Chapter Text
Knights & Dragons Chapter 1: Rising to the Call
In the Todoroki household, there’s an old set of armor. A little dingy and rusty, it was one of the few objects in the household that Shouto’s father told their cleaners never to touch. It rested on a beautiful wooden display behind a panel of plexiglass in one of the many extra rooms of the palatial residence. For the sixteen years that Shouto lived in that house, it was never moved. Not even when Enji began rearranging the house after his mother was…removed. The armor room remained untouched.
As a child, Shouto remembers spending countless hours staring at that suit of armor, mapping out the interconnected pieces of metal, the tiny cracks, and the painted patterns that stitched it all together. He would sit on the floor with his legs crossed, peering up at it; soaking in the navy blues and dark reds that colored the metal, gazing at the fire-breathing dragon inked over the chestpiece.
Above the armor, mounted sideways on a wooden block, was a sword.
In contrast to the old armor, it always seemed to shine effortlessly. Where Shouto could spot the rust or peeling paint on the armor, he could make out the intricate detail work on the hand of the sword, or the fine carving along the cross guard. The pommel of the sword was tapered into the open mouth of a roaring dragon, ferocious yet beautiful.
Shouto always wondered what it would feel like to run his hands over the fine leather grip, to trace the outline of the dragon. But he never got the chance.
He remembers asking his mother about the armor and sword, once. Before.
“What’s that, mommy?”
“My, what good eyes you have Shouto! That is a suit of armor.”
“Wow,” Shouto had said. “It must be old!”
“Hundreds and hundreds of years,” she’d said, bopping him on the nose. “It’s a family relic!”
“What’s it for?”
“It protects a knight,” Rei explained. “To keep them safe.”
“A night? What’s that?” Shouto had asked, fingers pressing up against the plexiglass, leaving thick smudges.
“A knight. They’re—like a hero. They have their own code of honor, which helps them protect people from evil. They never turn their back on someone in need.”
“Like daddy? Shouto said, turning to look up at his mother with sparkling eyes.
“Yes,” Rei sighed. “Like daddy.”
“And what’s that,” Shouto had said, pointing at the thing hanging above the armor.
“That’s a sword—a knight’s weapon.”
“Then why doesn’t daddy use a sword?” Shouto asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Maybe he isn’t a quite like a knight,” Rei said simply.
After that, Shouto had wanted to learn all about knights—their armor, their swords, their life. At bedtime, he always asked his mother for stories about the adventures of knights. She would weave these incredible tales about honorable knights off on quests to protect people from sorcerers, or dragons, or evil kings. The knights were always just a bit quicker, a bit stronger, a bit smarter than their adversaries.
But that wasn’t why Shouto loved them.
He admired the way they always carried a sense of honor, of duty with them everywhere—and how they sought to help others at every turn. Whenever a knight arrived in a town, people would be relieved and excited to see them. And when the knight eventually returned, victorious, the people would be so happy and grateful.
Shouto loved that. And then, when he saw All Might on T.V., it clicked for him.
“Mommy, mommy!” Shouto said.
“Yes, dear?”
“I want to be a hero when I grow up! Like All Might!”
“Oh? And why is that?” Rei said, nuzzling him.
“Because he protects people like a knight does! See how they smile when they see him?!”
~~~
But then, things changed. Touya was gone. Enji hurt Rei. And Shouto’s mother changed, bit by bit, until the cracks shattered and splintered into a thousand tiny pieces. She scarred him—not that it was her fault. No, that was his father’s doing.
Shouto changed, too.
He started spending less time talking about being a knight or a hero. Less time playing with his brother and sister.
And more time with his father.
His life became training, training, and more training. To Shouto, it was grueling, painful, and unfair. His father would push him mercilessly, making him exceed his limits even when it could endanger Shouto.
He would see his siblings on their own, wandering the grounds of their house, and long to simply lay in the grass alongside them. His father never seemed to bother them, either. In fact, Enji rarely interacted with anyone outside of Shouto unless it was strictly necessary.
But every chance Shouto had, he’d sneak away to that room and stare up at the old armor. At first, it was just instinctual to steal away from his father and go there. Over time, it started to feel like the only place in the house that was his. His own room was subject to the whims of his father, who would barge in regularly to pull Shouto away for training.
But nobody ever came inside the armor room. Not the maids, not his siblings—not even his father.
