Chapter Text
It’s Izuku’s first day at work. He fiddles with the notebook tucked in the front pocket of his messenger bag nervously and takes a deep breath as he walks into the tall office building.
The notebook contains all the information he has on pro hero Shouto that he’s observed or seen online over the years. Plus some less publicly-known facts that Izuku’s been privy to solely because Inasa and Camie like to talk to him about what they’ve been up to while he works on their suits.
Not that Izuku’s complaining. He soaks it all up and writes everything down in his free time.
It’s thanks to them that he’s been able to land this job in the first place.
—
The text comes from an unknown number. Inasa had told Izuku to expect it, but it still comes as a surprise. It’s short and dry and signed simply with Shouto’s hero name, followed by a date and time and a location pin to a local restaurant.
Izuku is intimidated to say the least.
On the agreed-upon date, Izuku arrives thirty minutes early just in case and sits in the corner waiting for his doom.
Unknown number:
Let’s meet.
-Shouto
That’s all he got. He reads it over and over in case there is a hidden message there that will tell him how to land this job.
The chair across from him scrapes on the floor, and Izuku looks up from his phone to find the tall frame of the subject of his agony for the past few days standing there. Izuku scrambles to do the same and shake his hand.
“Shou—I mean, Todoroki-san—”
“Shouto is fine. Nice to meet you.”
Shouto’s hand is cold and dry. Softer skin than Izuku’s scarred one.
They sit down.
“Midoriya, was it? Why do you want to work with me?”
Right down to business. Izuku doesn’t mind, but he was hoping he’d have a few more minutes to gather himself, and maybe get a read on what he’s looking for.
“Well, I—uhm. I have some ideas for your suit? Your quirk is Half-Cold Half-Hot, and I think you could really use it to your advantage to achieve thermal regulation. I’ve seen the way your arm freezes up sometimes when you overuse it, so I was thinking we could add something to channel the heat from the other half of your quirk and—”
“I don’t use my flames in battle.”
Izuku didn’t realize he had started to stand in his excitement to explain. He drops back down into his chair with and mulls over Shouto’s quiet declaration.
His eyes are so intense. Izuku’s seen pictures, of course, but it’s so much more intimidating in person.
He doesn’t seem…angry, exactly. But not pleased either. Izuku can’t afford to be screwing this up, not when his friends went through so much trouble to get him this job interview.
Is it even a job interview? Shouto only asked him the one question, and he is quiet now. Waiting for Izuku to say something again with his hands clasped calmly in front of him.
The silent tension stretches uncomfortably.
Izuku swallows thickly and scrambles to fix it somehow.
Shouto said he doesn’t use his flames in battle. Izuku…suspected that already. He’s seen Shouto in action, and it’s absolutely incredible. Walls of ice higher than the tallest buildings in Izuku’s neighbourhood erupting out of his hand in mere seconds. Smaller pieces over which he has precise control used to attack in close range combat. Sliding. Climbing. Capture. His ice is truly amazing and versatile. And yet…
There’s more to it, isn’t there? Izuku’s known. He’s known ever since he saw it on TV. It’s happened twice now, and both times visualize clearly in Izuku’s head.
Maybe because he’s a hero-obsessed quirk-obsessed certified—literally—nerd, and Shouto is one of the most highly examined fresh pro hero candidates of his generation.
Maybe because both times involved Kacchan, and Izuku hasn’t been able to get Kacchan out of his head for the last five years, as much as he’s wanted to.
He clings to any news he can find of his childhood friend. Ex-friend. Bully. Izuku isn’t sure what the word for it is now. They are strangers, if anything. Izuku would be surprised if Kacchan even remembers his name these days.
But Izuku remembers him. Oh, yes.
Izuku is intimately familiar with the two clips of Shouto using his flames.
The first one is from the sports festival. Almost five years ago now. Izuku remembers watching the way Shouto’s flames and ice collided in the arena, making a bigger explosion than Kacchan had made all day.
But Shouto still lost that day. It was a question that tickled the back of Izuku’s mind for months as he analyzed the footage over and over again, but eventually he had to let it go for his sanity. It’s not like he could reach out and ask him.
Why he decided to use his flames in the first place, back then. What changed his mind. Why he gave up anyways.
Kacchan seemed to be really upset too. Like he didn’t get it either. Of course, he didn’t. He’s Kacchan. And Kacchan is always in it to win it.
Izuku could ask, now. Finally satiate his curiosity. Blow this interview for a chance to learn the answer.
But he can’t do that. Maybe… Maybe if he gets this job. Then he can ask. After he gains Shouto’s trust a little bit. Shows him that he doesn’t mean to use the information against him, only to help.
Yeah.
The second clip.
Izuku doesn’t like to think about it.
He had a panic attack as he watched it happen live. Then again as he rewatched it afterwards, sick to his stomach, and needing to make sure everything really did turn out okay in the end.
The video footage is from two years ago, when the League of Villains were threatening to destroy all of Japan and decided to start their attack at UA.
Izuku watched Kacchan almost die, on camera.
No.
Not almost. He did die. That’s what the leaked hospital reports said. The UA kid’s heart stopped beating for a full five minutes. He was, clinically, dead.
And that’s when Shouto used his flames. Continued to use them for the rest of the fight, nonstop. It would have been crazy to see—the way Shouto turned the tide of the battle—if Izuku was capable of paying attention. But his eyes were busy darting on the screen trying to find a glimpse of Kacchan’s body.
They said Kacchan’s own quirk brought him back to life. Like a makeshift defibrillator.
