Eternal

With a shudder like a breath of relief, Touya's body starts to break apart before Shouto's eyes. He gasps loud enough the others turn to watch as parts of Touya's body catch with flame, others crumbling to ash. Within seconds, his entire body withers until something much smaller is left behind.
A little boy sits up.
A little boy with red hair.
He rubs his eyes, as they stare in shock.
“T-Touya.” Enji breathes.
**
For an unknown reason, when Touya flatlines in the hospital, instead of dying, he resets to his six year old self. Shouto has to figure out how to feel around a version of his brother who doesn't remember him.

Notes:

This is my sorta fix it fic for the end of the manga, so obviously, there will be some spoilers lol. Enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The hollow, bone chilling drone of the hospital monitors has become a familiar sound to Shouto.

Ever since the Stain incident, he found himself in a hospital more often than he'd like. Usually visiting Midoriya, or Bakugou. (Sometimes both). Visiting Touya is different, though, and he can never be certain what will be waiting for him after he steps over the threshold. Security scanner, pat down, occasionally a short briefing. The routine is familiar. The charred, desecrated form of his long lost brother is not, no matter how many times he visits.

38? 39, now? Izuku might know. He can't keep track. But he makes a point of showing up at least once a week, despite his school schedule. Touya mostly just looks at him. He doesn't have a lot of energy to move. To speak, to even blink. On his better days, Shouto sits on the floor against the front of the tank, as if they're sitting next to each other with their backs to the same wall. Friendly. Familiar. Everything they've never been. They talk about memories from their childhood. Never anything where they were together, those memories are too tender. But Touya will reminisce about watching hero shows on the TV in Enji's office, and Shouto will smile and nod along. He never had the privilege of watching the same shows.

Two different times Touya's heart fails.

The first, he hears as he walks down the hallway to meet Enji and Fuyumi before going inside. Enji's head snapped up at the sound of the monitor, and when it registered, Shouto turned and ran to alert the nearest nurse. The second time happens when he's not there. He arrives during the aftermath, after receiving a call from Fuyumi. ‘He's not doing well. We aren't sure if he'll… make it.’

The slide of the door is the loudest thing in the room, despite the ever present machines. Shouto tries to calm his racing heart as he joins Fuyumi at the foot of the bed. They finally let him have one, now that he's far too weak to hurt anyone (even himself). One last moment of comfort, he supposes. Fuyumi reaches out and grips Shouto's hand. There's tear tracks on her face, but she smiles bravely. Enji starts to move his hand from his wheelchair, as if reaching for Shouto's other hand, before he thinks better of it. They avoid meeting eyes, and both look at Touya instead.

With an abrasive sound, Touya turns his head on the pillow. “Ha, ha… you all look… horrible.”

Shouto smiles, recognizing the diversion for what it is. “Yeah. ‘S almost like we care about you, or something.”

Touya bears his teeth in the semblance of a smile.

No one acknowledges Natsuo's absence.

He goes slowly, waking in and out of fitful sleep as they drag chairs to be around him. The doctor ducks in and out, but there's not much to do. His vitals aren't good, but just as he always has, Touya refuses to let go.

It's dark when his eyes close the final time. Shouto doesn't notice at first. He's speaking quietly with his mother, telling her about the essay he has to pick a topic for. It's too open ended, he complains. She smiles and says, ‘just write what you know,’ like it's that simple. He's about to respond, when her eyes catch on the monitors and she gasps.

The flatline sounds, breaking apart their conversations.

Enji sits up, mouth opening silently, his eyes locked on Touya's face. Fuyumi covers her mouth. Shouto can only stare at the monitor, hoping, wishing, somehow, for even the tiniest bump.

Resuscitation isn't an option this time, his ribs and the cartilage of his chest are too fragile for compressions. He's declared dead at 8:38 pm.

The doctor steps out to give them space. A child screams somewhere down the hallway, murmurs echo through the corridors, and life drags mercilessly on, as Shouto stares in shock. He feels and hears his family move around him, but he can't process it. He's the only one still watching him when it happens. With a shudder like a breath of relief, Touya's body starts to break apart before Shouto's eyes. He gasps loud enough the others turn to watch as parts of Touya's body catch with flame, others crumbling to ash. Within seconds, his entire body withers until something much smaller is left behind.

A little boy sits up.

A little boy with red hair.

He rubs his eyes, as they stare in shock. Shouto faintly registers the doctor dropping his pen and clipboard in the entryway.

“T-Touya.” Enji breathes.

He’s six years old.

No one knows how it happened. If it's a quirk at play, placed on Touya before the war, or something someone did to switch out an incredibly similar look alike. No one knows what to make of him.

The kid only wants Enji's attention.

“Why are you in a wheelchair? What happened to your face?”

Enji stares at him with a stupidly slack mouth.

Fuyumi, the most patient with young children, sits next to Enji and answers in his absence, “Dad got injured recently. He's recovering, though.”

The little boy narrows his eyes at her. “Yumi?”

She blinks, and starts to smile. “Y-Yeah!”

He stares, confused, “Why are you so big?”

She doesn't get the chance to answer. The doctor returns, quirk experts in tow. Shouto steps back as they examine him, and ask him questions. The boy – Touya, it's Touya, he reminds himself – answers shakily, glancing at his dad the whole time. Enji can only stare at him. Rei steps in to do her best to encourage him, explaining the men are only there to help.

“I'm sick?” He asks, the question directed at his father. Enji glances at them helplessly. Fuyumi shrugs.

Rei nods. “Maybe. That's what we're trying to figure out, sweetie.”

They ask a few questions, write down a few more things, but it's inconclusive. The Touya they knew went up in flames, leaving behind this younger self in his wake.

Shouto decides to stay the night. It's late when they're released from the hospital, and it's even later when they reach the estate.

“You don't have to,” Enji says lowly. Even in the chair, he's still so big, practically eye-level with Shouto.

“Kurumada can drive me to the dorms in the morning. I don't know what I'd tell everyone yet anyway. This is…”

Enji nods. There's no words, and they both know that.

Still, Shouto is surprised that the hospital let Enji take a child home with him. Much less this particular child. Perhaps they figured he wouldn't be able to cause much damage, in such a state. Shouto thinks that's stupid, but it's not like the kid has many other places to go. Rei and Fuyumi moved in with Fuyumi's partner. Natsuo… Well. And Shouto isn't of age. Touya doesn't know him, anyway. He recognized his mother, and his sister. If he were here, maybe even Natsuo. But Shouto wasn't alive yet, when Touya was this young. Still, Touya latches on to him, shooting mistrustful looks at Fuyumi as they cook and sit down to eat a late meal. Watching Touya looking around the house like someone on a new planet is almost funny, but is equal parts heartbreaking.

