They held something ancient, something that spoke of having seen too much.

"Hey there," Keigo said softly, crouching down to their level. He kept his wings relaxed, non-threatening. "I'm Hawks. I'm here to help."

The boy spat at him. "Everyone who says they want to help just wants to use us."

Something in his voice, in his protective stance over his sister, resonated deep within Keigo. He recognized that hardness, that desperate need to protect the only person who mattered.

"You're right," Keigo said, settling cross-legged on the floor. "Most adults have probably let you down. But I'm not here to use you. I'm here because no one should live in a cage."

The girl peered around her brother, eyes wide. "Your wings... they're pretty."

A small smile tugged at Keigo's lips. "Thank you. They help me fly. Would you like to see?"

He sent a few feathers dancing through the air, creating patterns that made the girl gasp in delight. Even her brother's stance softened slightly.

"I'm Keigo," he offered. "What are your names?"

"...Hiro," the boy finally muttered. "This is Yumi."

"Nice to meet you, Hiro, Yumi. Are you hungry? I know a great place that makes amazing udon."

Hiro's eyes narrowed. "They'll just put us in the system. Separate us."

"No." The word came out harder than Keigo intended, surprising even himself. "They won't. I won't let them."

And in that moment, he knew he meant it. The Commission could deal with it. He'd been their perfect weapon for years—they owed him this much at least.

"But you're a hero," Hiro said, confusion evident. "Don't you have to follow rules?"

Keigo thought of all the rules he'd followed, all the times he'd pushed down his own conscience in service of the "greater good." He looked at these two children, saw in them the same desperate fight for survival he'd once known.

"Sometimes," he said carefully, "being a hero means knowing which rules matter most. And keeping families together? That matters more than paperwork."

Yumi tugged on her brother's ragged sleeve. "I'm hungry, nii-san."

Something in Hiro's expression cracked. He looked at Keigo with eyes too old for his face. "You promise? Promise you won't separate us?"

"I promise." Keigo held out his hand. "And I keep my promises."

After a long moment, Hiro took it.

The paperwork was a nightmare. The Commission tried to intervene, suggesting the publicity angle of Hawks rescuing trafficking victims would be perfect for his image. Keigo smiled through the meetings, nodded at the right moments, all while his feathers twitched with suppressed rage. These were children, not photo ops.

But he played their game. Let them think they'd won. And at the end of it all, he had two new residents in his apartment.

It wasn't easy. Hiro woke screaming most nights, his protective instincts still in overdrive. Yumi hardly spoke above a whisper for the first month. Both of them hoarded food, expecting it to be taken away.

But slowly, things changed. Yumi discovered she loved to draw, covering Keigo's fridge with bright artwork. Hiro showed a keen interest in strategy games, his sharp mind finally having a safe outlet. They both loved watching Keigo fly, and eventually, he started taking them on short flights—just around the apartment at first, then further as their trust grew.

One evening, as Keigo was cooking dinner (he'd had to learn quickly—turns out kids needed actual meals, not just takeout), he heard laughter from the living room. Real, genuine laughter. He peaked around the corner to see Yumi trying to teach Hiro some dance she'd learned at her new school, both of them giggling at his clumsy attempts.

Something in his chest tightened. These kids, with their ancient eyes and new smiles, had somehow become his family. The Commission could spin it however they wanted for the public. Keigo knew the truth—he hadn't saved these kids for publicity or duty.

He'd saved them because sometimes, the most heroic thing you can do is give someone else the childhood you never had.

"I adopted two kids."

Touya, who had been mid-sip of his coffee, choked. They were sitting on Keigo's balcony, their usual late-night meeting spot after patrols. The city lights sparkled below them, a stark contrast to the bomb Keigo had just dropped.

"You... what?" Touya managed, still coughing.

Keigo's wings shifted nervously, a few feathers drifting in the night breeze. "Remember that trafficking ring bust last month? There were these two kids..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "I couldn't leave them to the system, Touya. You should have seen them. The way the older brother looked at me, like he was ready to burn the world down to protect his sister—"

"Sounds familiar," Touya muttered, thinking of his own siblings.

"Yeah, well." Keigo's smile was soft. "Maybe that's why I couldn't walk away." He glanced through the sliding glass door, where Hiro and Yumi were finally sleeping on the pull-out couch. They still refused to sleep in separate rooms. "They've been through so much. But they're already changing, healing. Yumi smiled today—a real smile, not the scared one she usually wears. And Hiro... he's starting to trust that I'm not going to disappear."

Touya set his coffee down, his mind racing. "So you're a dad now."

"I... guess I am." Keigo laughed, but it was shaky. "Gods, I have no idea what I'm doing. I can barely keep my plants alive—"

"Those are succulents, and they're literally designed to survive neglect."

"Not helping, hot stuff."

Touya snorted, but his expression quickly turned serious. "Look, this is... a lot. And my timing probably couldn't be worse, but..." He took a deep breath. "I told my family about us today."

Now it was Keigo's turn to choke. "You what?"

"Well, apparently I've been 'obviously in love' for months now," Touya grumbled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Mom kept asking questions, and I just... told them. About us. Dating." His blush deepened. "Mom wants to meet you."

"Oh." Keigo's eyes widened. "Oh no."

"Yeah."

"Your mom. Todoroki Rei. Wants to meet me."

"And my siblings. Probably dad too, though he's trying to pretend he's not interested." Touya ran a hand down his face. "Look, I know this is terrible timing with the kids—"

"Touya." Keigo's voice was gentle. "It's not terrible timing. It's just... life. Messy and complicated and never going according to plan." He reached out, taking Touya's hand. "But I'd rather figure it out with you than anyone else."

Touya stared at their linked hands, his thumb absently tracing circles on Keigo's palm. "They're going to have questions. About how we'll manage. Hero work, kids, relationship—it's a lot."

"So we'll answer them. Together." Keigo's wings curled forward slightly, creating a cocoon of warmth around them both. "I mean, yeah, it'll be challenging. But we're both used to impossible odds, right?"

A small sound from inside made them both turn. Hiro was sitting up, clearly in the midst of another nightmare. Without hesitation, Touya stood, pulling Keigo with him.

"Come on, bird brain. Your kid needs you."

Keigo's heart did something complicated at hearing Touya say 'your kid.' They moved inside together, and he watched as Touya approached Hiro with the same careful gentleness he used with his younger siblings.

"Hey, kid," Touya said softly. "Bad dream?"

Hiro stared at him, then at his distinctive white hair and blue eyes, "You're Aegis. The underground hero."

"That's right."

"Are you..." Hiro glanced between him and Keigo. "Are you going to be around a lot?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Touya met Keigo's eyes over Hiro's head, and something unspoken passed between them.

"Yeah," Touya said finally. "If that's okay with you and your sister."

Hiro seemed to consider this, his eyes far too knowing for a child. "You make Keigo smile. The real kind, not the hero smile." He paused. "And you have fire. That could be useful."

Keigo had to stifle a laugh at the pragmatic assessment. Touya just raised an eyebrow.

"Useful, huh?"

"For protecting," Hiro clarified, glancing at his sleeping sister. "Wings and fire. Good combination."

"Smart kid," Touya muttered, and something in Hiro's posture relaxed slightly.

Later, after Hiro had fallen back asleep and they'd retreated to the kitchen, Keigo leaned against the counter with a sigh.

"So," he said. "Meeting the family, raising kids, balancing hero work... we're really doing this?"

Touya stepped closer, pressing their foreheads together. "Yeah, we are. Unless you're having second thoughts?"

"About you? Never." Keigo's wings wrapped around them both. "About meeting your mom? Absolutely terrified."

"If it helps, she already likes you. Apparently, I 'smile differently' when I'm texting you."

"Oh god, you're a sap."

"Shut up, you literally adopted two kids on impulse."

"...fair point."

They stayed like that for a moment, sharing warmth and silence, while two children slept peacefully in the next room and the city hummed below. It wasn't how either of them had planned their lives to go, but maybe, Keigo thought, the best things never were.

"Hey, Touya?"

"Mm?"

"Think your mom would mind if I brought the kids to dinner?"

Touya's laugh was quiet but genuine. "She'd probably love it. Fair warning though—Fuyumi's going to cry, Natsuo's going to make terrible dad jokes, and Shoto's going to stare at you until he decides if you're good enough for his big brother."

"Sounds perfect," Keigo murmured, and meant it.

Chapter Text

As Touya paced in the living room of the Todoroki household, his nerves felt like live wires sparking under his skin. His family was set to meet Keigo for dinner— finally, after months of asking—and while they’d been supportive of his relationship, this was still new territory. For so long, he’d only been a son and a brother around them, but tonight he’d be bringing someone he loved into that space. The thought thrilled him but also sent anxiety curling through his chest.

Rei watched him with an amused smile from her seat. “You’re going to wear a track in the floor if you keep that up,” she teased gently.

"He adopted two kids," Touya blurted out, pacing the Todoroki family kitchen while his siblings and mother prepared dinner. "I just... thought you should know before they get here."

Fuyumi nearly dropped the bowl she was holding. "Kids? As in plural?"

"A brother and sister," Touya explained, running a hand through his hair. "He rescued them during a mission. They were trafficking victims. He couldn't... he couldn't let them go into the system." His voice softened. "You should see him with them. It's like they were meant to be his."

"Oh my goodness," Rei murmured, pausing in her vegetable chopping. "The poor dears. How old are they?"

"Hiro's about ten, Yumi's six." Touya leaned against the counter, his nervous energy making small wisps of blue flame dance around his fingers. "They're still adjusting. Hiro's really protective of his sister, doesn't trust easily. And Yumi... she's starting to open up, but she gets scared in new places."

"We'll make sure they feel comfortable," Rei assured him, her gentle smile easing some of his tension. "We can set up the kotatsu in the living room instead of using the formal dining room. It might feel less intimidating."

"And I'll make sure there are plenty of kid-friendly foods," Fuyumi added, already adjusting her menu plan. "Maybe some onigiri with cute faces?"

"You don't have to go to all this trouble—" Touya started, but Natsuo cut him off.

"Bro, you're literally introducing us to your boyfriend *and* his kids. Of course we're going to make an effort." He grinned. "Though I have some great dad jokes prepared—"

"Don't you dare," Touya growled. "I swear, Natsuo, if you start with the dad jokes—"

"What? I think I'd make an excellent uncle! The kids need someone fun in their life, considering they're stuck with you as a future step-"

The temperature in the kitchen spiked as Touya's face flushed crimson. "We are NOT having this conversation!"

"Oh?" Natsuo's grin widened. "Funny, because I remember someone giving me endless grief when I brought Hana home for the first time. What was it you said? 'Try not to scare her off with your terrible jokes, some of us want to be uncles someday'?"

"That was different!"

"How?"

"I... you... shut up!"

"Boys," Rei intervened, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Touya, sweetheart, you're going to burn the curtains if you don't calm down."

Touya took a deep breath, forcing his flames to settle. "Sorry. I just... I want this to go well. Keigo's important to me, and the kids... they've been through so much. I don't want them to feel uncomfortable."

"Keigo must be quite special," Shoto observed quietly from where he'd been arranging place settings. "I've never seen you this nervous before."

"He is," Touya admitted softly. "He sees me. Not just Aegis the hero, or the eldest Todoroki. He just... sees me."

The kitchen fell silent for a moment, everyone absorbing the weight of that admission. Touya wasn't usually so open about his feelings.

"Then there's nothing to worry about," Rei said firmly, moving to cup her eldest son's face in her hands. "If he loves you for who you are, if he has such a big heart that he'd take in two children who needed him, then he's already family. We just haven't met him yet."

"Mom..." Touya's voice cracked slightly.

"Though I do hope you warned him about Natsuo's jokes," she added with a twinkle in her eye.

"Hey!" Natsuo protested.

"No, no, Mom's got a point," Fuyumi giggled. "Remember what happened with Hana? I thought she was going to dump you after that horrible ice-breaker about—"

"We agreed never to speak of that!" Natsuo yelped, while Shoto's lips twitched in a rare smile.

"I recorded it," he offered. "For posterity."

"You WHAT?"

As his siblings devolved into playful bickering, Touya felt some of his anxiety ease. This was his family—loud, messy, and far from perfect, but loving. They'd been through hell and back together, learned how to be a family again piece by piece.

"Oh!" Fuyumi suddenly exclaimed. "Should we get something for the kids? Like welcome presents?"

"Nothing too expensive," Touya warned. "Keigo's still working on getting them comfortable with receiving gifts. But maybe..." He hesitated. "Yumi likes drawing and Hairpins. And Hiro's really into strategy games."

"I think I know just the thing," Rei smiled, already making mental notes. "Now, Touya, would you help Shoto set up the kotatsu? And please try not to singe the cushions this time."

"That was one time!"

"Three times, actually," Shoto corrected.

"Nobody asked you, you little—"

"Language," Rei warned. "Unless you want the kids' first word at dinner to be something Keigo won't thank you for?"

Touya subsided with a grumble, but his heart felt lighter. Maybe this wouldn't be a disaster after all. Maybe—

"Hey, Touya," Natsuo called cheerfully. "What do you call a bird that sticks with you through everything?"

"Natsuo, I swear to god—"

"A TRUE LOVE BIRD!"

The resulting chase around the kitchen, accompanied by flashes of blue flame and Fuyumi's exasperated "Not near the food!", was probably not what anyone would call proper dinner preparation. But as Rei watched her children, all grown up but still so much the same, she couldn't help but smile.

Her family was growing again. And from everything Touya had told them about Keigo and the children, it was growing in exactly the right way.

"Mom?" Touya paused in his pursuit of Natsuo. "Thanks. For... you know."

"I know," she said softly. "Now go help your brother with the kotatsu. And Natsuo?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"No more bird puns at dinner."

"Aw, but I had this great one about love taking wing—"

"NATSUO!"

When Enji arrived home, he found his family in an unprecedented state of nervous energy. His entrance was met with a chorus of shushes from Fuyumi and Natsuo, who pointed to where Touya was giving last-minute instructions to Shoto about appropriate conversation topics.

"—and don't stare too intensely, you'll scare Yumi—"

"I don't stare intensely."

"You do, actually," Enji commented, hiding his amusement as Touya jumped. “But who exactly are we waiting for?”

Enji asked, removing his hero costume gauntlets.

"Touya's boyfriend," Fuyumi answered, smoothing down her skirt for the tenth time. "His name is Keigo. He works in... what was it again, Touya?"

"He’s a hero dad," Touya mumbled, trying to tame a stubborn lock of hair in the hallway mirror. "And he... he recently adopted two kids."

Enji's eyebrows rose slightly. It wasn't often his eldest son showed such obvious signs of nervousness.

" But that doesn’t matter, Not everyone needs to be a hero, dad," Touya said, a bit defensive. "He helps people in his own way."

The doorbell rang before Enji could respond, and everyone froze. Rei emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, her smile warm but her eyes sharp. "Touya, sweetheart, aren't you going to get the door?"

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of introductions. Keigo stood in the entryway, his casual clothes a stark contrast to his usual hero costume, wings neatly folded. Behind him, partially hidden, were two children. The boy—Hiro—had positioned himself slightly in front of his sister, his eyes darting around the room as if mapping escape routes. Yumi peeked out from behind Keigo's wing, clutching a small sketchbook to her chest.

"Thank you for having us," Keigo said, his media-perfect smile in place. "We brought dessert."

"Oh, how thoughtful!" Fuyumi exclaimed, taking the box. "Please, come in!"

The initial awkwardness dissolved faster than anyone expected, largely thanks to Shoto. He'd approached the children with the same direct simplicity he approached everything, asking Yumi what she liked to draw and showing genuine interest in her shy responses. When Hiro mentioned liking strategy games, Shoto had simply nodded and retrieved his shogi board.

Now, hours later, the living room was filled with comfortable chaos. Hiro and Shoto were locked in an intense shogi match, with Natsuo providing increasingly ridiculous commentary that actually had Hiro cracking small smiles. Yumi had overcome her initial shyness and was showing Fuyumi her drawings, while Enji and Touya discussed recent hero work.

But Keigo felt it—that predatory gaze. Throughout the evening, between serving food and making conversation, Rei had been watching him. Her smile never wavered, her hostess manners were impeccable, but Keigo recognized the look in her eyes. He'd seen it in too many surveillance missions not to know when he was being evaluated.

"Keigo-kun," Rei's voice cut through his thoughts. "Would you mind helping me prepare dessert?"

And there it was. He'd been waiting for this moment all evening.

"Of course, Todoroki-san."

"Rei," she corrected gently, leading him to the kitchen. "Call me Rei."

The kitchen door swung shut behind them, muffling the sounds from the living room. Rei moved to the counter, beginning to plate the dessert Keigo had brought.

"My son smiles more these days," she said without preamble, her back to him. "Real smiles, not the sharp ones he learned to wear like armor."

Keigo's wings twitched slightly. "Touya has that effect on people too. Making them want to be real."

“You’re Hawks, aren’t you?” she said quietly, almost conversationally, as though she were merely confirming the obvious.

Keigo’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise escaping his usual composure. He nodded, and for once, his smile felt uncertain. “I am.”

Rei nodded, satisfied with his honesty. “It’s not the wings or the hero costume. I’ve just seen you enough to know your face.” She took a step closer, her voice soft yet piercing, as she continued, “You were raised by the Hero Commission."

It wasn't a question. Keigo's practiced smile stayed in place, but his feathers rustled. "I was."

"And now you've taken in two children who remind you of yourself." Her voice was gentle but probing. "Children who've seen too much, too young."

"They needed someone," Keigo said simply. "I could help."

"Could you?" Rei stepped closer, and despite being shorter than him, her presence filled the kitchen. "The Commission isn't known for teaching nurturing skills, Keigo-kun. They're known for creating weapons. How can you be sure you won't do the same to those children?"

The question hit like a physical blow, voicing fears Keigo hadn't even admitted to himself. But before he could respond, Rei continued.

"And my son. My Touya, who burned himself trying to be what others wanted. Who's finally learning to live for himself. What happens when the Commission decides your relationship isn't convenient for their plans?"

He swallowed, his wings tensing. “I’m aware,” he replied carefully. “That’s part of why I’m here tonight, why I keep my life separate from their control.” He glanced down, voice lowering. “They don’t get to decide who I love or how I live anymore. I’m doing my best to keep them as far from Touya—and from these kids I’m raising—as I can.”

Rei’s brow softened, a glint of sympathy in her eyes. “That’s good to hear.” Then, her voice took on a gentler note, something warm and sincere. “Touya… he means everything to me. He’s my son, but he’s also been my strength for so long. And I think you understand what it’s like to live with expectations that try to shape you into something you’re not. That’s why I’m trusting you to care for him.”

Keigo’s shoulders relaxed, just slightly. The tension he hadn’t even noticed lifting as he looked back at her. “I do. He’s… he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Keigo admitted, a rare openness in his voice. “He calls me out on my bullshit. Makes me see past my own walls, my own doubts. He’s the first person I’ve ever felt I could be… real with.”

Rei’s gentle smile returned. “Good,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of understanding. “Touya deserves someone who can see him that way, who’ll stand by him even when things are hard. And I don’t think you’ll let him down.”

Keigo felt a lump in his throat, the weight of the moment settling into something tender and reassuring. “Thank you,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Then, surprising himself, he added, “I’d burn the world down for him, Rei-san. I don’t care what it takes—I’d protect him from anything, no matter what it means for me.”

Her expression softened even more, eyes shining with an emotion that was both joy and a tinge of sorrow. “Then you have my blessing, Keigo.” She smiled fully now, seeing his blush rise under the steady warmth of her approval.

“W-What does that mean?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck, a rare shyness surfacing in him.

Rei only chuckled, patting his shoulder gently. “It means you’re part of this family, Keigo-kun. And that I trust you to help my son become the man he’s meant to be. "Now," Rei continued, gathering utensils, "tell me more about Yumi's art. I noticed she has quite a talent for someone her age..."

From the kitchen doorway, unseen by either of them, Touya watched his mother and boyfriend with a soft smile. He'd been worried about this moment, but he should have known better. His mom had always been good at seeing through to the heart of people.

And Keigo's heart, scarred but incredibly loving, was what had made Touya fall for him in the first place.

"They okay in there?" Natsuo asked, coming up beside him.

"Yeah," Touya said softly. "They're going to be just fine."

Chapter Text

The evening had wound down to that gentle hour when conversations grew softer and more intimate. While Touya helped Fuyumi clear the dinner dishes, Rei found Keigo in the garden, watching Hiro and Yumi play beneath the maple trees. The children had warmed up considerably since their arrival, though Hiro still positioned himself protectively near his sister.

"They're beautiful children," Rei said softly, coming to stand beside him. The cool evening air carried the sweet scent of her tea. "Yumi showed me her drawings earlier. She has quite a talent."

Keigo's smile was gentle, though his eyes held a shadow of uncertainty. "She does. Sometimes I worry I'm not doing enough to nurture it properly. There's so much to balance – their safety, their education, their emotional needs..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I don't mean to dump all this on you."

"Please don't apologize," Rei said, her voice carrying years of hard-won wisdom. "Parenting is the most challenging and rewarding journey I've ever undertaken. And it's not one meant to be walked alone." She paused, watching as Yumi showed her brother something in her sketchbook. "Would you like to sit with me for a while?"

They settled on the wooden bench beneath the maple tree. For a moment, they simply watched the children play, their laughter carrying on the evening breeze.

"I made many mistakes when my children were young," Rei admitted quietly. "I was... not in a good place. It took me years to learn that being a perfect parent isn't about never making mistakes – it's about showing up each day with an open heart, ready to learn and grow alongside your children."

Keigo turned to look at her, vulnerability clear in his wine-red eyes. "How did you learn to trust yourself? Sometimes I lie awake at night, terrified that I'm being too strict when they need gentleness, or too lenient when they need structure."

"Mm." Rei took a thoughtful sip of her tea. "I see how you watch over them – not just for physical dangers, but for their emotional needs too. You notice when Hiro tenses up in new situations, how Yumi uses her art to process her feelings. That awareness, that desire to understand and protect – that's the foundation of good parenting."

"But what if awareness isn't enough?" Keigo's fingers traced invisible patterns on his knee. "They've been through so much already. I don't want to add to their burdens."

"Children are remarkably resilient," Rei said, her gaze distant for a moment before returning to the present. "What they need most isn't perfection – it's consistency, safety, and love. I see all three when I watch you with them." She smiled softly. "The fact that you worry about doing right by them shows how deeply you care."

A small commotion drew their attention. Yumi had dropped her sketchbook, papers scattering in the breeze. Before Keigo could move, Hiro was already gathering them up, carefully smoothing each page before returning them to his sister. The tenderness in the gesture made Rei's smile deepen.

"You see that?" she asked quietly. "That protective instinct, that care for each other – they learned that from you. Children mirror what they're shown, Keigo. They're learning not just from your words, but from how you treat them, how you handle challenges, how you show up for them every day."

Keigo's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you," he said softly. "For sharing your experience, and for..." He gestured vaguely, encompassing the peaceful garden, the playing children, the quiet understanding between them.

"Being a parent is about growing together," Rei said, standing slowly. "And having support makes all the difference. You're always welcome here, all three of you." She touched his shoulder gently before moving toward the house. "Now, I believe Touya mentioned you all enjoy green tea mochi. Shall we see if the children would like some dessert?"

As they walked back inside, Keigo felt something settle in his chest – not the absence of worry, but perhaps the beginning of confidence. He watched as Rei gathered her family around the table, her movements sure and gentle, and saw a glimpse of the parent he hoped to become.

The evening ended with sticky mochi fingers and sleepy children, Yumi curled trustingly against Keigo's side while Hiro fought to keep his eyes open. As they said their goodbyes, Rei pressed a small package into Keigo's hands – her special tea blend, she explained, perfect for those nights when parenting worries kept sleep at bay.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of family and understanding, Keigo realized that perhaps the most important lesson of parenting wasn't about having all the answers, but about being willing to keep learning, keep trying, and keep loving – one day at a time.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun painted warm squares on the living room floor where Yumi sat cross-legged, her colored pencils spread around her like a rainbow explosion. Hiro lounged nearby on the couch, pretending to read while actually keeping watch – an old habit he couldn't quite shake. Keigo was in the kitchen preparing snacks, and Touya sat at the dining table, grading papers from his university students.

"Keigo-san," Yumi called out, her small face scrunched in concentration as she worked on her drawing. "Does Touya-san like strawberries or chocolate better?"

"Both," Keigo answered automatically, then caught himself. "Why do you ask, little bird?"

"I'm drawing your wedding cake!"

The sound of a pen clattering against the table made everyone look up. Touya's face had turned an impressive shade of pink, while Keigo nearly dropped the plate of apple slices he'd been carrying.

"Our... wedding cake?" Keigo managed, setting down the plate before he actually did drop it.

Yumi nodded enthusiastically, holding up her drawing. The cake was an impressive tower of wobbly circles, decorated with what appeared to be both strawberries and chocolate swirls. "See? I made it really tall because you're both tall. And white, because of Touya-san's hair!"

Hiro finally lowered his book, watching the adults' reactions carefully. "Wait... aren't you married already?"

"We're... dating," Touya explained carefully, his voice gentle despite his lingering blush. "Not married."

Yumi's face fell, her lower lip trembling slightly. The pencil in her hand drooped toward the paper. "But... but you love each other, right? And you take care of us together..."

Keigo moved quickly to sit beside her on the floor, while Touya abandoned his grading to join them. "Of course we love each other," Keigo assured her, smoothing her hair. "Marriage is just... a big step that takes time."

"Oh." Yumi looked down at her drawing, then back up at them with suddenly hopeful eyes. "But when you do get married, can I be the flower girl?"