No, his father would send whichever subdued nanny he’d most recently hired to knock pitifully at the door and ask Shouto to “kindly return right away.” Sometimes he listened to them.
Sometimes he didn’t.
And while he sat in that room, he would imagine what the cold, uncaring metal would feel like on his skin; how it might protect him from his father, from pain. What it would feel like if he had that sword in his hands to defend himself instead of his stupid forsaken quirk. Something tangible, something with a history of good. Piece-by-piece, as months and years ticked by, he slowly started to assemble the armor around himself.
Not physically, of course.
The dragon armor and sword remained locked behind that plexiglass, still smeared with his own messy fingerprints all that time ago. Rather, he assembled the armor around himself mentally—like a protective cage against all the hate, all the anger, the disappointment, and other emotions that seemed to fill up the Todoroki estate like a sinking ship.
So, Shouto Todoroki made his own armor.
Shouto sat in there, vowing never to use his father’s raging, hurtful power. His mother’s memory and power would be more than enough.
It had to be.
~~~
And for a long time, it was.
Things were never—well, good—but he managed in his own way. Enji continued to force Shouto to train, but with his armor and promise, he could handle it. He told himself that until it felt true.
He rarely left the house or met new people, the only exceptions usually when his father would drag him along to the agency or some other hero-related activity. He continued like that for years, cold and unfeeling. Determined to simply defy his father. He would still become a knight and hero, just not the one his father wants.
With his ice alone, nobody would even be able to touch him.
~~~
That is, until Midoriya Izuku.
Of all the people that Shouto thought would make him bend or break, he definitely did not consider it likely to be a classmate at the U.A. Sports Festival.
The first chink in his armor was made when Midoriya refused to go down.
Shouto sent wave after wave of his mother’s ice at the green-haired boy, only for it to be blown away in a burst of power that nearly knocked Shouto out each time. Frost had coated his right side, the slick-cold feeling lurching through his veins and slowing him down.
The second chink came when Midoriya called him out for not using his full strength, and then had landed a hit—without using his own power. It pushed Shouto back to the brink—of the arena, of using his father’s power. Shouto stood firm though, closing the gap and bringing forth more frigid ice from his already-freezing body.
But Midoriya wouldn’t give up, and dredged up memories that Shouto had left buried under the shell of his armor for years and years—both good and bad. Memories of his mother, his siblings, and why he wanted to be a hero in the first place. The plates pried up, a bit of those old feelings started to seep in and settle below the surface.
And then, Midoriya yelled that phrase.
“It’s your power, isn’t it?”
All that time, Shouto had only ever thought of it as his mother’s ice and his father’s fire. Never his own.
Unbidden, a memory of All Might had come to him in that moment—recognizing a quirk as one’s own power is the fundamental of being a hero. The knights in all those old stories, too—they knew what they were capable of. They hadn’t thought of it as their father’s sword or mother’s armor, and used it like it wasn’t theirs.
For a brief moment, Shouto’s armor lay wrenched open, exposed for all to see. And he forgot to worry about it—to worry about his father and the man’s twisted feelings, about his siblings and their broken relationship. He only saw what lay in front of him—his path to becoming a hero and helping others.
So he smiled, for the first time feeling the joy of what it might mean to achieve his goal.
Heat boiled in Shouto’s blood, surging from his heart to thunder up and down his left arm; exploding forth in a fiery wave that burned away the frost clinging painfully to his right side.
Shouto stared at Midoriya, admiring the way his classmate didn’t shy away from the flames; the fierce lightning in his eyes and the way his curly hair danced in the spiraling wind. It was the first moment he realized that, underneath his armor and buried feelings, he could find someone inspiring.
Not even his father’s manic scream could deter Shouto from enjoying the clash of power that followed.
~~~
And yet, even with the newfound gaps in his armor, Shouto couldn’t bring himself to do it again against Bakugo Katsuki.
He recognized the thrill of energy between the two of them. The way Bakugo could barely restrain the explosive energy beneath his skin reminded Shouto of his own power; a kindred spirit restraining the chaotic fire just beneath the surface. He could see how magnificent the blond was, the savage expression on his face after breaking free from the glacier of ice and dodging Shouto’s counter. Part of him wanted to respond to that, to rise to the challenge and show that he could do it too.
But when the moment came to call on Shouto’s left side, his father’s voice rang out again—and this time, it sank in through the cracks.
The last thing Shouto remembers thinking is how beautiful the explosions looked.