As Shouto stacks the dishes next to the sink to dry, Touya hops across the living room, punching and kicking the air, “Are we gonna train dad? Are we?! I'm getting better at the roundy-one, watch!” He does a meager, shaky version of a roundhouse kick. His father watches with a strange look, failing to respond long enough that Touya visibly shrinks. “D-Dad?”

Shouto steps in, unable to watch anymore.

“Dad's still not feeling well. How about we go on a quick run around the grounds instead, okay?” Touya brightens, and bolts off to grab his running shoes... From a room that's no longer his. Shouto winces, chasing after him to offer his own old shoes.

“What happened to my stuff?” Touya asks him, sitting at the gekan to slip the shoes on, doing up the laces messily, but smiling proudly as if it's an achievement.

All donated, or sold, years ago, he can't say.

He smiles instead, as best he can. “It's just in storage for now. We… The house is getting expanded, so we have to keep it out of there to make sure it's safe.”

The lie tastes sour in his mouth.

‘Oooooh,’ Touya muses. He looks confused. Glancing back at the house, and then at his feet, trying to fit the puzzle pieces of two different realities together.

After their run, Touya settles down to sleep easily. Shouto puts him in his own room, because he isn't sure where else to put him. Touya's old room is now the shrine room, and it would be a fucking headache to try to explain that. Shouto walks out into the living room to see Hawks curled into a chair next to his father, their heads bent together as they talk quietly. He leaves them be, turning towards the kitchen to grab himself a drink. As he goes, he hears Hawks murmur, “– an entirely different child. You could still be there for him. Do it all differently this time. Don't you want that?”

“Of course I do.”

Shouto feels something warm shift in his chest.

Katsuki corners him the second he makes it back to his dorm room, twenty minutes before class. “And where were you?”

Izuku hovers behind him, concern written all over his face. Shouto lowers his hand with the key in it. Opens his mouth once, twice. No words come out. But the tears do.

“Oh, Shouto…” Izuku breathes.

Damn it.

He invites them in quickly, wiping the tears away before his body decides to have a full meltdown. He explains as quickly as he can, fully aware there's not much time before class. He purposefully leaves his feelings out of it. Mostly because he still struggles even putting those things into words, no matter how many different professionals he talks to.

When he's done, Izuku offers (for both of them, to Katsuki's annoyance) to accompany him back home that evening. He shrugs, “You can if you want. But it's the weekend. I was probably going to stay there.”

They glance at each other, a full conversation transmitting between them through a few glances. Izuku looks back at him.

“I'll call your sister to see if she minds us coming for dinner!”

“Shouto!!” He only has a few moments to brace himself before he has an energetic six year old attached to his legs. Touya props his chin against his belly and smiles up at him. “You're home!”

Shouto can feel his friends looking at him, as well as his family. He smiles stiffly.

“Sure am, little man. What did you do today?” He bends down to pick him up, setting him on his hip as he walks to the living room. He's really too big for it, but Shouto doesn't mind.

He thinks Touya probably assumes he's some estranged cousin. Why he's decided to attach to him so much, he can't say, but he also can't say he's too bothered by it. (He is kind of adorable). His friends follow him after removing their shoes in the gekan, saying hello to his sister, and then his parents respectively.

“I draw'ded with Mama!” He says excitedly, gesturing with marker covered hands. “Then we went to see the ducks,” he continues, rambling off more of his joyful, childish stories. Shouto nods along, unsure what else to do.

Enji watches them carefully from across the room. He's distant. And it's only served to confuse Touya more.

Katsuki helps Fuyumi in the kitchen, so he doesn't have to socialize as much. He's more comfortable there, and less likely to accidentally raise his voice at any small (already emotionally fragile) children.

Izuku joins Shouto at the kotatsu where there are still art supplies splayed everywhere. His mom gives him a sort of tight smile, and reaches out to stroke the shorter, crazier hair at the back of his head, smoothing it down. Shouto stills, unused to physical contact from her. She seems to notice this, so he quickly leans into the touch so she knows it's okay.

Touya sits next to him, giving Fuyumi another nasty stink-eye. How confusing, to wake up in this reality where the younger sister he remembers is so much older than him. He ignores her, chattering at Shouto and Izuku instead. He shows them all the drawings he's done, mainly ones from coloring books Fuyumi brought from her classroom.

Across the room, Shouto's eyes land on his father. Seeing that Touya is thoroughly entertained by Izuku and Rei, he excuses himself, and then stalks into the hallway, jerking his head for his father to join them.

Enji wheels after him. “Shouto? What is it?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He hisses.

Enji recoils at his language, but he doesn't address it. “What am I… What do you mean?”

“That little boy looks up to you more than anyone. I know it's a lot to wrap your big head around but if you keep pushing him away–”

Enji clicks his tongue, looking away. “I know that.”

–It’ll turn out exactly the same as last time.

Shouto notices the furrow in his eyebrows. The protective bunch of his shoulders. Maybe there's a chance he misread this.

“I don't… I don't know what to do.”

Shouto can't help the sharp, short laugh. “Yes, you do.”

Enji shoots him a look full of emotion.

“You do. You raised him before, didn't you? You raised all of us.” But Touya was his baby. Shouto was Endeavor's perfect creation, his prized possession, but Touya was Enji's everything.

“But that wasn't–!” Enji takes a sharp breath. He glances toward the living room, then back to Shouto, lowering his voice. “That wasn't me. Not only did I shove every actual parental duty onto Rei or the staff, I fucked up, with all of you.” His voice quivers, “With him, the most.” Besides you. Is unsaid. Shouto hears it anyway.

Shouto leans into his space, setting his hands on the armrests of Enji's chair, “Then get out there and don't fuck it up, this time.” He leaves before allowing Enji to make up any more excuses. He knows his father wants to be there for Touya. He also knows he's the one holding himself back.

Shouto takes his seat near Izuku again, who flashes him a smile, then turns back to Touya to listen to him argue about why Crimson Riot was a better hero than All Might. After a few minutes, Enji wheels over to be close to them, and Touya notices immediately, but he glances away just as fast, as if caught.

Enji waits for Izuku to finish his retort, then says softly, “Touya. Would you like to go find our Crimson Riot book? We can teach Midoriya here a thing or two, don't you think?”

Touya lights up. He shoots out of his seat, “Yeah! We'll teach him!” He bolts across the room before he remembers Enji is much slower, and backtracks to jump foot to foot beside Enji as he waits for him to wheel around the couches. Izuku smiles, and calls teasingly, ‘Maybe I'll teach you something!’ Touya whips around to stick his tongue out at him, then follows after his dad, happy as can be.