Hiro, who had been watching the exchange with increasing interest, sat forward. "Yeah, and can I... I mean, if you wanted... I could carry the rings?"

The pure hope in their voices made something in Touya's chest tighten. He caught Keigo's eye, saw the same mix of emotion there – love, surprise, and something that felt a lot like possibility.

"If – when – we get married," Touya said softly, his hand finding Keigo's, "we wouldn't want anyone else."

The way Yumi's entire face lit up was like watching the sun break through clouds. She scrambled to her feet, accidentally scattering colored pencils everywhere, and threw herself at both of them for a hug. Hiro moved more slowly, but he too joined the group, his usual watchfulness softening into something more relaxed.

"I'm going to make a new drawing!" Yumi declared, pulling back with determination. "With all of us in it. Hiro will have a special pillow for the rings, and I'll have the prettiest flower basket..."

As she chattered away, already reaching for fresh paper, Keigo leaned slightly against Touya's shoulder. "Well," he murmured, low enough that only Touya could hear, "I guess we know what they think about us."

Touya squeezed his hand, watching as Hiro actually began offering suggestions for Yumi's new drawing, pointing out details she might want to add. The sight of them both so engaged, so comfortable, made his heart feel full in a way he couldn't quite describe.

"You okay?" Keigo asked softly, noticing his expression.

"Yeah," Touya replied, and meant it. He watched as Yumi meticulously drew what appeared to be Hiro in a tiny suit, while the real Hiro pretended to be annoyed but kept suggesting little details. These kids, who had started out so wary and defensive, now comfortable enough to dream about futures and family celebrations. "Everything's going to be okay."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of wedding-themed artwork, with Yumi producing an impressive portfolio of potential cake designs, flower arrangements, and formal wear options. Hiro, warming to the idea, began making surprisingly practical suggestions about venue security and optimal ring-bearing techniques.

Later, after snacks had been eaten and drawings had been proudly displayed on the refrigerator, Keigo found Touya in the kitchen, staring thoughtfully at Yumi's original cake drawing.

"You know," Keigo said, wrapping his arms around Touya from behind, "she's got good taste. Red is definitely our color."

Touya laughed softly, leaning back into the embrace. "The height proportions are accurate too." He paused, then added more seriously, "They really see us as their family, don't they?"

"They do." Keigo rested his chin on Touya's shoulder. "And honestly? I kind of love that they do."

Outside the kitchen window, they could hear Yumi explaining to Hiro in great detail why his ring-bearer outfit absolutely needed to coordinate with her flower girl dress. Hiro's responses were typically practical, but notably lacking in any real protest.

"Not yet," Touya murmured, turning in Keigo's arms to face him, "but maybe..."

"Maybe," Keigo agreed, pressing a soft kiss to Touya's temple. "And in the meantime, we have quite the wedding planning committee to keep happy."

As if on cue, Yumi's voice floated in from the living room: "Keigo-san! Touya-san! What do you think about doves? Can we have doves?"

They shared a look, both fighting back smiles. Not yet, but maybe – and that maybe felt more like a promise with each passing day.

Rei moved with eerie calm through the dimly lit alleyway, every step precise, each breath steady. The man lying crumpled on the ground before her was barely conscious, frost edging his lips as he struggled to breathe. He’d been a dangerous one—a dealer who’d begun preying on families in her neighborhood, his “clients” forced into addiction to line his pockets. He wouldn’t be troubling anyone anymore.

Kneeling beside him, she surveyed her work. There was no evidence left behind, only a chill in the air that would disperse by dawn. The police might find the body, but she’d already ensured no prints, no stray hairs, and no signs of her presence would remain. This life she led, this silent war she waged in the name of her family, had left her with perfected methods and meticulous instincts honed by years of calculated caution. She would never let anyone draw the line back to her home, her loved ones.

As she finished, she took a moment to gather herself, her expression softening as she thought of the Todoroki home she was about to return to. Her fingers brushed against a small package in her pocket—a box of handmade sweets she’d picked up for her family on the way to... well, to this moment. She was particularly looking forward to sharing them with Shoto and Fuyumi, her own children, but even more so with the two newcomers: Hiro and Yumi. She couldn’t shake the sense that she knew them, that the echoes of some distant memory lingered in the back of her mind whenever she looked at them. The feeling was uncanny, familiar, and oddly nostalgic, as if she’d known them in another lifetime.

But that was ridiculous. What mattered was the here and now—the present, where her duty to protect was absolute. Her past didn’t matter; she’d left those pieces behind long ago, back when she was Douma. Douma is nothing more than a myth now.

Once her task was complete, she adjusted her coat, smoothing the wrinkles and securing her calm, motherly smile. Rei stepped out of the shadows and into the lamplight, her figure ghostly yet benign to any passerby who might have noticed her. By the time she reached the corner, she looked nothing like the lethal figure who haunted criminal across the city. She was just a mother, returning home to her family.

Chapter Text

Detective Tanaka slammed his coffee mug down, dark liquid sloshing onto yet another dead-end report. Three more weeks, four more bodies, and still nothing. The latest victim had been found in the warehouse district, a corrupt dock supervisor who'd been forcing single mothers to work dangerous night shifts. Like all the others, frozen from within, not a trace of evidence left behind.

"Sir?" His junior detective stood in the doorway, hesitant. "Forensics came back on the dock supervisor case."

"Let me guess," Tanaka rubbed his temples. "No DNA, no quirk signature, no witnesses."

"Not even footprints this time. It's like... like they're getting better at this."

---

Eraserhead perched on a rooftop; his capture weapon coiled tight around his shoulders. His eyes burned from staying open too long, searching for any hint of quirk activity. Below, another of his stakeouts yielded nothing but wasted time and growing frustration.

In his notebook, a new entry:

*Day 47 of surveillance. Target area chosen based on predicted pattern. Subject known to frequent location: Yakuza enforcer, confirmed involvement in school protection racket. Perfect candidate for Ghost's methodology. And yet, nothing. Either they know I'm watching, or their intelligence network exceeds even my estimates.*

*Previous theories proving insufficient. Quirk erasure continues to detect nothing. Starting to question fundamental assumptions about power classification system itself.*

---

In the sterile confines of the Shie Hassaikai compound, Overhaul paced, his mask concealing a rare expression of genuine concern. The trap had failed. Spectacularly.

They'd planted the perfect bait – a supposedly leaked operation targeting a children's hospital. The security had been extensive, hidden cameras covering every angle, sensors capable of detecting the slightest temperature fluctuation. His best men had been stationed throughout the area.

The target they'd used as bait had still disappeared. The security footage showed nothing but digital static, the sensors reported impossible readings, and three of his men were found frozen solid in their hiding spots. No traces, no clues, just that same damnable precision.

---

"Fascinating," All For One mused, listening to Kurogiri's latest report. "Our observers?"

"All twelve have disappeared over the past month," Kurogiri replied. "The last one managed to send a partial message. Just two words: 'Cold' and 'Impossible.'"

All For One's fingers drummed on his armrest. "In all my years... all the quirks I've encountered, studied, taken... nothing quite like this. It's as if we're trying to catch smoke with our bare hands. The more resources we devote to observation, the more we lose. Most... irritating."

---

The Hero Commission's latest emergency meeting had devolved into barely controlled chaos.

"We've lost three underground heroes attempting to track them!" one commissioner shouted. "Top stealth operators, completely undetected by villains for years, gone without a trace!"

"The public is starting to talk," another added. "They're calling the Demon a true hero, saying they're doing what we can't or won't do. Our approval ratings are dropping!"

"What about the quirk research team?"

"Disbanded after their lead theorist was found frozen solid in his lab. He'd apparently been taking bribes to falsify quirk registration documents. Something the Demon apparently took issue with."

---

On the streets, the whispers grew darker, more fearful:

"They got Shadowstep last week. Best infiltrator in the business. Said he could slip past any security, hide from anyone. Found him curled up in his panic room, frozen solid. The room was still locked from the inside."

"You hear about the new theory? Some saying it ain't even a person. More like a force of nature. Like gravity or death itself. Just this thing that comes for anyone who hurts families."

"My cousin's gang used to run protection rackets near schools. They've all gone straight, working legitimate jobs now. Say it ain't worth the risk. Say nobody's figured out how to stop the Demon 'cause you can't stop something that ain't natural to begin with."

---

In his office, Detective Tanaka stared at his evidence wall. Photos, reports, theories, all connected by red string that led nowhere. His coffee had gone cold, untouched for hours. A new file had just landed on his desk – another body, another perfect execution, another dead end.

He thought about the patterns, the precision, the impossible lack of evidence. Thought about how each new attempt to catch the Demon only seemed to make them stronger, more efficient, more ghostlike.

For the first time in his career, he considered taking down the evidence wall. Not because he was giving up, but because he was starting to understand a terrible truth: They weren't failing to solve the case. They were failing to accept that some things weren't meant to be solved.

The Frost Demon had become more than a case. It had become a reminder that in a world of quirks and heroes, there were still mysteries beyond their understanding. And perhaps that was exactly what they were meant to be.

___

All For One sat across from his protégé, Tomura Shigaraki, the two men's gazes locked in a silent exchange. The room was filled with a heavy anticipation, an almost palpable tension that hung in the air. At last, the door to the private meeting room creaked open, admitting a third figure.

The newcomer’s presence was immediate and powerful, filling the room with an aura that bordered on otherworldly. They stood at 6’2 with a broad, muscular frame and an elegance that felt almost inhuman. His features were sharp and angular, with pale skin that had a smooth, alabaster sheen, accentuating the piercing purple eyes that glowed faintly from beneath a dark fringe of hair. The slight, fang-like teeth peeking from his lips lent a distinctly predatory edge to his otherwise composed face.

They were dressed in a double-breasted coat of deep purple and black, fitted like armor but with a dark elegance. Rows of buttons ran down the front, while intricate, almost Victorian-era stitching adorned the chest and sleeves, lending an antique air to the military-inspired design. A katana-style sword hung at his side, the ornate hilt gleaming as if newly polished, yet the scabbard carried marks of wear, suggesting the weapon had seen more than a few battles.

All For One gestured toward the imposing figure. “Tomura,” he said, his voice smooth, “This is Yoru. A… unique addition to our family.”

Yoru inclined his head slightly, his purple eyes meeting Tomura’s with an expression that was unreadable, yet intense. The moment stretched, and in the silence, Tomura could feel something cold and deliberate radiating from the person.

Tomura eyed Yoru with a mixture of curiosity and caution, noting the silent grace with which he carried himself like a shadow poised to strike. “And what exactly can they do, Sensei?”

All For One’s lips curled in a smile. "Ah, that, my dear pupil, is something I am very eager for you to discover. Yoru’s abilities are… quite unique. Consider them a gift—to aid you, to protect our vision. They are here to help you in any way necessary." He leaned back, his gaze never leaving Yoru. “Their power is… intriguing, to say the least.”

Yoru’s presence was quiet but undeniable as if the shadows themselves had solidified into his form. He took a step forward, each movement silent and calculated, like the unfolding of some ancient, dangerous weapon. Tomura noticed that as Yoru moved, the room seemed darker, colder, the air thicker with an unspoken threat. It was an odd sensation, as though he were face-to-face not merely with another person his same age but with something much older, something that had learned patience through lifetimes.

Yoru’s eyes, still fixed on Tomura, held a depth that was both chilling and profound, almost like a reflection that gave nothing away. Tomura couldn’t shake the sense that he was being watched, not just by Yoru’s gaze, but by some presence he couldn’t see. He finally tore his eyes away, glancing back at All For One.

All For One’s slight smile deepened. “There’s a reason this person has chosen the name Yoru . The night itself walks with him.”

Yoru held Shigaraki’s gaze, inclining their head in a subtle nod of acknowledgment, but still said nothing. The silence was unnerving as if Yoru were waiting for some signal to act, yet Shigaraki couldn’t deny the allure of having such a presence on his side.

“Well, then,” Tomura murmured, masking his discomfort, “I look forward to seeing what they can do.”

With that, Yoru’s gaze dropped respectfully, standing silently behind Shigaraki in what felt like a knightly gesture of readiness. Shigaraki glanced once more at his mentor, noting the strange glint of satisfaction in All For One’s eyes, but he let the moment pass.

Chapter Text

The warm light of the Todoroki household's dining room framed Shoto as he sat across from his parents, Rei and Enji. His posture was as composed as ever, but a subtle tension tightened his jaw as he looked between the two of them.

Shoto had been rehearsing his argument all day, steeling himself as he approached his parents in the living room. His fingers were slightly clenched, the kind of nervous tension that spoke of carefully controlled excitement. "I want to take the U.A. entrance exam," he announced, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

The look his parents exchanged was instantaneous. Rei's eyebrow raised slightly, while Enji's expression shifted into something between amusement and disbelief.

"No," they said in unison.

"Why?" Shoto demanded, his voice a mix of frustration and genuine confusion.

Enji exhaled, crossing his arms as he fixed Shoto with a measured gaze. "Do you honestly think the entrance exam is the best use of your abilities?"

"I want to prove myself," Shoto insisted, his voice rising slightly.

Enji arched an eyebrow. "Prove yourself? Shoto, you’ve already done that—countless times over. Let me remind you." He leaned forward, his tone taking on an authoritative edge. "Under your mother’s guidance, you’ve become one of the most proficient practitioners of tessenjutsu I’ve ever seen. You've mastered Total Concentration Constant—something even your siblings struggle with. And your control over your ice quirk is unparalleled for someone your age."

Shoto’s eyes narrowed. "And that means I can’t take the entrance exam because…?"

Rei nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You've developed techniques that most pro heroes would take years to perfect."

"But my fire—" Shoto started to interject.

"We can work on that," Enji cut him off. "But putting you in the entrance exam would be..." He searched for the right word. "Overkill,” Enji replied bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It’s not about whether you’d pass—you would. Easily. It’s about giving others a fair chance. If we put you in the entrance exam, you’d dominate, and that's not what we want."

Shoto’s gaze darted to Rei, searching for some sign of compromise. His mother met his eyes with a calm yet resolute expression.

"Your father is right," Rei said gently but firmly. "You don’t need to prove yourself, Shoto. Not to us, not to anyone. We’re proud of you for being you—not for what you can achieve. We see the hard work you’ve already put into becoming a hero. That’s enough."

"But Touya—" Shoto began, his voice catching as frustration welled up.

Rei’s expression softened, but she leaned forward, her tone sharpening slightly. "This isn’t about Touya. You don’t need to follow his path or anyone else’s. You are Shoto Todoroki, and the choices you make should reflect your journey—not someone else’s."

"We've discussed it," Rei added, her voice gentle but firm. "And we believe you'd be better served with a recommendation." Her eyes softened. "You don't need to prove yourself by taking a standard exam, Shoto. Your path is your own."

Shoto's shoulders slumped. He'd wanted to be like Touya, to fight his way through like everyone else. To earn his place the hard way.

"I wanted to take the exam with Mina and Eijiro," he mumbled, a rare moment of vulnerability showing through his usually composed exterior.

Enji's expression softened slightly. "You can still support them," he suggested. "Go to the exam, cheer them on. There's strength in supporting your friends."

Something in Shoto's posture relaxed. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was something.

Rei reached out, touching his hand. "You are already great," she said softly. "Not because of an exam, not because of your quirk, but because of who you are. We're proud of you, simply for being you."

It was the kind of unconditional support Shoto was still getting used to. A far cry from the strict training of years past.

"Fine," Shoto agreed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'll go support Mina and Eijiro."

The room settled into a comfortable silence. Another moment of growth, another step in the complicated dance of the Todoroki family's healing.

Enji caught Rei's eye, a silent communication passing between them. Their son was growing up, finding his own path—and they were learning to guide, not control.

_____

The U.A. entrance exam grounds were bustling with exhausted but excited students. Mina bounced on her heels, her pink skin practically vibrating with energy as she scanned the crowd for her friends. Eijiro stood beside her, quieter and more reserved, his black hair slightly disheveled from the intense examination.

"That was crazy!" Mina exclaimed, her infectious enthusiasm cutting through the nervous atmosphere. "Did you see some of those robot targets? I totally crushed those!" She punched the air, her excitement uncontainable.

Eijiro nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. His shy demeanor was a stark contrast to Mina's vibrant personality. "It was challenging," he mumbled, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

As they waited, Shoto approached them, his usual calm demeanor intact. Mina's face lit up. "Shoto! Where were you during the exam? We were looking everywhere for you!"

Shoto's response was matter-of-fact. "I'm entering U.A. on a recommendation." There was no boasting in his tone, just simple statement of fact.

Mina's reaction was immediate and characteristic. "That's so cool!" she cheered, throwing an arm around Shoto's shoulders. "We're all going to be at the same school! This is going to be amazing!"

Eijiro, however, was more cautious. "Mina, wait," he said softly, his black eyes concerned. "Not everything is guaranteed yet. We still need to wait for the results."

Shoto didn't seem bothered by the uncertainty. For him, this was just another step in the journey, another moment shared with friends. "Want to get something to eat?" he asked, a rare hint of warmth in his voice.

Mina's enthusiastic "YES!" was matched by Eijiro's more subdued nod. The three friends walked together, their different personalities creating a dynamic that was uniquely their own—Mina's boundless energy, Eijiro's quiet support, and Shoto's steady presence.

As they walked, the anticipation of their future at U.A. hung in the air—a promise of adventures, challenges, and growth that lay ahead.

Chapter Text

The soft chime of Shoto's alarm echoed through the Todoroki household as the first rays of sunlight peeked through his curtains. He blinked groggily, staring at the ceiling for a moment before remembering: it was his first day at U.A. High School.

His stomach flipped as he swung his legs out of bed and started getting ready. The crisp new uniform hung on a hook by his desk, its clean lines and bold colors a stark reminder of the expectations ahead.

By the time Shoto made his way downstairs, the dining table was alive with chatter.

His siblings were already gathered: Fuyumi pouring coffee, Natsuo munching on toast, and Touya leaning casually against the counter with an amused smirk on his face. Rei was by the stove, humming softly as she prepared breakfast.

Enji was dressed in his hero work attire, his massive frame slightly hunched over a cup of coffee, reviewing some work documents. Rei moved between the counter and the refrigerator, carefully preparing lunch boxes with the practiced efficiency of a mother who has done this countless times before.

Shoto sat at the table, his hands wrapped nervously around a cup of tea, his stomach a bundle of nerves. It was his first day at U.A., and despite his exceptional training, he felt anything but confident.

“Morning, Shoto!” Rei greeted brightly, setting a plate of food down for him.

“Morning,” Shoto mumbled, sliding into his seat. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his uniform jacket.

Rei noticed immediately and leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You’re going to be amazing today,” she said softly, her smile warm and reassuring.

Shoto’s face flushed a faint pink, and he ducked his head. “Thanks, Mom.”

Touya, who had been sipping his coffee, nearly choked at the sight. “Aw, look at that! Shoto’s blushing! What a softie,” he teased, his grin wide and mischievous.

Enji raised an eyebrow, his deep voice cutting through the room. “Touya, don’t you have anything better to do than torment your brother?”

Touya smirked, undeterred. “Oh, come on, Dad. Lighten up a bit.” He turned to Shoto; “U.A. won't know what hit them."

Natsuo snickered from his spot near the toaster. "Speaking of things hitting," he said with a mischievous grin, "how's Keigo?"

The cup Touya had been holding clattered onto the counter. His face went scarlet as he sputtered, “What?! No, I’m not—! Shut up, Natsuo!”

Fuyumi covered her mouth to stifle her laughter, but it was no use. Soon, the entire family was laughing—except for Touya, who glared at Natsuo like he’d just declared war. Even Enji’s lips twitched as though he was suppressing a smile.

“Alright, alright, enough,” Rei interjected, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She handed out neatly packed lunches to each of her children, her movements practiced and graceful.

“Here you go, Natsuo,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Mom, I’m too old for this!” Natsuo groaned, squirming in mock protest.

Rei simply smiled, unbothered. “You’re never too old to be loved.”

Shoto accepted his lunch without complaint, the kiss on his cheek doing little to lessen the growing nervousness in his chest. He gripped the edge of the table tightly, staring at his food as though it might give him courage.

Touya noticed the tension in his younger brother’s posture. “Hey, you’re going to be fine,” he said, clapping a hand on Shoto’s shoulder. “You’ve got this. U.A. won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Thanks,” Shoto muttered, though the words didn’t ease his nerves entirely.

Rei pressed another kiss to his head before straightening up. “You’ll do great, Shoto. Remember, just be yourself.”

As the Todoroki siblings gathered their things, they all filed out the door together. Rei waved goodbye with a cheerful smile. “Have a great day, everyone! Be safe!”

Touya shot a dramatic look over his shoulder. “Mom, you’re going to make me cry,” he teased.

“You’ll live,” Rei replied playfully, blowing him a kiss.

Enji, already in his hero car, motioned for Shoto to hop in. Shoto glanced back at his siblings waving from the porch before settling into the passenger seat.

The drive to U.A. was quiet, but Enji finally spoke as they neared the gates. “You’re going to make us proud, Shoto. But don’t focus on that—focus on what you want to achieve for yourself.”

Shoto nodded, his grip on his lunch tightening. “Thanks, Dad.”

Enji gave a short nod in return. “Go get ‘em.”

With that, Shoto stepped out of the car, standing before the massive gates of U.A. High School. He exhaled slowly, nerves and excitement intertwining as he prepared to take his first step toward the future.

The gates of U.A. High loomed before Shoto Todoroki as he approached, the excitement and anxiety of the day swirling in his chest. He adjusted his bag over his shoulder, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves. It was then he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Shoto!”

Turning, Shoto saw Mina Ashido waving enthusiastically, her pink skin gleaming in the morning sunlight. Beside her stood Eijiro Kirishima, but something about him was... different.

“Hey, Shoto! Long time no see!” Eijiro grinned, his energy almost tangible. His hair, spiked out in all directions and gelled into sharp angles, made him look bold and confident. The pronounced tufts on either side of his forehead gave him an almost horned appearance.

“Eijiro?” Shoto said, surprised.

“Yeah, it’s me! What do you think?” Eijiro gestured to his hair with pride.

Mina chimed in, “I told him it looks super cool! Like a battle-ready hero.”

Shoto took in Eijiro’s confident demeanor, noting the shift from the shy, reserved boy he remembered. A small smile tugged at his lips. “It suits you.”

Eijiro’s face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Aw, thanks, man. I just wanted to be the best version of myself, you know?”

Shoto nodded. “You’ve definitely come into your own.”

Mina threw her arms around both of them. “Alright, enough chit-chat! Let’s get moving! We’re gonna conquer U.A. together!”

The trio walked through the gates and into the towering building, Shoto feeling a bit more at ease with his childhood friends by his side. As they navigated the hallways, their chatter and laughter distracted him from his lingering nerves.

When they reached Class 1-A, the sheer size of the door made Shoto pause. “Why is it so big?” he muttered.

Mina shrugged. “Maybe they’re compensating for something.”

Eijiro chuckled, pushing the door open. “C’mon, let’s go claim our seats!”

The classroom buzzed with energy as students introduced themselves. Mina and Eijiro quickly found seats next to each other, and Shoto settled in behind Eijiro.

“Alright, squad!” Mina leaned back to include Shoto in their conversation. “This is gonna be our year!”

Shoto managed a small smile, Mina’s infectious enthusiasm lifting his spirits. “I hope so.”

As the three of them chatted, Shoto found himself genuinely enjoying their company. He was so immersed in their conversation that he didn’t notice the argument brewing nearby. It wasn’t until he caught movement on the floor—a yellow sleeping bag—that his focus shifted.

Shoto tilted his head, his mother’s voice echoing in his mind: Be observant. Always pay attention to your surroundings.

“What’s that?” he murmured, narrowing his eyes.

Before Mina or Eijiro could answer, the sleeping bag began to move. The entire class fell silent as a disheveled man emerged, his dark hair tangled and eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

“It took you seven seconds to quiet down,” the man said flatly. “That’s not going to cut it.”

The students stared, stunned, as the man introduced himself. “I’m Shota Aizawa, your homeroom teacher.”

Mina leaned over, whispering to Shoto, “Is he... always like this?”

“I don’t know,” Shoto replied, his voice as quiet as hers.

Aizawa's movements were precise and economical as he distributed the white and blue P.E. uniforms. Each student received their clothing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, the fabric crisp and emblazoned with U.A.'s distinctive logo.

"Change quickly," he commanded, his voice flat and unyielding. "We're wasting daylight."

The P.E. grounds stretched before them—a vast expanse of meticulously maintained athletic spaces that seemed to promise challenge and potential. Mina bounced on her toes, her pink skin practically vibrating with excitement. "This is going to be amazing!" she whispered to Shoto, her eyes sparkling.

Shoto, ever the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow. "It's a test," he responded coolly. "Not a celebration."

Nearby, Eijiro and Sero exchanged grins, their anticipation palpable. Sero nudged Eijiro, "Think we'll get to use our quirks?" The excitement was infectious, but tempered by the imposing presence of their homeroom teacher.

Aizawa stood center stage, his eyes scanning the students like a predator assessing prey. "This is a Quirk Apprehension Test," he announced without preamble. "In middle school, you were prohibited from using your quirks. Here, we'll see what you're truly capable of."

Uraraka's hand shot up, a look of confusion crossing her face. "But what about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?"

A dry chuckle escaped Aizawa—more a bark of dismissal than genuine humor. "Heroes don't have time for ceremonies," he stated flatly. "U.A.'s selling point is its unrestricted approach. that's how teachers run their classes; and it works."

He turned his attention to Bakugo, a calculated move that immediately drew everyone's focus. "Bakugo. Your best softball throw in middle school?"