He really is amazing.
But the point is… Izuku is aware. He hasn’t seen Shouto use his flames any other time. And now that he’s saying it point blank—well.
Izuku could ask why and prod for more, or he could offer his services while agreeing to support Shouto in his decision not to fully use his quirk.
He has some theories on it, based on the information that was made public about his family situation around the same time as the LoV attack. But if he’s used his full power before, then it might not be as cut and dry as the media likes to speculate, and that’s what compels Izuku to say what he does next.
“You know,” Izuku says. “I’m quirkless.”
Shouto’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and Izuku lets out a weak mirthless laugh.
“It used to bother me a lot. Still does, sometimes, when it’s late at night and I have nothing to fixate on but my own problems.”
He takes a pause to let it sink in. Let Shouto ask any questions. Most people have them. Most people their age have never even met another quirkless person.
But Shouto stays silent. His eyes go back to their passive composure, hands motionless.
Everything about him is so, so still. Izuku wants to know so much about him; the intricacies and inner workings of his mind.
“I guess I just…don’t understand how someone could have an amazing quirk like yours and opt not to use it. I’m sure you have your reasons, and I’ll be happy to listen to them. If you decide to hire me, I will support you to the best of my ability. But I can’t promise not to push back on the issue. Your power… It’s incredible, Shouto-kun.”
The name sits strangely in his mouth, when Izuku is used to referring to him like that with his hero name. Not bad, just new.
Shouto hums. He doesn’t smile, but Izuku can sort of tell from his eyes that he isn’t unhappy with his answer, and the racing anxiety in his mind calms down a little.
“You’re different, aren’t you, Midoriya?”
Izuku smiles.
“Call me Izuku.”
—
The lady at the reception is expecting him. She waves Izuku over, and Izuku tries not to trip over his own feet in his excitement.
“Midoriya-san, right? Shouto-san is waiting for you in the basement.”
Endeavour Agency is huge. Izuku taps his shiny new employer badge to summon the elevator and spends the ride downstairs rehearsing his words.
He and Shouto haven’t talked since that day in the restaurant. Last week.
Shouto just texted him the address and told him when to show up.
The address part was deeply unnecessary—finding Endeavour Agency on a map isn’t exactly difficult—but Izuku kind of finds it charming. The way Shouto doesn’t assume anything. His thoroughness.
Izuku looks around in awe as he steps off the elevator. The basement is just one big lab! With working stations, and all the state-of-the-art equipment that Izuku’s used to working with from studying in the support department at Shiketsu.
There are two guys and a girl in white coats fiddling with things in different corners of the room, but Izuku’s eyes pass over them quickly to zoom in on Shouto standing in the middle.
Izuku sprints to him which, in hindsight, is embarrassing as he skids to a stop on the polished concrete flooring and almost bumps into Shouto. But Shouto just steadies him with a hand on his shoulder, and Izuku looks up to find him smiling.
Actually, genuinely smiling. It’s a small asymmetrical thing, just curling in one corner, but the content expression is such a welcome change from their first severe meeting. It’s the smile Shouto gives his younger fans; Izuku’s seen the photos. He wasn’t sure if he’d be graced with it, or if he’d be subject to Shouto’s stone-cold seriousness as they worked together.
“Shouto-kun,” Izuku breathes out. “Hi!”
“Hello,” Shouto says, taking a couple of steps back so that Izuku doesn’t have to strain his neck to meet his eyes. “Welcome. This is where you will be mostly working from.”
He gestures around the room to the various apparatus, and Izuku nods vigorously.
“It’s amazing!” he blurts out. “You have all the things I’d need, and even some stuff I don’t need!”
“Make yourself at home. My office is on the top floor. Your keycard should give you access, and you have my number. Call me if you need anything.”
—
Izuku already pays a lot of attention to heroes, but he’s been looking at Shouto even more closely since he hired him. There are a lot of videos of him online, as popular as he is, dating all the way back to when he first started at UA.
In a lot of them, Kacchan is side by side with him. They work really well together. Izuku watches the clips and takes notes for longer than is strictly necessarily, eyes straying to Kacchan like they always do.
—
“Why did you hire me? I talked to some people at the lab, and their work is nothing to scoff at. They’ve been doing this for years! It’s not like you need a rookie like me around…”
“You came highly recommended,” Shouto says, and Izuku’s cheeks warm from the phrasing. “I wasn’t going to. But I liked you. At the restaurant.”
“Oh, uhm, t-that’s… I’m going to try my best!”
Izuku’s beginning to like him too.
—
Shouto is a really attentive conversationalist. He doesn’t talk a lot, but Izuku knows just from looking into his eyes that he is soaking up every word Izuku is saying. That he doesn’t tune him out.
And no matter how rambly and off-topic and disjointed Izuku gets, Shouto keeps up with him. Remembers details from things Izuku’s told him.
Things Izuku hasn’t told him. Shouto pays so much attention, and Izuku blooms under his gaze. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying. It’s—
“Here, take this.”
“Oh, uhm, what’s that?”
Shouto looks away, eyes fixing on the wall behind Izuku, and gestures to open the bag.
Izuku looks inside and finds a binder. Colour-coded. One of those fancy ones with a lot of different tabs and stickers for organizational purposes.
Shouto says, “You were running out of space in your notebook, so.”
Izuku’s so touched, he could cry. He doesn’t though. He has a million other notebooks at home, but he doesn’t say that.
This one’s special.
—
Izuku is still watching a replay of Shouto’s fight, glued to his screen, when someone taps him on the shoulder and sends him jumping three feet into air.