There, Shouto thinks to himself. That's better.

Izuku and Katsuki leave after dinner. Izuku hugs him, as Katsuki stands nearby, with his hands in his pockets trying to pretend to be bored. Izuku sets his hands on Shouto's face, “You call us if you need anything, alright?”

A demand, not a question. He nods stiffly, hardly able to move his head under Izuku's firm grip. He may only have embers left, but he's still incredibly strong.

“Promise?!”

“I promise,” Shouto chuckles.

Katsuki turns his head slightly to look him up and down, assessing in that calm manner Shouto is still adjusting to. They've all grown so much, in so many different ways. And in such a short amount of time, too.

“You're not alone,” Katsuki says gruffly, shocking him again. Not because of the words, but because he can tell he means it. Then he snatches Izuku's hand, and stears him away even as Izuku calls out ‘and text me the name of that book, I want to fact check it against that old documentary on the Silver Age– ow, ow, Kacchan, I'm coming. Bye Shouto!!’

Touya is asleep when he makes it back inside. Despite his hold-ups, Enji seems to remember perfectly well what to do with his arm full of a sleeping child. He's speaking quietly with Fuyumi, so Shouto gives them space until Fuyumi waves goodnight, and steps out to return home with their mother. Shouto crosses the room, and leans against the wall next to his father.

“Well done.”

Enji doesn't seem to know what to do with the praise.

Shouto gestures to Touya, “I'll put him in my room again? I can sleep on the couch again.”

“There's Natsuo's room. Or Fuyumi's, I suppose.”

Shouto shrugs. “Feels weird. I dunno.”

Enji nods in understanding. Then he carefully begins to peel the child off his lap to hand to Shouto. They work together until Shouto has him tucked into his arms, sleeping soundly, none the wiser.

“He looks so…”

“Peaceful,” Enji finishes for him. There's a heaviness to the acknowledgement.

Shouto turns away, and carries his brother to bed.

He's just as sticky trying to set him down again as he was trying to pick him up. Like scraping off dried gum. Or a barnacle. But he finally gets him arranged on the futon, the blanket pulled up to his chest. Shouto allows himself a moment to gaze at the sleeping boy's face. Peaceful. Something that could never be associated with Dabi, but that looks so natural, on Touya.

He sighs softly, and begins to turn away. A tiny hand stops him.

“Sho'oh?”

His heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“Yeah, little man?”

“Stay?”

Shouto feels his eyes widen in the darkness. He vaguely remembers being so jealous when he saw Natsuo and Touya spending every night in each other's rooms. Sometimes even Fuyumi joined them. (He never saw the inside of any of his siblings' rooms until he was fifteen).

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll stay.”

Saturday is amazing, and horrible, all in one.

They wake to the smell of frying food. Touya sits bolt upright and shouts ‘race you!’ before tossing the blanket off and scrambling out of the door. Shouto nearly slips on the tatami and brains himself – the little rugrat is fast – but he manages to catch up to Touya just as they reach the kitchen.

“Dang it! A tie,” Touya whines. Then he brightens, and shoves Shouto's arm, “We'll just have to do a rematch after breakfast.”

“Fine, but you're going down.”

“Nuh uh!”

Hawks giggles from the kitchen.

Touya bristles, affronted by this new person, “Who are you? Where's daddy?”

Hawks blinks at him. Shouto can only imagine the internal whiplash he's going through. “Your dad's in the shower. I'm Hawks! I'm your dads uh… coworker.”

Touya, seemingly satisfied, tries to edge around Hawks to look at what he's making. He demands to know where he got the food, because ‘daddy can't cook!’ Shouto stifles a laugh behind his hand, watching Hawks experience child-Touya first hand. It's certainly an adjustment, after knowing Dabi.

Especially for Shouto, who has never been around young kids, period. Except for Eri, but she mostly sticks to Izuku and Mirio, and the others from the raid. He assumed he always had something about him that was off-putting toward children, just as he was always weary around them. A mutual hesitancy. But as Touya takes his hand to lead him to the breakfast table, he realizes that he never really gave himself many chances, either. After they got through to them, he supposes he liked spending time with the children at the remedial course. And he has plenty of experience dealing with volatile and combative personalities, just from being friends with Katsuki.

It's strange, but he finds himself smiling more, when Touya is smiling.

After breakfast, Touya asks Enji again about training.

That same fear and self-loathing from the first night crosses over Enji's face. Shouto prepares himself to step in, but he doesn't have to. Enji reaches for Touya’s hand, and tells him, “Touya, you may train with Shouto and Hawks if you would like, but I’m not going to force you.”

Touya frowns, “But my schedule, it'll get all messed up–”

“It's alright. We don't – you don't need a schedule anymore.”

Touya shakes his head, growing frantic, “But how will I become the strongest hero i-if–”

Enji holds up his hand gently. To Shouto's amazement, he instructs Touya to take a deep breath, showing him how by demonstrating taking his own. Shouto meets Hawks eyes over his head, both of them rather stunned.

“Being a strong hero isn't all about strict schedules and constant training.” Enji tells him. "It's something I've had to learn, so I need you to know that too.”

“‘K-Kay…” he says.

He still seems confused, but he doesn't fight it again. Shouto asks him if he wants to play soccer in the gardens, and Hawks offers to join. Touya smiles shakily, and agrees.

That evening, Shouto slips away when he sees Fuyumi frowning at something on her phone.

“Everything all right?”

She looks up, and his heart lurches when he realizes she's a little teary eyed.

“I texted Natsu.”

Shouto nods slowly. Fuyumi shakes her head.

“He doesn't want to see him.”

He can tell she's sugarcoating from her frustrated frown, and the way she tightly grips her phone. Shouto sets a hand on her shoulder, “C'mon. Little Mr. Cocky said he'd beat us at jenga.”

Fuyumi's eyes glint with that telltale sign of sibling rivalry. No one beats Fuyumi at Jenga.

The sun is just fading from the sky when it happens.

Something crashes in the living room, followed by a hissed curse. “Shouto! Hawks! Come quick!”

Shouto drops the last dish he was drying, and bolts down the hallway, quickly followed by Hawks, stumbling out of the office after him.

He's really not sure what to think, at first. The crashing sound was a vase shattering. His father is out of the wheelchair, knelt on the floor, but that doesn't appear to be the issue, or why he called for them. He's clutching Touya to his chest. But he looks… far too big. More stretched out, and lengthier than he was not twenty minutes before.

His hair is solid white.

“T-Touya?”

It's no longer a child, that looks up at him. His face is still round, but there's bags under his eyes, and a weight to his gaze when he looks up at him.