"Sixty-seven meters," Bakugo responded tersely, his eyes already calculating.

"Use your quirk," Aizawa instructed. "Stay in the circle. Do whatever you want."

The moment stretched. Bakugo stood motionless, the ball seemingly magnetized to his hand. Then—a sudden explosion of movement. His quirk erupted, and the ball sailed past seven hundred meters, leaving a trail of smoke and shocked expressions.

The excitement among the students reached a fever pitch. Mina was practically bouncing, Eijiro's new spiky hair seemed to stand even more on end with anticipation, and Sero could barely contain his grin.

But Aizawa's next words cut through their enthusiasm like a knife.

"The student who ranks last in total points will be immediately expelled."

Silence crashed over the group. Ochaco's voice broke through, a mixture of disbelief and protest. "That's not fair!"

Aizawa's gaze was merciless. "The world isn't fair," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "A hero's job is to combat that unfairness. Calamities don't announce themselves. They don't play by rules. And neither do we."

In the background, hidden from view but very much present, All Might watched with growing concern. His eyes were fixed on Izuku, worry etching lines into his features.

The first test was the 50-meter dash. Everything was nice the students were putting a lot of effort into the tests using their quirks in creative ways. After a couple of students, Mina went up next paired against Aoyama—a quirky boy with a sparkling costume and an even more sparkling personality. Her pink skin seemed to glow with determination as she burst down the track, finishing with an impressive 5.51 seconds.

"Nice job!" Shoto called out, his rare smile a subtle curve of appreciation.

Mina bounced back, practically vibrating with excitement. "Your turn now!" she chirped, pushing Shoto forward with playful enthusiasm.

The next pair was a study in contrasts: Bakugo and Midoriya. Their interaction was a delicate dance of unspoken history. Bakugo, almost casually, offered Izuku a smile and a "good luck"—not malicious, but not entirely warm either.

When the bell rang, something shifted in the air. Midoriya ran with visible effort, his legs pumping. Bakugo, however, seemed to simply... appear at the finish line, already stretching. The camera read 0.05 seconds—a time so impossibly fast it made everyone stop. Even Aizawa's perpetually tired eyes widened.

Shoto's turn came next. Remembering his parents' warnings about being "overkill," he deliberately held back. Yet, "holding back" for Shoto was still extraordinary. His score: 1 second flat. Faster than Iida, faster than seemingly possible.

"Wow!" Eijiro exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

Shoto shrugged, a gesture that spoke volumes about his complex training.

Then came Denki Kaminari—a study in controlled chaos. His magatama necklace hung loosely, his uniform slightly disheveled, projecting an air of calculated nonchalance. When the start signal sounded, all anyone heard was thunder.

The robot tracking system declared it an "error"—impossible to measure.

Denki looked at the camera, a sheepish grin masking something deeper. An arrogance that reminded Shoto of the underground hero stories Touya would tell—predatory, dangerous.

"Can I go again?" he asked, his tone dripping with something between innocence and challenge.

Aizawa, recognizing something in Denki's demeanor, nodded.

The second run was identical. Thunder. Movement. A score of 0.001 seconds.

From the back of the class, Bakugo watched—his eyes flickering between their normal color and a strange, molten gold. A mischievous smile played on his lips.

"This," he thought to himself, "is going to be fun."

The Quirk Apprehension Test had just revealed that nothing—absolutely nothing—would be ordinary about this class.

The second test was grip strength;the Hydraulic Hand Dynamometer, a machine designed to measure even the strongest athletes, met its match in three students: Bakugo, Denki, and Shoto.

As each gripped the device, the machine's digital display flickered and then shattered—a clear indication that their strength exceeded 800 kilograms. The testing robot blinked in apparent confusion, recalibrating repeatedly.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, the closest thing to surprise anyone had ever seen on his perpetually tired face.

The standing long jump came next. Most students prepared themselves, calculating their jumps. But Bakugo, Denki, and Shoto moved with an almost casual grace. They didn't just jump—they sailed over the sand pit as if gravity was merely a suggestion.

Midoriya watched from the sidelines. Bakugo, seemingly aware of his gaze, deliberately positioned himself slightly apart. Yet, as he completed his jump, he turned and gave Midoriya a thumbs-up—a gesture that felt both supportive and somehow forced.

The repeated side-steps test became an unexpected showcase of agility. Most students struggled, their movements becoming increasingly erratic. But one unexpected performer emerged—Mineta, the grape-headed student, who managed to keep pace with an almost supernatural persistence.

The ball throw brought a new level of intensity.

Denki approached the throwing circle with his characteristic mix of nonchalance and hidden intensity. His throw reached an impressive 698.2 meters. But something shifted in his demeanor—a barely audible "tch" escaped his lips, caught only by Bakugo and Shoto's keen ears.

It was the sound of someone not quite satisfied, someone competing against an invisible opponent.

Shoto's turn came next. He approached the throw with careful calculation, attempting to combine his fire and ice quirks. The result was a controlled explosion—but not quite perfect. His fire control wavered, and the ball sailed to 687.5 meters.

"Not bad," he muttered to himself, understanding that perfection would come with time.

Then came Uraraka's turn. Her throw defied all expectations—the ball simply disappeared, the measurement reading "infinity." The class erupted in shocked murmurs.

Izuku watched, realizing this was his final chance. The threat of expulsion hung over him like a dark cloud. Everything—his dreams, his future—came down to this moment.

Izuku stepped forward, determination etched into every line of his body. He tried to activate his quirk, but nothing happened. The ball remained stubbornly in his hand, a silent testament to his apparent failure.

Aizawa's eyes flashed—hair rising, scarf floating as if charged with static electricity. "Erasure Quirk activated," he announced coldly.

The class watched in stunned silence as Aizawa revealed his hero identity. "Eraser Head," he stated matter-of-factly, "and I've nullified your quirk."

His words cut like a knife. "Your quirk presents severe drawbacks," Aizawa continued, his voice clinical and harsh. "You'll be a liability to this hero course. You have no place here."

The weight of those words settled on Izuku like a physical burden. One throw. One chance to prove himself.

Bakugo watched from the sidelines, his expression a complex mix of shock and something deeper—recognition, perhaps even a hint of respect. Their eyes met briefly—a connection that spoke volumes about their complicated history.

Izuku took a deep breath. His options were razor-thin: use One For All and potentially destroy himself, or fail completely.

In that moment of decision, something shifted. At the very last second of his throw, Izuku concentrated his quirk through his fingertips—a pinpoint of incredible power.

The ball exploded forward, sailing an incredible 705.3 meters.

Silence erupted into shocked murmurs. Ochaco cheered. All Might, hidden but watching, was visibly impressed by Izuku's precise control.

Bakugo simply smiled—a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but held something between challenge and acknowledgment.

The next tests were the sit-ups and the seated toe touch. Shoto, thanks to his mother’s meticulous childhood training, moved through the exercises with a fluid grace that made them look effortless. But what truly caught his attention was the unexpected flexibility of Bakugo and Denki.

Bakugo stretched with a predatory precision, each movement calculated and powerful. Denki moved with a loose-limbed ease that seemed to defy normal human limitations, his movements reminiscent of something wild and untamed.

Finally, The long-distance run became a showcase of raw potential. Shoto and Bakugo led the pack, their competitive spirits creating an invisible tension. Denki and Momo followed closely behind. When Aizawa finally revealed the results, the class held its collective breath:

1. Shoto Todoroki
2. Katsuki Bakugo
3. Denki Kaminari
4. Momo Yaoyorozu
5. Tenya Iida
6. Fumikage Tokoyami
7. Mezo Shoji
8. Mashiro Ojiro
9. Eijiro Kirishima
10. Mina Ashido
11. Ochaco Uraraka
12. Koji Koda
13. Rikido Sato
14. Tsuyu Asui
15. Yuga Aoyama
16. Hanta Sero
17. Kyoka Jiro
18. Toru Hagakure
19. Minoru Mineta
20. Izuku Midoriya

Izuku's last-place finish seemed to crush his spirits. The threat of expulsion hung over him like a dark cloud—until Aizawa revealed it was all a ruse to push the students to their limits.

Momo nodded, remarking that it should have been obvious to anyone who thought about it.

But Shoto knew better. He'd seen the look in Aizawa's eyes—this was no mere teaching strategy. Something had genuinely changed in the moment.

Walking home, Mina and Eijiro bombarded Shoto with questions about his extraordinary performance.

"How did you get so strong?" Mina asked, her pink skin practically vibrating with curiosity.

"My mom," Shoto answered simply.

Eijiro raised an eyebrow. "Not your dad?" There was a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Shoto remained firm. "Definitely my mom. She would create these little games—we didn't even realize we were training. It was just... fun."

The conversation flowed easily as they walked, the bonds of friendship growing stronger with each step. Eventually, they parted ways, Shoto waving goodbye before continuing home.

When Shoto finally reached home, the smell of cold soba greeted him. Rei turned from the stove, her face lighting up.

“How was your first day?” she asked, her tone warm and inviting.

Shoto smiled softly. “It was... interesting.”

Rei chuckled, setting the bowl of soba on the table. “That’s a good start. Come, eat. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

As Shoto sat down to eat, he felt a quiet sense of contentment. The day had been chaotic, but it also marked the beginning of something new—something exciting. With his mother’s support and his friends by his side, he was ready to face whatever U.A. had in store. Though he is worried about those two boys he met.

Chapter Text

The sun streamed through the windows of Class 1-A as the students settled into their desks. Today was a stark contrast to yesterday's grueling Quirk Apprehension Test. Instead of intense physical trials, the schedule was filled with regular academic lessons.

English was their first lesson, taught by Present Mic. His enthusiasm was infectious, and while some of the students groaned at his dramatic teaching style, Mina and Eijiro were having a blast.

"Come on, everybody!" Present Mic shouted. "Let's conjugate this verb like it's the final boss of a video game!"

Mina nudged Shoto with her elbow, grinning. "Hey, Todoroki, what’s the English word for 'ice king'? That should be your nickname!"

Shoto blinked, tilting his head slightly. "Ice king?"

"Yeah! It's totally you! Cool, calm, and in control," Mina said with a wink.

Eijiro chuckled. "I dunno, Mina. He’s got the fire side too. Maybe 'Blazing Emperor'?"

Shoto gave a faint smile. "I don’t think I need a nickname."

"Aw, come on! You’re killing our fun!" Mina pouted, and Eijiro laughed along with her.

By the time lunch rolled around, Shoto felt a bit more at ease with his classmates. Mina grabbed his wrist as soon as the bell rang, dragging him and Eijiro toward the cafeteria.

"Come on, Todoroki! We’re getting the good stuff today," Mina said, her enthusiasm contagious.

When they arrived at the bustling cafeteria, Mina spotted Denki Kaminari at another table. Waving wildly, she called out, "Kaminari! Over here! Sit with us!"

Denki perked up and jogged over, tray in hand. "Hey, guys! You sure you want me to join?"

"Of course!" Mina said, scooting over to make space.

Shoto observed the interaction as they all sat together. Denki’s cheerful demeanor seemed different from yesterday’s slight cockiness. He looked genuinely happy to be included.

As they ate, the group fell into easy conversation. Mina and Eijiro talked about their favorite foods while Denki tried to one-up their stories with exaggerated tales of his training mishaps.

"You should’ve seen it!" Denki exclaimed, waving his hands dramatically. "I tried to zap a training dummy, but my quirk overloaded, and I fried myself instead!"

Mina burst into laughter. "Classic Kaminari!"

Eijiro grinned. "Man, you really gotta work on that."

Shoto, quietly eating his soba, glanced at Denki. "You were impressive during the Quirk Apprehension Test," he said suddenly.

Denki blinked, caught off guard. "Huh? Oh, uh... thanks, Todoroki. You too. You’ve got some crazy control over your quirks."

"It’s something I’ve trained for a long time," Shoto said. "But your speed and precision were remarkable. I think you could do a lot with that."

Denki rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks tinged pink. "Thanks, man. That means a lot coming from you."

Mina leaned in with a teasing grin. "Aw, look at this bromance forming. Kaminari, you’ve got Todoroki blushing!"

Shoto blinked in confusion. "I’m not blushing."

"Denki totally is, though!" Eijiro pointed out, and the table erupted in laughter.

By the end of lunch, Shoto found himself feeling a little more connected to his classmates, especially Denki. The boy’s laid-back attitude and willingness to acknowledge Shoto’s strengths had built a foundation of mutual respect.

Now that lunch was over, it was time for the class everyone had been waiting for - Hero Basic Training. Thundering steps echoed through the door as a towering figure entered the room.

"I am... coming through the door like a normal person," boomed the distinctive voice of All Might. The students' eyes widened in awe at the sight of the legendary hero standing before them.

"It's All Might!" Denki exclaimed, barely containing his excitement. "Wow, he really is a teacher," Eijiro said, the students captivated by All Might's presence.

Many noticed his costume was from the Silver Age, its striking style giving them goosebumps. However, Shoto was unimpressed, seeing All Might's persona as simply an exaggerated personification of American ideals.

"I'll be teaching Hero Basic Training," All Might announced, his voice resonating through the classroom. Shoto zoned out, not sharing the hype. Across the room, he noticed Bakugo staring out the window, clearly bored and irritated by All Might's booming presence.

"Let's get into it today," All Might said, snapping the students back to attention. "This is what we'll be doing today: Combat training."

Izuku felt a tinge of fear creep up his spine. He could practically sense Bakugo's sinister smile in front of him, dreading the prospect of combat training.

"And to go with that are these," All Might pointed to the many costumes. "Costumes made based on your quirk registrations and requests sent in before school started." The class erupted into excited chatter as they made their way to the locker rooms, with All Might instructing them to meet him at Ground Beta.

Shoto felt a mixture of anticipation and nervousness bubbling in his stomach. This would be the first time his classmates saw him fight, and he didn't want to scare them.

As he entered the boys' locker room, Denki couldn't help but notice the looks Shoto was receiving. Curious glances turned into outright stares as Shoto began to change, revealing a physique that would make even Touya proud. Years of training with his family had sculpted his body - toned and lean, with muscles built on repeated practice and muscle memory, rather than pure mass.

"Woah Sho, I knew you were ripped, but I didn't know you were this ripped," Kirishima's voice cut through the silence, his eyes wide with admiration. "What's your secret?"

Feeling a bit mischievous, Shoto replied, "It's a secret," putting one finger to his lips, just like his mother does.

Shoto then turned his gaze towards Bakugo and was stunned. Bakugo was actually more fit than him - more muscular, with fair skin almost as pale as his mother's, and a waistline so small that if Shoto put his hands around it, they would connect.

"Woah, Bakugo, you're ripped too! You must work out like crazy! We should totally hit the gym together sometime!" Eijiro exclaimed, surprisingly eliciting a blush from the usually gruff Bakugo.

"We should all work out together!" Denki said excitedly. "But we really should get going."

Shoto nodded as he finished putting on his costume. The commotion near the door caught his attention - Mineta was inching towards the exit, his eyes fixed on something in the hallway. This confused Shoto; Mineta wasn't even in his full hero costume yet, so why was he trying to sneak off?

Shoto's eyes then landed on Bakugo, who was approaching Mineta with a blank, unreadable expression. Shoto knew from experience that nothing good happened when Bakugo wore that look - courtesy of Keigo that one time someone made Yumi cry. Moving with speed and silence, Bakugo reached Mineta and swiftly whacked him across the head. Before the shorter boy could even squeak in surprise, Bakugo had him by the ear, dragging him back into the locker room.

Shoto didn't wait around to see what happened to Mineta - he booked it out of there the second he sensed trouble brewing. The muffled screams coming from the locker room only confirmed his suspicions.

As Shoto emerged, he took a moment to examine his own costume. It consisted of a blue turtleneck with a design that made the section between his neck and upper chest appear covered in black, flame-like substance. This same motif was repeated at his wrists and down his hands. Below, he wore straight, black-colored hakama pants with a pinstriped design, secured by a white belt that held four small metal capsules containing medical supplies.

Following close behind was Denki, who wore a block kimono and a white bodysuit to expose his signature magatama-necklaces around his neck. He also sported a pair of equally black tattsuke-hakama pants, white kyahan wrapped around his ankles, and black boots.

"Look, we're matching!" Denki said excitedly, brimming with enthusiasm.

"Wow, you must be really excited, Denki," Mina remarked as she and Eijiro joined them, both sporting their own impressive costumes.

"Nice outfits, guys! They look really manly on you," Eijiro complimented, causing Denki to blush.

Shoto's gaze then landed on Bakugo, who had emerged from the locker room. His costume consisted of a sleeveless dark green bodysuit with loose, light-colored pants tucked into boots. He also had grey armbands connected to a wing-like cloth attached to his back. Shoto was stunned - the simple yet striking design made Bakugo look...commanding.

As Bakugo looked Shoto up and down, he offered a compliment on Shoto's costume, as well as those of Denki, Mina, and Eijiro. The group fell silent, awed by Bakugo's unexpected acknowledgment, like a "popular girl walking past," as Natsuo would say.

Once everyone was ready, they all gathered at Ground Beta, the very same training area where the practical entrance exam had been held.

All Might went through the rules for the exercise. The class would be broken into ten teams, half heroes and half villains. The villains would guard a nuclear weapon they planned to deploy, and the heroes had to stop their scheme. If the heroes captured the villains or reached the nuclear core before time ran out, they would win. If the villains managed to keep the nuclear core for the whole time or captured the heroes, they would win.

The teams were drawn randomly from lots. Shoto hoped he would get paired with someone he knew, but he ended up with Shoji. Shoji wasn't all that bad, he was quiet and nice to talk to, empathetic and gentle. Shoto knew his family would likely love Shoji.

The first matchup was Team A (Izuku & Ochaco) against Team D (Katsuki & Tenya). Shoto was the only one who noticed Bakugo's neutral face take on a devious, almost evil-looking smile, as if he was cooking up some sinister plan. 

Shoto knew this matchup was not going to end well.

Chapter Text

The day started like any other, with laughter and mild chaos. Keigo leaned against the doorway of his modest but cozy apartment, watching Hiro blow his nose into a tissue while Yumi sat beside him, braiding his messy hair with ribbons she found in her toy box.

“Don’t put those in, Yumi,” Hiro groaned weakly, sniffling. “I’m sick. Sick kids don’t need ribbons.”

Yumi ignored him completely, humming softly as she worked. Her little fingers moved with surprising skill for someone her age. Keigo smirked at the sight.

“Medicine’s running low,” Keigo finally spoke up, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. “Touya, Shoto, let’s hit the store and grab what we need. I’m not letting Hiro turn into a snot monster on my watch.”

“I’m not a monster,” Hiro mumbled in protest, blowing his nose dramatically. Shoto snorted quietly, while Touya flashed one of his rare grins. The mood was light. Normal. Safe.

Keigo turned his gaze toward Yumi. “You’re coming too, Sunshine. Don’t want you driving Hiro nuts while he’s down for the count.”

Yumi perked up, dropping the ribbons and jumping to her feet. “Really?!”

“Really.”

The local convenience store bustled with people, its aisles stacked with everything from first-aid supplies to candy. Keigo led the group with his usual calm, golden eyes sharp as ever. Shoto trailed behind, hands stuffed in his pockets, while Touya kept one hand on Shoto’s shoulder—partially to annoy him, partially to keep him close.

“We’ll split up,” Keigo decided. “You two get sweets for Hiro—whatever you think he’ll like. Yumi and I will handle the medicine.”

“Why do we always get the candy?” Shoto mumbled.

“Because Hiro likes what I pick out,” Touya said smugly, ruffling Shoto’s hair. “Don’t question perfection, half-pint.”

Keigo snorted as Shoto swatted Touya’s hand away, then turned his attention to Yumi. “Come on, kiddo.”

Yumi held onto Keigo’s hand as they headed for the pharmacy aisle. Her steps were small but bouncy, and she hummed under her breath again—that same tune she always seemed to sing when she felt safe. Keigo found it reassuring.

The shelves lined with medicine were dull, but Yumi’s bright, curious eyes never dimmed. She started wandering just a little, peeking at colorful bottles while Keigo squinted at labels.

“Cold medicine, cold medicine… why are there a thousand versions of everything?” he muttered.

Yumi’s small voice piped up. “Can I look over there?” She pointed down a nearby aisle where shampoos and hair products lined the walls.

Keigo didn’t look up immediately. “Yeah, but stay close, alright? Don’t go too far.”

“Okay!”

Yumi hummed as she wandered, running her fingers over brightly colored bottles. Her thoughts were full of ribbons and braids, of how she might style Hiro’s hair next time he let her. Then, without warning, she bumped into something—someone.

She stumbled back, blinking up at the figure of a tall, middle-aged man. His smile stretched too wide, revealing crooked teeth. The way his eyes dropped to her small frame made her stomach twist.

“Well, aren’t you just adorable,” the man said, voice gravelly.

Yumi froze. Her heart pounded in her chest. Something felt wrong .

Before she could move, the man reached out and touched her hair. He ran his hand down the silky strands, and an image flashed across Yumi’s mind—an image she didn’t recognize but somehow knew .

A dark room. Strange men. Pain. Daki’s voice echoed faintly, filled with horror and helplessness: “Don’t touch me…”

Yumi’s lip quivered. Tears welled in her big eyes. “D-Don’t touch me,” she whispered, stepping back.

The man chuckled. “Aw, don’t cry now. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

But Yumi did cry. The tears started silently at first, her tiny shoulders shaking. Then the sobs broke free.

And Keigo heard it.

The moment the sound reached his ears, Keigo's entire world contracted to a single, piercing note: Yumi's cry.

It wasn't just a sound. It was a fracture in the universe, a shattering of everything safe and good. Years of training, of missions, of watching and protecting—they all condensed into this singular, primal moment. Yumi was crying.

Time seemed to slow. In that split second of freezing, a thousand memories flashed through Keigo's mind. Yumi's first day with them. Her tiny hands braiding Hiro's hair. Her resilient smile after nightmares. The way she'd looked at him that first night, broken and scared, and how he'd promised—silently, fiercely—that she would never feel that kind of fear again.

Yumi.

The name wasn't just a name in his head. It was a trigger, a nuclear reactor of protective energy suddenly going critical. His body wasn't just moving—it was teleporting, weaving through store aisles with a predator's precision. Every muscle, every nerve ending was hyperaware, hunting.

When he saw her—hair disheveled, tears streaming, that small body trembling—something inside Keigo went absolutely zero. Not anger. Not rage. Something far more dangerous.

Cold calculation.

His mind split into two distinct channels. One part of him saw Yumi—his daughter, his sunshine —violated and frightened. That part wanted to tear the world apart. The other part—the strategic, trained part—was already three steps ahead, assessing threats, planning responses.

He'd seen this before. Not just in missions, but in Yumi's eyes. Those fleeting moments when trauma would peek through her smile. The ghost of memories she was too young to fully understand but too wounded to completely forget.

And now someone had touched her. Without permission. Without respect.

His expression went blank—but it wasn't emptiness. It was the stillness of a predator. The absolute zero of parental protection. Every instinct he'd ever developed as a hero, as a father, as a protector was now focused on one singular purpose: making sure Yumi felt safe again.

"K-Keigo…" Her broken whisper.

And in that moment, the world would burn before anyone hurt her again.

“Yumi.” Keigo’s voice was soft. Controlled. He crouched down and opened his arms, signaling for her to come to him. She ran to him without hesitation, clutching at his jacket as her sobs shook her tiny body.

By then, Touya and Shoto appeared at the end of the aisle, drawn by the sound. Shoto froze in place when he saw Keigo’s expression: utterly unreadable, but somehow sharper than anything he’d ever seen. Touya, meanwhile, stood with a hand over his mouth, his crimson eyes wide and focused solely on Keigo.

Keigo carefully handed Yumi to Shoto, who stiffened in surprise. “Hold her.”

“Wh-what?” Shoto stammered.

“Hold. Her.”

Shoto obeyed, pulling Yumi close as her sobs quieted to sniffles. His heart raced as he watched Keigo straighten and turn toward the man.

Keigo’s posture was relaxed, but his eyes—those piercing golden eyes—were anything but. He walked forward slowly, hands still in his pockets until he stood directly in front of the man.

"Sir," Keigo said, his voice deceptively calm. "Step back from my daughter."

The man's eyes flickered, first with confusion, then with a hint of challenge. "Your daughter? Just having a friendly chat, that's all." He held up his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

Keigo's golden eyes never wavered. "You call touching a child without consent a 'friendly chat'?"

A nervous chuckle escaped the man's throat. "Kids are resilient. She'll be fine."

"No," Keigo said, each word measured and sharp as a blade. "She won't be fine. Not after someone violates her personal space. Not after someone makes her feel unsafe."

Touya and Shoto had approached silently, forming a protective semi-circle around Yumi. The store's ambient noise seemed to fade, leaving only the tension between Keigo and the man.

"Look," the man said, a slight tremor in his voice, "I didn't mean anything by it. Just thought she was cute."

Keigo took a step closer. The man unconsciously stepped back.

"Children are not objects for your 'thought'," Keigo said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "They are human beings. With boundaries. With dignity."

The man's bravado was crumbling. He glanced around, suddenly aware of the attention, of Keigo's unwavering gaze. "I—I didn't—"

"You touched her without consent," Keigo interrupted. "You made her cry. You made her feel unsafe in a public space where she should feel protected."

His hand moved so quickly the man didn't see it coming. The sharp crack of skin against skin echoed through the aisle. The man stumbled back, shock replacing his previous confidence.

"That's for touching her," Keigo said coldly.

"You can't—" the man started to protest.