“Eeek!”
Shouto’s strong hands push him back down into his chair.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You’re okay, haha, sorry. I’m jumpy! I guess. Or I used to be. Now I only get like that when I’m really focusing on something which is usually not a problem, but—”
“Izuku.”
“Hm?”
“You’re rambling.”
“Ah, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I just meant, you don’t have to explain.”
“Oh.”
They stare at each other for a second before both breaking out into smiles. Shouto’s is small and uneven, crinkling in the corner of his eyes, and Izuku can’t see his own but his cheeks hurt from how hard it’s pulling on either side.
—
Shouto:
Lunch today?
Izuku:
we get lunch together every day shouto-kun ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝
you don’t need to ask me every time
but yes
—
Shouto hands Izuku his phone, showing off the fluffiest cutest cat Izuku has ever seen in his life. He’s never been much of a cat person, but he’s never wanted to hold something so bad in his entire life.
“That’s Yuki. You can probably guess why we named her that.”
“We?”
“Me and Hitoshi. She’s technically his cat, but he goes on a lot of undercover missions so I catsit a lot.”
Hitoshi… Now why does that sound familiar?
Izuku wracks his brain. Comes up empty. Thankfully, Shouto picks up on his unvoiced curiosity and puts him out of his misery.
“Shinsou Hitoshi. Mindbend.”
“OH! His quirk is really cool. I remember him from the UA sports festivals. He can change his voice, right?”
“Yes, but technically that’s not part of his quirk. It’s his support gear.”
Izuku goes on to grill him about Mindbend’s quirk, and Shouto is in the middle of answering all his questions patiently when his pager goes off.
“Cellophane calling for back up in Shinjuku. Threat level 4. All heroes on call respond ASAP. Dispatching medical.”
Shouto is already sliding out the door by the time the message finishes ringing out.
Izuku watches him go.
—
Izuku:
are you okay?
Shouto:
Yes
Izuku:
i watched the whole thing
your teeth were chattering
Shouto:
I managed
Izuku:
you wouldn't have needed Ingenium to pull you out if you weren’t freezing
Shouto:
Then you should update my regulator to work better
Izuku sighs.
—
Izuku:
what was the name of the song that was playing when i came into your office this morning?
Shouto:
Which one?
Izuku:
umm i’m not sure how to explain
Shouto:
I can send you my playlist, if you’d like
Izuku:
please!
Izuku listens to the whole thing while he works the next day. For some inexplicable reason, he thinks about Kacchan the entire time.
—
Shouto may seem antisocial at first glance, from the awkward way he conducts himself in interviews that ask about his personal life, to the terse tone he takes as he engages in small talk.
But Izuku quickly learns that that couldn’t be further from the truth.
And even on the days that they don’t talk much, their silence is companionable. Shouto finds him after a rough shift—freshly showered and dressed in his casual civilian clothes—and watches Izuku tinker with gear or sketch out new prototypes and schematics.
There’s something so nice about knowing Shouto likes just…hanging out with him. Izuku never thought he’d have this kind of a close relationship with someone at work.
Even when he was at Shiketsu, as much as he loved his friends there, they never really got to be so close. Izuku was kind of a workaholic, and people liked working with him well enough, but it never quite felt so personal.
It’s nice. Really, really nice.
—
Shouto likes his designs. Until he doesn’t.
“You removed my regulator?”
Izuku twists his hands in his lap and looks away from Shouto, his scrutinizing look sending his heart reeling in a bad way. “You’ll work better without it. I’ve thought about it. You—”
“I need it if I don’t want to freeze mid-fight.”
“You won’t, if you use your quirk. There’s a fire side to it, right? It would be much less taxing on your body to use that instead of the regulator.”
“I need my regulator.”
Their standoff lasts less than a second. It lasts forever. Izuku tips over the edge, clutching his fists.
They’ve had this argument before, but Izuku’s prodding into the issue has gone nowhere, so he’s putting his foot down this time.
“Then ask someone else to design your suit. I won’t do it. I won’t settle for ‘good enough’ when you can do better.”
He knows he’s right. But his heart still palpitates for speaking so harshly.
Another man would have told him to fuck off.
Kacchan would have. Kacchan would have fired him, probably. Or punched him, or both.
Shouto does none of that. He breathes out slowly, frost forming in the air between them before it dissipates. Without another word, he turns around and exits the lab.
The automatic doors don’t give him an opportunity to slam them, but Izuku has a feeling that Shouto wouldn’t have, regardless. He’d leave the door wide open so Izuku would be forced to watch every step he takes away.
—
Shouto hasn’t been talking to him. Izuku still goes to work every day, and his employee access card still works just fine, so he’s assuming he isn’t fired. Yet.
But Shouto hasn’t been visiting him, or texting him, or asking to go out to lunch together.
Izuku’s used to working on a lab by himself for hours on end, but he was kind of starting to get used to their shared routine; Shouto dropping by after his shifts to hang out with him and watch him work; offering pointers and a hero’s perspective.
Well. No point in dwelling on what’s already lost.
Izuku’s already designed three upgrades without being able to test them on his subject, the suits hanging up in glass cases with no one to try them on.
—
They run into each other as they’re both leaving the building.
Shouto looks ahead the entire time, refusing to meet his eyes.
—
Izuku:
how long are you going to ignore me?
Izuku:
okay.
—
On the second week of their not-talking—the new normal, Izuku thinks ruefully—he misses work.
Not on purpose.