~~~
After he woke up, he paid a visit to the armor and sword at home. He sat there, staring at the worn metal and just—talked to it. Like he hadn’t in a while.
About school, about his teachers, about his classmates. The attack at USJ, the sports festival. His friends—friends—how much they have already changed Shouto’s life in ways he could never have predicted. How Midoriya Izuku helped him realize his own power, how Bakugo Katsuki beat him. How he still can’t stand his father, but maybe—just maybe there’s a way to get past that.
He went and visited his mother soon after.
~~~
Shouto thought that was the end of his issues with his father and his quirk. But along came Yoarashi Inasa, who somehow coaxed Shouto to put all his armor back into place by digging at his father, at their “shared” icy dispositions. It seemed paradoxical that someone so committed to being a hero could so thoroughly oppose Shouto’s own goal, dragging out the worst in both of them.
As he lay immobile on the ground, surrounded by the faux-villains of the licensing test and the fearsome Gang Orca, Shouto prayed that Yoarashi felt the same burning shame he did.
Shouto clung to that feeling—the knowledge that he had to be better, letting it wriggle underneath his skin so that the heat spread throughout his body. He stoked the embers in his heart, bringing the intensity in his veins to a scalding pressure until he released it.
Watching the flames mingle with Yoarashi’s wind was exactly the reminder Shouto needed that he is both closer to his dream of protecting others than ever before, but still has so much work to do.
~~~
The other interesting consequence that came from failing the licensing test was his time spent in remedial coursework with Bakugo Katsuki.
Shouto hadn’t directly interacted with his explosive classmate much after their match in the Sports Festival; more than confused by the mixture of the boy’s temperament, skill, and appearance. Looking at Bakugo more often than not resulted in Shouto recalling the determined outline of his opponent during the final moments of the festival, framed perfectly by spectacular explosions.
And he didn’t know what to make of that.
The shared time together earning their Provisional Licenses helped rid him of that uncertainty, making him more comfortable speaking with Bakugo. Or, at least as comfortable as one could be with Bakugo Katsuki.
Snippets of Shouto’s personality started to slip through his old armor while around all his classmates—his dry humor, his care for others, his admiration of strength.
Bakugo didn’t seem to care for the first two—but the last bit, they connected on. Bakugo respected power, and that gave them something in common. There were small, shared moments that helped Shouto feel that he was beginning to understand the enigma of Bakugo—like the “Glamorouki” incident, and their fight against villains afterwards. And then there other moments, like their shared interview, that left Shouto confused still.
~~~
It was around that time that Shouto also saw the ways his father was trying to improve.
Suddenly thrust into the position of the number one hero, Endeavour seemed to try and turn a new leaf. At first, it angered Shouto—even if he felt a sense of relief seeing his father still standing after defeating the nomu.
But Enji was trying—in his own, fucked up way, to atone for his past. For abusing their family. It wasn’t enough, and probably wouldn’t ever be.
Yet…
Shouto couldn’t turn his back on his family. When Fuyumi called and invited him to family dinners, he went. Shouto silently agreed with Natsuo when his brother quarreled with Enji nearly every time. If nothing else, he appreciated getting to reconnect with his brother and sister a bit more.
When Shouto went to spend a few minutes quietly sitting in the armor room after dinner and the difficult conversation the first time it happened, he was shocked to see the room had been cleaned—thick dust cleared away from the corners, floor swept, and the plexiglass wiped clean of the dozens fingerprints.
And behind that, the armor and sword had both been polished.
Something…unexpected stirred in his heart.
~~~
Of course, things go to shit after a few months of improvement.
Not even their combined teamwork—Shouto, Bakugo, Midoriya, Endeavor, and all the other heroes—is enough to stop Shigaraki during the War with Paranormal Liberation Front.
Shouto has to watch as Midoriya holds off Shigaraki, has to watch as Bakugo sacrifices himself to protect Midoriya. Nothing any of them do seems to have effect. No Flashfire, no explosion, no smash is adequate.
Shouto’s family gets torn apart when Dabi—Touya (his brother is alive!?)—reveals himself, and their father paradoxically freezes up. Shouto couldn’t do anything to stop his brother, couldn’t do anything at all. He hadn’t felt that powerless since he first saw All For One back in Kamino. But this was his goddamn brother.
And after all that, Midoriya leaves as soon as everyone is healed up.