“...Shouto?”

“Oh my god,” Hawks whispers.

“Hawks, if you could call the hospital, please.”

“Of course hon– Of course.”

Hawks ducks out of the room as Touya stares after him with a strange look on his face. Stepping around the broken vase, Shouto kneels in front of Touya, now extracting himself from Enji's hold. He looks shaky, and his breathing is shallow. He's not a kid anymore, but he's still so small.

“Touya, how much do you remember?”

Blue eyes flick to his, and then away. “A-All of it. The last two days. But why can't I…? When I try to remember before that it's just blank. Is there something wrong with me?”

“No,” Enji insists, grabbing Touya's shoulder. The boy looks up at him with a stunned expression. Enji seems to realize a moment later that a Touya at this age wouldn't be used to his fathers attention. But he doesn't remove his hand.

“D-Dad…? What's going on? Why is Shouto so old? Why are you so old? W-Why am I… Why did I go from six to thirteen?”

Thirteen.

Touya ‘died’ at thirteen, on Sekoto peak, within his own blaze.

Enji opens and closes his mouth, glancing at Shouto. Then he looks back, “Son we… There's a lot to tell you. Let's get you some clothes, and a cup of tea, and then we can explain, okay?”

Touya nods, wide eyed. Only then does Shouto realize how uncomfortable Touya looks, still shoved into the clothes of a five year old. He may be small for his age, but not that small.

“C'mon, you can borrow some of my clothes,” Shouto holds out his hand. Touya doesn't take it. Shouto clears his throat after a moment of silence, and gestures instead, letting Touya follow after him.

Touya remembers him now. Shouto was about five when Touya was 13. And he hated Shouto. Well. He hated that Shouto got everything he wanted. That he was everything he wanted to be, and couldn't. Shouto… didn't know him. Any of his siblings, really. They were just as distant as the portraits of his ancestors on the wall.

Shouto beckons Touya inside his room, and leads him over to his closet. Touya stands with distance between them, and won't meet Shouto's eyes. He stays still for Shouto to hold up a couple different shirts until he finds something that he won't completely swim in. The pants are harder, but he finally settles on something that has a drawstring, with pant legs that can be rolled up.

“Here, try these. I can go out tomorrow and find you some better ones.” He starts to turn away, but pauses when Touya calls his name.

“Am I… dreaming?” He asks softly. Shouto's heart sinks when he realizes he sounds like he's about to cry. Touya rubs at his eyes stubbornly, frowning.

What should he say? Touya deserves the truth, even at this age. But he can't imagine the confusion and distress he must be going through, and he doesn't want to overwhelm him even more.

So if he has to lie, even just a little, he will.

“It's not a dream. Our best guess is a quirk. You're usually older.” You were older.

Touya nods, his lower lip wobbling.

“‘Kay.”

“I'll be right outside, yeah? Let me know if you need anything.”

Touya nods, so he slips outside to wait in the hallway while Touya gets changed.

There is still a possibility it is a quirk, that wasn't a lie. The experts from the hospital might be able to tell. But they may not know, either. If it is, it must be one hell of a quirk. To be able to reset someone to such a young age… but that only lasted what, two days? Shouto checks his watch. 8:49 pm. Touya, the older Touya, passed away at 8:38 two days before. Would he get older? Would he keep aging up, until he reached his previous age? What then?

Thirteen year old Touya steps out, fully dressed in his too-big clothes.

This time when Shouto hesitantly offers his hand, Touya takes it. With their hands linked, Shouto leads them back out to the living room, where the quirk experts await.

As expected, the ‘experts' have a whole lot of nothing to report. It's just shaking heads and shrugging shoulders until Enji gets fed up and ushers them outside and away as politely as he can manage. The house is quiet in their absence. Shouto watches his father wheel himself back to the living room, quiet and introspective. He wonders how this whole experience has affected him– if it's forced him to see the true extent of the damage he caused. Sure, he could talk all he wanted about ‘atoning,’ but being face to face with it now…

Touya sits on the couch, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt. “It's my fault, isn't it?” He says in a small voice. “I must have done something– gotten into trouble with someone at school, right? That's why I'm like this? Why you're all looking at me weird?”

Shouto's heart lurches.

Enji wheels closer to squeeze Touya's shoulder. “No. No. You've done nothing wrong.” He glances at Shouto, and then Hawks, hovering at the edge of the living room. “We owe you an explanation though, don't we?”

Touya shrugs half-heartedly, very obviously trying not to cry. Shouto sits next to him, and keeps his hand very visible, for Touya to hold if he wants.

“Touya, you were – Usually you're twenty four. We're not sure how it happened, or why, but two days ago you woke up as your six year old self.” Shouto begins.

“And now I'm thirteen…”

His hair no longer holds any traces of red. His skin looks a bit more burned, but it's all closed and mostly healed. Shouto wonders about the rest of him.

“Where's Mom?” He asks. The wild, frantic look in his eyes makes Shouto's chest hurt. “Yumi? Natsu? Mom and Yumi came here when I was little but they always left. Where did they go? Why haven't I seen Natsuo at all?”

Enji stiffens. He meets Shouto's eyes, and Shouto nods, as if to say ‘go on.’

“Your mom and sister… no longer live here,” He explains slowly.

“Did you get a divorce?”

This seems to surprise Enji, but he nods.

“Is he your new wife?” Touya points at Hawks.

Hawks splutters. Enji's face grows a little pink, something Shouto's never seen it do.

“Hawks is… We're both men, so it would be ‘husband,’ first of all, and secondly…” He fidgets with the new metal band on his finger, and then shows it to Touya, “He's my fiancé. We aren't married quite yet.”

Touya nods, though he still looks confused.

Touya's observant, intelligent eyes flick over to Hawks. “How old are you?”

“Twenty f– u-uh… do you have any other questions?”

“Did we know each other when I was older?”

Hawks blinks in surprise. It's not much better. “Yeah. We worked together. Kinda.”

“You're a hero?”

Hawks smiles sadly. “I was.”

Enji nudges him, “You still are.”

“I was a hero too?”

The silence stretches a beat too long, before Enji tries to come up with something to cover it. ‘You worked very closely with heroes–’

“Did I do that? To your face?” Touya points at Hawks. He can only stare back at the kid, stunned.

“I did, didn't I?” Touya asks quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I'm no hero when I'm older. You're all lying.” He stands abruptly, before Shouto has the chance to reach for his hand.

“Touya–”

“Tell me the truth!” Touya shouts. His hands twist viciously in his shirt, tears welling in his eyes. They turn to steam the moment they reach his cheeks. “Say it! I-I turn into a villian, don't I!?”