A little girl chases her ball in the middle of a busy road, and Izuku jumps after her when he sees a car coming. The girl turns out to be fine, Izuku’s leg…not so much.
The driver apologizes profusely and takes him to the emergency room where Izuku’s given a cast and crutches. It’s lunch time when he gets discharged, and he’s scrolling his phone trying to figure out the best place to eat nearby when it’s snatched out of his hand.
He looks up, annoyed, then shocked as Shouto’s two-toned eyes stare back at him angrily.
“Why didn’t you call?” Shouto says. No greeting, no nothing.
He didn’t know he had to. He’s not behind on work or anything, and he would have gotten a text if he was urgently needed. Plus, he keeps up with hero news and there was nothing about Shouto or anyone else at his agency getting into a major fight, no suit repairs needed.
Shouto doesn’t get to just be mad at him and show up out of nowhere when he’s been going out of his to avoid him for days.
Izuku scowls, grabbing his phone back.
“Would you have answered?” he snaps.
Shouto, stricken, stumbles a step or two. Izuku grimaces and sighs. He doesn’t want to fight. He misses him. He misses their time together.
He won’t budge on the reason this whole thing started, but it doesn’t mean he wants to make it worse.
Softer, he says, “I’m alright, Shouto-kun. Don’t worry.”
When Shouto doesn’t say anything, Izuku reaches out and takes a hold of his left hand. It’s not easy to do with crutches on either side, but he makes do, leaning on his good leg.
Shouto’s hand is warm. He still has that complicated unreadable look on his face that Izuku doesn’t know what to do with, but at least he’s not pulling away.
“I would have answered.”
Izuku’s heart lurches in his chest uncomfortably. Oh.
“We are still friends, Izuku. I wouldn’t—I’d be here.”
“I didn’t want to inconvenience you. It’s not a big deal… Nothing I haven’t broken before.” Izuku smiles nervously, hoping that breaks the tension between them.
It does, and it doesn’t. Shouto deflates and squeezes Izuku’s hand, then takes one of the crutches and slings Izuku’s arm over his shoulders, taking his weight. He has to crouch slightly to match Izuku’s height. Izuku worries his lower lip and hopes it’s not too uncomfortable for him.
He leans into Shouto easily. His warmth. It’s really nice.
“Cats must like you.”
Oh, god, he didn’t mean to say that out loud. Embarrassing.
Shouto nods seriously at Izuku’s flustered remark. “Yuki enjoys cuddling up to my left side.”
It’s—it feels good. That Shouto doesn’t think he’s weird when he blurts out random things.
“How did you even know I was gone? Or where to find me?”
“You didn’t key in today,” Shouto says. “And I called every hospital in the area.”
Well, fuck. Izuku doesn’t want to think about that too hard, so he tucks in the information in the back of his mind to examine never.
They find a restaurant to eat at. Izuku stretches his legs across two chairs and pays attention to the way Shouto doesn’t even look at the menu as he places his order.
It’s always the same thing. Izuku wonders how hard it would be to learn to cook cold soba.
—
Izuku is working late. Everyone else has already left the building, so he startles when the double doors to the lab swing open. Shouto walks in, smelling like soot and ice, but intact.
“Tough shift?”
Shouto smiles, shaking his head. “I got called in for a fire, but nobody was injured.”
“You saved them.”
Things are still a little awkward between them. Izuku still hasn’t given Shouto’s regulator back, but Shouto hasn’t switched over to asking another tech to fix his suit, so they’re at an impasse.
Izuku does feel a little guilty. He’s holding back a top hero from doing his best. But he can’t think like that. He’s here to support Shouto to the best of his ability, and this is for the best; Izuku is sure of it.
“Are you busy?” Shouto asks, grabbing a chair to sit next to Izuku at his workspace.
“Nothing urgent. Is something wrong?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
It sounds serious. Izuku tamps down his worry and turns to give Shouto his full attention, resisting the urge to reach out and wipe the streaks of dirt from his forehead.
Shouto talks, Izuku listens.
It’s not about anything Izuku thought he was gonna say. Not about his work, not about the job Izuku’s been doing. Instead, he talks of his origin. There’s a hoarse quality to his voice as he tells Izuku about his mom, his siblings. About Touya.
Izuku’s heart wrenches and twists seven ways, nausea building in his stomach, even as he hears the familiar story.
Most of it is Todoroki dirty laundry that’s been public knowledge for years, courtesy of Dabi, but it’s different to hear it from Shouto’s mouth. Despite the excruciating narrative that he pains vividly in Izuku’s mind, Shouto remains calm and unshakable. Until he gets to the end.
“I couldn’t save him,” Shouto says, voice quivering. “I couldn’t stop him.”
Izuku’s chest pangs for him. All that he went through. Shouto’s scars were just another piece of Shouto’s face before, but now Izuku looks at them and sees his pain. He looks at the split in Shouto’s hair and understands the burden he carried all by himself, to try and save his family. To fail, ultimately.
He can’t help but wish they’d met sooner, before all that. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe Shouto wouldn’t have had to face it all alone.
Izuku swallows and tentatively reaches out his hand in the space between them. Shouto stares blankly like he doesn’t know what to do with it, but he doesn’t push Izuku away when he takes Shouto’s left hand and clasps it in both of his.
—
Izuku installs Shouto’s regulator back.
On a yellow sticky note, he writes,
It’s your power, but it’s okay if you aren’t ready to use it yet. I’m here. We’ll get there together.
—
“What are you looking at?” Izuku asks, bumping his shoulder into Shouto’s and peeking over to look at his phone.
They’re in the break room, eating lunch side by side.
