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Yesterday, the rankings came in to show he’s now the number two hero in Japan.
Jazz hands.
Today, he’s speaking at an elementary school for Hero Day in Musutafu.
Deep sigh.
He should have declined the offer. After all, Hero Days are usually the stomping grounds of sidekicks and those not even in the top 200. In a way, he’s taking the opportunity from someone who needs it to get some good PR. He's feeling slightly guilty as the cameras from local reporters flash, as he's praised for doing community work.
But, when his PA told him one such invitation came from his boyfriend’s old school, he couldn’t say no.
Shouto isn’t bad with kids, he just isn’t great. He didn’t really think about how many of them there would be. Small, weak little humans. Sticky hands.
“Shouto-san, Shouto-san, can I have some of your hair?” one asks, pulling at his hand.
That's not the makings of a serial killer or anything, he thinks. “What–?”
“Did you know half of your hair is the color of my nana’s?” another drools–-literally.
“Uh–”
“My momma says you’re the most attractive man alive, she’s right over there–” this kid, a small boy with purple skin, is actually climbing his leg like a tree.
Shouto fights back the desire to kick him off and freeze the rest in place so he can run.
He desperately misses his boyfriend. He would know what to do in this situation.
A teacher comes to his rescue, all tired smiles and soft words. She herds the little
monsters
,
heathens
, kids away, explaining that the end of the day is drawing near and their parents will arrive soon to take them home.
“Hero Shouto has to go too, so wave bye-bye!”
They wave, and Shouto returns the gesture. Once he’s alone in the small gymnasium, he slumps.
“Thank fucking god.”
He dials his PA.
She answers after the first ring. “Todoroki-sama.”
“I am not my father, Nanami, please call me Shouto. And please, never let me do another Hero Day.”
“Of course, Todoroki-sama,” she says, and Shouto sighs. “I’ll call your driver and tell him to pick you up. Should I alert him of your next destination in advance?”
Shouto doesn’t hesitate.
“Yes. Tell him to find me a place where I can get soba and sake.”
The sun is just now sinking in the sky. He’s had two servings of cold soba. Enough sake to down three or ten lesser mortals.
Todoroki Shouto is drunk. Because kids are tiring and he’s stressed. Someone should remind him to not have them. Children.
Little crotch goblins.
Maybe Nanami could put it on her schedule. A daily reminder. 9:00 am.
Unless his boyfriend wants one. Then they can have a million.
“Sir,” the shop owner says from over the counter, a hesitant smile on his face. “Is there anything else I can get you? It’s all on the house, of course.”
Shouto scowls. “Nonsense. This card,” he pushes his hand into the pocket of his hero costume. “Oh. Is gone.”
Poof. Disappeared.
He thinks. Ah, wait, his phone and wallet are in the car with his driver. Who he sent home.
Well, it's hopeless. “You’re going to have to make me wash dishes in the back now, aren't you? Otherwise,” he glances around, lowers his voice, “I’ll have committed a crime. They’ll take my license.”
The shop owner presses his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing at the oversized, adorable, tipsy number two hero in his establishment.
“You actually saved my cousin once, sir. And we’re all UA fans around here. So please, it’s on us tonight.”
Shouto snaps to attention. UA. School.
“Oh no.”
“...sir?”
“Curfew. Aizawa is going to string me up from the phone lines again.”
The shop owner blinks. “Shouto-san, are you alright?”
“No, I’m late!”
The roads are familiar, like the veins on the back of his hands. In a handful of minutes, he’s at UA’s closed gates.
In seconds he’s up and over them, a staircase of ice left behind.
Rats. They’ll know it was me. Wait – it’s warm, it'll melt. WAIT what if someone slips in the puddle!?
He decides he’ll blame Bakugou.
Running now, he makes it to Heights Alliance just as full darkness settles in for the night. Creaking the door open slowly, he glances around.
No Iida in sight. Jackpot. If he can find Momo, she can help him plot to blame the puddle at the entrance on Bakugou.
Shouto cackles. Evil mastermind. Conspiracy theorist extraordinaire.
But first, he feels like eating some soba.
And that’s how class 1-A student Emiko finds the number two hero in their kitchen, the contents of their communal fridge scattered at his feet as he searches for something like his life depends upon finding it.
“Uhhhhh,” she says, looking at her friend Hiroshi who looks just as baffled as she feels.