The one person who they all looked up to, who helped glue their class together—is gone. With just a fucking note to explain it, to explain his quirk, to explain the biggest fucking supervillain the world has ever seen.
Shouto’s family, his friends, his school and city—it all feels like it’s fracturing into a million little fragments. And he has to pick himself up, and figure out how to put it back together.
Because that’s what the knights in stories always do.
“Listen, Endeavor,” Bakugo half-yells at the end of his speech. “You can’t leave those two alone with each other! Not them!”
Endeavor seems to consider this a moment, and he pulls out a tiny device from his utility belt, staring at it sullenly.
“Yo,” Sero says. “Does that thing have GPS tracking?”
Shouto’s eyes flick towards the rectangular remote in his father’s hands. Silence settles in heavily, the atmosphere in Principal Nedzu’s office tense and uncomfortable as the rest of Class 1-A shift from foot to foot around him. Bakugo takes a half-step forward, towards Endeavor.
Shouto was a little surprised by the outburst from Bakugo minutes earlier, but he knows his classmate is right—letting Midoriya be alone with All Might, working with the Top 3—it’s a recipe for disaster. They’ll work themselves down to the bone trying to fix this mess and then end up hurt. Or worse.
“Give it here, father,” Shouto says, eyes around the room darting towards him. He extends his left hand, the thinnest wisp of flame snaking off before Shouto clamps it down.
His father’s grip on the device tightens, and then loosens. Shouto lets out a slow breath.
It’s working. Sero, Koji, Hagakure, and Mineta take a step closer.
And Endeavor’s hand tightens around the device once more.
“No,” his father rumbles in a deep voice; one that sends a shiver down Shouto’s spine, one that he knows brooks no argument.
Class 1-A freezes. Shouto narrows his eyes and preemptively calls on the ever-present thrum of his quirk, bringing the ice and fire out of his heart and into his veins—just in case.
“What do you mean ‘no,’” Shouto says through clenched teeth.
“It’s too dangerous out there. Law and order is a thing of the past,” his father intones, pocketing the device again. “Even you kids would be—”
“You’ve certainly matured…Todoroki,” the Principal says in his lilting voice. Shouto doesn’t miss the purposeful use of his father’s last name. “Given that the villains now pursue him…and that he wished to leave U.A., I authorized the team-up.”
Shouto glares daggers at his father, not for the first time wishing that his old man would just accept help. He’s going to have to figure out another way to help Midoriya. Shouto starts to tune out the conversation, but refocuses when the Principal resumes.
“However,” Nedzu says. “He’s free to return to us, at any time. From the moment a student is accepted into this school, they fall under our protection.”
“It’s out of the question,” Endeavor snaps, turning towards the door. “If that’s all…I’d best return to my duties.”
Nedzu stares at Endeavor for a moment before sighing. “Very well. Class 1-A, please return to your dormitory.”
Shouto clenches the hand he had extended earlier, smoke streaming off it as he spasms with frustration. It’s always his father, somehow.
The walk back to their dorm is eerily silent.
~~
“That was fucking bullshit,” Bakugo seethes. Shouto hardly even bats an eye at the swearing anymore. “That ass is just going to let them get themselves killed.”
“No offense, Todoroki, but your dad is kind of a prick,” Kaminari says.
“None taken,” Because he is, Shouto thinks.
“So…what are we going to do,” Jirou taps the ends of her earphones together, a nervous habit Shouto’s noticed. “Is there anything we can do?”
Shouto looks around the hastily-rearranged couches and his classmates. Many are looking down at the floor or burying their face into their hands. All of them look frustrated.
This isn’t new for them—having some member of the class under imminent danger, and needing to do something about it. Hell, Shouto helped orchestrate their Bakugo rescue operation. But the scale, the situation—it somehow feels even more dire now. If what his father said is true, there’s really no more ‘normal life’ outside the U.A. walls right now.
“What could we do?” Yaoyorozu asks. “I don’t think we can defy the Principal here…”
“The alternative is to just…wait here for something to happen,” Ashido says. “And I kinda hate that.”
“It would be a dangerous, dark path,” Tokoyami says. Shouto agrees, but that doesn’t stop him from considering it.
“I’m not sure either,” Kirishima admits. “This feels like it might be out of our reach.”
Shouto notices how Bakugo’s eyes snap up to meet Kirishima’s, slanted in anger.
“You all really want to do nothing?!” Bakugo yells, standing up.