Shouto gets to his feet quickly as flames start to climb up Touya's arms, and flicker off his face. “Hey, hey, its o–”

“N-No! That's why everyone's been so weird around me, right?! Why you're all so jumpy?”

Enji wheels around the sofas at the same moment Shouto catches one of Touya's arms in his right hand, using his ice to try to dull the flame. Touya's breathing hasn't calmed, and neither has his quirk, flames quickly climbing up his shoulders and over his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Shouto sees Hawks slip away to grab a fire extinguisher, just in case.

“Touya!” Enji says. His attention snaps to his father, where it failed to do the same with Shouto. “Touya, I should have taught you this years ago– think about your quirk like a gas stove. You can give it more fuel, but you can also shut it off. Give me your hands.” Touya does as he's told, his breath shallow and stuttering, eyes wild, like a trapped animal. “There. You're gonna breathe with me, in and out for four counts, alright? Follow my lead.”

With each breath Enji instructs him through, Touya's fire lessens, until there's hardly a wisp of smoke clinging to his hair and clothes. Shouto brushes some stray embers off his shoulder.

“Good, just like that. That was perfect.”

Enji reaches out to steady him as Touya's body sags with sudden exhaustion.

“Dad? What… What happened, really?” His voice cracks pitifully. “Please don't lie.”

Enji's face falls. Touya watches him closely, desperate for answers to something he hasn't even begun to understand.

“You have to know… It was all my fault, what happened to you.”

“Dad–”

“It was,” Enji says, resigned. It's no plea for pity. Hawks watches with a hand over his mouth. Shouto stands close to them, the need to swipe Touya up at a moment's notice lessening as he watches. “I neglected you. When your quirk started to hurt you, I went and had other kids, and left you to your mother. I hurt you, over and over again, until you broke.”

A silent tear falls down Touya's cheek, sizzling from the residual heat.

“You almost died, trying to train yourself. And I wasn't there. We thought you were gone, for almost a decade.”

“B-But I became…”

Enji nods slowly. “My fault. Like I said.”

Touya fights to get out of his grip, snapping, “No, it wasn't!”

Enji sighs, “You don't understand–”

“No! This sounds like it was just as much my fault as it was yours!”

Enji blinks in shock, but then he shakes his head. “No, no. You told us later you tried to come back, but you saw I had never changed. I didn't change, until last year. Shouto made sure of it.”

Shouto shifts at the mention, ducking his head. “You did all the work, though…”

Enji gives him a small smile, before he turns back to Touya.

He's crying again, little foot tapping nervously against the tatami. “What do I do? Do I hurt people? I-I hurt him, didn't I?” Touya's voice shakes, his arm trembling when he points to Hawks.

“Oh, Touya… Touya, come here.”

Enji opens his arms, leaning forward on the chair. Touya falls into him, wailing so hard his little body shakes with the force of it. “I-I don't want to h-hurt people. I just want to be what you wanted me to be, dad! Why couldn't I-I–”

Enji's eyes widen. He squeezes Touya closer to him. “You were. You were everything, and more, Touya. I was a fool not to see that. I'm so sorry, my son.”

At Hawks’ motioning, Shouto slips away, following him out of the living room and down the hall, as Touya lets Enji hold him, and cries.

Touya falls asleep curled up on Enji's lap in the chair.

Shouto finds them in the hallway, where Enji argues with Hawks, “--Can't sleep on the couch, this is your room too.”

“But Honey, I–”

Shouto pipes up, “Hawks, take my room. I'll sleep on the couch.”

“No, no, it's alright–”

“Dad?”

Everyone jumps.

Touya sits up, rubbing his eyes. “I'll go with Sho'oh.”

Touya slides down from Enji's lap, stumbling on his own two feet. Enji reaches out as if he's tempted to snatch him right back up, and not let go. Shouto can relate to the feeling.

“You're sure?”

“Mmhmm. S'beds comfy.”

Enji nods. They both look at each other, unsure what to do, until Touya leans in to give Enji one last hug. “Night, Dad.”

Enji's eyes widen, and shimmer with unshed tears, before he closes them, and holds Touya closer, rubbing one big hand over his back.

“Good night, Touya.”

Touya is the one that grabs Shouto's hand this time. He leads them back to the room, yawning big and wide without covering his mouth. Shouto suddenly viscerally understands Katsuki's tendency toward cuteness aggression. As much as he wants to coddle and coo over cute things, he ends up shaking them or being too rough with them. Just look at Izuku.

Touya tucks himself into the futon as Shouto changes into his pajamas. He turns out the light for him, and then lays next to Touya. It's quiet, for a little. Just the sounds of the frogs outside by the koi pond, and the occasional car passing by outside the estate.

Shouto is nearly asleep when he hears sniffling, and startles awake. “Touya…?”

“I'm so sorry, Shouto.”

Shouto sits up on an elbow to find Touya's hand, grabbing and squeezing, “Sorry? What for?”

Touya turns to face him, one eye and a strip of his cheek illuminated by the moonlight. His face is wet with tears. “I-I'm always so mean to you.”

It takes Shouto a moment to realize he means little Shouto. The five year old in his memories.

“Oh, hey… don't worry about that.”

He sniffles, scrubbing at his nose agitatedly. “But I am. I was? I-I… You didn't ask for this either. It's not your fault. But I always let my jealousy win anyway. I'm sorry.”

Shouto settles down, letting his head rest against the pillows again. “Hey. Seriously, I hardly remember it, it's no big deal. Besides, I had other things on my mind at the time.”

Touya nods, “But I-I still feel bad.”

Shouto reaches out, tucking a lock of silvery white hair behind Touya's ear. “Okay. I accept your apology.”

Touya’s hand slides against the futon, searching shyly. Shouto grabs his hand again, and uses the grip to pull Touya closer, until they're tucked together with Touya's face cradled close to Shouto's chest.

“H-How old are you?”

Oh.

“Oh. I'm sixteen.”

“You go to UA?”

“I do.”

Touya peeks up at him, “What's it like?”

Shouto feels himself smile, warm and uninhibited. “It's great. I've got lots of friends that support me. Teachers too. One of our teachers last year was All Might.”

“All Might?”

“Yeah. His successor is my friend. The one you met, with curly hair? Maybe you can meet him again sometime. He really liked you.”

“He did?” Touya asks around a yawn.

“Yeah,” Shouto laughs. He finds himself rubbing Touya's back as he speaks. “Katsuki is the one with blonde hair. He's got a super cool quirk, maybe he'll show you. They've both taught me a lot. My other friends too. There's Momo, and Iida…” Shouto keeps telling him stories, and rubbing his back, until he's sure Touya is good and out. And only then, does he allow himself to close his own eyes, and drift off.