Keigo's boot pressed against the man's stomach, not with full force, but with enough pressure to make breathing uncomfortable. "I can," he said quietly. "And I will. Every. Single. Time."

The message was clear: touch a child, and there will be consequences.

Touya, still covering his mouth, let out a soft, dark chuckle. Shoto remained silent, holding Yumi close, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else—a deep, protective respect for Keigo.

When Keigo finally stepped back, the man was pale, shaken. No words were exchanged. None were needed.

"We're going home," Keigo said, turning to his family. To Yumi, he softened. "You're safe now, Sunshine."

The apartment was quiet when they returned. Hiro perked up weakly from the couch, blinking at them.

“How was the store?” he asked.

Keigo shrugged, dropping his coat on a chair. “Nothing eventful.”

Shoto sat down on the floor, glancing at Yumi, who sat beside him, still holding onto his sleeve. She looked up at Keigo with wide, awestruck eyes—like he was some kind of hero.

Touya flopped onto the couch, a lazy grin on his face. His cheeks were still a little red, and his fangs glinted slightly as he smirked at Keigo.

Shoto shivered. Never make him angry, he reminded himself again.

Hiro tilted his head, watching them curiously. “Are you sure?”

Keigo smiled faintly, ruffling Hiro’s hair. “Positive.”

As the evening settled, Yumi finally stopped clinging to Shoto and wandered over to Keigo. She climbed onto the couch beside him, curling up under his arm.

“Thank you, Mom,” she whispered sleepily.

Keigo looked down at her, his expression softening. “Always, Sunshine.”

And for the rest of the night, the apartment was warm and safe again—just the way it should be.

Chapter Text

The air was thick with tension as Team D entered the building, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. Katsuki Bakugo and Tenya Iida made their way to the top floor, where they found the fake missile waiting to be guarded. As they surveyed the room, Bakugo's mind seemed elsewhere, his crimson eyes unfocused and distant.

"Bakugo-kun," Tenya began, adjusting his glasses, "I've been meaning to ask you about Midoriya-kun's quirk. Do you have any insights?"

Bakugo's gaze snapped to Tenya, his expression unreadable. "Why the hell would I know anything about that nerd's quirk?"

Tenya hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Well, you two seem to have a history. I've noticed that when you interact with him, there's a certain... strain in your demeanor. It's as if you're forcing yourself to be civil, but there's an underlying irritation. If I may ask, why do you dislike Midoriya-kun so much?"

For a moment, Bakugo's face was a blank canvas, devoid of emotion. Then, without a word, he turned away from Tenya. "Just watch the damn missile," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm going to find Deku and Round Face."

As Bakugo walked away, Tenya couldn't help but notice the shift in his teammate's demeanor. The blank expression slowly morphed into something more sinister – a cruel, Cheshire grin that sent a chill down Tenya's spine. There was something unsettling about Bakugo's behavior, something that went beyond mere rivalry or dislike.

Meanwhile, five minutes had passed, and Team A cautiously entered the building. Izuku Midoriya felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as if unseen eyes were watching their every move. It was an eerie feeling, like being stalked by a predator waiting to pounce.

"Deku-kun, are you alright?" Ochako Uraraka asked, concern evident in her voice.

Izuku forced a smile, trying to shake off the unease. "I'm fine, Uraraka-san. It's just... I can't shake this feeling that we're being watched."

As if on cue, the oppressive atmosphere suddenly lifted. The predatory gaze that had been following them vanished, leaving behind an unsettling silence. Izuku's instincts screamed danger, but before he could voice his concerns, chaos erupted.

An explosion rocked the hallway, filling the air with smoke and debris. Izuku's heart raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. This wasn't Kacchan's usual style – he preferred direct confrontations, not sneak attacks. Something was off, and Izuku couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap.

Through the haze, Izuku caught a glimpse of movement. Time seemed to slow as he watched Bakugo emerge from the smoke, his fist aimed directly at Uraraka's face. Without thinking, Izuku lunged forward, catching Bakugo's wrist mid-swing.

Using the momentum, Izuku attempted to shoulder toss his childhood friend, but Bakugo was ready. With a twist of his body, he broke free from Izuku's grip and leaped back, landing at the far end of the hallway.

"Izuku, are you okay?" Uraraka called out, her voice laced with worry.

"I'm fine," Izuku replied, his eyes never leaving Bakugo's form. The two childhood friends faced each other, the air between them crackling with tension.

"Nice toss, Deku~" Bakugo purred, his voice dripping with a sweetness that made Izuku's stomach churn. The use of that particular phrase – one Bakugo had always deemed too childish – set off alarm bells in Izuku's mind. Something was terribly wrong, but he couldn't afford to dwell on it now. They had a battle trial to win.

In the control room, Class 1-A watched the scene unfold with a mixture of shock and confusion. Eijiro Kirishima voiced what many were thinking: "A surprise attack from the start? That's cheating! A surprise isn't manly at all!"

From the back of the room, Denki Kaminari scoffed at Kirishima's naive outlook. The world wasn't black and white, and thinking like that would only get you killed. Denki knew better than most that sometimes, you had to fight dirty to survive.

All Might's voice cut through the chatter. "A surprise attack is a strategy, too. They are in a real battle right now."

Back in the building, Izuku steeled himself for the confrontation. "I figured you'd come for me," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Bakugo's response, however, caught everyone off guard. "Oh, I'm not here for you," he said, his expression suddenly blank. "I'm here for the girl."

A collective gasp echoed through the control room. Why would Bakugo target Uraraka first? Was it because of her quirk, or was there something else at play?

Izuku, equally confused, tried to make sense of the situation. "Why would you try and attack Uraraka-chan? She did nothing to gain your ire."

The pressure emanating from Bakugo was suffocating, making it difficult for Izuku to breathe. Bakugo leaned against the wall, his posture deceptively casual. "I feel like she would get in the way of our little chat," he said, his tone eerily cheerful.

"What do you want to talk about?" Izuku asked, genuinely perplexed.

Bakugo's next words sent a chill through everyone listening. "I have a proposal for you," he began, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. "Become a villain."

Uraraka couldn't contain her outrage. "Why would Midoriya-kun ever want to be a villain-"

"Silence, weakling!" Bakugo roared, cutting her off. "You have no right to talk right now. You're in the way of our conversation."

The air was electric with tension as Bakugo’s words echoed down the corridor. His cruel grin stretched wider, casting shadows that danced in the dim light of the hallway. Uraraka clutched her side where she’d been flung, her breaths ragged as she tried to recover. Izuku rushed to her side, his green eyes blazing with a mix of fury and concern.

"Kacchan, what the hell are you doing?!" Izuku shouted, stepping protectively in front of Uraraka.

Bakugo’s predatory gaze never left her as he began a slow, deliberate walk toward the pair. His voice was cold, yet laced with mocking amusement. “I’m teaching a lesson, Deku. A lesson all weaklings need to learn. You think you’re gonna be a hero, Round Face?”

Uraraka struggled to her feet, her trembling hand wiping the corner of her mouth. “I— I’m here because I want to help people. That’s why I came to UA!”

Bakugo scoffed, his hands resting on his hips as he tilted his head, looking down on her like she was an insect. “Help people? With that flimsy quirk of yours? You’re barely even useful as support. You’re too reliant on it, floating around like some helium balloon. What’s your plan if it runs out, huh? To hope someone stronger bails you out?”

Uraraka’s hands clenched into fists. “I— I’m working hard to get stronger! I—”

Bakugo cut her off, his voice booming. “Bullshit! You’re working hard? Don’t make me laugh! You’re like a frog in a well, staring at the same tiny patch of sky, never even trying to climb out. No ambition. No real drive. You’re just here playing pretend because it’s the hero thing to do!”

Izuku stepped forward, his fists shaking at his sides. “That’s enough, Kacchan! You don’t know anything about her dreams or her reasons!”

Bakugo turned his piercing gaze to Izuku, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before his grin returned. “Oh, I get it. You wanna play the knight in shining armor, huh, Deku? That’s real cute. But this isn’t about you. She butted into this conversation, so she gets to hear the truth.”

He pivoted back to Uraraka, who was now glaring at him through the pain, refusing to back down. “You’re all talk, Round Face. Just like the rest of this corrupt society. ‘I want to save people!’” he mocked, his voice pitched in a high falsetto. “What a joke. Heroes today are nothing but glorified celebrities, smiling for the cameras while the real shit goes down behind closed doors. You think you can survive in that world? With what? Your flimsy ideals?”

Uraraka grit her teeth, her hands shaking from a mix of anger and frustration. “I don’t care what you think! I’m going to prove you wrong!”

Bakugo’s grin turned savage. “Oh, really? Prove me wrong, huh? Then show me something real!”

Before anyone could react, Bakugo lunged forward, his movement a blur. He planted a vicious kick into Uraraka’s stomach, sending her flying back down the hallway. She hit the ground with a thud, gasping for air as the wind was knocked out of her.

"Ochako!" Izuku cried out, horrified by the brutal display.

"Ah, ah, ahh, Deku~" Bakugo tutted, his voice dripping with arrogance. "If you want me to let her go, you have to comply with me."

Torn between helping Uraraka and facing Bakugo, Izuku realized he had no choice but to hear him out. "Alright, you win. What do you want?"

In the control room, chaos erupted. Students shouted their disapproval of Bakugo's behavior, their voices rising in a cacophony of outrage. All Might struggled to maintain order, a headache forming as he tried to process the unexpected turn of events.

Amidst the uproar, Denki Kaminari sat calmly, munching on popcorn as he watched the drama unfold. His eyes gleamed with an unsettling interest, as if he were enjoying the spectacle a little too much.

Sensing that the situation was spiraling out of control, Shoto Todoroki stepped forward. His mismatched eyes scanned the room, taking in the panicked faces of his classmates. With a calm but authoritative voice, he addressed the group.

"Everyone, please calm down," Shoto said, his words cutting through the noise. "We're not helping the situation by losing our composure. Let's observe silently and discuss what happened after the trial is over. Our reactions might influence All Might's decision-making, and we don't want to interfere with the exercise."

The logic in Shoto's words seemed to resonate with the class. Gradually, the shouting died down, replaced by tense silence as they turned their attention back to the monitors.

Meanwhile, Izuku and Bakugo's confrontation had reached a critical point.

"I refuse," Izuku said solemnly, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him. "No matter what kind of motivations you have, no matter how many reasons you give me, I will not become a villain."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before continuing. "And on another note, Uraraka is not weak. Don't insult her. She worked just as hard as anyone else to get into this school."

A hush fell over the control room as everyone held their breath, waiting for Bakugo's response.

"I see," Bakugo replied, his voice unnervingly calm. For a moment, it seemed as if he had been waiting for this – the moment when Izuku would finally stand up to him, show some backbone. Then, slowly, a cruel smile spread across Bakugo's face, stretching from ear to ear. His teeth gleamed in the dim light of the building, looking more like fangs than human teeth.

"I guess I'll have to kill you then," Bakugo said sweetly, his tone at odds with the malevolence in his eyes.

______________________________________________________________________

Katsuki Bakugo's eyes fluttered open, the harsh white light of the hospital room a stark contrast to the fiery hellscape he'd left behind. His tiny, infant body felt confining, a prison for the fighting spirit that raged within him. As his vision cleared, he realized with a jolt that he wasn't in hell anymore. He'd been reborn.

The first few years of Bakugo's new life were a struggle of adjustment. His mind, filled with memories of battles and demons, clashed with the innocence of his surroundings. He found himself constantly reaching for swords that weren't there, tensing at shadows that held no threat. The worst part was the gnawing uncertainty – would he ever see his wife again? The thought of her, lost in time, made his infant heart ache with a pain no child should know.

Bakugo's quietness unnerved his parents, especially his mother. He rarely cried, rarely laughed, his eyes always seeming to look beyond the world around him. Mitsuki Bakugo, worried about her son's development, decided to introduce him to her friend's son, Izuku Midoriya.

At first, Bakugo was polite, if distant. He didn't want to upset his mother, who seemed so desperate for him to connect with others. But as time passed, he found himself warming to Izuku's earnest nature. The boy's smile was infectious, his enthusiasm for heroes a reminder of simpler times. For a while, Bakugo allowed himself to relax, to enjoy this peaceful new life he'd been granted.

Then came the day Bakugo's quirk manifested. The explosion that erupted from his palm sent a jolt of familiarity through him – power, once again at his fingertips. But as he looked at Izuku's awe-struck face, he felt a pang of unease.

Months later, when Izuku learned he was quirkless, Bakugo's world shifted again. Izuku, tears in his eyes, asked if he could still be a hero. Bakugo, memories of Hashira wielding nothing but swords flashing through his mind, said yes without hesitation. They spent hours planning Izuku's path to heroism, Bakugo's past life experiences fueling strategies and training regimens.

But as time passed, Bakugo's frustration grew. Izuku never acted on their plans. He remained passive, accepting the bullying and ridicule without fight. It grated against everything Bakugo – no, everything Akaza – had stood for.

Bakugo tried to help at first. He beat up bullies, treated Izuku's wounds, pushed him to stand up for himself. But Izuku never changed. He never took control of his own destiny. To Bakugo, who carried Akaza's memories of loss and the desperate drive for strength, Izuku's complacency was maddening.

The anger built slowly, a volcano of disappointment and resentment. Bakugo saw in Izuku everything he had fought against in his past life – weakness, acceptance of fate, the willingness to let others dictate one's worth. When he finally lashed out, hurling cruel words at his once-friend, it was as much from pain as anger.

From that day forward, a chasm grew between them. Bakugo, carrying the weight of two lives, could not reconcile Izuku's passivity with his own driving need for strength and self-improvement. Every time he saw Izuku accept another taunt, another push, another dismissal of his dreams, Bakugo felt the rage of Akaza burning within him.

"Mankind survived for thousands of years without quirks," Bakugo would mutter to himself, memories of samurai and warriors flashing through his mind. "Why can't he see that?"

It wasn't until years later, when Izuku finally showed a spark of the determination Bakugo had been waiting for, that he felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, he thought, watching Izuku stand tall against impossible odds, there was hope for this boy after all.

______________________________________________________________________

Izuku barely had time to process Bakugo’s chilling declaration before his former childhood friend lunged at him. The hallway exploded with sound as Bakugo’s explosions lit up the confined space, forcing Izuku to dodge and weave through the onslaught. Each blast felt more intense than the last, the concussive force shaking the walls and rattling Izuku’s bones.

“You always were predictable, Deku,” Bakugo sneered, his palms crackling with energy. “Ducking and dodging, never standing your ground. That’s why you’ll never be more than second-rate.”

Izuku gritted his teeth, focusing on controlling his breathing. “I won’t fight you seriously, Kacchan,” he said firmly. “Not like this. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Oh, I’m thinking clearer than I ever have!” Bakugo roared, launching another explosion that narrowly missed Izuku. The heat singed the edges of his hero costume, the acrid smell of burning fabric filling the air. “This is reality, Deku! Wake the hell up! You think being a hero is about saving everyone, don’t you? You think you can just punch your way through every problem?”

Izuku didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Bakugo was relentless, his attacks leaving no room for debate. But his words struck a nerve, dredging up the insecurities Izuku had worked so hard to bury.

“Tell me, Deku,” Bakugo continued, his voice dripping with venom, “how many people do you think you can actually save? Huh? What happens when you fail? When someone dies because you weren’t fast enough, strong enough, smart enough? Heroes like you—idealistic idiots—are the first ones to break.”

Izuku clenched his fists, his mind racing as he tried to anticipate Bakugo’s next move. He knew there was truth in his words, but the way Bakugo wielded them like weapons was unbearable.

Meanwhile, Uraraka had quietly slipped away during the chaos. She moved as quickly and silently as she could, her chest still aching from Bakugo’s earlier attack. Her mind was laser-focused on the goal: finding the missile and securing the win for Team A. “You’ve got this, Ochako,” she whispered to herself, determination steeling her resolve.

Back in the control room, Class 1-A was glued to the monitors. The intensity of the fight had them on edge, their reactions a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief.

“This is insane,” Mina Ashido muttered, her pink complexion pale. “Why is Bakugo going so hard on them? This is just a training exercise, right?”

Kirishima crossed his arms, his jaw tight. “He’s not fighting like it’s training. This is personal.”

Shoto Todoroki watched silently, his mismatched eyes narrowing. “Bakugo isn’t just testing Midoriya physically,” he said after a moment. “He’s tearing him apart emotionally.”

“Isn’t that... crossing the line?” Momo Yaoyorozu asked hesitantly. “I mean, it’s one thing to fight, but the things he’s saying...”

Denki Kaminari leaned back in his chair, his usual carefree demeanor absent. “It’s brutal, yeah,” he admitted. “But he’s not wrong about everything. The world isn’t black and white.”

“Still,” Jiro interjected, her earjack twitching in agitation, “there’s a difference between making a point and straight-up psychological warfare.”

All Might stood at the back of the room, his arms crossed and his expression grave. He knew Bakugo’s intensity, but this display went beyond what he’d anticipated. “Young Bakugo... What are you trying to prove?” he murmured under his breath.

As the fight raged on, Bakugo’s taunts grew sharper. “You still don’t get it, do you, Deku? The world isn’t some fairy tale where the hero always wins. There are villains out there who will laugh at your ideals before they crush you under their boots. And when that happens, who’s gonna save you, huh?”

“I’ll save myself,” Izuku shot back, his voice firm despite the sweat dripping down his face. He dodged another explosion, countering with a well-placed kick that Bakugo narrowly avoided. “And I’ll save as many people as I can along the way. That’s what being a hero means to me.”

Bakugo paused, his crimson eyes narrowing as a slow, unsettling smile spread across his face. “Cute speech,” he said mockingly. “But you’re still just a wannabe. A quirkless loser pretending to be something you’re not.”

Before Izuku could respond, Bakugo’s earpiece crackled to life. “Bakugo-kun, status update!” Tenya’s voice came through, formal and precise.

With an annoyed growl, Bakugo tapped his communicator. “Shut up, Four-Eyes. Just guard the damn missile and don’t screw it up!” He silenced the device with a press of a button, his focus snapping back to Izuku.

“That was your chance to run, Deku,” Bakugo said, his grin widening. “But you stayed. Guess that means you’re ready for the next round.”

Bakugo’s movements were like poetry in motion—fluid, precise, and terrifyingly efficient. He didn’t just rely on his explosions; no, his mastery of hand-to-hand combat made him a whirlwind of calculated strikes. Izuku could barely keep up, each blow a devastating combination of explosions and devastating martial prowess that left him reeling.

A spinning kick came first, enhanced by a blast from Bakugo’s hand that accelerated his momentum. Izuku barely ducked, the heat of the explosion singing his hair. But Bakugo wasn’t done. He pivoted, sweeping Izuku’s legs out from under him before slamming his palm into the floor, detonating an explosion that sent Izuku skidding back across the rubble-strewn hallway.

“You’re slower than I remember,” Bakugo sneered, stalking toward Izuku like a predator savoring the hunt. “C’mon, Deku. Show me what you’ve got!”

Izuku scrambled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. He couldn’t keep dodging forever. He needed to act.

Gathering his courage, Izuku clenched his fist, his mind racing. He couldn’t unleash the full power of One For All without shattering himself, but he had no choice. His fingers sparked faintly with the green energy of his inherited quirk.

“Don’t hold back, Deku, or I’ll kill you,” Bakugo hissed, his voice laced with venom.

Izuku surged forward, gritting his teeth as he pushed all of his focus into his right arm. Electricity crackled around him, the sheer force of One For All making the air around him hum.

SMASH!

The punch landed, creating a shockwave that tore through the hallway like a hurricane. The walls buckled, the ceiling cracked, and debris rained down in chaotic torrents. The force sent Bakugo flying, his body flipping through the air before he twisted and landed in a crouch, unharmed but rattled.

Izuku, however, wasn’t as lucky. The recoil from his attack left his arm mangled, purple and swollen, pain radiating up to his shoulder. He dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

Bakugo wiped a speck of dust off his cheek, his expression darkening as he straightened. “Not bad,” he admitted, though there was a growl in his tone. “But you’re still pathetic.”

What followed was brutal. Bakugo didn’t simply strike; he toyed with Izuku, prolonging the fight to make him suffer. He’d dart in and deliver punishing blows before retreating, explosions dancing off his palms as he moved with lethal grace. Every strike felt deliberate, calculated to inflict maximum pain without ending the fight.

“You’re too slow!” Bakugo roared, slamming a knee into Izuku’s gut, doubling him over. “Too weak!” A sweeping kick sent Izuku sprawling, blood dripping from his lip.

“Why do you even try?” Bakugo spat, his voice rising over the sound of crumbling walls. “You’ll never beat me, Deku. You can’t even stand up straight!”

But Izuku refused to stay down. Despite the bruises covering his body, the sharp pain in his broken arm, and the hopelessness threatening to swallow him whole, he pushed himself to his feet.

“I… I can’t give up,” Izuku rasped, staring Bakugo down through one swollen eye.

In another part of the building, Uraraka finally found the missile. Her heart pounded as she devised a plan to secure it, knowing time was running out. “I have to trust Deku to hold him off,” she whispered, activating her quirk and setting her plan into motion.

Back at the fight, Izuku was holding his ground, but barely. Bakugo’s relentless attacks and harsh words were wearing him down, physically and mentally. But Izuku refused to give up. He couldn’t.

“You think you’re breaking me down, Kacchan,” Izuku said, his voice hoarse but unwavering. “But all you’re doing is reminding me why I fight. Why I’ll never stop trying to be a hero.”

Bakugo’s expression flickered for a split second—something unspoken passing through his eyes—before his grin returned. “Then show me, Deku. Show me you’re not just a quirkless loser with a borrowed power.”

The cacophony of the alarm signaling the end of the trial echoed through the halls, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife. Bakugo froze mid-swing, his fist hovering inches from Izuku’s battered face. He scowled deeply, his crimson eyes narrowing at the unconscious form of his childhood friend crumpled before him.

The hero team had won.

The thought clawed at Bakugo, filling his chest with a cocktail of frustration, relief, and something heavier that he couldn't quite name. Slowly, he straightened up, the adrenaline seeping out of his veins. His fingers twitched with an impulse to explode something—anything—but he shoved it down.

“Tch,” he muttered, glancing away from the pitiful sight of Izuku’s wrecked figure. His green-haired rival was a mess—his costume shredded, his face bruised, his body limp and bloodied. Bakugo couldn’t help but sneer at the sight, though it wasn’t born of malice.

“You damn nerd…” he muttered under his breath, crouching down beside Izuku. He hesitated, his hands hovering awkwardly before he gripped Izuku’s arms and hauled him up. Izuku’s weight was surprisingly light against him, almost too light, as if the fight had drained every ounce of strength from his stubborn body.

Bakugo started walking toward the exit, ignoring the echoes of his classmates’ voices crackling over the comms. Questions—sharp, curious, and concerned—were flying between them, but Bakugo had no intention of answering.

“What the hell, Bakugo?” Kirishima's voice boomed through the speakers. “You just gonna walk off with him like that?”

“Where are you taking him?” Yaoyorozu added, her voice tense with worry.

“Mind your business,” Bakugo growled into the comm, his tone cutting off any further inquiry. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he silenced the device, letting the quiet of the hallway settle around him like a smothering blanket.

As Bakugo carried Izuku through the quiet halls of UA, his mind churned with thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge.

What the hell is wrong with you, Deku? Why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the time? Why can’t you just—just listen to me for once?

He glanced down at Izuku’s face, streaked with dirt and blood but somehow still peaceful in unconsciousness. His grip on Izuku tightened, a reflexive action he couldn’t control.

You’re so goddamn reckless. You think you can save everyone. You think you can fix everything. But you can’t, you idiot. Not everyone can be saved.

A part of him wanted to shake Izuku awake, to scream at him, to tell him to stop being so idealistic and naïve. But another part—a part Bakugo rarely allowed himself to acknowledge—felt a pang of something close to guilt.

You wouldn’t need to fix everything if people like me weren’t breaking it in the first place, huh?

The walk to Recovery Girl’s office felt endless, each step dragging Bakugo deeper into the mire of his thoughts. He hated the way Izuku made him feel—weak, exposed, vulnerable. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of that feeling entirely.

Because as much as Izuku pissed him off, as much as his stupid, stubborn idealism grated on Bakugo’s nerves, he couldn’t help but admire it. Resent it. Maybe even… envy it.

By the time Bakugo reached the infirmary, his anger had dulled into a quiet simmer. He laid Izuku down on one of the beds, his movements surprisingly gentle. Recovery Girl approached, her expression a mix of concern and disapproval, but Bakugo waved her off with a grunt.

“He’s fine,” Bakugo muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Just patch him up.”

Recovery Girl gave him a stern look but said nothing as she began her work. Bakugo watched in silence, his eyes flicking between Izuku’s unconscious face and the slow, methodical movements of the nurse.

When Izuku finally stirred hours later, groaning softly as he opened his eyes, Bakugo was still there. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, his arms crossed and his head bowed, as if he were dozing off. But the moment Izuku moved, Bakugo’s head snapped up, his crimson eyes locking onto Izuku’s with an intensity that made the green-haired boy freeze.

“You’re awake,” Bakugo said gruffly, his voice low and rough. He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“K-Kacchan…” Izuku began, his voice weak and hoarse. “What—?”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Bakugo cut him off, his tone sharp. “What the hell were you thinking, pushing yourself like that?”

Izuku blinked, confused. “I… I was trying to win the exercise…”

“Yeah, and you damn near got yourself killed doing it!” Bakugo snapped, standing abruptly. He started pacing, his movements agitated. “You always do this, Izuku. You always push yourself too far, like you’ve got something to prove.”