“Bakugo…” Kirishima says. “Of course we want to do something.”
“Then do something, shitty-hair,” Bakugo hisses.
Shouto stands up, too. “There must be something—if we go together…”
Nobody really wants to say it clearly—but they could go find Midoriya themselves. They’ve done things like it before, and they’re the top hero class U.A. has probably ever seen. It would be hard, though. There’s no hiding from that.
And there would be consequences.
“What, go and search for him ourselves?” Uraraka says, a pained expression on her face. “I really want to—but…we have no idea where he is.”
“Really, round-face? I figured you of all people would—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Uraraka snaps at Bakugo.
“Everyone! Please!” Iida shouts.
“FUCK this!” Bakugo screams, leaving the room.
“Let’s just give it some time,” Iida says. “And hopefully we’ll find something to do.”
Shouto starts leaving as well, flicking one last glance back at his classmates as several discussions begin among them at once.
~~
Shouto is laying on his futon, lost in thought as stares up at the gray ceiling. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, not when visions of burning blue eyes, mutilated scars, and an overwhelming sense of fear will plague him when he does.
How many times will his father push away help—or his family? Back in the hospital, Shouto thought they had agreed to deal with Touya together. But today, here was his father—once again telling Shouto to stay out of it.
What kind of hero does that?
What kind of hero would he be if he listened?
Not the kind his mother would tell him stories about, Shouto thinks.
Shouto had really thought they were passed the point where his father tried to shoulder everything on his own—it didn’t work spectacularly for All Might, and it certainly didn’t work well for him when he took the Number One spot. And while teaming up with the other heroes in the Top 3 is a step up, it’s clear Enji still isn’t accepting all the help being offered. Possibly because he’s afraid of accepting help.
Or maybe, a tiny part of Shouto wonders, it’s because he doesn’t want to lose anyone else.
But this is the problem with their family—they bottle it all up and can’t talk with one another plainly. Shouto’s done it for years, and it took a full year of schooling at the best hero academy in Japan to even make a dent in his habits with the best teachers and friends he never asked for. His father is even worse off.
Shouto sighs. At least his mother, brother, and sister are safe, somewhere within U.A. He doesn’t even know exactly where—their location kept hidden to prevent leaks. The fear of All For One is pervasive now, and many hero families were among the first to be moved in after the War.
Though that does not include many of the now “retired” heroes who stepped down in the days after the War. Shouto still can’t reconcile how many supposed “heroes” there were who abandoned their duty. Rei had told Shouto stories of knights like that when he was a child—who would quit when faced with overwhelming adversity. And each time, he had asked her why.
She would shrug and say “Real knights may bend under pressure, but they don’t break.”
That had always stuck with him.
For a long time, he had been broken, and not even known it—using only half a quirk, blinded with rage for his father.
It had been Midoriya Izuku who snapped him out of that, who first taught him how to bend, how to manage his power, how to achieve his goal. Though in Midoriya’s case, it was more like breaking bones to bend Shouto. He smiles briefly at the irony.
And now, he has the power to do something in return. To possibly even teach his friend the same lesson.
Shouto bounces off the mat suddenly, mind made up. He can’t sit here any longer—if nobody else will go, he will. He couldn’t consider himself a hero otherwise. Shouto steps towards the door, throwing it open.
And standing right there, muttering to himself is—
“Bakugo?”
“Icyhot,” Bakugo says with momentary surprise. “I need to talk to you.”
Shouto steps aside and waves Bakugo into his room. Bakugo enters but stops immediately.
“So traditional,” Bakugo says with a sneer. “I’m not sitting on your bed.”
Oh—right. Shouto had forgotten Bakugo never saw his room.
“Take the chair, then,” Shouto says, unflustered. Bakugo eyes the low-seated chair and frowns, but takes a seat anyway.
“Look,” Bakugo says. “We don’t get along the best—”
“According to you,” Shouto interjects. Bakugo’s eyebrow twitches.
“—but you were one of the only shitheads down there that seemed to care enough to want to do something about Deku,” Bakugo pauses, as if expecting Shouto to interrupt. He does not, because Bakugo is right and Shouto doesn’t want to tell him that.
“I’m going to go after him myself,” Bakugo says gruffly. “If you want to come along.”
Shouto’s face remains impassive, but his mind reels. Bakugo is asking Shouto to accompany him on a rescue effort for Midoriya? Did he land in another universe? Well, it wasn’t directly asking him, but it might as well have been. Shouto’s become quite proficient at Bakugo-speak by now.