Touya spends the next day glued to Enji's side. They cook breakfast together, do the dishes together, and then step outside afterward for a stroll (a roll, for Enji) around the gardens. Shouto takes advantage of the time to facetime his friends.

“Hi Shou! How's the little guy?” Izuku says, face too close to the screen as usual. A pale hand appears, pulling him back by the forehead so Katsuki can be in the frame too.

“Not so little, anymore,” Shouto laughs.

“Aw, is he acting more grown up?”

Shouto shakes his head, “No, uh. Seriously. He aged. And he got bigger.”

“What?!” Katsuki demands. “So it is a quirk?!”

Shouto shrugs, tapping a pen against his lip, “They don't know. He doesn't either. Says he's thirteen now, though.”

Immediately Izuku starts muttering up a storm and disappears from the frame. After a couple loud thuds and clangs, he reappears with a notebook.

“Care to slow down, babe? Normal person speed?” Katsuki drawls.

Izuku waves an impatient hand.

“Ah! Here.” Izuku holds up a page, with a drawn image of a bird on fire.

“A phoenix,” Katsuki realizes.

“A what-now?” Shouto says, leaning forward on his elbows. He can't make out anything Izuku's written down on the screen, but it doesn't matter, because it's snatched away the next moment, so Izuku can scan his entry.

“Well, it's not a quirk I've heard of anyone having, but a phoenix is a mythological creature from Greece, I think, it's–”

“Egypt,” Katsuki corrects.

“–A huge bird, and once it dies, it's reborn again within its own ash.”

An image of Touya's body crumbling and burning flashes before his eyes.

“Okay? So what does that mean?”

Izuku frowns, setting down his notebook. “I have no idea. You said before he didn't have contact with anyone besides your family while he was in the hospital, right?”

Shouto nods. “But they don't know about before. Hawks is worried AFO gave him something so that if he got injured he could keep fighting. But it was so slow working, I don't think that makes sense.”

“And it reset him to a child,” Izuku says.

“Exactly.”

“He could have been born with it,” Katsuki shrugs.

“That'd mean he has two quirks though, Kacchan.”

“So? So does Shouto. Hey, you got any quirks like that in your family, IcyHot?”

Shouto shrugs, “If we do, I wouldn't know.”

“‘Kay. Let us know if you find anything, yeah?” Izuku asks.

Shouto nods.

“So… What's he like now?”

Shouto smiles. “He's adorable. A little spit fire. Kind of reminds me of Katsuki.”

“Hey!”

Shouto returns to school on Monday, but he can't stop thinking about Touya playing catch with Hawks out in the gardens that morning. He knows he'll be fine without him, but it's been two days since he aged up which means…

Shouto leaves lunch early to seek out the teacher's room.

Izuku and Katsuki catch up to him, caging him in on either side.

“Where you going, Shouto?” Izuku asks, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Katsuki only scowls at him, but it's his friendly scowl. Comforted with his friends by his side, Shouto explains his plan to ask for off-campus leave.

Aizawa sighs heavily the moment all three of them appear in the doorway.

“It's nothing bad sensei, we promise!” Izuku says, holding up his hands.

Shouto steps forward before Aizawa can argue that it's always something bad, with the two of them. He gives Shouto his attention, so he explains everything from the hospital until now.

Aizawa rubs a hand over his eye, “And Dabi is stable? You're sure of it?”

“Touya,” Shouto corrects. “He's just a kid right now, sir.”

“And the previous top two heroes will be there!” Izuku pipes up. Aizawa shoots him a look, and Izuku makes a mouth zipped motion.

“...Alright, Todoroki. Classes are still slow right now anyhow, so you should be fine, yes?”

Shouto nods eagerly, “Yes sir.”

“What about the essay? You have an idea for it? The drafts will be due at the end of the week.”

Crap, he thinks, I forgot about that. But he lies and says, “Yes sir,” anyway.

Aizawa makes a shoo'ing motion with his hand, so Shouto is as good as gone.

The next transition is much harder.

This time, Touya's wrapped up in one of Enji's huge bathrobes, so if he does age again, he won't be trapped in clothes too small for him. It's tense as they wait, and the minutes tick by.

“If I get bigger, will I be bad again? T-The villain?”

Enji squeezes his hand. “It's a possibility. But it'll be okay, Touya.”

Touya wipes his eyes, his lower lip wobbling. “I don't wanna go. I'll miss you.”

Shouto's heart breaks and then heals almost simultaneously as Enji hugs his son, and whispers something that sounds like ‘I love you,’ – a phoenix all of its own.

At 8:38 on the dot, Touya starts to glow, and then smoke. Enji moves backward. It feels like forever before the smoke clears, though it can't be more than a few seconds. Before them is… a man. A young man, but he looks to be older than Shouto. He groans, his head between his thighs, hands pressed to his temples.

“Goddamn head hurts…” he mutters. He looks up, blinking against the bright light. “Ah. Fuck,” he says, taking in all of them standing over him.

“Hi,” Shouto starts. “How old are you?”

The young man blinks, “Ninteen.” Then he curls over himself, wincing, “Fuck, my head. Don't suppose any of you got a cigarette, huh?”

Shouto and Rei exchange a glance.

“...No.”

Touya sways to his feet.

“Got booze at least?”

Shouto splutters, “No, we don't.”

Touya turns to face them. His face has lost any of its childlike features that clung to it when he was thirteen. Dull blue eyes stare back at Shouto, empty and soulless.

Touya clicks his tongue.

“Right. Don't suppose I can leave, can I?”

Shouto shifts, “Well we haven't exactly gotten permission from the city–”

He chuckles humorlessly. “Cool. I'm a prisoner.”

Enji wheels forward, “Touya–”

In a flash, this tired, mopey version of Touya switches to something more akin to how he was in the war, “Don't call me that, old man. I'm not a whiny kid no more, so shut your fucking mouth before I burn it off you.”

Touya spins around, yanking off the robe and dropping it around his ankles, preferring to stalk away naked, than continue to wear something that belongs to their father.

They watch him go in shocked silence, and then Rei laughs, “Spunky. I kinda like him.” She raises her hands when she gets several odd looks, like, ‘what?’

Shouto finds Touya in his room. Or rather, he finds a lump under his covers that groans when he opens the door.

“Go away Endeavor–”

“It's me.”

Touya goes silent.

Shouto slams the door closed. “Fucks’ up with you?”

Touya chuckles dryly, “He curses! How cute.”

Shouto rolls his eyes, even though Touya can't see it. He kicks off his slippers, nudging the lump with his toes, which only groans again in response.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with–”

The blanket whips off faster than he expected, and Touya jolts upright, snatching Shouto's foot before he can press it into his ribs again.