Izuku opened his mouth to respond, but Bakugo held up a hand to stop him. “No, shut up. I’m not done. You think you’re the only one who cares about saving people? You think you’re the only one who wants to be a hero? Newsflash, Deku: you’re not special. But you act like the whole damn world is on your shoulders, and it pisses me off.”

Bakugo’s voice softened, though his frustration was still evident. “I don’t hate you, Izuku. I never have. But you’re so goddamn stubborn, and it’s gonna get you killed one day. And I… I don’t wanna see that happen.”

Izuku stared at Bakugo, stunned into silence. The room was heavy with unspoken emotions, the air thick with tension. For once, neither of them knew what to say.

“I’m not saying this for you,” Bakugo muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m saying it for me. Because if you die out there, Izuku, I’ll never forgive you. So… just think about that, okay?”

With that, Bakugo turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Izuku alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

The students gathered in the monitor room, their faces a mix of shock, confusion, and awe. Bakugo walked in last, his expression unreadable. All Might approached him, concern evident in his voice. "Young Bakugo, are you alright?"

Bakugo's reply was deadpan. "It was acting."

A collective "Huh?" echoed through the room.

All Might pressed further. "Are you going to explain yourself?"

"No," Bakugo replied coolly. "I'll let the class interpret my performance."

All Might's tone turned serious. "Katsuki, whether you won or lost, you must take a look back, reflect on the experience, and move on with life."

"I know," Bakugo responded, keeping his tone as polite as possible. "You don't have to tell me that." His respect for authority was evident, though his general disdain for his classmates showed in his posture. The only exceptions seemed to be Denki and Shoto, who had proven themselves during the quirk assessment test.

"Now then," All Might announced, "the MVP of this exercise is young Iida!"

Confusion rippled through the class. Denki and Shoto exchanged surprised glances, both thinking Bakugo should have been MVP.

"Can anyone tell me why I might have chosen Iida?" All Might asked.

Momo Yaoyorozu stepped forward, her voice confident. "Iida adapted the most to the context of the situation. Midoriya's large, ranged attacks indoors were foolish, especially considering the damage he received. Bakugo used his quirk and martial prowess well, but he prolonged the fight unnecessarily. Uraraka let her guard down too early, and her final attack was reckless. Iida, despite losing, best respected the spirit of the exercise."

She concluded, "The hero team only won because they took advantage of the fact that this was training. They were practically breaking the rules."

Shoto sighed, wishing his mother were here to offer a different perspective. Suddenly, laughter burst through the room. All eyes turned to Denki Kaminari.

"Sorry for the disturbance," Denki said, composing himself. "But I have something to say."

All Might nodded. "Who do you think should be MVP, young Kaminari?"

Denki's eyes gleamed as he began his explanation. "Bakugo should be the MVP. He gave the best portrayal of a villain. This training isn't just about combat; it's about preparing for real-world scenarios. Bakugo showed us that not all villains have clear objectives. Sometimes, it's about instilling fear."

He continued, addressing Momo's points. "You're right that the hero team won by exploiting the training scenario. But in real life, Midoriya or Uraraka would be dead. There are villains out there who act without reason, finding pleasure in others' suffering. They're unpredictable because there's no logic driving them. Bakugo forced the heroes to think outside the box."

Denki's voice grew more passionate. "Momo, with all due respect, you don't know what it's like to be in an actual battle. Plans fail more often than they work. If we're treating this like fieldwork, we need to assume anything can happen. And deciding on an MVP is ridiculous when the entire purpose was teamwork."

As Denki spoke, Shoto found himself nodding along, and he noticed about half the class seemed to agree.

In the back, a small, sweet smile played on Bakugo's lips.

"Yaoyorozu, your textbook approach to heroics shows how sheltered you really are," Denki's voice took on a condescending edge. "You talk about 'proper protocols' and 'ideal scenarios' like they actually mean something in the real world."

Momo straightened her posture, eyes narrowing. "Protocols exist for a reason, Kaminari. Without proper procedure, heroes would be no better than vigilantes."

"Oh?" Denki's lips curled into a mocking smile. "And tell me, how many actual villains have you faced? How many times have you had to make split-second decisions where following 'proper procedure' would get you killed?"

"That's exactly why we train-" Momo began, but Denki cut her off with a harsh laugh.

"Train? You think controlled exercises prepare you for the real thing?" His eyes grew cold. "Villains don't play by rules. They don't care about your perfect form or textbook strategies. Some just want to watch people suffer, to break heroes physically and mentally."

"That's precisely why heroes need to maintain ethical standards-"

"Ethics?" Denki's voice dripped with disdain. "Tell me, what good are ethics when a villain is holding a knife to a civilian's throat? When they're targeting children? The world isn't your prep school debate club, Yaoyorozu."

Momo's face flushed with anger. "So you're suggesting we abandon all moral principles? Become no better than the villains we fight?"

"I'm suggesting we live in reality," Denki snapped. "Your privileged upbringing has blinded you to how the world actually works. It's survival of the fittest out there. The current hero society? It's built on lies and hypocrisy."

"You're wrong," Momo declared. "The hero system might not be perfect, but it maintains order-"

"Order?" Denki's laugh was sharp and cruel. "You mean it maintains the status quo that benefits people like you. The rich, the powerful, the ones born with the right connections. Tell me, did you earn your recommendation to UA, or did daddy's influence help?"

The room fell silent at the personal attack. Momo's face paled, but before she could respond, Denki continued, his voice growing more intense.

"See, that's the reality of our so-called hero society. It's not about who's most qualified or who can save the most people. It's about who has the right quirk, the right background, the right connections. And you stand there, preaching about ethics and protocols, while being a prime example of everything wrong with the system."

"That's enough!" All Might's voice boomed through the room. "While healthy debate is encouraged, we have other battles to observe. Both of you, stand down."

Denki and Momo stepped back, but the tension between them remained electric. Momo's hands were clenched at her sides, while Denki's smile held an edge of satisfaction at having struck a nerve.

The rest of the class watched in stunned silence, many of them processing the uncomfortable truths in Denki's words, even if they disagreed with how he delivered them. In the back of the room, Bakugo's expression showed a hint of approval at Denki's brutal honesty, while Shoto's face remained carefully neutral, though his eyes betrayed a deep understanding of the points being made.

Chapter Text

As the dust settled from the intense argument between Denki and Momo, All Might cleared his throat and announced, "Next up, we have Team B versus Team I. Team B will be the heroes, and Team I will take on the role of villains."

Mashirao Ojiro and Toru Hagakure, comprising Team I, made their way into the building. They gathered around the payload on the fourth floor, discussing strategy in hushed tones. Toru, maximizing the effectiveness of her Invisibility Quirk, stripped off her clothes completely.

Meanwhile, Shoto Todoroki and Mezo Shoji huddled together outside, formulating their plan of attack. Shoto's mind raced, an internal crisis brewing beneath his calm exterior. This was his chance to make friends, to show he wasn't just the sum of his powerful Quirk. He decided to use only one side of his power, hoping not to overwhelm or intimidate his classmates.

"Shoji," Shoto began, his voice low and controlled, "can you use your Quirk to locate the villains once we're inside?"

Mezo nodded, his multiple arms morphing into various sensory organs. "I should be able to pinpoint their location quickly. What's your plan after that?"

Shoto hesitated, then replied, "I'll handle the rest. Just... stay clear once you've given me their position."

As they entered the building, Mezo's enhanced senses quickly picked up on Team I's location. He relayed the information to Shoto, who nodded grimly.

"Thank you, Shoji. Now, please exit the building. It's about to get very cold in here."

Mezo hesitated for a moment, concern evident in his eyes, but he complied with Shoto's request.

Taking a deep breath, Shoto placed his right hand on the wall. In an instant, a wave of ice erupted from his palm, racing through the building at an incredible speed. The temperature plummeted as frost coated every surface, forming intricate patterns that resembled a giant lotus blooming from within the structure.

In the monitor room, gasps of awe and shock echoed as the students watched the ice engulf the entire building in mere seconds. Bakugo's eyes narrowed, a mix of respect and competitive fire burning in his gaze. Denki whistled low, impressed by the sheer power on display.

On the fourth floor, Mashirao and Toru found themselves suddenly immobilized, their feet frozen to the ground. The chill bit into their skin, leaving them shivering and disoriented. Before they could even process what had happened, Shoto appeared, calmly walking across the ice-covered floor. With a single touch to the payload, he secured victory for Team B.

As the exercise concluded, Shoto felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. He could feel the eyes of his classmates on him, filled with awe, fear, and perhaps a hint of envy. Unable to face their reactions, he slipped out of the monitor room, seeking solitude and fresh air.

The icy breeze from the battle still lingered in Shoto's lungs as he stood on the edge of the courtyard, staring out at nothing in particular. The applause from his classmates and All Might’s praise had felt distant, muted, drowned out by the chaotic swirl of thoughts in his mind.

"You demonstrated excellent control and decisiveness, Todoroki!" All Might had boomed moments earlier, his exuberance filling the training hall.

But Shoto hadn't felt proud. If anything, the icy silence of the building he left behind mirrored the hollow ache in his chest.

"Make friends, huh?" he muttered under his breath. "All I did was scare them."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Awe, fear, envy—those were the emotions he had seen in their faces. Nothing that suggested camaraderie, nothing that hinted at the bond he was yearning to build. He didn't want to be admired for his Quirk, for his overwhelming power. He just wanted to be normal.

Normal. A cruel joke. He was anything but. Half-ice, half-fire, half-demon—a legacy of expectations, broken dreams, and too many secrets. His father’s shadow loomed large, his older brother Touya’s rebellious success whispered behind closed doors, and his mother’s quiet struggles with her own nature added to the weight.

"Just normal," he whispered, bitterness threading through his voice.

A sudden pat on his back jolted Shoto from his spiraling thoughts. "You did a good job out there," a voice said, light and casual.

He turned to see Denki Kaminari standing beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets, a crooked grin on his face.

“Oh,” Shoto blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Thanks.”

He hadn’t expected Denki to speak to him, much less offer encouragement. 

Before the moment could settle, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Hey, half-and-half!" Bakugo barked, his tone as sharp as ever. "Get your head outta the clouds. We’ve got better crap to focus on!"

Shoto blinked, realizing he’d drifted too far into his thoughts again. “Thanks, Bakugo,” he said with a small, sincere smile. “You’re very nice.”

The entire class turned to stare, jaws slack. Bakugo’s reaction was immediate; he turned away with a crimson face, muttering something about focusing on the lesson and not wasting time.

The next battle came and went in a blur. Shoto barely focused, answering automatically when addressed. He did, however, manage to offer constructive advice to his classmates who sought his opinion, pointing out areas where they could refine their Quirks.

But even as the day moved forward, the earlier conversation between Denki and Momo weighed heavily on everyone’s minds.

During the short break between matches, Mina and Eijiro approached Shoto.

“Hey, Todoroki,” Mina began, her usual cheer dimmed slightly. “What do you think of Denki?”

Eijiro folded his arms, a serious expression on his face. “Yeah, man. The way he talked to Momo earlier—it wasn’t cool. Not manly at all.”

Shoto regarded them calmly. “What he said might have been harsh, but he wasn’t wrong,” he replied.

Both of them looked taken aback, so Shoto elaborated.

“Sure, Denki could have said it better,” he admitted, “but sometimes the truth isn’t comfortable. And let’s be honest—we barely know him. Judging him based on one argument isn’t fair. Besides, I think he’s a good person. He just has a different way of showing it, like Bakugo.”

Eijiro rubbed the back of his neck, his expression softening. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Guess I jumped to conclusions too fast.”

Mina sighed. “Okay, okay. We’ll give him a chance. But he still better apologize to Momo eventually.”

Shoto nodded, and the three of them returned to the monitor room as the next battle began.

In the dimly lit room, Jirou and Denki stood guard near the fake bomb, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. Finally, Jirou spoke up, her voice tight with disapproval.

"What you said to Yaoyorozu earlier... that was really harsh. You didn't have to tear her down like that."

Denki leaned against the wall, his usual playful demeanor melting away. His golden eyes, typically warm and friendly, turned sharp and calculating. "I did nothing wrong," he said, voice dropping to a lower register. "Every word I said was true. Sometimes the hardest lessons are the most important ones."

"But-"

"Tell me, Jirou," he interrupted, pushing off the wall with fluid grace. "Have you ever had to fight for every scrap of respect you've earned? Have you ever been in a situation where following the rules meant certain death?"

The atmosphere in the room shifted, growing heavier. Gone was the class clown who made bad puns and flashed peace signs. In his place stood someone else entirely - someone who moved with predatory grace and spoke with the weight of hard-earned experience.

"Society, the government, the hero system - they're all built on pretty lies," Denki continued, pacing the room with measured steps. "The privileged few make rules for everyone else to follow while sitting safely behind their walls. People like Yaoyorozu never have to question the system because it was built for them."

Jirou watched him, unsettled by this transformation. The harsh overhead lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the cold intensity in his eyes. This wasn't the Denki she thought she knew - this was someone who had clearly seen the darker side of their world.

"Could I have been nicer? Sure," he said, a bitter smile playing at his lips. "But coddling her won't prepare her for reality. The villains we'll face won't care about her feelings or her proper protocols."

He turned to face Jirou directly, his gaze uncomfortably penetrating. "You can hate me for it if you want. Most people do when you show them uncomfortable truths. But don't let that cloud your judgment - we still have a job to do."

Jirou found herself nodding, unable to form words in the face of this stark transformation.

"Excellent," Denki's smile turned predatory, more reminiscent of a wolf showing its teeth than his usual cheerful grin. "Now, let's plan for when Momo and Mineta arrive. I have some ideas that might... challenge their textbook approach."

The way he said it sent chills down Jirou's spine. She realized she was seeing a side of Denki that few others had witnessed - someone who had clawed his way up from the bottom, someone who understood that sometimes survival meant throwing away the rulebook.

"Remember," he added, his voice carrying an edge of dark amusement, "we're the villains in this scenario. Let's show them what real villains are capable of."

The buzzer blared, signaling the start of the exercise. Team Villain—Denki Kaminari and Kyoka Jiro—had already fortified their position on the third floor. The payload, a bulky fake bomb, sat in the center of a large room with scattered obstacles. Jiro's earlobes were plugged into the walls, sending out sonar-like pulses to track movement throughout the building.

"Heroes are starting to move," Jiro whispered, unplugging her jacks.

Denki nodded, adjusting the grip on his katana, which rested in its sheath across his back. His black kimono and hakama swayed lightly as he shifted into a stance, his magatama necklaces glinting faintly in the dim light.

“They’ll head straight to the upper floors to narrow down our position,” he muttered. “We need to keep them guessing. Amplify my signal when I strike—it’ll throw them off even more.”

Jiro smirked. “Got it.”

On the ground floor, Momo Yaoyorozu and Minoru Mineta were strategizing. Momo held a schematic of the building, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"They've likely fortified a position with defensible access," she said, pointing to potential chokepoints on the map. "Denki’s Quirk isn’t clear to me yet—speed, electricity, or enhanced physical abilities—but it doesn’t matter. We’ll prepare for all possibilities."

Mineta nodded nervously. "Yeah, but, uh... what if they overwhelm us before we find the bomb?"

"Stick close to me," Momo replied confidently. "I'll handle the contingencies."

With that, she began creating shields, grappling hooks, and other tools to cover a wide range of scenarios.

Momo and Mineta entered cautiously, moving floor by floor. As they reached the second floor, Jirou's enhanced hearing picked up their footsteps. She gestured to Denki, who nodded and moved silently into position.

"They're below us," Jirou whispered. "Yaoyorozu is creating something – sounds like metal."

Denki's lips curved into a predatory smile. "Perfect. Let's show them what villains can do." He drew his katana in one fluid motion, the steel gleaming.

As the hero duo reached the second floor, the faint hum of electricity filled the air. It wasn’t a constant buzz but came in sporadic, sharp bursts. Momo’s eyes darted around, trying to locate the source.

Then came the strike.

Denki appeared like a bolt of lightning, his speed blurring the line between perception and reality. One moment, the hall was empty; the next, he stood mere feet in front of them, his katana unsheathed and pointed.

"Welcome to the game, heroes," he said, his voice calm but laced with menace.

Mineta yelped, ducking behind Momo. She didn’t falter, immediately summoning a staff and swinging it in Denki’s direction. He dodged effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise.

"You’re preparing for everything,” Denki said, sidestepping her strikes, “which means you’re prepared for nothing."

Before Momo could counter, Denki dashed past her, the sound of his rapid movement amplified by Jiro’s Quirk. The deafening CRACK reverberated through the hall, disorienting the heroes.

In that moment of disorientation, Denki struck.

He moved with impossible speed, electricity crackling along his blade. Momo barely had time to raise the shield she'd created before Denki was upon them. His first strike shattered her defense, the force sending her stumbling backward.

"Mineta, now!" Momo shouted, throwing down smoke bombs she'd prepared.

But Denki was ready. As Mineta tried to throw his sticky balls through the smoke, Denki channeled electricity through his sword, the crackling energy illuminating the haze. Jirou, reading his movement, amplified the sound of his blade cutting through the air. The thunderous boom that resulted cleared the smoke and sent both heroes reeling.

"Too many contingencies, Yaoyorozu," Denki called out, his voice carrying an edge of dark amusement. "Sometimes the simplest approach is the deadliest."

Momo tried to create a capture weapon, but Denki was already moving again. His blade danced with lightning, each strike precise and calculated. Jirou's sound amplification turned every clash of metal into a devastating sonic assault.

"Split up!" Momo ordered, realizing they couldn’t keep up with Denki if they stayed clustered.

As Mineta scurried off, Momo pressed forward cautiously, using her grappling hook to ascend toward the third floor. Every step was measured, her senses on high alert.

Denki, however, was always one step ahead. Using the layout to his advantage, he circled back and intercepted Mineta on the second floor.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, flashing a grin.

Mineta threw a handful of his sticky balls in a panic, but Denki moved like a phantom, dodging every single one. With a quick sweep of his blade—not to harm but to intimidate—he cut the tape from Mineta's hands, incapacitating him.

“Out,” Denki declared before vanishing again.

Momo reached the third floor, her heart pounding. The room where the payload was hidden came into view, and she steeled herself. She knew Denki and Jiro were waiting for her.

She burst into the room, raising a shield to block any potential ambush. Instead, she was met with silence. The payload sat in the center of the room, untouched.

Her instincts screamed that something was wrong. Slowly, she advanced, her shield raised, her eyes darting for movement.

Then she heard it: the crackle of electricity and the hum of amplified sound.

Denki struck from the shadows, his katana slashing downward in a precise arc. Momo barely deflected with her shield, the force of the blow sending her stumbling back.

"You rely too much on logic," Denki said, his voice calm. "But what if the answer isn’t logical?"

Jiro’s sound waves hit next, reverberating through the room and causing Momo to lose her balance. In that split second, Denki dashed forward and tapped her with the special tape.

"The villain team wins," All Might announced.

As the dust settled, Momo stared at Denki with new understanding. He'd proven his point from their earlier argument – sometimes textbook strategies weren't enough. Sometimes you had to adapt to survive.

Denki sheathed his katana with practiced ease, the electricity fading from his body. His eyes met Momo's for a moment, and there was something like respect in his gaze. Without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving the others to wonder just how much more there was to learn about their enigmatic classmate.

As the students returned to the monitor room, Bakugo watched Denki intently, his usual scowl replaced with something more contemplative.

“Not bad, Sparkplug,” Bakugo muttered under his breath.

The remaining battles flew by in quick succession. As classes wrapped up for the day, Shoto found himself walking home alongside Mina and Eijirou, the setting sun casting long shadows across the sidewalk.

"Man, your ice move was so cool!" Mina exclaimed, bouncing on her heels as she walked. "The way it just covered everything in seconds – that was like something out of a movie!"

Shoto ducked his head slightly, still unused to such enthusiastic praise. "It wasn't that special."

"Are you kidding?" Eijirou grinned, throwing an arm around Shoto's shoulders. "That was super manly! Though I gotta say, Kaminari's fight was pretty intense too. Did you see the way he moved with that sword?"

"Yeah," Shoto nodded, remembering the calculated precision in Denki's movements. "He's... different from what I expected."

"Everyone's got hidden depths," Mina mused, unusually thoughtful. "Like Bakugo! Who knew he could be so nice?"

"He’s always nice," Shoto replied with complete seriousness, causing both Mina and Eijirou to burst out laughing.

"Oh Sho," Eijirou wiped tears from his eyes. "You're funny without even trying!"

As they reached the intersection where they would part ways, Mina turned to Shoto with a bright smile. "This was fun! Catch you guys tomorrow."

"Yeah," Shoto agreed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "See you too."

When Shoto finally reached home, he was greeted by the controlled chaos that was his family's evening routine. The moment he opened the door, the warm aroma of cooking and the sound of lively conversation washed over him.

In the kitchen, his mother was stirring something in a pot while Keigo, his brother Touya's boyfriend, chopped vegetables beside her, his wings tucked neatly against his back to avoid knocking anything over.

"Careful with the knife, Keigo," his mother cautioned with a fond smile. "We don't need another incident like last time."

"That was one time, Rei!" Keigo protested good-naturedly. "And the ceiling eventually stopped being scorched."

In the living room, Touya was sprawled on the floor, helping Yumi with what appeared to be an elaborate block tower. His usually sharp features were softened by genuine joy as Yumi giggled at their creation.

At the dining table, Fuyumi sat next to Hiro, patiently explaining what looked like math problems. "No, see, you need to carry the one here..."

His father Enji and brother Natsuo were engaged in what seemed to be an intense discussion about hero work, though the usual tension that had once marked their interactions was notably absent.

"Welcome home, Shoto!" his mother called out, noticing him in the doorway. "How was school today?"

Shoto took in the scene before him – Touya playfully teasing Keigo about his cooking skills, Natsuo and their father actually having a civil conversation, Fuyumi's quiet patience with Hiro, Yumi's delighted squeals as her tower grew taller. None of it fit the traditional image of a "normal" family, and yet...

A warm chuckle escaped him, drawing curious looks from his family members. "It was good," he replied, his smile growing wider. "Really good. And you know what? This is perfect."

"What's perfect?" Yumi asked, abandoning her blocks to run and hug his legs.

Shoto picked her up, holding her close as he looked around at his wonderfully chaotic family. "Just... this. Our normal."

And for the first time in a long while, he truly meant it.

Chapter Text

The Tokyo skyline glittered beneath a blanket of stars, its luminescence casting shadows across the face of the man perched atop the neighboring building to U.A. High School. Yoru's purple eyes gleamed in the darkness as he observed the commotion below—reporters and camera crews swarming the main gate, their voices carrying upward in a cacophony of questions and demands. A perfect distraction.

Three days prior, Shigaraki had slammed his palm against the bar counter at their hideout, decay spreading across the polished wood. "Those U.A. bastards," he had hissed, scratching furiously at his neck. "All Might is teaching there now. We need to know more—their security, their schedules, their weaknesses."

Kurogiri had maintained his composed demeanor, wisely keeping distance from the disintegrating countertop. "The media has been attempting to get statements from All Might since the announcement. Perhaps we could use their persistence to our advantage."

Yoru had stood silently in the corner, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the dimly lit room. When he finally spoke, both Shigaraki and Kurogiri turned to him with rapt attention.

"I will go," he had said, his deep voice resonating through the room with quiet authority. "The media's desperation will create an opening. I merely need to be patient."

Shigaraki had glared at him, fingers twitching with irritation. "Who put you in charge, Yoru?" he snapped. "I'm the one who decides who goes where."

Yoru had bowed slightly, his movement fluid and precise. "My apologies, Shigaraki Tomura. I meant no disrespect. I merely offer my skills in service to your vision."

The younger villain had continued scratching his neck, his red eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Fine. But don't forget who's in charge here. You get in, gather intel on their security systems and All Might's schedule, and get out. No heroics, no fighting unless absolutely necessary."

"As you wish," Yoru had replied, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Now, as Yoru watched the reporters push against the U.A. barrier, he reflected on the strange path that had led him to this moment.

His memories began only two years ago—waking in a sterile laboratory with nothing but his name and an inexplicable set of skills. The man with the breathing apparatus—All For One—had told him he was a special creation, designed with purpose. Yet something within Yoru whispered of a life before, of centuries of swordsmanship and a profound understanding of battle that felt too ingrained, too natural to have been simply implanted.

Sometimes in the deepest hours of night, he dreamed of moonlight on blood-soaked fields and the sound of flutes carried on mountain winds. But by morning, these fragments slipped away, leaving only the faintest impression of another time, another existence.

Yoru adjusted the collar of his double-breasted coat, its deep purple fabric almost black in the night. His hand rested briefly on the hilt of his katana—an instinctive gesture that brought him comfort. The weapon felt like an extension of himself, the only possession that truly felt like it belonged to him.

The communication device in his ear crackled to life.

"The security system has been examined," Kurogiri's measured voice informed him. "There appears to be a brief window during guard rotation that coincides with the changing of electronic protocols. You will have approximately forty-seven seconds to enter through my warp gate before their systems reset."

"Understood," Yoru replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Below, the reporters had grown more agitated, pushing against the metal gates with increased determination. Several security guards were attempting to maintain order, their attention fully diverted to the chaos at the entrance.

"The timing must be exact," Yoru murmured. "The diversion at the front gate has drawn most of the immediate security. The media's impatience serves us well."

"Indeed," Kurogiri agreed. "Shigaraki wishes to remind you of your primary objectives."

Yoru's lips curved into the faintest smile. "He fears I will forget my place."

"He is... concerned about potential deviations."