Shouto will do it—was going to do it, anyways. But…
“Why didn’t you ask any of our other classmates? Ashido seemed interested.” Shouto tilts his head.
“It wouldn’t be fair to put them in that position,” Bakugo grits his teeth. “I’m not gonna force them to be quiet about it if they say no.”
Shouto nods.
“And I can’t trust them to keep up with me anyways,” Bakugo adds.
“That’s shitty.”
Bakugo glares at him before responding. “They all have their own strengths,” Shouto cocks an eyebrow at Bakugo, who smirks. “But keeping up with me isn’t one of them.”
“Again, that’s shitty.”
“Since when did you use that kind of language, half’n’half?” Bakugo fires back.
Shouto exhales. It sounds loud in the quiet room.
“Why are you doing this?” Shouto asks. “Why ask me?”
“You already know the answer to the second part, asshole,” Bakugo says. Which, fair—Shouto does know he can keep up with his foul-mouthed classmate.
Bakugo is quiet a moment.
“We both care about Deku,” Bakugo says finally.
“So you do care about Midoriya,” Shouto says.
“No,” Bakugo says immediately.
“But you just…”
“Fuck you.”
This time, Shouto sits quietly and studies Bakugo’s face. There are still scratches on it, leftover from the conflict with Shigaraki and the Paranormal Liberation Front. It doesn’t detract from how smooth Bakugo’s skin looks, though. Maybe that’s part of his quirk.
Shouto knows that he’s still recovering from the fight, too. Minor injuries at this point, really. But they both still want to do this.
“Yes,” Shouto says simply.
“Yes?” Bakugo furrows his brow. “Yes to what?”
“Yes, I’ll join you.”
Bakugo grins at him intensely.
~~
They agree to meet on the rooftop late that night, after everyone has gone to bed. No sense waiting around; the longer they take at U.A., the more likely something is to happen to Midoriya or All Might.
Shouto spends a bit of time debating whether he should try and find his mother, but…what would he say?
“Sorry I can’t stay long, I’ve got to leave the safety of U.A. so I can go be a hero?”
“I need to go save my friend by endangering myself?”
“I’m once again going to go against father’s wishes?”
No matter how he thinks about, he can’t find the right thing to say. So, probably better to say nothing at all. Even setting aside his family, Shouto feels a twinge of guilt. He and Bakugo are doing the same thing Midoriya did. But he doesn’t see any other alternative right now.
He just has to follow his heart, and rely on the knowledge that he and Bakugo can handle themselves.
~~
Once confronted with the reality of leaving U.A., Shouto realizes there’s a lot he needs to do. He slinks down to the common space, which has cleared out except for Uraraka on her laptop and Koda quietly reading a book.
He begins opening cabinets in the kitchen space, looking for non-perishable food he can package up to take with them. He tries to be quiet, but Uraraka’s eyes flit towards him as he rummages around. Shouto, despite his extreme control of his body and quirk, cannot stop kitchen cabinets from clanging loudly when they slam shut.
When he closes the fridge and turns around, Uraraka’s at the counter across from him.
“Hey Todoroki,” she says.
“Uraraka,” he says, by way of greeting.
“Listen…I just want to say I’m sorry about all that earlier. This really, really sucks,” Uraraka says.
Shouto takes a deep breath. “I…appreciate that.”
“I want to help Deku too, but—” she makes a frustrated noise.
“There’s not much we can do,” Shouto says tonelessly, now collecting some granola bars.
“Deku’s done so much for us both,” Uraraka says. “It really does feel awful being stuck now. Especially with classes cancelled; we’re basically just stuck under house arrest.”
Shouto nods. He doesn’t want to talk too much for fear of accidentally letting something slip; he never did really train for stealth. At least he’s known for being quiet and can lean into that.
“It…hurts, you know,” Uraraka says softly, making Shouto look up. “Not being there when you three had to fight…that monster.”
“There wasn’t much you could have done,” Shouto says, then grimaces at his phrasing. “I mean, you had an equally important job trying to stop Gigantomachia, and things were…a mess around Shigaraki.”
“It just feels bad, y’know. Anyways, I’ll let you get back to,” Uraraka glances around the kitchen and frowns. “whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m a bad cook,” Shouto says lamely.
“We’re aware,” Koda says from across the room.