“Oh, do you know Dynamight?”
Izuku blinks, trying not to lose his cool. “Y-yeah, you guys were classmates at UA, right?”
“We were,” Shouto says. “He’s my best friend.”
He smiles as he says it, shifting his eyes back to his phone. Izuku’s heart does a backflip.
The video starts with Kacchan cursing as he tries to get the phone propped up right.
“Check this out, Icyhot!”
The screen goes bright, and then from the smoke, Kacchan appears on the other side of the room, laughing.
“That’s two seconds faster than last time! Gonna kick your ass when I see ya.”
The video loops back to the beginning. Shouto pauses it and turns back to Izuku.
“He says that, but I know he misses me too.”
Yeah.
Yeah, Izuku gets it.
—
Autumn gives way to winter.
“Can I ask you for a favour?”
“Anything, Shouto-kun.”
“It’s Touya-nii’s anniversary. I was wondering if you would come with me to visit him.”
—
There’s no one else there, just the two of them. Sad-looking gentian flowers decorate the grave. It’s not their season, and they shiver in the cold as wind blows past.
“Mom and Fuyumi go in the morning,” Shouto explains. “I can’t…”
Izuku holds his hand.
—
They walk back hand in hand, Izuku’s held warm. He wishes he could give Shouto the warmth back tenfold. To link their hearts together and let all the affection he feels do the work.
Last night’s fresh coat of snow crunches underneath their boots.
“He liked the same food as me. We never got a chance to have it together.”
Shouto is so strong. He shouldn’t have to be.
Their steps fall in tandem.
They somehow end up at the station Izuku needs to get home. Lost in thought, Izuku hadn’t noticed where Shouto was taking them until they arrived.
Before they part, Shouto pulls him closer by their joint hands into a bone-crushing hug that Izuku reciprocates readily.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into Izuku’s hair.
Izuku draws in a sharp breath and squeezes tight.
—
“I want to try. Without the regulator.”
Izuku smiles.
“Then we will.”
—
There’s a lot to like about Shouto. His grace, his steadfastness. The quiet way he carries his anger, and the soft gentleness in his voice as he lets it go.
Izuku watches him, and for the first time in years, the feeling that blooms in his chest is not tied to an unattainable explosion in the distant past. It’s new; it’s fragile.
It’s everything.
And when Shouto looks back at him, Izuku thinks he might have a chance.
—
Shouto:
I watched that movie you were talking about
Izuku:
ohmygod you did???
did you like it?!
it’s okay if you didn’t, sorry i just get excited
Shouto:
It’s alright. And yes, I did
Izuku:
the villain’s kinda a ripoff of the remake for All Might: Age of Darkness Part 2
but the effects are awesome and i found the relationship between all might and dr shield super interesting
the creators claim it’s based on their actual irl relationship but idk if there’s any truth to that
Shouto:
They were quite fruity
Izuku chokes on air, dropping his phone onto his face. Texting Shouto in the middle of the night when they should both be sleeping is probably not the best idea he’s had this week, but he can’t bring himself to stop either.
Shouto:
Sorry. Did I use that incorrectly?
Izuku:
oh, nono, you’re fine!
just caught me off guard haha
but i agree!!!
i think it’s really sweet tbh. they care a lot about each other, and he helps him come up with a solution to losing his quirk, so he can continue to be a hero
…it means a lot to me
Shouto:
They kind of reminded me of us.
In the scene where David was getting All Might fitted for his suit
Warmth spreads in his chest. He turns his head to the side, burying his muffled groans into a pillow as he tries to come up with a response. In the end, he sends a sticker of Pusheen with a heart above her head.
Shouto’s already asleep. The message remains unread until sunrise.
—
A chair creaks. Izuku groggily opens his eyes.
Somebody is holding his hand. It’s warm and soft and familiar.
“Hey.”
Izuku would recognize that voice anywhere. Shouto’s sitting by his bed.
Izuku tries to sit up but his vision swims and bile rises in his throat. Shouto gently pushes him back down.
“Don’t get up; you need to keep resting.”
There are bags under his eyes, his voice wavering ever so slightly. Izuku catches it even as he tries to hide it.
Izuku swallows, thick and sweet down his throat with emotion.
“What happened?” he asks. A quick perusal of their surroundings offers an explanation; the med bay is empty but for them. It reeks of antiseptic, and Izuku’s eyes throb with the flickering of the fluorescent lights overhead.
Izuku is no stranger his own overworking habits, but it’s the first time someone other than his mom is with him when he wakes up.
“I found you,” Shout offers, hesitating. “You were passed out on your desk. I knew you worked late sometimes but not… I was only here because— Anyways. The lab lights were on. So I dropped by.”
The halting manner of his speech, the tremor of his hand, his eyes—he looks like he’s been crying.
“You’re important.” He squeezes Izuku’s hand. “Take care of yourself. Please.”
Overcome with a thousand words he doesn’t know how to say, filled to the core with care he doesn’t know how to reciprocate without overwhelming both of them, Izuku nods. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes until he can’t hold them back anymore, but Shouto just smiles softly, if a little ruefully, and wipes Izuku’s cheeks with his free hand.
His touch is cold and a welcome relief for his heated skin and aching head. Shouto must notice the release of tension in his shoulders because he keeps his hand close, tucking unruly strands behind Izuku’s ear. Caressing his hair.
They’re close enough to kiss, if Izuku just leans forward. If he dares to close the gap.