"There will be none," Yoru assured him. "I understand my role."

The truth was more complex than either Kurogiri or Shigaraki knew. Yoru had his own reasons for accepting this mission—questions that had plagued him since his awakening. The strange familiarity he felt whenever he heard All Might's name, the pull toward U.A. that he couldn't explain—these were mysteries he intended to unravel, even as he fulfilled Shigaraki's orders.

Yoru checked his watch—an antique piece with intricate engravings that he'd acquired shortly after joining the League. Time was another concept that fascinated him—its relentless march forward, its ability to change all things. Yet he often felt untouched by it, as though he existed somewhat outside its flow.

"One minute until the window opens," Kurogiri announced.

Yoru rose from his crouched position, his movements fluid and silent. He slipped the specialized mask over the lower half of his face—a necessary precaution against U.A.'s facial recognition systems. The upper half of his face remained exposed, his eyes alert and focused.

"Thirty seconds."

The reporters below had managed to trigger the security alarm, causing several guards to rush toward the main entrance. Yoru noted the pattern of their movement, the gaps in their coverage.

"Fifteen seconds."

He moved to the edge of the rooftop, calculating the precise angle of his entry.

"The gate will open in three... two... one..."

The familiar swirl of dark purple mist materialized before him. Without hesitation, Yoru stepped through, emerging in a shadowed corner of U.A.'s western courtyard. The warp gate closed behind him with a soft whoosh, leaving no trace of his entrance.

Immediately, Yoru pressed himself against the wall, his eyes scanning for surveillance cameras. He spotted three—one at the building's corner, another above the side entrance, and a third partially concealed within the foliage of a decorative tree. All were positioned to create overlapping fields of vision, but Yoru had studied their blind spots meticulously.

He moved with practiced precision, using the shadow cast by a large oak tree to slip between the cameras' ranges. His footsteps made no sound as he approached the building, acutely aware that he had less than forty minutes before the security shift change would bring fresh eyes to the monitoring systems.

The side entrance was locked, as expected, but the electronic panel beside it presented an opportunity. From an inner pocket of his coat, Yoru withdrew a small device—one of the League's more useful acquisitions. When placed against the panel, it cycled through possible access codes at remarkable speed, identifying the correct sequence within seconds.

The door unlocked with a subtle click. Yoru slipped inside, immediately assessing his surroundings. The corridor was deserted, its polished floors reflecting the dim emergency lighting. According to the building plans Kurogiri had obtained, the main security hub would be on the second floor, while the faculty office—where information on All Might's schedule might be found—was on the third.

Yoru moved toward the stairwell, his senses heightened for any sign of detection. The weight of his katana at his side was reassuring—a constant companion in a world that often felt strange and unfamiliar to him.

As he ascended the stairs, his mind returned to the question that had troubled him since accepting this mission: why did this place feel so significant? What connection might it hold to the fragments of memory that haunted his dreams?

The second-floor corridor stretched before him, silent and empty. Most of the staff had departed hours ago, with only a skeleton security crew remaining on site. Still, Yoru moved with caution, aware that heroes—especially those who taught at U.A.—were unpredictable adversaries.

He paused at a junction, consulting his mental map of the building. The security hub would be three doors down on the right, but first, he needed to disable the motion sensors for this section. From another pocket, he produced a small electromagnetic pulse device, setting it to a narrow frequency that would temporarily disrupt the sensors without triggering the backup systems.

With the path now clear, Yoru approached the security hub. Through the small window in the door, he could see a single guard monitoring the bank of screens that displayed feeds from throughout the campus. The guard appeared alert but unsuspecting, his attention divided between the screens and a steaming cup of coffee.

Yoru considered his options. Direct confrontation was unnecessary and would only increase the risk of discovery. Instead, he withdrew a small canister from his coat—another tool provided by the League. When activated, it would release an odorless sedative gas through the ventilation system, rendering the guard unconscious for approximately twenty minutes.

After placing the canister near the vent beside the door, Yoru stepped back, waiting patiently. Within moments, the guard's posture slackened, his head drooping forward as the sedative took effect. Once certain the man was unconscious, Yoru entered the room, moving directly to the main console.

The security system was sophisticated but not impenetrable. Yoru connected a small drive to the main port, allowing it to copy the security protocols and patrol schedules while he manually accessed the faculty database. His fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, navigating through layers of protection with practiced ease.

"I have accessed the security hub," he murmured into his communication device. "Downloading patrol schedules and access codes now."

"Excellent," Kurogiri replied. "And information on All Might?"

"I will proceed to the faculty office next," Yoru confirmed, his eyes scanning the screens for any sign of approaching personnel.

One particular screen caught his attention—a feed showing a large indoor facility that appeared to be designed for combat training. Something about it stirred another fragment of memory: the clash of blades, the scent of blood in the air, the feeling of perfect focus in battle. Yoru paused, momentarily lost in the sensation.

"Is everything proceeding as planned?" Kurogiri's voice pulled him back to the present.

"Yes," Yoru replied, disconnecting the drive once the download was complete. "Moving to the next objective."

Before leaving, Yoru took care to return the unconscious guard to his original position and erase any evidence of tampering from the system logs. The art of infiltration wasn't merely about obtaining information—it was about leaving no trace of one's presence.

In the corridor once more, Yoru made his way toward the stairwell leading to the third floor. As he reached for the door, however, his heightened senses detected movement beyond—someone was descending the stairs.

Yoru retreated swiftly, slipping into a nearby janitorial closet just as the stairwell door opened. Through the narrow gap between the closet door and frame, he observed a diminutive figure in formal attire—Principal Nezu, if the League's intelligence was correct. The animal principal was accompanied by a tall man in a hero costume that Yoru recognized as Present Mic.

"—really must do something about those reporters," Nezu was saying, his voice carrying clearly despite his small stature. "They've been growing increasingly bold since All Might joined our faculty."

"Yeah, it's getting pretty crazy out there," Present Mic agreed, his normally boisterous voice somewhat subdued in the late hour. "But what can you do? All Might's the Symbol of Peace! Everyone wants a piece of him."

"Indeed. Still, security must be our priority, especially with the upcoming USJ training exercise. I've already spoken with Thirteen about additional precautions."

Yoru's ears perked up at this information. A training exercise at the USJ facility would mean multiple classes of students accompanied by several pro heroes—including, potentially, All Might himself. This was precisely the kind of intelligence Shigaraki had sent him to gather.

He remained perfectly still until the two figures had passed, their voices fading as they turned down another corridor. Only then did Yoru emerge from his hiding place, proceeding to the stairwell with renewed purpose.

The third floor was as quiet as the second had been. Yoru moved silently down the corridor, passing classrooms with nameplate designations for various hero studies courses. Each room contained desks, training equipment, and educational materials that offered glimpses into how the next generation of heroes was being shaped.

Finally, he reached the faculty office. Unlike the security hub, this door featured both electronic and physical locks—a prudent measure given the sensitive information stored within. The electronic lock yielded to the same device he had used earlier, but the physical lock required more direct intervention.

From a concealed pocket in his sleeve, Yoru produced a set of slim lock picks. His fingers moved with practiced precision, manipulating the tumblers with an expertise that felt instinctive rather than learned. Within moments, the lock clicked open, granting him access to the office beyond.

The large room contained several desks arranged in neat rows, each personalized with the belongings of different faculty members. Yoru moved directly to the desk that, according to their intelligence, belonged to All Might. Unlike the others, it was notably sparse—a new addition that had not yet accumulated the clutter of long-term occupancy.

A quick search revealed little of interest: standard lesson plans, generic training schedules, and faculty memos that contained nothing of strategic value. Yoru frowned slightly behind his mask. Either All Might was exceptionally cautious with his personal information, or he kept little at his workplace desk.

Moving to the central filing cabinet, Yoru discovered what he sought—a master schedule of upcoming events, including detailed plans for the USJ training exercise mentioned by Principal Nezu. According to the document, the exercise was scheduled for the following week and would involve Class 1-A—the class that had survived the entrance exam with the highest scores.

Yoru photographed the documents with a small, specialized camera, ensuring he captured every detail that might be useful to Shigaraki. As he replaced the files exactly as he had found them, a flicker of movement from the window caught his eye.

Outside, beyond the school grounds, a figure stood atop a distant building—tall and gaunt, watching the U.A. campus with an intensity that Yoru could feel even at this distance. For a moment, Yoru felt a strange connection to this observer, as though they shared some unspoken understanding.

Then the figure was gone, disappeared into the shadows of the Tokyo night.

Yoru returned his attention to the task at hand, completing his documentation of the office's contents before carefully relocking both locks. As he prepared to exit, his communication device activated once more.

"The security systems will reset in approximately seven minutes," Kurogiri informed him. "You must reach the extraction point before then."

"Understood," Yoru replied, already moving toward the stairwell. "Mission objectives have been accomplished."

His descent was swift but controlled, his footsteps silent against the polished steps. As he reached the first floor, however, his instincts flared a warning. Something had changed—the air carried a different tension, the silence felt charged rather than empty.

Pressing himself against the wall, Yoru peered cautiously around the corner. At the far end of the corridor, a figure was examining the side entrance through which he had entered—Eraserhead, the homeroom teacher of Class 1-A. The underground hero was inspecting the electronic lock, his capture weapon draped loosely around his shoulders as he searched for signs of tampering.

Yoru assessed his options quickly. Confrontation was inadvisable—not only would it compromise the mission, but engaging with a pro hero would likely alert others to his presence. The main entrance was now blocked, but perhaps...

His gaze shifted to the large windows lining the corridor. They would be wired with alarms, but if timed precisely with his extraction...

"I require an alternate exit point," he murmured into his communication device. "East side of the building, first floor, third window from the north corner. Synchronize with the security reset to mask the alarm trigger."

"Risky," Kurogiri replied after a brief pause. "But feasible. Prepare for extraction in ninety seconds."

Yoru moved silently along the corridor, keeping to the shadows as he positioned himself near the designated window. From his vantage point, he could still see Eraserhead inspecting the entrance, now joined by another faculty member—the pro hero Midnight.

"The system shows an authorized entry, but there's no record of who used their credentials," Eraserhead was saying, his voice low and suspicious. "And the timing coincides with the media disturbance at the main gate."

"You think someone got in?" Midnight asked, her expression serious beneath her domino mask.

"I think we should conduct a full sweep," Eraserhead replied, already reaching for his communicator. "Starting now."

Time was running short. Yoru glanced at his watch—thirty seconds until extraction. With practiced movements, he unsheathed his katana slightly, ready to use the hilt to break the window at the precise moment of security reset.

Twenty seconds.

Eraserhead was speaking into his communicator now, alerting other security personnel to the potential breach.

Ten seconds.

Yoru positioned himself directly before the window, calculating the exact force needed to shatter the glass without causing excessive noise.

Five seconds.

He drew a deep breath, focusing his mind as he had countless times before in situations of extreme pressure.

Three.

Two.

One.

In a single fluid motion, Yoru struck the window with the hilt of his katana, the glass shattering outward just as Kurogiri's warp gate materialized beyond. He leapt through the opening, the sound of the alarm blending with the security system's scheduled reset, creating momentary confusion in the monitoring systems.

As he passed through the gate, Yoru caught a final glimpse of Eraserhead turning sharply at the sound of breaking glass, his capture weapon already unwinding from his shoulders—but too late. The warp gate closed behind Yoru, depositing him back on the rooftop where his mission had begun.

The night air felt cool against his face as he removed his mask, tucking it back into his coat pocket. Below, the media continued their persistent vigil at U.A.'s gates, unaware of the infiltration that had just occurred literally over their heads.

"Mission complete," Yoru reported, sheathing his katana with practiced precision. "I have obtained the security protocols and information on an upcoming training exercise at a facility called USJ. All Might is scheduled to be present, along with multiple students from Class 1-A."

"Excellent," Kurogiri replied, satisfaction evident in his tone. "Shigaraki will be pleased. Return to the hideout for debriefing."

As Yoru prepared to depart, he cast one final glance at U.A. High School. The building stood proud and illuminated against the night sky, a beacon of heroism and justice in a world that Yoru was helping to undermine. Yet he felt no conflict about his actions—only a strange sense of destiny, as though every step he had taken since his awakening had been leading him toward a confrontation that would redefine him.

"Until we meet again," he murmured, the words carried away by the night breeze. Then, like a shadow slipping into deeper darkness, Yoru disappeared into the Tokyo night, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of his presence—a silent herald of the storm to come.

.

Chapter Text

Shoto woke with a start, blinking blearily at the sunlight streaming through his window. He squinted at his alarm clock and felt his heart drop—8:15 AM. Classes started at 8:30.

"No, no, no," he muttered, throwing off his covers and scrambling to his feet. This never happened. Shoto Todoroki was always punctual, always prepared, always—

"Late," he groaned, pulling on his uniform with uncharacteristic haste. His tie ended up crooked, his shirt half-tucked, but there was no time to fix it.

Rushing downstairs, he found the house unnervingly quiet. A note sat on the kitchen counter, his mother's elegant handwriting explaining what he already suspected: Fuyumi, Touya, and his father had left early for work. His mother had gone shopping, and Natsuo had returned to college after his weekend visit home.

Shoto grabbed a piece of toast, stuffed it in his mouth, and dashed out the door. The train station was a ten-minute walk at a brisk pace—he could make it in five if he ran.

Halfway there, he heard the telltale sound of the train arriving. Picking up speed, Shoto pushed himself harder, his lungs burning as he sprinted the final stretch.

Only to watch the train pull away just as he reached the platform.

"Perfect," he muttered, checking the schedule. The next train would arrive in twenty minutes, far too late to get him to school on time. He could take a bus, but the route was longer, and he'd still miss first period.

There was only one option left: run. The distance to U.A. was considerable, but not impossible. If he used the technique his father had drilled into him and his siblings from childhood—

Shoto took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs. He focused on his breathing, the rhythm becoming deliberate and controlled. Total Concentration Breathing wasn't something he liked to rely on—it reminded him too much of his father's relentless training—but today, it was necessary.

With each measured breath, he felt his muscles energize, his senses sharpen. He took off at a speed that would have impressed even Iida, his feet barely seeming to touch the ground as he navigated the crowded sidewalks with surprising agility.

The city blurred around him as he ran, leaping over obstacles and weaving through crowds. A few pedestrians stared as he passed, a red and white streak moving with inhuman speed.

By some miracle, U.A. came into view with seven minutes to spare. Shoto slowed his pace, allowing himself a small smile of relief. He'd made it.

Or so he thought.

As he approached the main entrance, his path was suddenly blocked by a wall of reporters, cameras, and microphones. They swarmed around the gate like a hive of particularly persistent wasps, accosting any student who attempted to enter.

"You there! Are you a U.A. student?" "What's it like having All Might as a teacher?" "Can you confirm if the Symbol of Peace is on staff?" "Does he look the same in person as he does on TV?"

Shoto froze, eyeing the crowd with mounting dismay. There were at least fifty reporters, all shouting questions and pushing against the security barriers. He checked his watch—five minutes until class started.

"How did they even get this information?" he muttered, watching as Bakugo bulldozed his way through the crowd, leaving several terrified reporters in his wake. Not everyone could employ the Bakugo method, however, and most students were getting trapped in lengthy interrogations.

Too tired to care and not wanting to deal with the media circus, Shoto made a decision that, in retrospect, probably wasn't his finest.

He circled around to the back of the campus, where the building's exterior wall presented a vertical challenge of significant proportions. His classroom was on the third floor—a daunting climb for anyone without a levitation quirk.

"This is ridiculous," he told himself, even as he began searching for handholds in the concrete façade. "I could just walk through the reporters. Or explain to Aizawa why I'm late."

But something stubborn in him rejected the sensible options. Instead, he found himself scaling the U.A. building like some sort of discount superhero, using window ledges, decorative stonework, and the occasional drain pipe to make his ascent.

Halfway up, clutching a particularly narrow ledge, Shoto had a moment of clarity.

"This is definitely against school rules," he muttered, reaching for the next handhold. "Probably city ordinances too."

A small bird landed on the ledge next to his hand, cocking its head curiously at him.

"Don't judge me," Shoto told it seriously. "You have wings. You don't understand my struggle."

The bird chirped what sounded suspiciously like judgment before flying away.

As he neared the third floor, Shoto encountered his final obstacle: the windows to Class 1-A were closed. He hung precariously from the ledge, contemplating his next move. Using his ice to create a platform would technically be using his quirk outside of authorized activities—a rule violation he wasn't willing to commit.

Instead, he managed to edge his way along until he reached a window that was cracked open slightly. With careful maneuvering, he was able to push it wider, creating just enough space to squeeze through.

Inside Class 1-A, tension hung in the air as students settled into their seats, many still flustered from the reporter gauntlet they'd had to run. Bakugo looked even more murderous than usual, small explosions popping from his palms as he muttered about "damn vultures" and "privacy invasion."

Mina Ashido kept glancing anxiously at the empty seat where Shoto should have been. "Has anyone seen Todoroki this morning?" she asked, turning to Kirishima beside her.

"No," Kirishima replied, his usual sharp-toothed grin replaced with concern. "It's not like him to be late."

"Maybe he got held up by the reporters?" Tsuyu suggested, finger pressed thoughtfully to her chin.

Mina shook her head. "We usually walk together in the mornings. He wasn't at our meeting spot either."

"Don't worry," Kirishima reassured her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure he'll be here. Todoroki's probably just—"

The classroom door slid open as Aizawa shuffled in, looking as exhausted as ever in his yellow sleeping bag. "Settle down," he mumbled, making his way to the podium. "Let's take attendance and then—"

A sudden scraping noise from the window interrupted him. All heads turned just in time to see the window slide open wider and Shoto Todoroki, the typically immaculate and composed student, awkwardly clamber through the opening.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" the class exclaimed in unified shock.

Shoto's uniform was disheveled, his tie askew, and a small leaf was stuck in his dual-colored hair. Despite his rather unorthodox entrance, his expression remained perfectly calm as he dusted himself off and straightened his jacket.

"Sorry for the unusual entrance," he said mildly, as if climbing through third-story windows was a perfectly normal way to arrive at school.

Kirishima rushed over, eyes wide with concern. "Dude! Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Shoto replied, finally noticing the leaf in his hair and removing it with dignified precision. "Just running a bit late this morning."

Aizawa's tired eyes had widened fractionally—the equivalent of extreme shock for the perpetually exhausted teacher. "Todoroki," he said slowly, "did you just climb up the exterior of the building?"

"Yes, sir."

"Using your quirk?"

"No, sir."

Aizawa's eyebrow quirked upward, the only indication of his disbelief. "You scaled three stories of sheer wall... without using your quirk."

"That's correct," Shoto confirmed, taking his seat as if nothing unusual had occurred.

A moment of stunned silence followed before Denki leaned forward, voicing what everyone was thinking. "But... how did you get up here in the first place? We're on the third floor!"

Shoto turned to him with a perfectly straight face and replied, "I have my ways."

Another beat of silence, then the classroom erupted.

"Did Todoroki just make a joke?" Uraraka whispered to Deku, who was furiously muttering analysis about possible climbing techniques.

Bakugo snorted. "Half-and-half bastard thinks he's Spider-Man now."

"That was so manly!" Kirishima exclaimed, slapping Shoto on the back.

Mina was doubled over with laughter. "Your face! You should see your face right now! You look so serious about it!"

Even Aizawa seemed momentarily at a loss for words. Finally, he sighed deeply, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "I don't get paid enough for this," before clearing his throat.

"While I appreciate your dedication to punctuality, Todoroki, next time please just use the door like a normal person. Even if you have to fight through reporters."

"Yes, sir," Shoto agreed with a solemn nod.

As Aizawa turned to begin the lesson, Shoto caught Mina and Kirishima exchanging amused glances. Mina mouthed "Tell us everything later" while Kirishima gave him a thumbs up.

For the first time that chaotic morning, Shoto allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps being late wasn't so bad after all—especially when it led to what appeared to be his first successful attempt at humor.

After the entire fiasco of Shoto entering class through the window, Aizawa shuffled through some papers on his desk, his exhausted expression never changing. He cleared his throat to regain the class's attention, which was still largely focused on Shoto's unexpected entrance.

"Now that we're all here—through conventional means or otherwise," Aizawa said with a pointed glance at Shoto, "we need to address some class business. You need to select a class president and vice president."

A wave of excitement rippled through the classroom. Most students immediately straightened in their seats, hands shooting into the air as they volunteered themselves for the positions. The cacophony of "Pick me!" and "I should be president!" filled the room.

Shoto, however, had no interest in the matter. Being class president meant additional responsibilities and attention—two things he actively avoided. He rested his chin on his hand and gazed out the window he'd climbed through moments earlier, tuning out the chaos around him.

Iida eventually proposed a democratic election, which seemed to satisfy everyone. When the votes were tallied, Midoriya somehow emerged as president with four votes, looking absolutely terrified by his new responsibility. Yaoyorozu secured the vice president position with three votes, narrowly beating Denki who had received two.

Shoto noticed Denki's initial relief at not being chosen, but that quickly vanished when Momo shot him a smug, self-satisfied look from across the room. Denki's relaxed posture tensed, his golden eyes narrowing as he matched her gaze with equal intensity.

From the corner of his eye, Shoto caught Bakugo observing the exchange with unusual interest, a small furrow appearing between his brows before he turned away, muttering something under his breath.

The rest of the morning classes passed uneventfully, and when the lunch bell rang, Shoto prepared to find a quiet spot to eat alone as usual. His plans were interrupted when Denki appeared beside his desk.

"Hey, Todoroki," Denki said, his usual easygoing smile back in place. "Come eat with us. Bakugo's saving a table."

Before Shoto could formulate a polite refusal, Mina hooked her arm through his, practically dragging him to his feet.

"No excuses today, Mr. Window-Climber! Especially after that spectacular entrance. You owe us details!"

Kirishima joined them, flashing his shark-toothed grin. "Yeah, man! That was seriously cool. Very manly approach to tardiness."

Finding himself outnumbered, Shoto yielded with a small nod and followed them to the cafeteria, where they found Bakugo already seated at a table, scowling at anyone who dared approach.

As they settled in, Mina immediately launched into an animated recounting of Shoto's morning entrance for Bakugo's benefit, complete with dramatic gestures and sound effects.

"You should have seen Aizawa's face! I swear he almost showed actual emotion!"

"It wasn't that dramatic," Shoto interjected quietly, opening his bento.

"Dude, you climbed three stories without a quirk," Kirishima pointed out, biting into his curry bread. "That's pretty dramatic."

Bakugo snorted. "Not bad for half-and-half. Beats getting mobbed by those vultures outside."

"Speaking of which," Mina said, stealing one of Kirishima's fries, "did you see that one reporter try to interview Present Mic? I thought she was going to go deaf when he answered at full volume!"

The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by Mina's laughter and Kirishima's enthusiastic commentary. Denki contributed several jokes that had even Bakugo fighting back a smirk. Shoto found himself relaxing, content to listen more than participate.

After a lull in the conversation, Bakugo turned his sharp gaze to Shoto. "So, half-and-half, you always been able to climb like that, or is it something new?"

Shoto blinked at the unexpected question. "My Mother included various physical training in our regimen from a young age. Climbing was part of it."

"Interesting choice," Bakugo pressed, his eyes unusually calculating. "Any particular reason?"

"She believed heroes should be capable even without their quirks," Shoto answered truthfully, though with evident distaste. "My siblings and I all received the same training."

"Siblings?" Bakugo leaned forward slightly. "How many you got?"

"Three. Three older than me"

"And they all had to do this survival training shit too?"

Shoto nodded, increasingly puzzled by Bakugo's interest. "Yes, though Touya—my oldest brother—often found ways to subvert it. He has a mischievous streak."

"Mischievous, huh?" Bakugo's eyes narrowed fractionally. "You close with this Touya?"

"We all are. My family is... closer now than we used to be." Shoto wasn't sure why he added that last part, but something in Bakugo's intense scrutiny made him feel like he needed to clarify.

Bakugo seemed to process this information, his expression unreadable. "You ever feel like... you've known people before? Like in another life or some shit?"

The question was so unexpected that Shoto paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. "I... can't say that I have," he replied honestly.

Bakugo grunted, apparently dissatisfied with the answer but unwilling to elaborate further. "Just curious. Your climbing shit reminded me of someone, that's all."

Mina, sensing the strange tension, quickly jumped in. "Anyway! Who would have thought Midoriya would end up as class president? The poor guy looked like he was going to pass out!"

Before they could follow this new conversation thread, Denki suddenly stiffened, his attention drawn across the cafeteria. Shoto followed his gaze to see Momo and Jirou walking with their trays, engaged in conversation.

As if sensing his stare, Momo looked up, making direct eye contact with Denki. Her pleasant expression immediately hardened, her dark eyes narrowing in obvious dislike. Denki returned the look with equal venom, the animosity between them almost palpable across the cafeteria.

The silent confrontation lasted only seconds before both huffed and looked away simultaneously. Momo steered Jirou toward a table on the opposite side of the room.

"What was that about?" Shoto asked, genuinely puzzled by the exchange. "I thought you two might have resolved your differences after yesterday's training."

Mina sighed dramatically. "Same. They seemed so evenly matched in the exercise, I figured they'd at least respect each other now."

Denki shook his head, his usual carefree demeanor momentarily absent. "No way. If anything, she sees me as even more of a rival now. We fundamentally disagree on how the world works."

"You mean about breaking rules?" Kirishima asked, reaching for his drink.

"It's more than that," Denki replied, leaning back in his chair. "Yaoyorozu lives in a perfect world where protocol always works and heroes always win by following the rules. She's never had to question the system because it was built for people like her."