The person, the best cosplayer of the hero Shouto she has ever seen, notices them. Turns fully to face them. The blue tone of the fridge light illuminates his face.
“You,” he points, “you can’t be here. This is class 1-A’s dorm. Aizawa will tie you to a phone line if he finds you.”
And holy heck yeah, nope, that’s definitely the real Shouto.
“Oh my god,” she says.
“No fuckin' way,” Hiroshi whispers.
Shouto pouts – pouts , like on his Spring Vogue magazine cover – and crosses his arms.
“Swearing. You’re friends with Bakugou. Where is he? Is he with Midoriya? Where’s Midoriya?”
The frankly massive hero stalks past them, though he’s a bit unsteady on his feet. Emiko feels like she’s in the Twilight Zone, in her PJs, watching on as the number two hero in all of Japan walks face-first into the closed door of the elevator.
“Ow,” he deadpans.
She doesn't need to look over to know Hiroshi is texting into their class group chat.
Shouto drops to sit cross-legged on the floor, his knees touching the elevator. It's like he's willing it to open.
Within seconds, eighteen other students are clamoring down the stairs, too impatient to even try the lift.
“Hiroshi you’re a dirty liar–”
“There’s no way–”
“ The Shouto?”
They all freeze (pun intended) when they see the half-hot half-cold hero.
Chaos. Bananas.
No one knows if they can approach him, knows why he's sitting, knows why he’s there in costume, the day after the new rankings came out.
“Guys!” Emiko yells. As class rep, she decides this is now somehow her responsibility. It has nothing to do with the fact that she's in love with Shouto. Nope.
“Let's all chill out (again, pun intended) okay? Give Shouto-san some space.”
Slowly, she inches towards the man she’s had posters of since she was ten.
“A-Are you okay, Shouto-san?”
Heterochromatic eyes focus on hers. “You talk like Midoriya used to.”
She frowns. Then, it clicks.
“Wait, no way, Deku!? Deku -san used to stutter?”
From just behind her, Hiroshi snorts. “Emiko, Deku still stutters. He did last night during his speech at the rankings gala. Japan’s timid number one.”
Heterochromatic eyes glare.
“What’s your name?” the tone of his voice is deadly. Emiko shivers.
“Uhh, Hiroshi Ken, Shouto-san.”
“You’re mean, Hiroshi.”
And Emiko watches as Hiroshi’s soul leaves his body.
She tries to save the day. She knows everything there is to know about the hero in front of her. There’s no way he’s like this in person, this…childish. Could he be sick? A fever?
“Is there someone we can call for you, Shouto-san?” She asks, looking up to see the shock and awe on the faces of her classmates. Too many of them have their phones out, recording.
White and red hair mix as Shouto nods. “My boyfriend.”
Emiko blinks. All right. She thought she knew everything there was to know about Shouto.
“Sure, of course. Need my phone or do you have your own with you?”
“Need yours, pretty pleeeeease.”
Oh her heart.
With shaking hands, she gives him her already unlocked cell.
It takes him a few attempts, but he dials and waits, the phone pressed tight to his ear.
From the speaker, she can hear a faint, “...hello?”
“Baby, it’s me and I’m confused,” Shouto says, tone softer now. Everyone melts.
Laughter from his boyfriend. “And why’s that?”
The hero sweeps his gaze around the room, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“I think Monoma hired actors to come invade the dorm and trick me. They say they live here.”
Silence.
“Shou, hunny, my love, where are you right now?”
“The dorms!”
“You’re in Heights Alliance?”
Shouto nods.
“Shou?”
“Oh, yes. I’m here. Where are you?” His face flushes, “Are you with the Bakubitch?”
“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH?!”
Emiko steps away from the absolute roar on the other end of the call. Shouto doesn’t flinch. Instead, he looks like he might cry.
“That's his voice! You are, you are with him!”
“Of course I am, love, we’re all at dinner. I told you this was the plan. Hunny, Katsuki is very happily married to Kiri. You were in the wedding.”
Shouto still looks like he might cry, but for a different reason.
“He…He had me be a groomsman?” he sniffs, “I always knew we were friends...”
