Chapter Text
Prologue: Endeavor and Eraser Head
The heavy stomps of her husband’s footsteps retreating signaled Rei that it was safe to emerge. She poked her head out of the bedroom, glanced down the hall to double check, and slipped out.
The front door of the house slammed, and never had Rei taken such a sigh of relief. Done for the day. Safe for the moment.
She opened the door to the practice room, but it was empty. Panic surged through Rei’s chest for a moment— where were her babies? — before she noticed the closet door at the side of the room shift. Crossing the tatami mat floor, she opened the door to four pairs of mixed blue and gray eyes peering up at her.
Rei heaved a sigh of relief. All here, all safe.
She gathered her children into her arms and held them close.
“Mom—”
“It’s okay, dears, it’s okay now.” She released them and kept one hand on the head of Fuyumi, her only daughter, and one on her baby Shouto. Just barely five years old, Shouto blinked up at her with his mismatched eyes. She ran a hand down the smooth skin of his face and shuddered at the ferocity of that burning blue eye.
“Mom?” Her children stepped back from her, and she met their eyes. “Mom, why does dad yell at you?” Natsuo tugged at her sleeve.
“Mom, why does dad hit you?” Fuyumi wiped tears out of her eyes and buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.
Touya stood apart from the rest. He clenched his fists. “And why do you let him?”
Rei took a shuddering breath. Touya’s red hair was beginning to show white streaks, but his turquoise eyes held no less fire in them. Every day, he wailed to their father why was I tossed aside, don’t abandon me for Shouto. Why are you picking him over me?
“Touya,” she whispered softly. “Do you enjoy what your father does with you?”
Touya’s fiery eyes lit up. “Dad just wants me to be super powerful! Of course I want to!” His face twisted into an ugly grimace. “I just hate that he abandoned me for Shouto.”
Rei was just glad one of her children would be out of harm’s way.
This was not the future she had in mind. When she agreed to this marriage, she had wanted to create a bright future for wonderful children who would bless the world with their gifts. To make the Todoroki family one of grace, strength, and love.
She had not agreed to this.
Hiding in closets, in fear of the next scream or the next hand, the next bruise or burn that would need icing.
Rei reached out and took Touya’s hand in hers. “Babies, I’m sorry,” she choked out.
It was all she had to offer. She had no reassurance, no safety, nothing except her own love. It was never enough, it would never be enough.
She could not even imagine a safe future for her children anymore. She could hardly stand the sight of Touya and baby Sho, who have been growing to resemble him so much.
Every day, she is a little closer to cracking. Every day, she fears she may shatter.
It is all she can do to hold tight to them. To hope that the Todorokis will be a true family some day. To pray that Fuyumi and Natsuo find bright futures. That Touya will overcome this. That baby Shouto will know a life beyond pain.
But it is all Rei can do to hold them close. “I’m sorry,” she whispered over and over, begging herself to hold on, just a little longer, can’t break yet. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
On the other side of the city, another family was reuniting.
The sound of the door opening urged the young boy to leap to his feet.
“Mama! Papa!” Lavender hair bounced around his head as he ran from the kitchen table to the front door, crossing the length of the small room with ease. The house was one that was cramped, dilapidated, but functional. The tired parents entered the room, spotted their son, and froze.
“Mama, Papa, you’re home!” The boy ran forward into his parents arms, and his father immediately stepped forward. Put himself between the boy and his mother.
“Papa?” The boy came to a halt, eyeing them uncertainly. “Are you still mad?” He was nearly six, but had thus far been withheld from starting kindergarten. Too dangerous, his parents had said. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it anymore!” The boy tugged at the bottom of his father’s coat, and the man shoved him off roughly as the adults moved about the house. “Please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do anything, I was scared—”
“Take him to his room,” the man roughly ordered his wife, being sure to not directly respond to the young boy himself.
“Please, please, just answer me— I won’t do it again! I’ll be good!” His mother scooped him up and tossed him none too gently over her shoulder. “Please, Mama, no!”
She threw him into his room and locked the door. The boy banged and pounded against the wood until his fingers rubbed raw and bled. “Mama, please…” He shrank to the ground and sobbed. His stomach growled.
He didn’t want to be in this house anymore. Didn’t want to smell the stench of decaying bodies and leftover meat that he couldn’t eat. Didn’t want to go to bed with a hungry tummy. Didn’t want to stay in his room for days on end because his Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t let him have friends.