“The fuck do you want?! For me to apologize?!” He flops down again, rolling on his side away from Shouto. “Thirteen year old me musta been brainwashed bad. The hell was all that sappy crap?!”

Shouto scowls. He sits down at the edge of the futon, crossing his arms over his chest angrily. “Thirteen year old you was very hurt–”

“So what?!” Touya insists. “Like I'm supposed to care? Nineteen year old me is hurt too.”

Fuck. Fuck.

He hadn't been thinking. He was so wrapped up in the change between his demeanor that he–

“Touya, I'm sorry.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Dabi, then?”

Touya looks over his shoulder, seemingly surprised. “How do you know that name?”

Shouto raises his eyebrows. “Your older self – the one that's twenty-four – used to use that name.”

He looks away, his expression conflicted. “Whatever. ‘S a stupid, fake name anyway.”

Huh.

“What do you mean?”

Shouto watches Touya's brow furrow. Despite his laid back body language, he seems… small. Nervous. He still reminds him of that little boy, underneath the layers of cursing and posturing.

“‘Dabi.’ It just means ‘cremation.’ If I could look strong, and sound strong, like my quirk, I didn't have to… to…” He gestures around the room, chuckling weakly. His voice sounds thick, with impending tears. “‘Dabi’ is a mask. A persona. He's not real.”

So what's real, then?

Shouto pats his thighs. “You wanna watch a movie?”

Touya raises his head, giving him a bewildered look.

“Dad's still got that rusty old thing in the office. I'll bring it over.”

Touya doesn't respond, until Shouto's almost out the door again, pulling his slippers on.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Bring that documentary. The one on Crimson Riot.”

“‘Kay.”

Inevitably, he's heard digging around in the office trying to unplug the frankly ridiculous amount of cables that attach to the TV.

Hawks leans around the frame, “Watcha doin’?”

Shouto gestures to the TV, short of breath from wrestling it off the wall.

“Hmm. Need help?”

Enji sees them in the hall, carrying the TV between them. He only raises his eyebrow, but Shouto feels… caught. A leftover feeling from being under Enji's constant scrutiny.

He just says, “Want me to bring tea?”

Shouto pauses, letting the scared feeling wash over him. Like opening a curtain to shoo away the darkness for his younger self.

“Sure, Dad. Thanks.”

Touya nods off somewhere between tea and the last part of the movie. Quietly as he can, Shouto turns off the TV, sending the room into total darkness. Touya still wakes up, as he tries to push off the covers and get to his feet.

“Whur guh’in?”

“Oh… The couch, I thought–”

“Fugg off with the stupid fuggin couch. ‘S your room. Stay.”

Shouto lays back down, smiling to himself.

“I… sleep better. When you're here.” Touya admits.

Shouto stiffens, then relaxes all at once. “You know? I think I do too.” Touya doesn't respond, snoring again already.

It's raining when they wake up.

Touya refuses to move from the futon, so instead of trying to fight him (which he really doesn't want to do anyway), Shouto brings them breakfast in bed. They turn on another hero documentary, but neither of them end up paying very much attention to it. Shouto watches his brother's expression soften as he gazes at the rain dripping off the gutters and pooling below the wooden porch. He looks peaceful again finally, with his back against the wall and his head turned to the side to watch the rain. Shouto remembers wishing he could have this back at the hospital.

Touya hisses with sudden pain, pressing a hand to his head.

“Headache again?”

“‘S turning into a migraine, I think.”

“Shit. Here.” Shouto quickly scoops up the remote to turn off the TV.

Touya sways into him, pressing his forehead to Shouto's cold shoulder.

“Ahhhhh.”

He laughs. “Does that help?”

“Yeah. Used to do this with…”

Mom.

Shouto reaches around to feel his forehead. He's burning.

“Shit, dude. I think you have a fever.”

“Mmgh.”

“I should get you some medicine–”

“S'fine, Shou. It's from my quirk.”

“Huh?”

Touya grimaces as he takes his face out of Shouto's shoulder to respond, “Back when I was actually this age, before… all of this, I'd get this way. ‘S hitting hard all at once, I think, cuz this body went from mostly undamaged to–” He gestures vaguely at his scarred, broken skin, “–this, very quickly.”

Shouto nods slowly. Reaching out, he traces a few tentative fingers over Touya's skin, “It doesn't look as bad as… I remember.”

Nowhere near as bad as the war. Even before that. It's barely discolored, though it still reaches every part of him it did before.

“It's not. I don't think. Guess cause I'm not actively using m'quirk. But then, I started dying my hair at sixteen.” He pinches a strand of white hair between his fingers, “Dunno why it's not black.”

Shouto frowns. He's missing quite a few of the old staples and piercings as well.

“Yeah, that's strange. I wonder if–”

Touya suddenly jerks, sweat forming on his brow.

“Touya?”

“I-I–”

He tosses the blanket off his legs, lurching to his feet.

“Touya?”

Touya stumbles out of the room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom, where he heaves the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Oh.

Shouto winces. “Shit.”

“Ugh,” Touya spits. Another round comes up. Shouto looks away.

Hawks appears in the entryway a few moments later, head cocked curiously. “Oh, damn. He okay?”

Touya flips him off.

“He's… alright. Would you mind grabbing him some water please?”

Hawks salutes, and then he's gone.

Shouto helps Touya lower himself to his knees, so he can lean against the toilet. He doesn't throw up again immediately, but he still looks ill. Hawks brings a cup of water, as asked, and then disappears again.

“Heh. I'm such a loser. Can't even show you how to party and then throw up everywhere.”

Shouto ignores him, “Here. Water.”

Touya takes a sip when Shouto holds the glass to his lips. Some spills down his chin and drips into the toilet. “Mm. Wish we could, though.”

“Huh?”

“Get drunk together,” Touya smirks. The smile fades, as he rubs his face into his arms tiredly. “Ugh. F-Feels like the only way I could earn back my cool-older-sibling points.”

Shouto rubs his back, “I think you're cool.”

Touya scoffs, spitting out a string of bile as perfectly timed emphasis. “Yeah. Real cool.” He shifts, trying to move into a more comfortable position, still close enough to the toilet in case of emergency. His eyes flutter closed, reflecting the utter exhaustion he must be feeling. “I'm…” Shouto reaches out, finding Touya's hand. The corner of Touya's mouth ticks up slightly, and he squeezes in response. “I'm not much of an older sibling, huh.”

“What do you mean?”