“WE AREN’T NOW YOU FREEZER BURN BITCH–” and then another voice, “Hey, Katsuki, calm down, you’re going to get us kicked out–” a crash, “ MAKE ME SHITTY HAIR–”
Emiko is listening to the number two hero get called a bitch by who she can only assume is pro hero Dynamight, the number three.
No one will ever believe this.
From the way her friends are openly gaping at the sight, she’s pretty sure they’re thinking the same thing.
“Sorry about that, Shou hunny, they may or may not have just flipped the table. Look, I’m here now so I’ll come get you, kay? Gimmie five minutes.”
Again, Shouto simply nods.
“Did you nod for me, sweetie?”
Shouto nods.
The person on the other end giggles.
“See you soon, love you.”
Shouto drops the phone, just in time since his hand catches fire. “He…He said he loves me.”
He looks to Emiko. Puppy dog eyes. “Does he love me?”
She is so out of her depth here. “Uh…I mean, everyone loves you, so I’m sure he does, yeah.”
It’s been exactly five minutes.
In that time they managed as a class to get the number two hero off the floor and on the couch. They’ve also called their homeroom teacher.
Who simply can’t stop laughing at Shouto as he full-body sobs over the fact that whoever his boyfriend is told him he loves him.
“Todoroki,” Sensei tries to console him, “As unfortunate as it is that I know this, you two have been saying 'I love you' since your third year. You're way past that. Hell, recently you told me you wanted help proposing to him sometime this year, and asked for my blessing as his father.”
Shouto gasps through the tears, “So you ARE his dad!”
“Ugh. No, never mind. Continue on being drunk and stupid.”
Class 1-A will literally never forget this night.
“Uh, hello?” A kind voice says from the now open front door.
Aizawa Sensei gives their new guest a small, rare grin.
“About time you showed up, problem child.”
Emiko gasps – pretty sure they all do – because the person who is supposed to be arriving is Shouto’s boyfriend.
And in walks the number one hero, in all his cuteness and glory.
Deku smiles, waves. “Hi kids! I’m here to collect Shou.”
Shouto shoots to his feet. “Izu, Izu, Izu–” and jumps into Deku’s open, expectant arms.
Phone cameras flash.
“Post a single picture or video and you’re all expelled,” Aizawa says.
Phones slide into PJ pant pockets.
Shouto is wrapped around Deku like a koala. “Smell good,” he mumbles into Deku’s neck.
“You,” Deku laughs, “smell like sake.”
His green eyes drift to Emiko and the rest of her classmates.
“Thanks for taking care of him. If any of you need internships, feel free to call our agency. If you’re Aizawa’s class, I’d trust any of you!”
Their Sensei rolls his eyes, but he looks entirely too fond. “That’s the attitude that nearly gets you killed on a daily basis.”
Deku laughs, and it’s so much lighter than the laugh he uses when reporters corner him after villain fights.
Emiko decides she now needs a Deku poster as well.
They turn to go, and Sensei tells the class they’re to be in bed in the next ten seconds or they’ll have a pop quiz tomorrow.
But just before she slips upstairs, she hears:
“Izu, Aizawa told me he’s not your dad but I can still ask you to marry me soon.”
“That’s great, sweetie–wait. Shouto, what did you just say?”
“That Aizawa and All Might are your dads and–”
“No. The other part.”
“Oh. Marry me?”
“Todoroki Shouto–”
“ Midoriya Shouto.”
She can’t be sure, but she’s pretty positive the number two hero just proposed to his number one hero boyfriend, drunk, in their high school dorm, and said boyfriend is now sobbing.
Just another night at UA.
When Shouto wakes in the morning, his head feels like Bakugou Howitzer Impact’d into it.
He also has two hundred notifications on his phone, but he’ll check those later.
For now, he emails his PA:
Nanami,
Set a reminder, every day, 9:00 am. No kids.
Just as he hits send, Izuku pads out of their bathroom, towel-drying his wet curls.
He beams at Shouto.
Shouto loves him so much it's painful.
“You’re up! Feel okay? My mom can’t wait to pick up your mom and come wedding plan, by the way. I was wondering when we have kids, will they also have my family name, or did you want to hyphenate both? Also, I totally love the idea of you taking mine, I mean, fuck Endeavor, right? So then I was thinking–”
Shouto doesn’t know what’s going on, but he emails his PA one last time:
Just kidding about the kid thing.
But I do need a wedding planner.
And a ring. Big diamond. The biggest.