—
There’s a pep to Shouto’s step. He isn’t prickly or ill-tempered by any means on the regular, but this is different. Izuku hasn’t seen him like this before; except perhaps…
“Katsuki— uh, Dynamight is coming back.”
“Oh! That’s amazing!” Izuku responds automatically, while processing the words in his own mind by rotating them every which way.
Kacchan is coming back. Kacchan. Kacchan who Izuku misses like a limb even though it’s been years. Kacchan who is best friends with Shouto. Kacchan who is amazing, who wants to be the number one hero. Kacchan who hasn’t been in Japan.
And that has been equal parts relieving—because there’s no chance that Izuku will accidentally run into him—and painful like a scab that Izuku can’t stop picking at. Bleeding, healing, torn open again every time Izuku looks him up and watches him fly high.
Kacchan never stopped being amazing. Never stopped shining. And Izuku never stopped watching him, no matter how many metaphorical and literal kicks to the chest it earned him.
“I’m picking him up from the airport tomorrow night.”
“So soon?”
Shouto smiles, small and private. A delicate, precious curve that makes Izuku’s heart throb painfully in his chest with the need to protect it. To keep it on Shouto’s face, always. It smooths over some of Izuku’s jagged, worried edges, and it looks heart stoppingly beautiful on him.
“He wanted to surprise me. But he also didn’t want anyone else to pick him from the airport, so he ended up telling me anyways.”
Right. Kacchan gets carsick. Izuku knows that, the tidbit of information tucked into the back of his mind along with all the other Kacchan facts that he knows. Someone else would call them useless, but to Izuku, they are the only remnants of Kacchan he can hold onto these days. The small, useless things one would know by proximity. A reminder of their nonexistent closeness that Izuku clings onto. Things that someone would know about Bakugou Katsuki, about Kacchan, as a friend, and not because he is Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.
Kacchan gets carsick, unless his dad is driving.
Izuku quietly adjusts the shelves in his mind, grabbing a dusty notebook and scribbling in its corner.
Kacchan gets carsick, unless Shouto is driving.
—
Shouto is jittery and excited the whole day and the next. Then, he does something unprecedented.
He takes a day off.
Then another. And another.
Izuku misses him.
Misses Kacchan too. Even more, now that he’s back. Reachable. Now that Izuku has a way of reaching him.
He could ask Shouto to meet Kacchan, and he has no doubt that Shouto could make it happen. As much as Kacchan seems to have Shouto wrapped around his fingers, Izuku’s certain it goes the other way around too.
It’s crazy to think about, so unlike Kacchan, but Izuku’s peeked over Shouto’s shoulder and onto his text conversations with Kacchan too many times to doubt it.
Izuku knows Kacchan has changed over the years. It’s impossible to miss from the way he talks in interviews. But Izuku now has evidence of it, in the form of watching the way Shouto smiles at every mention of his name. The way he gets excited to talk about him. The anecdotes he shares.
Izuku never had any doubt that Kacchan would become someone amazing and unstoppable. He never thought he’d be so close to him to see it happen.
He never thought he’d be so far away.
—
The first time Shouto contacts him in his impromptu Kacchan-imposed vacation is with a text, on Izuku’s day off. A location pin and a time.
Shouto:
There’s a party. You should come.
Izuku puts two and two together.
Breath trapped in his lung, he considers it.
He’d be lying if he said he was not nervous to see Kacchan again. But he’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t excited.
After a quick shower, he spills his closet’s guts all over the floor trying to find something appropriate to wear. What even would be appropriate? He asks Shouto about it, and Shouto isn’t any help.
Shouto:
Wear whatever you like.
Of course, he’d say that. He’s Shouto. He can probably wear pajamas to a hero gala and still rock everyone’s socks off with how good he looks.
Eventually throwing on a plain button down and jeans, Izuku grabs his keys and wallet and heads outside.
He spent too much time being indecisive about his choice of wardrobe, and now he’s running late.
It should be fine, right? People don’t go to parties on time. Or something. Izuku wouldn’t know. He was never much of a party person.
He considers picking up a gift. Maybe a bottle of wine, or some flowers. Or would that be uncalled for?
Does Shouto even like wine? For all their shared meals, they’ve never actually gone out for drinks together. He’s never seen Shouto drink anything alcoholic.
In their line of work, the body is a temple and all that. Plus, he’d need to be sober when he’s on call, which is always.
So, no alcohol. (What kind of party would it be without alcohol?)
And no flowers. Maybe flowers would be fine, but the minute Izuku starts to think about it, he panics about what he wants flowers-for-Shouto to mean and what it would actually mean, and what Shouto would take it to mean. It’s too much.
In the end, he doesn’t get anything.
It’s probably fine, right?
It’s a party with Shouto’s hero friends. No one will even notice him.
(He hopes Kacchan will notice him.)
—
Shouto:
Where are you? Are you coming?
Izuku:
On my way, will be there soon!
Izuku sighs, leaning his head against the backseat of the cab he’s taking. Anxiety claws at the walls of his insides.
It’ll be fine, right?
—
Soft pop music bleeds through the front door where Izuku is knocking, familiar tunes from the many playlists Shouto’s shared with him the past few months.
The door clicks open, and the music gets louder, but not by much. It makes sense, if it’s a party for Kacchan like Izuku thinks it is. As loud as Kacchan was, he always hated it when other people were.
“Hey, dude! Are you the support department guy?”
It’s a surreal experience. Meeting Red Riot for the first time, and he’s in jean shorts and a loose pink hoodie that clashes with his hair. Izuku feels overdressed in comparison. Damnit.