~~
After Shouto’s collected food, he next heads to the U.A. locker rooms. He needs to get his hero costume briefcase, and he’d like to pick up sleeping bags and standard issue backpacks to use for storage.
Thankfully, he doesn’t need to get permission to access the locker room. All U.A. students still have access, likely to help facilitate training. Shouto’s also heard rumblings that some of the other classes have been assisting with hero patrols around the campus perimeter. He’s not surprised that 1-A hasn’t been asked to assist yet. They’re all probably targets in some way, shape, or form after their collective impact on the War effort.
He's approaching the locker rooms nearby one of the training fields when something rushes by him, a blue blur that continues across the field before turning around.
Heat and ice are a smidge slower to heed Shouto’s call than he would like on account of his remaining injuries and fatigue, but by the time the blue blur returns, Shouto’s cradling a superheated blast in his left palm and ready to freeze with his right.
The blur stops right in front of Shouto, materializing into Iida wearing a U.A. track uniform.
“Hello, Todoroki!”
Shouto drops his hands to his sides, letting the heat of his left dissipate into the cool evening air.
“Good evening, Iida. Sorry about that,” he gestures to his hands.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s completely logical!” Iida waves it away. “I just needed to get out and run for a bit after…today.”
Shouto nods amicably. If he weren’t already planning something else, he’d probably be somewhere like Ground Beta training (cutting loose his frustration). “I understand.”
Iida shuffles his feet a bit, pausing uncharacteristically. “Todoroki, as a younger brother myself, I just want to say that…I’m really sorry about your brother.”
Shouto tries to smile. It hurts. “Thank you, Iida.”
“You’re my friend,” Iida explains. “And if you ever need someone to talk to, especially after today…I’d be happy to listen. Anytime.”
Shouto sighs, and his chest pangs with guilt as he thinks of their encounter with Stain. He didn’t expect to have to chat about his villainous brother when he left the dorm. Anger and disappointment at Touya mingle with regret and shame, but Shouto shoves it down beneath his armor.
“That’s kind of you Iida. I won’t forget,” he promises. “Enjoy your run; I hope it helps.”
Iida nods vigorously at him, and speeds away.
Shouto heaves another sigh, turning towards the locker rooms once again.
~~
He drops by Bakugo’s room to quickly leave one of the backpacks he took from the lockers, but then returns to his own room. From there, it’s really just a matter of packing up. He doesn’t know how long they’ll be gone for, but he leans on the side of being cautious. Shouto packs several changes of underwear and underclothes that go beneath his hero outfit, as well as a set of casual clothes. Then, he squeezes in all the packaged food he stored up, using the various pockets and crannies—granola bars, cans of cold soup, dried fruit, and stuffing some of the vegetables in an airtight thermos so they keep longer. Lastly, he maneuvers the sleeping bag into place.
Shouto steps back, looking over the bag, double-checking the zippers and straps. They’ll truly be living like kings.
Thankfully, the loaded bag isn’t as heavy as he anticipated—probably an extra fifteen or twenty pounds. He certainly won’t fight well with it on if it comes that, but hopefully they can find some place to leave their things; and it will only get lighter the longer they’re gone from U.A.
And after that, there’s not much left to do but wait another hour or two to sneak out.
Shouto doesn’t really know what to expect out there. When he’d left the hospital a week or so ago, things had seemed…tense, but more or less functional. The way his father was talking today, the situation has clearly deteriorated rapidly. They probably won’t have much to go off finding Midoriya, either.
It’s a shot in the dark. He knows that. If Aizawa were here, he would tell the pair of them ‘be rational.’ But he can’t think about the teacher too hard or it hurts. And after the insanity of the War, it feels a bit like rationality has had its day in the sun.
Shouto leaves that train of thought, and returns to debating whether trying to sleep for a bit is worthwhile. Angry blue eyes flash in his mind, and he decides against it, watching the clock tick by instead.
Then—finally, finally, it’s an acceptable hour for him to leave.
He opens his costume briefcase slowly, reverently. Shouto’s always held a certain degree of regard for costumes, and the role they play in hero culture. Perhaps it’s because they are the modern day suit of armor, so reminiscent of the one at home. He knows All Might’s blue, red, and yellow one by heart. He knows his father’s blue by repeated memory; familiar despite Shouto’s disdain for it.