Bakugo nodded, his expression serious for once. "She can have all the views she wants, but this is hero work. Like it or not, Sparky here is right."

He stabbed his fork into his food with unnecessary force. "There will be choices we make that we won't want to. Questionable moral shit that keeps civilians safe but doesn't look good on TV. That's just how the world works—it's not black and white, it's gray, and society needs to stop pretending otherwise."

Denki looked surprised at Bakugo's support, but nodded in agreement.

"The world isn't fair," Bakugo continued, his voice dropping slightly. "Villains don't play by the rules, so sometimes heroes can't either. Everyone wants to believe in perfect justice, but out there—" he gestured vaguely toward the window, "—there are monsters wearing human skin, and sometimes you have to become a little monstrous yourself to stop them."

A heavy silence fell over the table as they all contemplated his words. Even Mina seemed subdued, her usual cheer dimmed by the weight of the conversation.

"That's... pretty deep, Bakugo," Kirishima finally said, looking at his friend with newfound respect.

Bakugo scowled, apparently embarrassed by his philosophical tangent. "Whatever. Just saying what everybody knows but doesn't want to admit."

The tension was abruptly broken when a piercing alarm cut through the cafeteria, causing several students to jump in surprise. Red lights began flashing along the walls as an automated announcement repeated: "Security Level 3 has been breached. All students please evacuate in an orderly fashion."

Panic immediately erupted in the cafeteria. Students leapt from their seats, rushing toward the exits in a chaotic tide of bodies.

"What's Security Level 3?" Kirishima shouted over the commotion, standing to get a better view.

A passing third-year student answered as he hurried by: "It means someone has infiltrated the U.A. campus by bypassing the defensive barrier! This hasn't happened in my three years here!"

As the crowd grew more frenzied, Shoto found himself being pushed along with the surge of bodies toward the exit. He caught a glimpse of Bakugo's irritated expression before they were separated by the panicking students.

"I knew I should have eaten on the rooftop," Shoto muttered to himself, allowing the current of students to carry him into the hallway while mentally preparing for whatever threat might have breached U.A.'s defenses.

When Shoto finally arrived home that evening, the house was quiet but not empty. His mother was in the kitchen, carefully arranging flowers in a vase by the window. She looked up as he entered, her gentle smile immediately putting him at ease after the chaotic day.

"Welcome home, Shoto," she said warmly. "How was your day?"

Shoto set his bag down and approached her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It was... a very fun and funny day, actually."

His mother's eyes widened slightly in pleasant surprise. "Oh? That sounds nice. Tell me about it?"

As they moved to sit at the kitchen table, Shoto recounted his morning misadventures—waking up late, missing his train, and his unconventional entrance to class. His mother's laughter filled the kitchen as he described the bird that had judged him on the windowsill, and his classmates' shocked reactions.

"Oh, Shoto," she chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Your father and I used to make you climb trees as kids, but scaling school buildings is taking it to a new level!"

He found himself smiling more freely than usual as he continued with the lunch conversation and the false alarm that had thrown the school into chaos. "It turned out to be just the media somehow getting past the gate. No real threat."

As he spoke, the front door opened, bringing with it the sounds of multiple footsteps and voices. Touya entered the kitchen first, already loosening his tie, followed by Fuyumi who was carrying a stack of papers. His father came next, his flame beard dimmed to a low flicker that indicated his exhaustion.

"Hey, little brother," Touya greeted, ruffling Shoto's hair as he passed. "Behaving yourself at school?"

Before Shoto could answer, Keigo appeared in the doorway, Yumi riding on his shoulders and Hiro trailing behind, engrossed in a handheld game.

"Uncle Shoto!" Yumi called out excitedly, reaching for him from her perch atop Keigo's shoulders. "Did you fight any villains today?"

Shoto stood to take her from Keigo, settling her on his hip with practiced ease. "No villains today, just reporters. Almost as scary, though."

Keigo laughed, his wings shifting to accommodate the narrower space of the kitchen. "Don't let the press hear you say that. They already think heroes are too secretive."

As everyone settled around the table, sharing stories from their respective days, Shoto watched his family with quiet contentment. His father discusses a rescue operation with Touya, Fuyumi helping Hiro with his homework while simultaneously organizing her teaching notes, his mother and Keigo debating the best recipe for tomorrow's dinner, and Yumi drawing what appeared to be a family portrait with an excessive number of wings on everyone.

It was chaotic, loud, and completely imperfect—nothing like the rigid, silent dinners of his childhood. But looking around at the mismatched collection of personalities and quirks that somehow formed a cohesive unit, Shoto realized that this was exactly what he'd been trying to explain to Bakugo earlier.

This was his normal. And he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Chapter Text

The next morning at U.A. was a strange mix of tension and anticipation. The chaos from the previous day-the press swarming the gates, students scrambling for privacy, and the entire school’s security called into question-still hung in the air. But as homeroom began, Aizawa’s voice cut through the lingering anxiety with his usual dry bluntness. 

"Listen up," he said, voice as dry as ever, "yesterday was a wake-up call. The outside world doesn’t care about your training schedules or comfort zones." His eyes, half-lidded but piercing, swept across the gathered students. "That’s why today, for Basic Hero Training, we're doing a rescue exercise."

The class stirred in their seats, murmuring among themselves.

"Suit up," Aizawa instructed, "and meet at the bus. We’re heading off-campus."

The bus ride buzzed with conversation, students eager and energetic in their hero costumes — all except Izuku Midoriya, who fidgeted in plain gym clothes, embarrassed. His costume had been ruined during Heroics class two days ago, torn to shreds by his own power.

"You know," Tsuyu Asui piped up from her seat, "your Quirk really reminds me of All Might's, Midoriya."

Izuku turned beet red. "W-Well, um, you see..."

Eijiro Kirishima leaned over the seat, shaking his head with a grin. "Nah, I don't think so! I mean, All Might doesn't hurt himself when he fights, right?"

Some of the students chuckled. Izuku laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

"I wish I had a flashier Quirk," Eijiro added wistfully. "Something showy, y'know? Like Bakugo’s explosions or Todoroki’s ice and fire."

At that, Shoto Todoroki spoke up quietly from his seat. "Your Quirk is strong, Kirishima. You’ll be a great hero if you focus on what makes you unique."

Izuku nodded quickly. "Yeah! I mean, you can make yourself almost invulnerable. That’s incredible!"

Kirishima scratched his head, grinning sheepishly. "I guess... but still, it’d be nice to have something that gets more attention, you know? Like you and Bakugo."

Tsuyu interjected, “Bakugo takes everything too seriously, though. Like in Heroics class.”

Bakugo, sitting a few rows back, bristled. “I’m just realistic. Heroes can’t afford to mess around.”

Denki, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “I think Bakugo’s fine the way he is. No need to change.”

Jirou smirked. “Yeah, except for his personality.” The class burst into laughter, and even Denki looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Before long, the bus pulled up to a sprawling domed facility. Waiting at the entrance was Thirteen, the famous rescue hero. 

"Welcome, young heroes!" Thirteen called out, her voice light and warm. "This is the Unforeseen Simulation Joint — or U.S.J. for short!"

The students filed out of the bus, gathering around her, their excitement tangible.

"In here," Thirteen continued, sweeping her arm dramatically toward the massive structure, "we simulate all kinds of disasters — floods, landslides, fires — so that you can learn how to use your Quirks not for combat, but for saving lives!"

Her helmet tilted slightly as she leaned in. "You’ve been given tremendous gifts. Always remember: your powers exist first and foremost to help people."

The students nodded, most of them wide-eyed, inspired.

But before Thirteen could continue, a sudden chill filled the air. A swirling black mass materialized on the plaza below.

At first, Eijiro's eyes lit up. "Whoa, are those the fake villains? That’s so cool!"

Aizawa was instantly in front of them, scarf snapping around his shoulders, his voice cutting like a whip. "Those aren’t fakes."

The class froze, staring as dozens of villainous figures stepped through the dark portal, fanning out across the plaza. In front of the black mist stood a man with pale hands clinging to his face, his body language twitchy and dangerous.

And behind him, silent and imposing, was another figure. Broad-shouldered, in an elegant double-breasted coat of deep purples and blacks, a katana at his side. His eyes burned faintly purple beneath the fall of dark hair, and his stillness was more terrifying than any roar or battle cry.

Real villains.

Real danger.

And this time... there was no simulation.

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the paper screens of the Todoroki household, casting long golden beams across the polished wooden floors. In the kitchen, Rei Todoroki moved with practiced ease, carefully plating a small snack for Hiro and Yumi.

Their giggles echoed faintly from the dining room as they waited, the innocent sounds filling the house with a warmth that Rei clung to.

She reached for another plate — and froze.

A deep, unseen tremor rippled through her chest, sharp and jarring. For a split second, it felt like the world tilted sideways, her balance swaying on invisible tides. The plate slipped from her hands, shattering against the floor with a startling crash.

"Mrs Todoroki!" Hiro cried, scrambling up from his seat. "Are you okay?"

Rei blinked, the room slowly righting itself around her. She smiled, soft and reassuring, though her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," she said, bending down to sweep the shards into a pile with trembling hands. "Just a little clumsy today."

But deep inside, something was wrong.

A primal, ancient instinct clawed at her gut, screaming that something — someone — was in danger. Her hands stilled for a moment, one lingering over a jagged piece of porcelain. Her eyes, gentle and usually clouded, sharpened for a fraction of a second.

It wasn't just motherly worry. It was deeper, older. A sensation like the first crack of ice before it splits and falls into darkness.

Her mind raced to her children — Shoto, Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo. Were they safe? Were they hurt?

She closed her eyes briefly, steadying her breathing, murmuring a silent prayer into the stillness of the house.

Please... keep them safe.

Rei tucked the fear away behind a tender smile for Hiro and Yumi’s sake. But deep within her, something ancient and cold continued to stir — a part of her that would not rest until she was sure her family remained whole. Maybe it was time for another walk after Keigo picks them up.

Chapter Text

The plaza of the U.S.J. quickly descended into chaos.

A swirling black mist condensed at the center of the plaza, spitting out dozens of villains onto the tiled floor. They fanned out quickly, surrounding the bewildered students. At their forefront stood four figures — their presence heavy, distinct from the scrambling mob around them.

"Tch... All Might’s not here," he grumbled.

Another villain, standing silently behind him, observed the scene with cool detachment. His tall, broad figure cast a long shadow across the cracked ground. 

"Patience, Shigaraki," said the dark-haired swordsman beside him, his voice a low, controlled rumble.

Shigaraki's scratching intensified. "Shut up, Yoru. I don't need your lectures."

Aizawa's eyes narrowed beneath his yellow goggles. "These are the ones who broke in yesterday. They used the media as cover to gather intelligence."

"Thirteen," Aizawa commanded, "evacuate the students and contact U.A. High. I'll hold them off."

Izuku watched with wide eyes. "Wait, Mr. Aizawa! There are too many of them—your fighting style is capturing villains one-on-one, not large groups!"

Aizawa glanced back, the hint of a smile on his usually impassive face. "No good hero is a one-trick pony, Midoriya." Without another word, he leapt from the top of the stairs toward the horde of villains waiting below.

The villains with ranged Quirks immediately targeted him. "Let's take out the trash quick—"

In mid-air, Aizawa's hair lifted, his eyes glowing red as he canceled multiple Quirks simultaneously. The villains' attacks fizzled out, and before they could recover, his capture weapon snaked out, ensnaring three of them and slamming them together with brutal efficiency.

"It's Eraser Head!" one of the villains shouted. "He can erase Quirks just by looking at them!"

A hulking villain with rock-like protrusions cracked his knuckles. "That won't work on me—my body is naturally this way!" He charged at Aizawa, massive fists raised.

Aizawa ducked under the first swing, his capture weapon already shooting out to wrap around the villain's legs. With a sharp tug, he sent the villain crashing to the ground, following up with a swift kick to the temple.

"My Quirk might not work on mutation types like you," Aizawa said coolly, "but my fists work just fine."

Izuku watched in awe. "I didn't realize Mr. Aizawa was so skilled..."

"Move it, Midoriya!" Tenya grabbed his arm. "We need to evacuate as ordered!"

The students followed Thirteen toward the exit, but their path was suddenly blocked by the same swirling dark mist that had brought the villains. It condensed into a vaguely humanoid shape, yellow slits for eyes gleaming within the darkness.

"Greetings," the mist-villain said, his voice eerily polite. "We are the League of Villains. Forgive our audacity, but we've invited ourselves into this haven of heroism, U.A. High School, to ensure that All Might, the Symbol of Peace, takes his last breath."

Thirteen stepped in front of the students, hand raised to use her Quirk.

"Get back!" she ordered, but Bakugo and Kirishima had already launched themselves forward.

"Like hell we're going to stand here and listen to your monologue!" Bakugo roared, his hands curled up in a fist as he leapt at the mist villain, his dark green bodysuit nearly disappearing within the villain's shadowy form. The wing-like cloth on his back fluttered as he moved with surprising agility.

"A direct attack? How unrefined," the mist villain said as both Bakugo's explosion and Kirishima's hardened fist passed through his vaporous body.

Before Thirteen could activate her Black Hole Quirk, the mist villain expanded. "Begone," he intoned, and darkness enveloped the students, separating them across the facility.

Izuku felt the ground disappear beneath his feet, and suddenly he was falling—no, not falling, but plunging into cold water. The shock of it knocked the air from his lungs as he sank deeper into the Shipwreck Zone's artificial lake.

I have to get to the surface, he thought desperately, kicking upward. But a shadow moved beneath him—a villain with a shark Quirk, all teeth and malice.

"Fresh meat!" the villain gurgled through the water, surging toward Izuku.

Just as panic threatened to overwhelm him, something struck the villain hard, sending him tumbling through the water. A strong grip wrapped around Izuku's waist, and he felt himself being pulled upward at incredible speed.

They broke the surface, and Izuku gasped for air. Looking to his savior, he found Tsuyu Asui, her large eyes blinking calmly at him.

"Ribbit. That was close, Midoriya," she said, her tongue retracting after having delivered a powerful kick to the shark villain.

With surprising strength, Tsuyu's tongue wrapped around Izuku and launched him onto a nearby ship floating in the center of the zone. A moment later, she climbed aboard, dragging a terrified Mineta behind her.

"Mineta, pull yourself together," Tsuyu said flatly. "We need to focus."

Mineta was hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face. "Focus? FOCUS? We're going to die here! Those aren't practice villains—they're real killers!"

Izuku looked back toward the central plaza, where Aizawa was still fighting, his movements becoming more labored as he faced villain after villain. "Mr. Aizawa can't keep this up forever. His Quirk has a time limit, and dry-eye sets in quickly."

"And what about All Might?" Tsuyu asked, her usual bluntness carrying a hint of concern. "If they're here to kill him..."

Izuku's hands clenched into fists. "We can't just wait around for help. We're training to be heroes, aren't we? That means protecting those who need it—even if it's All Might himself."

Down in the plaza, Shigaraki watched Aizawa with growing irritation. "He's good," he muttered. "Taking out our cannon fodder like they're nothing. Kurogiri better not mess up his part."

"The students have been scattered," Yoru observed, his purple eyes tracking the movements around the facility. "But some remain at the entrance. Kurogiri hasn't completely separated them."

Meanwhile, across the USJ, the other students found themselves fighting for their lives. All across the U.S.J., the battle had begun — a true baptism by fire. And high above it all, standing in silent watch at Shigaraki's back, Yoru waited.

Calm. Patient. Unmoving.

Chapter Text

The Landslide Zone was chaos incarnate: broken steel beams jutted from the ground like grave markers, dust choked the air, and boulders the size of cars loomed precariously over jagged cliffs.

And in the center of it all, standing calm, unbothered, and eerily poised, was Todoroki Shoto.

He landed lightly atop a broken slab of concrete, blue turtleneck pristine despite the dust. His eyes swept the battlefield, calm and cold. The villains-some with stony skin, others with claws or brute strength-were already converging, jeering at the sight of a single student standing against them.

"Hey, it's just one kid!" shouted a villain with reptilian scales covering his arms and face. "Let's take him down quickly and move on to finding the others."

"Careful," warned another, this one sporting metallic protrusions from his knuckles. "That's Endeavor's kid. He's got a powerful ice Quirk."

Shoto observed them silently, his heterochromatic eyes betraying no emotion. Five villains surrounded him, each wearing the confident smirk of predators who believed they'd cornered prey. They had no idea they were the ones who had been trapped.

With deliberate slowness, Shoto reached into his blue turtleneck and withdrew two elegant war fans. The metal gleamed even in the dim light of the facility, the delicate ribs extending outward as he snapped them open with practiced precision.

"War fans?" The reptilian villain laughed. "What are you gonna do, cool us off?"

Shoto didn't respond to the taunt. Instead, he centered himself, drawing upon the training that had been drilled into him since before he could remember. His breath steadied, his stance widened slightly, and his eyes focused with laser-like intensity.

"Get him!" shouted one of the villains, and they charged.

Shoto moved like water—fluid, graceful, unstoppable. The first villain lunged with a knife, only to find himself striking empty air as Shoto pivoted away. The war fan in his right hand traced an arc through the air, and a blast of frost followed its path. The villain's knife-hand froze solid to the wrist, the sudden weight causing him to topple forward.

The second attacker fired a projectile from his mouth—some kind of adhesive glob. Shoto's response was immediate; a flick of his fan created a shield of ice that caught the projectile mid-air. Before the villain could fire again, Shoto closed the distance between them with frightening speed.

"Too slow," he whispered, sweeping both fans in opposing arcs.

" Frozen Lotus ," he intoned quietly, the technique flowing from him as naturally as breathing.

Beautiful and deadly ice formations erupted from where his fans cut through the air—delicate lotus blossoms with razor-sharp petals. They blossomed outward in a deadly garden, slicing through the air and pinning three villains to the rocky ground by their clothes. They struggled against the ice, but it held firm, unyielding as its creator.

"What the hell kind of ice is this?" one gasped, staring at the perfect formation. "It's like... art."

The remaining two villains exchanged nervous glances, their earlier confidence evaporating like morning dew. One of them—a woman with elongated fingers that sparked with electricity—made a break for higher ground, perhaps hoping to gain an advantage.

Shoto tracked her with his eyes but made no move to pursue. Instead, he turned his attention to the villain closest to him—a burly man with what appeared to be a strength-enhancement Quirk.

"You'll have to do better than fancy ice sculptures, kid," the villain growled, pounding his fists together. "My Quirk lets me break through concrete. Your ice is nothing."

Shoto tilted his head slightly, something shifting behind his eyes—a coldness that had nothing to do with his Quirk. "Is that so?"

The villain charged, fist cocked back for a devastating blow. Shoto waited until the last possible moment before sidestepping, his movements precise and economical. As the villain's momentum carried him forward, Shoto flicked his fan almost casually.

" Lotus Vines ," he murmured.

Crystalline tendrils of ice shot forth, wrapping around the villain's limbs like serpents. The man roared in frustration, flexing his enhanced muscles against the bindings—but the ice held firm. More vines sprouted, encircling his torso, crawling up his neck, until only his face remained uncovered.

From above, the electric-fingered villain launched a desperate attack, sending bolts of lightning toward Shoto. Without even looking up, he raised his fan and created a perfect ice dome over himself. The electricity crackled harmlessly against it, dispersing into the ground.

"Your aim is poor," Shoto called out, his voice eerily calm. The ice dome shattered outward, shards flying with precision toward the female villain. Before she could react, ice vines had ensnared her as well, dragging her down from her perch to join her compatriots on the ground.

Shoto surveyed his work with clinical detachment. Five villains, immobilized and at his mercy. The landslide zone had fallen silent, save for the labored breathing of his captured opponents.

Approaching the burly villain who had boasted about breaking his ice, Shoto knelt down until they were face to face. Something in his expression made the man flinch despite his predicament.

"Now," Shoto said, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent that sent shivers down the spines of everyone present, "I have some questions."

The villain spat at him. "Go to hell, hero-in-training."

A smile crept across Shoto's face—sweet, gentle, utterly at odds with the situation. It was his mother's smile, the one she wore when serving tea or discussing the weather. But on Shoto's face, in this context, it was terrifying.

"That's not how this works," he whispered, his breath fogging in the increasingly cold air. He placed a fan against the villain's chest. "You see, my ice is special. It leaves no trace when it melts. No water, no residue... nothing that can be detected."

The villain's eyes widened slightly.

"I could freeze your lungs from the inside," Shoto continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "The ice would spread through your airways, crystallizing the delicate tissues. And when rescue finally comes? There would be no evidence of what happened. No proof of how you died."

"You're bluffing," the villain rasped, but his voice trembled. "You're training to be a hero. Heroes don't do that kind of thing."

Shoto's smile widened a fraction. "Would you like to test that theory?"

A thin layer of frost began to crawl up the villain's exposed neck, toward his nostrils and mouth. The man's breathing quickened in panic.

"Wait! Stop! What do you want to know?"

Shoto's expression didn't change, but the frost stopped its advance. "Tell me about your plan. Why attack USJ? What's your goal with All Might?"

The villain glanced at his captured comrades, who all wore expressions ranging from fear to resignation.

"It's that hand guy—Shigaraki. He's obsessed with killing All Might. That's all most of us know, I swear!"

"Who's the man in the coat? The one with the sword?"

"Yoru? He doesn't talk much. Keeps to himself. But Shigaraki listens to him, which is weird 'cause Shigaraki doesn't seem to respect anybody else."

"And the creature with them?"

The villain shook his head. "Don't know what it is. They call it 'Nomu' but they didn't tell us anything about it. Look, we're just hired muscle. They didn't share the details."

Shoto observed him carefully, searching for signs of deception. Finding none, he stood up. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"So... you'll let us go now, right?" the electric-fingered villain asked hopefully.

Shoto glanced at her. "I said I wouldn't freeze your lungs. I didn't promise to release you." His voice softened to that whisper-quiet tone again. "If you remain like this for too long, hypothermia will set in. Your core temperature will drop, your heartbeat will slow, and eventually, you'll fall into a sleep from which you'll never wake."

The villains stared at him in horror.

"However," Shoto continued, "if I return and find that you've managed to give me useful information about your leaders, I might consider thawing you out before that happens."

One of the pinned villains broke. "The warp guy—Kurogiri! He's their escape route. If you can take him down, they can't get away!"

"Better," Shoto said, the smile returning. It never reached his eyes. "I'll consider that worthy of survival."

With a flick of his fans, he released the ice constructs restraining the villains. They collapsed to the ground, shivering violently, unable to move their chilled limbs effectively.

"Don't try to follow me," Shoto advised as he turned to leave. "I won't be as merciful a second time."

As he made his way back toward the central plaza, stepping carefully over the frozen landscape he'd created, Shoto reflected on what he'd learned. The villains seemed poorly organized—cannon fodder sent to distract while the leaders pursued their true goal. If All Might was their target, then Shoto needed to rejoin his classmates as quickly as possible.

A faint pang of guilt nagged at him for the methods he'd used. His mother would never actually approve of such cruelty—she was gentle, kind, the warmth to his father's fire. Yet somehow, when he'd smiled that sweet smile and delivered those cold threats, it had felt... natural. As if some dormant part of him had awakened in the heat of battle.

Shoto pushed the thought aside. There would be time for self-reflection later. Right now, his classmates needed him. And if these villains truly thought they could kill the Symbol of Peace, they were about to learn just how misguided their plan had been.

With each step he took back toward the central plaza, the temperature around him dropped further, frost spreading in his wake like a silent promise of what awaited anyone foolish enough to stand in his path.

Chapter Text

One moment they were standing at the entrance to USJ, and the next, Denki Kaminari found himself materializing on rocky terrain alongside Momo Yaoyorozu and Kyoka Jiro. The black mist that had enveloped them dissipated, leaving them in what appeared to be the Mountain Zone of the facility.

"Everyone alright?" Denki asked, adjusting the black kimono that draped over his white bodysuit. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword—a habit formed through years of training.

Before either girl could respond, movement caught their attention. Villains emerged from behind boulders and outcroppings, at least fifteen of them, all wearing menacing grins as they surrounded the three students.

"Well, well... looks like we got some kids to play with," sneered a villain with spiked metal covering his knuckles.

Denki's lips curled into a grin, his eyes lighting up with an excitement that seemed almost inappropriate given the situation. "Looks like I was right."

"About what?" Jiro asked, her earphone jacks extending defensively.

"Actual battle is different from the textbooks," Denki replied, drawing his sword with practiced ease. The blade caught the light, gleaming dangerously. "Plans fail more often than they work. If we're treating this like fieldwork, we need to assume anything can happen."

"Are you seriously enjoying this?" Jiro hissed, backing up until she stood shoulder to shoulder with him and Yaoyorozu. "Our lives are on the line here!"

Denki rolled his shoulders, his stance shifting subtly into something more poised, more confident than his usual demeanor. "Of course I'm not enjoying it," he said, though his excited smile contradicted his words. "But this is my first actual fight. I can finally test my might against real villains." He assessed their opponents with a quick glance. "Even if they're just your run-of-the-mill thugs... it's progress!"

Yaoyorozu stared at him with a mixture of confusion and concern before shaking her head. "We need to focus. These villains are here to kill us."

"Oh, I'm focused," Denki assured her, his eyes never leaving the approaching villains. "Very focused."

Yaoyorozu created a metal staff, gripping it tightly as she positioned herself for battle. "We need a plan."

"Simple plan," Denki said, his voice dropping to a serious tone that neither girl had heard from him before. "We fight, we win, we find the others."

Yaoyorozu frowned at him. "That's not a plan; that's a goal."

"Same difference in battle," Denki replied with a shrug. "Let's try not to die, alright?"

