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Touya doesn’t know how Shouto arranged for this, what kind of strings he had to pull as Number Three. He’d like to hope that some bribery or nefarious means were involved but having gotten to know his punk ass baby brother over the past decade and a half, that’s not very likely.
Whatever. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that they’re here now, standing in front of their childhood home—well, the Todoroki estate. Wasn’t ever much of a home, was it?
There’s no breeze tonight, the air still and eerie. The house before them is dark and empty. Haunted by so many fucking ghosts. But now with the estate officially under Natsuo’s name, it is unofficially Touya’s. He can finally do what needs to be done.
Next to him, Shouto’s got his fingers pressed to his ear, nodding and muttering to whichever wannabe heroes are under his command tonight. Touya doesn’t know the details of the arrangement but he’s sure that that weird fire extinguisher kid is involved. Maybe a couple of others, off in the sidelines waiting for the main event.
Ideally, this would just be a fun little arson run on his part but Shouto wanted to do it the “right” way, even though that’s bullshit. But when you’re pushing forty you learn to pick your battles.
Touya’s palms itch, his smothered quirk urging for release. He fists them in his pockets, anxious and impatient as Shouto finalizes everything. Eventually, he turns to Touya.
“Are you ready?” There’s a small crease between Shouto’s brows. Touya knows what he actually wants to ask is if he’s sure. It makes him roll his eyes.
“Been waiting for this my whole goddamn life.”
Shouto gives a small smile and a nod.
“I wish I could give you the satisfaction of doing it yourself.”
“Stop try’na make it seem like I’m the only one that had a shit time in there,” Touya snaps, the raging swirl of memories and emotions putting him on edge. “You know you want this just as bad as I do. Don’t fucking lie.”
A look of annoyance passes over Shouto’s face but then he turns toward the house. Touya watches the set of his jaw, the grit of his teeth. Senses the mirrored feelings inside his brother, albeit a little more controlled and reined in. But it’s there, clear as day.
“Yes,” Shouto says, the fire in his eyes igniting before his quirk. “I really, really do.”
Touya grins.
Shouto murmurs a word into his comms and then takes two steps forward. He looks back over his shoulder, both in a courteous warning and in solidarity. And then he reaches out a hand towards the decrepit building.
Flames erupt, bright and hot and glorious. The dried grass catches first, a wave of fire rushing towards the front steps. The gasoline Touya had walked around flinging at random light up on the steps. On and on the flames spread, with Shouto releasing one last giant burst in the direction of the roof.
Touya stares wide-eyed. It’s one thing to dream about something for years, but seeing it come true is something else entirely. He almost doesn’t want to move. Nearly shrugs off Shouto’s hand on his shoulder to steer them away to a safer distance. But he relents, shoving down that old, dark compulsion to walk to his death.
The hypnotic haze in his mind begins to clear only once the entire house is engulfed in the brightest flames. The appointed heroes emerge at Shouto instruction, prepared to control the destruction and douse it when the moment calls.
Touya licks his dry lips and look to see that Shouto’s watching him carefully. Something nameless passes between. Something settles, deep in Touya’s tattered soul.
He offers a crooked grin. “Happy late birthday, baby brother.”
Shouto snorts lightly, shaking his head. “Thank you, Touya-nii. Now how do I top this for yours?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Touya says, bumping into the tall asshole with his shoulder. “You always fuckin’ do.”