And yet, he chose a similar color for his second costume. Perhaps because of his father, because he wants it to be associated with someone good. So, Shouto puts his costume on carefully, double and triple checking that the temperature-resistant bands and belts are cinched comfortably. Shouto loops the backpack straps precisely around him, moving towards the door. He takes a deep breath, inhaling for four count. Exhaling for four count.
He’s—they’re going to do this. Find Midoriya, protect him. Remind him he’s not on his own, even if he thinks he’s the one to stop All for One because of some fated quirk.
Shouto opens the door and shuts it softly without looking back.
~~
“You made it,” Bakugo says as Shouto steps out onto the roof of Heights Alliance. The blond is leaning up against the wall encircling the roof, already in his updated hero costume that covers his entire body. Shouto stares at the large ‘X’ across the man’s chest, and briefly wonders why that design in particular.
“Your sleeping bag,” Shouto says, tossing the bundle under his arm to Bakugo.
“Look at you, planning ahead. Gotta be comfortable, huh?”
“Beats sleeping on rocks. Or you,” Shouto says simply.
Bakugo grunts, but dutifully places the sleeping bag into his pack.
A cool breeze rustles Shouto’s hair, and he inhales the night wind. It smells like the sea, like Jiro’s laundry detergent, and he cracks a smile.
Shouto steps up to the edge of the building, looking out over U.A. The wall is mind-bogglingly large, looming all around him at each horizon. It’s hard to believe it was ready to deploy in less than a week. He can’t see over it, but much of U.A. around them still looks alive, pulsing with light quietly. Bakugo notices him and strides over to stand beside, looking out towards the wall.
“They’re going to know as soon as we leave the perimeter.”
“I figured as much.”
“Can you scale the wall without leaving a trail behind?” Bakugo asks pointedly.
Shouto weighs his options. Ideally, he’d use his ice and just ride atop a glacier. But if he needs to be stealthy, he should be able to use his flames to propel himself. He doesn’t have the maneuverability of his father’s flames, but he’s been practicing using it as propulsion. It’s hard to account for the uneven distribution, though, since only his left side produces flames. After training with fire the past year, it’s one of the few things he wishes he’d inherited from the man.
“I can manage,” Shouto says with more confidence than he feels.
“Good.”
They’re the two strongest heroes in the first year, barring Midoriya’s…circumstances. Without letting his ego get too large, they should be able to take care of themselves.
Bakugo looks over at him, nodding once. Shouto nods back.
Bakugo leaps off the rooftop, controlled explosions erupting from his palms. They’re more subdued and quieter than Shouto had expected. Shouto breathes in again, summoning the thrum of his quirk.
Shouto creates a springboard underneath him using ice, then pushes himself off with his fire; melting the ice behind him. The wind rushes through his hair and face as he soars in the air, across to the next rooftop where Bakugo is already jumping away. That wasn’t too hard.
The pair leapfrog across rooftops until they approach the no-man’s-land between the first building and the gigantic wall of metal.
“Big jump this time. They’ll hear me,” Bakugo says.
Shouto nods. He expected it. “Let’s go.”
Bakugo grins at him again, baring teeth. Something in Shouto twinges…oddly in response, and he categorizes it for later inspection. “Time to save Deku,” the blond barks.
Bakugo blasts off the rooftop, and a series of louder explosions follow him as he crosses the gap.
Shouto doesn’t wait any longer, ice molding into a platform under him. Then, he condenses fire in his hand. He lets it build for a moment, to a raging crescendo, then blasts off the rooftop. The ice disintegrates instantly, and he probably leaves a scorch mark on the roof. He doesn’t think about it.
Shouto doesn’t turn off the flames, instead coaxing them forth from the rest of his left side, upping the intensity so he has some momentum as he rises through the air. He spares a brief look down at the ground, probably a hundred or more feet below him at this point. He wonders what the pair of them look like from down there.
With one final thrust of fire from his foot, he lands atop the metal barrier. It takes him a few wild steps to stop his momentum, before coming to a rest behind Bakugo.
The man is staring out into the city around them, beyond the barrier. Shouto approaches slowly, the city coming into view beyond.
“Fuck,” Shouto hisses.
The landscape is devastated, numerous skyscrapers broken, buildings tilted against one another. There are very few lights on; and almost none in the taller stories of the skyscrapers dotting the cityscape.
He’d expected it to be bad, but…not an apocalyptic hellscape.
Midoriya went out into that, Shouto thinks.
“Fuck,” Bakugo says back.
They vault off the wall and into the city.