Despite their dislike for one another, Yaoyorozu nodded curtly. There were indeed bigger problems at the moment than their personal rivalry.

"Enough chatter, kids," called out one of the villains, a woman with bright green hair that moved like tendrils. "Time to play with the adults."

"Oh please," Denki scoffed, his tone suddenly dripping with contempt. "If you were real adults, you wouldn't be picking on high school students. What's next on your villainous agenda? Stealing candy from babies?"

Jiro snorted despite herself, surprised by Denki's sudden display of biting sarcasm.

The green-haired villain's face contorted with anger. "You little—"

"What? You can dish it out but can't take it?" Denki taunted. "Typical villain behavior. All bark, no bite."

The villain lunged forward, her hair-tendrils shooting out like whips. Denki moved with unexpected grace, his sword flashing as he deflected the attack. The villain's hair recoiled as if burned where the blade had struck.

"That's... not electricity," the villain observed with surprise, noting that Denki hadn't activated his Quirk.

"Don't need it for small fry," Denki replied, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something colder, more calculated.

More villains joined the fray. Jiro used her earphone jacks to release sonic blasts, disorienting several attackers. Yaoyorozu created a shield to block an acid spray from another villain, then countered with a net launcher that captured two more.

Denki moved like water between them, his sword work precise and controlled. He parried a knife thrust from one villain, kicked another in the stomach, and slammed the hilt of his sword into the temple of a third—all without activating his Quirk.

"You've been holding out on us in training," Jiro commented during a brief lull in the fighting, genuine respect in her voice despite her general dislike for him.

Denki grinned, but it wasn't his usual carefree smile—there was something sharper in it now. "A warrior never shows all his cards in practice."

The fight continued for several more minutes, with the three students holding their own admirably. Yaoyorozu created a variety of weapons and tools as needed, while Jiro used her sound attacks strategically. Denki fought with a precision that seemed at odds with his usual scattered personality.

After dispatching another villain with a swift strike to the solar plexus, Denki sighed loudly. "This is getting boring."

"Boring?" Yaoyorozu repeated incredulously, using her staff to block an attack. "We're fighting for our lives!"

"Yeah, but it's the same thing over and over," Denki complained, deflecting another attack with apparent ease. "Hey, Yaoyorozu, how do we wrap this up quickly? I want to get back to the entrance and help the others."

Yaoyorozu looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Fighting these guys is getting repetitive," Denki said, gesturing at the remaining villains with his sword. "We should wrap things up and help our classmates back at the entrance. They're probably in trouble too."

"There are too many of them," Jiro pointed out, her back pressed against a boulder as she caught her breath. "We can't just—"

"Actually," Yaoyorozu interrupted, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "Kaminari, your Quirk—you can discharge electricity through your whole body, right?"

Denki nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face as he caught on. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If I create an insulation sheet, Jiro and I can take cover. Then you can..."

"Exactly," Denki confirmed, his excitement building. "I've been waiting for a chance to really cut loose."

Yaoyorozu nodded and immediately began creating a thick rubber sheet large enough to shield herself and Jiro. "Get ready to take cover," she instructed Jiro, who nodded in understanding.

The villains, sensing that the students were planning something, began to close in.

"Whatever you're plotting, it won't work!" shouted the green-haired villain. "There are too many of—"

"You talk too much," Denki interrupted, his demeanor suddenly shifting again. He held his sword at the ready, eyes narrowing with focus. "Yaoyorozu, Jiro, cover yourselves. Now."

The girls ducked beneath the insulation sheet as Denki closed his eyes, channeling his power. Lightning began to crackle along the blade of his sword, growing in intensity until it illuminated the entire area with a blue-white glow.

The villains hesitated, some backing away as they sensed the building danger.

Denki's eyes snapped open, fierce and focused. With practiced movements, he raised his sword above his head, the electricity now arcing around him in waves.

" Thunder Breathing, Third Form ," he intoned, his voice carrying across the mountain zone as he brought his sword down in a swift, controlled motion. " Thunder Swarm! "

The effect was immediate and devastating. Waves of arched lightning erupted from his sword, surrounding the villains from all directions. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The electricity surged through the air, connecting with each villain in a brilliant display of controlled power.

The mountain zone lit up like daybreak, the crack of thunder echoing off the rocks and creating a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. For several seconds, all that could be seen was blinding light, all that could be heard was the sound of thunder.

Then silence.

As the dust and static cleared, Denki stood amidst a circle of unconscious villains, his sword still crackling faintly with residual electricity. His breathing was controlled, steady—displaying none of the exhaustion one might expect after such a display.

"It's safe to come out now," he called, sheathing his sword with a smooth motion.

Yaoyorozu and Jiro emerged from beneath the insulation sheet, eyes wide as they surveyed the damage.

"That was..." Jiro began, unable to find the right words.

"Excessive?" Denki suggested with a grin that was more reminiscent of his usual self.

"Effective," Yaoyorozu corrected, unable to keep the impressed tone from her voice despite herself. "I've never seen you use your Quirk like that before."

Denki's expression turned serious again as he looked in the direction of the central plaza. "I'm heading back to the entrance. The others might need help."

"We should find our other classmates first," Yaoyorozu suggested. "Safety in numbers."

Denki seemed to consider this for a moment before shaking his head. "No time. You two find the others. I'll scout ahead and see what's happening at the plaza."

Before either girl could protest, he was already moving, his black kimono fluttering behind him as he disappeared among the rocks, leaving Yaoyorozu and Jiro to stare after him in a mixture of confusion and newfound respect.

"Was that... really Kaminari?" Jiro asked after a moment. "I mean, he's usually so..."

"Different," Yaoyorozu finished for her. "Like he becomes another person in battle. Just like in Heroics class."

As Denki raced toward the central plaza, he allowed himself a genuine smile of satisfaction. The familiar rush of using his sword techniques, combined with his Quirk, always felt right—felt like coming home to something he'd known in another life. The clarity that came with battle, the focus, the purpose... it was addictive.

For just a moment, he wondered why these techniques and fighting styles came so naturally to him when he struggled with basic academics. It was as if his body remembered skills his mind had never learned.

The thought vanished as quickly as it had come. There were more important matters at hand—his classmates needed him, and whatever these villains had planned for All Might needed to be stopped.

Denki Kaminari might play the fool in daily life, might struggle with tests and theory, but in battle? In battle, he knew exactly who he was.

And the villains of the League were about to find out.

Chapter Text

The Ruins Zone of USJ resembled the aftermath of a natural disaster—collapsed buildings, crumbling concrete, and twisted metal creating a maze of destruction. It was within this urban graveyard that Katsuki Bakugo and Eijiro Kirishima found themselves facing off against a group of villains who clearly thought they'd drawn an easy assignment with a couple of first-year students.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

"Come on, kids," taunted a villain with metallic scales covering his arms. "Just give up now and we won't hurt you... much."

Eijiro hardened his skin, fists raised in a boxing stance. "Like hell we will!"

Bakugo, meanwhile, stood perfectly still. His posture was relaxed yet alert, hands hanging loose at his sides rather than poised to unleash explosions. The loose, light-colored pants of his hero costume allowed for unrestricted movement, and the dark green bodysuit hugged his torso without constraining him. The wing-like cloth attached to his back fluttered slightly in the draft that filtered through the broken buildings.

"Bakugo," Eijiro whispered, "there are at least eight of them. Should we use our Quirks right away?"

A small, confident smile played at the corner of Bakugo's lips. "No need to waste energy. These small fries aren't worth it."

Before Eijiro could respond, the villains attacked. A woman with elongated limbs lunged forward, her arm stretching toward Bakugo like a whip. In one fluid motion, Bakugo sidestepped, caught her wrist, and used her own momentum to send her crashing into two of her companions.

"Whoa!" Eijiro exclaimed, hardening his arm to block a punch from a bulky villain. "Since when do you fight without explosions?"

Bakugo didn't answer immediately. He was already moving, weaving between attacks with startling grace and precision. His fists struck with calculated force—not the wild, explosive aggression most associated with him, but controlled, targeted blows.

A villain with rock-like protrusions charged at him. Bakugo met him head-on, dropping low at the last moment to sweep the villain's legs out from under him. As the villain fell, Bakugo rose in a spinning motion, his elbow connecting with the back of the villain's head.

"Soryu style," Bakugo finally answered, not even breathing hard as the villain crumpled unconscious at his feet. "Had a good teacher."

Eijiro grinned, impressed, as he exchanged blows with another villain. "Didn't know you were into martial arts! That's so manly!"

Bakugo's eyes narrowed slightly. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Hair-for-Brains."

The fight continued, with both students holding their own admirably. Eijiro's hardening Quirk made him an ideal shield, able to block and withstand direct hits before countering with his own rock-solid punches. But it was Bakugo who drew the eye—moving with a fluidity and purpose that seemed at odds with his usual explosive demeanor.

I don't need a Quirk for trash like this, Bakugo thought as he ducked under a wild swing and delivered a precise strike to a villain's solar plexus. My own strength is enough.

This was a point of pride for him. While others relied heavily on their Quirks, becoming dependent on those powers, Bakugo had devoted countless hours to perfecting his body, his mind, his technique. The martial arts training he'd pursued since childhood wasn't just a hobby—it was a statement. A proof that he could excel even without his explosive Quirk.

A smaller villain with what appeared to be a speed Quirk darted around him, landing quick jabs before dancing away. Bakugo remained calm, tracking the villain's movements with his eyes, waiting for the pattern to emerge.

There.

As the villain rushed in again, Bakugo pivoted at the last possible moment, his foot connecting solidly with the villain's ribs. The impact sent the speedster sailing through the air to crash into a pile of rubble.

"Kinda weird seeing you fight without explosions," Eijiro commented as he took down another opponent. "Not that I'm complaining, but why hold back?"

Bakugo's expression hardened slightly. "I'm not holding back. I'm being efficient."

And proving a point that no one else seems to understand.

His mind briefly flashed to green hair and wide, admiring eyes. To a boy who had given up before even trying. A boy who suddenly had power handed to him after years of doing nothing to help himself.

The thought triggered a flash of anger, which Bakugo quickly contained. Emotion was a distraction in battle—another lesson he'd internalized deeply.

A villain with a mutation Quirk that gave him four arms attacked from Bakugo's blind spot. Without looking, Bakugo dropped and rolled, coming up behind the villain. Two swift strikes to the back of the knees brought the villain down, and a chop to the neck finished the job.

"Damn, Bakugo," Eijiro whistled, "you're like a different person when you fight like this. All... controlled and stuff."

Bakugo allowed himself a small smirk. "This is how real heroes fight, Kirishima. With skill and precision, not just raw power."

It was something he believed to his core. Power without discipline was meaningless. Quirks were tools, not crutches. The true measure of a hero wasn't what gifts they were born with, but what they did to hone themselves beyond those gifts.

That was what irked him about Midoriya. For years, Izuku had done nothing—no training, no self-improvement, no standing up for himself. Just endless notebooks filled with observations of others' greatness. And now he somehow had a power that resembled All Might's, a power he clearly wasn't prepared for, one that broke his body with each use.

It felt... wrong. Unearned.

"Bakugo, watch out!" Eijiro's warning snapped him back to the present.

A villain with glowing hands was aiming directly at him. Bakugo recognized the telltale signs of an energy projection Quirk and knew dodging might not be enough. In a split-second decision, he raised his hand and let loose a controlled explosion—just enough to disrupt the villain's aim and send the energy blast harmlessly into a nearby wall.

"Thought you weren't using your Quirk," Eijiro remarked as he knocked out the final villain with a hardened uppercut.

"Only when necessary," Bakugo replied, dusting off his hands. "No reason to waste energy when your own strength is enough." He glanced around at the unconscious villains scattered among the ruins. "Besides, these losers weren't worth the sweat."

Eijiro approached, retracting his hardening to reveal his usual sharp-toothed grin. "That was awesome, man! We should team up more often."

Bakugo merely nodded, already mentally moving on to their next objective.

"We should go find the others," Eijiro suggested, concern evident in his voice. "Some of our classmates might not have the offensive capabilities we do."

Bakugo shook his head. "They'll be fine against these small fries."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because they're at U.A., aren't they?" Bakugo replied evenly. "They passed the same entrance exam we did. They've got skills, even if they're different from ours."

Eijiro blinked in surprise. "That's... actually pretty thoughtful of you."

Bakugo ignored the comment, his mind already analyzing their situation. "The real threats are at the central plaza. That mist guy who separated us, Kurogiri. And the quiet one with the sword—Yoru. They're the ones we need to focus on."

"How do you know their names?"

"I listen," Bakugo said simply. "The hand freak called them by name."

Eijiro nodded slowly, clearly impressed by Bakugo's calm, rational assessment. "So what's the plan? Head to the plaza?"

"Obviously." Bakugo started moving, picking his way through the rubble toward the central area of the USJ. "That mist bastard is their transport. Take him out, and they have no escape route."

As they navigated through the ruins, Eijiro couldn't help but study his classmate with newfound respect. This wasn't the Bakugo who screamed and threatened during class exercises. This was someone calculating, measured, focused on the most efficient path to victory.

"You know," Eijiro ventured, "you're not what people think you are, are you?"

Bakugo shot him a sideways glance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just... everyone thinks you're all rage and explosions. But you're actually pretty strategic."

Bakugo snorted. "People see what they expect to see. I don't care what they think."

But he did care. He cared deeply about being understood correctly, about being recognized for his complete abilities, not just his flashy Quirk. It mattered to him that people saw the work he put in, the discipline he maintained, the control he'd mastered.

It mattered because he knew what it meant to truly earn strength. To work for it every day, to build it from nothing, to forge it through loss and pain and determination.

"Hey, Bakugo," Eijiro said as they approached the edge of the Ruins Zone, bringing them closer to the sounds of battle from the central plaza. "When this is over... think you could teach me some of those moves? That Soryu style looked pretty effective."

Bakugo was quiet for a moment. "Maybe," he finally said. "If you can keep up."

Eijiro grinned, taking even that small concession as a win.

As they neared the plaza, Bakugo's expression hardened. Through the gaps in the ruined buildings, he could see glimpses of the ongoing battle—Aizawa surrounded by villains, the hand-covered leader watching with disturbing glee, and the silent swordsman observing everything with calculating eyes.

"Remember," Bakugo said quietly, "we focus on the mist guy first. He's their escape route. After that, we assess and adapt."

Eijiro nodded, hardening his skin in preparation. "Got it. You know, for someone with an explosion Quirk, you're surprisingly level-headed in a crisis."

Bakugo didn't respond. His mind was locked in battle mode now, analyzing angles of approach, potential threats, tactical advantages.

This is what it means to be a hero, he thought. Not just power, but knowing when and how to use it. Not just courage, but strategy. Not just fighting villains, but protecting others.

It was a philosophy forged through lifetimes of struggle, though Bakugo couldn't have explained why he felt that way. He only knew that something deep within him, something ancient and powerful, drove him to prove that true strength came from within—not from whatever gifts you were born with or given, but from what you built yourself into through sheer will and discipline.

And today, the League of Villains was about to learn that lesson the hard way.

Chapter Text

The central plaza had descended into chaos. Villains swarmed from every direction, each with their own unique and deadly Quirk. Yet Eraser Head moved with practiced precision, his capture weapon lashing out like a living thing as he systematically neutralized one threat after another.

His dark hair floated eerily above him as his eyes glowed red, canceling Quirks with methodical efficiency. But even a pro hero has limits, and Aizawa was beginning to reach his.

"You're pretty good," came a voice from behind him. Aizawa spun, capture weapon at the ready, to face a pale man with light blue hair and hands clutching his body. Tomura Shigaraki. "But I noticed something interesting about your fighting style."

Eraser Head narrowed his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed on the villain.

"You blink," Shigaraki continued, his voice filled with childish glee. "There's a pattern. And in those moments..."

He lunged with unexpected speed. Aizawa's reflexes were sharp, but Shigaraki managed to grasp his elbow. The hero felt a searing pain as his flesh began to disintegrate beneath the villain's touch.

"Your Quirk has a time limit, doesn't it?" Shigaraki mused, his cracked lips pulling into a smile behind the severed hand that covered his face. "And it seems to be getting shorter and shorter. How fascinating."

Aizawa wrenched himself free, blood seeping from his partially decayed elbow as he leapt backward, creating distance between himself and the villain.

"You've done well lasting this long against a mob with your fighting style," Shigaraki acknowledged with a hint of genuine respect. "But let's see how you handle him."

A massive shadow fell over Eraser Head as something enormous moved behind him. The hero turned to find himself face to face with a monstrous being – exposed brain, jet-black skin stretched over bulging muscles, and a beak-like mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth.

"Meet the bio-engineered anti-Symbol of Peace," Shigaraki introduced proudly. "The Nomu."

At the entrance of USJ, Thirteen faced off against the swirling mass of dark mist that was Kurogiri. The Space Hero's confidence was palpable as she removed the cap from one of her fingertips, unleashing her Black Hole Quirk.

"I'll put an end to this," Thirteen declared, the powerful vacuum of her Black Hole beginning to draw in the misty villain.

But Kurogiri was cunning. His smoky form shifted, creating a warp gate behind Thirteen that redirected her own Quirk against her. The hero's protective suit began to shred from behind, tearing away at her back.

"How unfortunate," Kurogiri's disembodied voice echoed. "You're a rescue hero, Thirteen. Your powers were meant to save lives, not take them."

The students watched in horror as their teacher collapsed to the ground, her suit in tatters and her body severely injured.

"Thirteen!" Ochaco cried out, her face pale with shock.

Tenya Iida, recognizing the dire situation, made a desperate decision. "I need to get help! Everyone, cover me while I make it to the exit!"

He activated his Engine Quirk, legs propelling him toward the entrance at high speed. But before he could get far, a figure materialized in his path – tall, elegant, dressed in a deep purple and black double-breasted coat with Victorian-style stitching. His pale face was framed by dark hair, and piercing purple eyes glowed faintly as he regarded Iida with detached interest.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," the man said, his voice soft yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority.

"Yoru," Kurogiri acknowledged. "Don't let him escape."

Iida tried to swerve, but Yoru moved with inhuman grace, appearing in his path no matter which direction he turned.

Seeing their classmate's struggle, Mezo Shoji charged forward, multiple arms extended. With surprising strength, he managed to grab both Kurogiri and Yoru, momentarily restraining them.

"Go, Iida!" Shoji shouted, straining against the villains' resistance. "Now's your chance!"

Iida didn't waste the opportunity, activating his engines to full throttle. But Yoru slipped from Shoji's grip with fluid ease, his movements almost too fast to follow. In one graceful motion, he delivered a precise blow to Shoji's abdomen that sent the multi-armed student crumpling to his knees, gasping for breath.

"I don't particularly enjoy violence," Yoru stated calmly as he turned his attention back to Iida, who was rapidly approaching the exit. "Especially against children. Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

He appeared in front of Iida again, seemingly teleporting, and with a single smooth movement, tossed the armored student across the room like he weighed nothing.

Iida crashed into a wall, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. As he struggled to his feet, Yoru approached at a leisurely pace.

"Stay still," the tall villain advised, his piercing purple eyes never leaving Iida's. "I have no desire to hurt you beyond what's necessary, but I will if you continue to resist."

The students felt a chill run down their spines at the juxtaposition between his gentle tone and the threat in his words. This wasn't the manic violence of most villains – this was something far more controlled and perhaps more frightening for it.

Just as Yoru reached for Iida, a crackling sound filled the air, and a blur of black and white collided with the villain, forcing him back several paces.

Denki Kaminari stood between Yoru and Iida, his kimono fluttering from the force of his movement, magatama necklaces glinting at his throat. Electricity danced across his skin as he fixed Yoru with a determined stare.

"Go, Iida!" Denki shouted, not taking his eyes off the villain. "I'll hold him off!"

Ochaco, seeing an opportunity, leapt into action. She touched Kurogiri's metal collar-like structure, making him float helplessly in the air.

"Now, Sero! Sato!" she called.

Hanta Sero shot his tape at the floating villain, while Rikido Sato, strength enhanced by the sugar he'd consumed, helped secure him. With Kurogiri temporarily neutralized and Yoru engaged with Denki, Iida saw his chance.

"Everyone, I won't let you down!" he promised, engines flaring as he made a final dash for the exit, bursting through the doors into the open air beyond.

Yoru's expression darkened momentarily before smoothing back into its usual composure. "Interesting," he murmured, regarding Denki with renewed attention. "You move quite differently from the others."

Denki felt sweat beading on his forehead but maintained his stance. "Yeah, well, I'm just full of surprises," he retorted, trying to mask his unease with his usual bravado.

Meanwhile, at the central plaza, Izuku, Tsuyu, and Minoru had arrived just in time to witness their teacher's defeat. The Nomu had Aizawa pinned to the ground, his arm bent at an unnatural angle, blood pooling beneath his broken body.

"Mr. Aizawa!" Izuku gasped, his hand flying to his mouth in horror.

"Quiet," Tsuyu whispered urgently, pulling both boys lower behind the fountain that concealed them. "They'll hear us."

Minoru was trembling, tears streaming down his face. "W-what is that thing?" he whimpered, pointing at the brain-exposed monster. "It broke Mr. Aizawa like he was nothing!"

Back at the entrance, Kurogiri suddenly vanished from the students' grasp, reappearing moments later beside Tomura Shigaraki at the central plaza.

"Shigaraki," the mist villain reported, "Thirteen has been neutralized, but I regret to inform you that one student managed to escape."

Tomura's shoulders tensed visibly, his fingers scratching at his neck with increasing agitation. "You... let one escape?" His voice grew dangerously quiet. "If he gets back to the main campus, the pros will come swarming in. It's game over... game over!"

The scratching intensified until blood began to seep from the self-inflicted wounds on his neck. "We can't win against dozens of pros. It's game over this time. Let's go home."

Yoru materialized beside them, having disengaged from his confrontation with Denki once Iida successfully escaped. "I apologize," he said, his voice betraying no emotion despite his words. "I prioritized avoiding unnecessary harm to the students over ensuring our complete success. The failure is mine."

Without warning, Shigaraki whirled around and struck Yoru across the face with enough force to snap his head to the side. The sound of the impact echoed throughout the quiet plaza.

Several of the watching students gasped audibly. Even the villains looked startled by their leader's outburst. Yet Yoru's expression never changed. He simply turned his face back to Shigaraki, a soft, unsettling smile playing at his lips.

"I will do better next time," he promised, the strange glint in his purple eyes sending a chill down the spines of everyone watching.

Denki, who had cautiously followed at a distance to keep an eye on the villains, felt an odd sense of déjà vu watching the interaction. Something about Yoru's demeanor – that calm acceptance of violence directed at him, coupled with that eerie smile – triggered a half-formed memory that slipped away before he could grasp it.

After a moment of tense silence, Shigaraki seemed to collect himself. "Before we leave," he muttered, "let's make sure the Symbol of Peace feels some true despair. Let's wound his pride by killing some of these kids."

He turned his gaze toward the fountain, somehow sensing the presence of the hiding students. In an instant, he was upon them, his hand stretching toward Tsuyu's face.

"Let's start with you, frog girl," he whispered.

Tsuyu's eyes widened in terror as those pale fingers inched closer to her skin. Minoru was frozen in fear, unable even to scream.

But the disintegration never came. Eraser Head, broken and bloody on the ground, had managed to lift his head just enough to activate his Quirk one final time, nullifying Shigaraki's deadly touch.

"You really are cool, Eraser Head," Shigaraki acknowledged, before nodding to the Nomu, which responded by slamming the hero's head back into the concrete.

Seeing his teacher's desperate attempt to save them, something snapped inside Izuku. With a battle cry, he launched himself forward, One For All coursing through his right arm as he aimed a devastating smash at Shigaraki.

"Get away from her!" he roared.

Yet his fist never connected. Instead, it was caught in Yoru's palm, the villain having moved faster than the eye could track. There was no impact, no struggle – Yoru simply held Izuku's powered-up fist as if it were nothing more than a child's tantrum.

"What are you doing?" Shigaraki demanded. "The Nomu is supposed to handle All Might when he arrives."

Yoru maintained his grip on Izuku's fist, not bothering to look at Shigaraki as he replied, "Precisely. The Nomu was designed for All Might, not these children. Let me handle them while the Nomu remains at full strength for its intended purpose."

Shigaraki hesitated, then nodded slowly as the logic sank in. "Fine. Do what you want with them."

Yoru bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment before turning his full attention to Izuku, who was still struggling against his grip.

"I truly don't wish to hurt you," Yoru stated calmly, his eyes reflecting something almost like regret. Then, without warning, he twisted Izuku's arm with surgical precision.

The crack of breaking bone echoed across the plaza, followed immediately by Izuku's agonized scream. Tsuyu's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror, while Mineta retched at the sight of Izuku's arm bent at an impossible angle.

"You monster!" Mineta found his voice, fury momentarily overriding his fear. "You just said you didn't want to hurt him!"

Yoru regarded Mineta with mild interest. "This is merely a means to an end," he explained, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. "So he won’t hurt me or himself. The pain is regrettable but necessary."

The cryptic statement made little sense to the terrified students, but they had no time to ponder it as Yoru shifted his grip, clearly preparing to break Izuku's other arm.

"One more should ensure you won't cause any more trouble," he mused.

"STOP!"

The command rang out across the plaza, accompanied by a blinding flash of blue electricity. Denki stood at the edge of the central area, his body crackling with power unlike anything his classmates had seen from him before. His usually carefree expression was replaced by one of intense focus, his stance lower and more disciplined than his normal fighting style.

" Sixth Form: Rumble and Flash! " he called out, his voice carrying a strange resonance.