“Uhm, yes,” Izuku says, trying not to stutter. “Midoriya Izuku! It’s really nice to meet you.”
He bows, hits his head on the doorjamb and winces. Why is he already embarrassing himself?!
“Oh, careful!! I’m Kirishima.” Red Riot—Kirishima extends a hand. Izuku shakes it. He has a firm grip. “Well, come in. Can I get you something to drink?”
Turns out, heroes do drink alcohol. Izuku shifts in discomfort at his empty handedness and at what happened at the door, but Kirishima seems unbothered. It puts him slightly more at ease.
Izuku accepts a cocktail mixed in a plastic cup. A quick sip reveals something peachy and—alcoholic, for lack of a better word. Izuku wouldn’t know. Maybe vodka?
He doesn’t want to lose his bearings, god knows he’s clumsy as it is, so he takes small sips only as he surveys the room.
Some people are swaying back and forth in a corner while making conversation. Others are playing a card game on the floor. Three people are out in the balcony, smoking. Izuku recognizes some but not all the attendees. Most are from UA’s famous class A. The one Kacchan and Shouto graduated from.
Some people nod his way but don’t approach him. If Shouto warned them beforehand that he gets shy in a crowd—well, Izuku’s grateful either way.
But he feels awkward just standing in a corner, and his eyes can’t find Shouto.
A girl with rosy cheeks and brown hair that prettily frames her face taps him on the shoulder. Uravity.
“You’re looking for Todoroki-kun, right?”
Relieved at not having to make small talk, Izuku nods, hoping his smile doesn’t come across as a grimace. He just feels so damn awkward like this.
“I think he went upstairs! He wouldn’t mind if you went to find him. He was really excited for you to get here.”
Right, okay. That’s—that’s good to know. Not surprising, but it’s still nice to have confirmation. Something warm and bright settling in the pit of Izuku’s stomach at the thought that Shouto was eagerly awaiting his arrival.
“Thanks, Uravity-san!”
“No problem! Don’t be a stranger!”
Izuku nods as he walks away.
Heroes are something else.
—
Izuku doesn’t have the wherewithal to observe Shouto’s house—wait this is Shouto’s house, right?
He thunders up the the stairs and takes in the pictures hung on the walls in his periphery. Some, he’s already seen. Framed news articles, photos from the UA graduation ceremony. The same ones Shouto has in his office. There are no family pictures. No surprise there. Izuku’s heart pangs anyways.
There are four rooms up here, all with their doors open.
Izuku rushes past the first three when a quick glance reveals them to be empty.
The last room is bigger. Izuku pokes his head in. Shouto’s red-and-white hair greets him, and Izuku gets excited and ready to call out to him when the rest of the scene registers.
There’s a hand clutching Shouto’s shoulder, another twisted in his hair at the back of his neck. Blond hair poofs out on one side, and Izuku spares a moment to thank any and all deities that Kacchan’s eyes are closed.
Kacchan.
Kacchan is here. And they’re—they’re kissing. Kacchan and Shouto. Kissing.
Shouto.
Shouto kissing someone else, that’s not him. Kissing Kacchan.
Izuku’s heart skips three beats, adrenaline careening it into an accelerated rhythm as if he’s coming off of a sprint. He can’t breathe. The song changes, and Izuku’s body jolts with recognition.
Middle school was a bad time for him when it came to Kacchan, but Izuku still had a hard time letting him go. As mean and horrible as he was, Kacchan was still this amazing person—hero—in Izuku’s life. Izuku has missed him like a phantom limb all these years. That’s why he clings to the good memories he has of Kacchan, especially now.
In the last year of middle school, after Izuku jumped in to save Kacchan from the sludge villain (and miserably failed), Kacchan mostly stopped bothering Izuku. Izuku never told him that he met All Might that day, or that All Might had told him he can’t be a hero without a quirk. Izuku didn’t plan to give up. If not UA, then Shiketsu would have to do. If not the hero course, then he’d go for the next best thing and try anyways.
Somewhere along the way, Izuku realized there’s more ways than one to be a hero. As long as he’s reaching out, as long as he is helping people, saving them, anyway he can, then he is content with this life.
But he didn’t know that yet, in middle school. Back then, a couple days before graduation, he’d walked into class early like he always did, to find Kacchan already there, like he always was. The two of them, two peas in a pod. Kacchan was staring out the window with a serene expression on his face, listening to music.
And it hit Izuku then. That he could count the number of days he’d get to see Kacchan on one hand before he had to move out west for high school.
The knowledge punched him in the chest, and in a rare moment of insanity, Izuku walked to Kacchan’s desk and snatched one of Kacchan’s earbuds out of his ear, sticking it in his own.
He just wanted—something. Something to remember him by. One last memento of Kacchan before he could never talk to him again. And it wasn’t like they talked at all. But Kacchan didn’t push him off, didn’t say anything, didn’t explode him away. Izuku gingerly sat on the edge of Kacchan’s desk, and they finished the song together, some part of Izuku throbbing painfully for reasons he couldn’t begin to unpack and wouldn’t for years.
He focused on Kacchan in that moment. On the arch of his brow, and on the fact that for all the days Izuku had seen Kacchan like that all year, quiet and listening to music, he’d been tuning into such aching lyrics.
Izuku gave Kacchan’s earbud back without a word, biting back on his words. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. Their unspoken goodbye—he still wonders to this day if he should have said something.
He lightly brushed his hand against Kacchan’s shoulder as he walked away, humming the melody of their song under his breath for the rest of the day.
It’s a cruel turn of fate that the same song would be the one to play right now. The chapters of their life that they spent apart bookended by soft words of love.