He wanted to be like the cool heroes he saw once on TV. Smiling and making everyone happy. He hoped that one day, his Mama and Papa could be like that too. If he could smile and make someone happy, save them from having to feel like him— he thought that’d be the coolest thing ever.
The boy ran to the other side of his room and pushed the window up. The roof under his window slanted down, and from there it was a drop to the first floor. The boy swallowed. His Quirk wasn’t one that gave him any physical enhancements, but if he hurt himself, his Mama and Papa probably wouldn’t be able to differentiate it from the bruises he had from them anyway.
The boy slid down the roof and tumbled roughly to the ground. “Ow!” He squeaked, and quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. It was afternoon, getting to near evening, and it was bright enough he could get caught. He couldn’t give himself away.
He liked to sneak off, though he rarely could. But he’d make today special. He wanted to see a hero.
Cradling his injured arm— he wasn’t too good at breaking his fall— he headed into downtown Mustafu.
The sidewalk was packed with people, and he swayed nervously on his feet. I don’t like this, the boy thought anxiously. He got too many stares, a young child on his own with a shock of purple hair. What if I get in trouble? What if someone tries to steal me away, like Mama and Papa always talk about?
Mama and Papa didn’t like heroes. They were always talking badly about them. But the boy thought heroes were the coolest.
He kept that to himself, though.
The boy’s eyes were fixed overhead, taking in the billboards and signs, when he plowed into someone and went toppling backwards.
“Oof— sorry, kiddo!” The someone crouched down beside him as the boy was helped to his feet— and froze.
The man in front of him looked like— like a villain. The boy’s heart seized in fear. Although he was young, no older than twenty, he was dressed in all black, some strange sort of long white scarf looped around his neck. His dark hair was long and looked tangled and greasy, and his face was scruffy and unshaven. A weird-looking pair of golden goggles hung around his neck. Even so, he gave the kid a smile.
“You alright there? Didn’t get hurt, did you?”
The boy swallowed. He shook his head. Mama and Papa said not to talk to strangers, and this man seemed dangerous. He needed to leave, and fast.
Uh oh— he took too long. The man noticed how jumpy he was. “Everything alright?” Remaining crouched, the man straightened up and looked around, suddenly gaining an aura of authority. The boy felt himself overwhelmed with curiosity that pushed his fear down for the sake of wonder. “Are your parents around? Are you on your own?” The man turned back to him, his face becoming a shield of protective concern. “Are you okay?”
And then he placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
The boy flinched, waiting for a blow to strike his head or his ribs like they usually did. But the hand stayed on his shoulder, clamped down there, keeping a firm hold. Unwilling to let him go.
Behind the strange dark haired man, another young man emerged from a nearby shop. His long blond hair was slicked up above him, the beginnings of a mustache appearing above his lip. He wore an obnoxious pair of sunglasses, which he lowered as he noticed the boy. “Oi, Shouta! You coming?”
“Just a minute, Mic!” The dark haired man hollered over his shoulder. He turned back to the boy. “Annoying, isn’t he?” He smiled at the boy as if letting him in on an inside joke. “Don’t worry. Just ignore him.”
The man tugged at the boy’s sleeve, and he flinched. He shouldn’t let people see his bruises. That’s what Mama and Papa said.
“Sorry, kiddo. I’ll respect your boundaries, alright?”
The blonde man behind him was getting impatient. He bent forward and hollered, far too loud than any normal person should be, “Heeeyy! Aizawa Shoutaaa! Let’s goooooo!”
The dark-haired man laughed and stood. “Alright, kid. You’d better be on your way home now, alright?” The boy froze. He was suddenly reluctant to leave the man’s side. Didn’t want to return to that house when he finally felt this feeling for the first time in his life. A feeling of… lightness. Of not being afraid.
“Don’t worry, okay?” A hand fell onto his head. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
It sounds like a promise far deeper than the boy could possibly understand.
He looked up at the face of the man again. A content smile, eyes that evenly met his own. He couldn’t understand.
He broke his parents’ rule.
“Why?” He asked in a hoarse, broken voice.
The man crouched in front of him once more. And now, the boy saw. The fire lit within his eyes, that protective expression that stretched beyond him to the entirety of society. Willing to keep them safe, no matter the cost. The kind of person the boy aspired to be.
With a smile that assured him of the brightness of the future, the man responded, “Because I’m a hero.”