Why do I feel like I’m burning.
His feet hurtle him back downstairs, then out the door and out into the night. He runs and runs and runs. Cold air bites his ankles in an unforgiving reminder of the season and Izuku’s own carelessness for forgetting to wear something more weather-appropriate.
A ping in his pocket.
He doesn’t know which direction he’s walking.
His phone pings again. Izuku thumbs it to silence and keeps going.
—
He doesn’t know how he gets home. Slamming his bathroom door shut and splashing cold water on his face does little to ward off the sting of betrayal.
His skin buzzes unpleasantly from the shame of reacting so strongly.
It’s not like he has a ground to walk on here. No right to stake a claim.
Izuku knew. He knew. And yet he still let himself get carried away. Let himself daydream about holding Shouto’s hand and being the one Shouto confides in for his troubles.
But no. Kacchan is special, and Izuku knew it from the first moment Shouto talked about him. The way his eyes lit up when showing Izuku pictures of them at UA. And the sad lilt to his voice when he’d quietly admit that he misses his best friend—missed, Kacchan is back, he’s back.
Of course, that’s not where it ended. Izuku was a fool to think he could hold a candle up to Kacchan’s bright shining light. Even in his absence, he lit the sparks to flame the same way his quirk is so quick to detonate.
Izuku takes a cold shower. It’s his second one of the day, but he doesn’t care. He’s sweaty, muscles spasming and twitching. The tears streaming down his face blend with the water, sourness sitting in the back of his throat like an old friend.
—
Izuku plugs his phone into its charger and checks his messages.
Shouto:
Kirishima told me you left in a hurry. Is everything okay?
Missed call, 3 hours ago.
Shouto:
I am worried.
2 missed calls, 2 hours ago.
Shouto:
Izuku, please answer.
Missed call, 30 minutes ago.
Izuku sighs, swallowing tar. With a heavy heart and shaking hands, he texts back.
Izuku:
everything is okay!! family emergency, but it’s sorted out now
nothing you need to worry about
sorry for leaving without telling you, i’ll see you tomorrow :)
The smiley face taunts him from its glass prison. Izuku can only hope his own smile tomorrow holds up as steady as the characters on screen.
—
Work is normal. Shouto comes back and acts like nothing has changed, and nothing has, so Izuku doesn’t know why he was expecting anything different. A hickey sits low on Shouto’s neck, bruised purple and mocking.
Heartbreak is two smiles exchanged in a brightly-lit lab over lunch. It’s quiet. Izuku’s food tastes like ash and weighs him down like he’s swallowing rock with every bite.
He finds a flower petal on his desk as he’s cleaning up to go home.
The colour reminds him of Kacchan. Izuku brushes it into the trashcan with a sigh.
—
Waking up in the middle of the night is not uncommon for Izuku. He doesn’t have nightmares often, but he sleeps fitfully.
Usually, he doesn’t force it, choosing to let his body tell him when to rest—sometimes to its own detriment; the edges of slumber and wakefulness bleed into each other until Izuku can’t take it anymore and tosses his blanket aside. He’s accustomed to using the quiet early morning hours to work on his designs or sketch new ideas.
Tonight, it’s different.
Instead of flicking him back and forth between dreamland and cognizance like the pendulum of a clock, Izuku wakes up violently, chest seizing.
He coughs and coughs and coughs, so much so that he worries he may cough up a lung. His throat is tight. Reminds him of the first time he smoked, and he couldn’t stop coughing long after he’d let go of all the smoke inside. Except this time, it’s a much more physical sensation, sticky and viscous, and for a second he worries he will choke on his breath and die, but it passes.
Something soft and too big is in his mouth, and Izuku pulls it out frantically. He rubs an eye open and blinks until his eyes adjust to the streaks of moonlight that light up the room as he sits up against the headboard.
Cradled it in his palm, it sits. Soft, wet with spit and mucus. A lily, though not any kind Izuku has seen before. The petals almost glow in the low light, a trick of the eye. Instead of one coat of colour, it has a mixture of oranges, pinks, and yellows. Izuku looks down and finds more petals strewn about, just like the one he’d seen earlier today and brushed off.
The first thought that comes to Izuku’s sleep-addled mind is that they are beautiful, the colours sticking out against the navy blue of Izuku’s All Might-themed covers.
But as he sobers up and the fog clears, a chill goes down Izuku’s spine, razor-sharp.
It’s petrifying.
These flowers and strewn-about petals were…inside him? How did they even get there?
Was he hit by a quirk? Maybe after Shouto’s party, as he was running through the streets? He hasn’t done anything else out of the norm the past few days.
Panic starts to build. Izuku tamps it down. He feels fine. Even if it is a quirk accident, he doesn’t feel ill beyond a sore throat from all the coughing. He’ll check himself in the lab, just to make sure.
It’ll be fine.
Inhale, exhale. One, two, three.
It’ll be fine.
Izuku lies back down and closes his eyes. Sleep doesn’t come easy. It never has when he wakes up at odd hours of the night, but his body sinks into the mattress involuntarily. Like a drowning man, his thoughts become muddled, even as some part of him thinks that he should get up and figure out the deal with coughing up flowers. It could be serious. He needs to get up. Get up.
Get up…
His body fights him, and he eventually succumbs to sleep.
Images of Kacchan and Shouto flash behind his eyes, this time in a field of rainbow flowers. Izuku laughs and laughs and laughs as he watches them.
But Kacchan doesn’t open his eyes, and Shouto doesn’t look back.