“For Yumi and Natsu I was, I guess. But I hardly felt like the oldest, even then. Yumi usually took charge. Hell, even Natsu sometimes. But I wanted…”

He opens his eyes, his gaze training on Shouto's face. “I wanted to be your big sibling too. We never really got to be brothers, huh?”

Shouto blinks in shock. He doesn't want to admit it's something he's thought about a lot too. He tries to smile, “Isn't that what we're doing now?” Touya doesn't answer him, because he retches into the toilet again. When he's done, he presses his forehead to the ceramic rim, shivering violently under Shouto's hand. “I think…” Shouto starts. Touya peeks an eye open, showing him he's paying attention. “I think you just never really got the opportunity to be a big sibling. But when you were older, you were close with um… these other people, a group–”

“Of villains?”

Shouto nods.

“I think you tried to keep your distance, but they cracked you eventually. You seemed close to them.”

“Gross.”

Shouto shoves his shoulder lightly. “It was cute. Showed me you cared, even during–” The war. “Well. During that time.”

Touya frowns. He shifts on his legs, sitting up from the toilet a little. “You keep–”

A knock interrupts them. Enji leans around the open door, “Everything alright?”

Touya huffs, looking away. His body goes rigid, like he'd do more than pout if he had the strength. Shouto looks back to the doorway, “Yeah, Dad.”

“Should I call Rei?”

Touya's cheeks flush. “I don't need–” he stops mid-sentence, placing a hand over his mouth as his body heaves.

“I'll call her,” Enji says, and then he's gone.

“Dammit,” Touya mutters. He tucks his hands under his armpits, shivering against a chill that doesn't exist. Shouto wraps a hand around his knee.

“You keep talking around something. Fuck is it?”

“What do you–”

“Don't lie,” he spits.

‘What happened, really? Please don't lie–’

Shouto rubs a hand over his face. He's not sure of the repercussions of telling him. It's not like it would change the past. Grasshopper effect, or whatever Izuku called it. Besides, there's something about him that makes it hard to keep the truth from him. It makes him think of hiding under blankets and sharing secrets as kids. Something Shouto's only heard about, or seen on TV shows.

“There was a war.”

“A war?”

“Mm. Between villains, and heroes. We didn't know how much it would change everything.”

“‘We?’ You fought in this war?!”

“Yeah.”

“But you're a kid Shouto, you're sixteen.”

Shouto smiles, though nothing about it feels happy. “My friend won the war. He's sixteen too.”

I don't feel like I've won much of anything.

Except maybe you.

“Fucking hell. You fought villians in a war…”

His stomach rolls. Shouto looks up, chewing his lip.

“What?”

“I fought… you.”

Silence stretches between them. Outside, it starts to rain again. Touya jerks away from him, his next breath a harsh gasp.

“What–”

“It's okay, Touya, I–”

“How the hell–” he pants, “–can you stand to be around me?!”

“Touya–”

Touya shakes his head, back and forth, back and forth. He looks like he'll be sick again. Touya pulls away from him, scrambling backward into the wall.

“The whole time that we fought,” Shouto tells him quickly, hands held out to him, “I couldn't help but think, ‘I just want him to be okay. I just want to be friends.’”

His therapist always told him that eventually he'd find the right words to express how he felt during the war. Suddenly, Shouto does.

He looks up at Touya's ashen face. He smiles. “I think I got my wish. Don't you?”

A tear slips down Touya's cheek.

Shouto moves closer, reaching for his face. Touya doesn't move, allowing Shouto to wipe it away.

“I don't understand you,” Touya rasps.

Shouto snorts. “Yeah. I get that a lot. Come here?” He opens his arms, inviting.

After a moment, Touya shuffles forward on his knees so he can lean into Shouto. He sighs shakily. “Might throw up on you.”

“S'alright,” Shouto says, nestling Touya's head under his so he can stroke his hair. “It can be cleaned up.”

Touya starts to cry. Shouto can tell by the shake in his shoulders, and the damp feeling on his shirt. He doesn't sob – the tears seem to come quietly. But he cries, and he lets Shouto hold him. Shouto can't help his own eyes watering, but he also can't help the bittersweet smile that tugs at his lips.

When Rei gets there, Touya lets himself be handed over like a sack of potatoes, limp and heavy. She coos, petting his hair and murmuring sweetly. Shouto slips out of the bathroom with a small smile on his lips. He finds Enji and Hawks in the sunroom. They're sitting on the couch together, watching the rain beat down on the windows. Shouto finds himself hesitating on where to sit. There's another chair, adjacent to the couch, but for a moment he's strongly tempted to sit on the floor between them, and lean back against his father's legs. Shouto shakes himself, and takes his usual seat next to them.

“How is he?” Hawks asks, fidgeting with a nail file as he inspects his growing talons.

“Better now. He was happy to see Mom. I think.”

Enji looks at him seriously. “Tomorrow…”

He'd be aging up again. Shouto nods.

“I know.”

“I've called Aizawa.”

Shouto tilts his head, “Isn't his quirk weaker now?”

Enji nods, “He offered to bring that class B kid. I told him no. I think if Touya starts to use his quirk, just turning it off once will be enough.”

Shouto runs his hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe…”

All the other Touya's remembered the experience of the younger versions, even if they didn't remember anything before the hospital. Even if he'd be back to his usual self, Shouto hopes Touya will remember all their time together. That he won't want to fight, or–

“What happens if he doesn't want to… Stay?”

Enji shrugs. “I won't force him. None of you, ever again.”

This makes Shouto's chest feel tight. He nods, trying to stay on track.

“He can't just… go free though, can he?”

“Well...”

Hawks speaks up, “I've been speaking to the rest of the board at the HPSC. They're willing to pardon him, if he shows motivation toward change.”

“What does that mean? ‘Motivation toward change?’”

“If he is himself again, and isn't… you know. Murdery.”

Shouto nods thoughtfully.

“We’ll just have to make sure he isn't.”

Hawks grimaces. His eyes flick to Enji, and then back to Shouto. “Kid, you know nobody knows what will happen to him two days after he ages again, right? He might…” He might die. And stay dead. “Any number of things could happen, I just want you to know that–”

“I know,” Shouto says. In his heart, he wants to scream, he'll be fine, he has to be! But he doesn't know that. None of them do.

Touya hides in Shouto's room the rest of the night. He checks on him occasionally, but Rei stays with him, and in his state, he isn't really up to talking much anyway. At nine, Rei hugs him goodbye. Shouto waves goodnight to his father, and Hawks, before returning to his bedroom. He sits down beside Touya on the futon, watching him sleep soundly, one hand tucked under his chin. Touya, ever the light sleeper, stirs when he pulls back the covers to lie down. He rolls on his side to get closer to Shouto, humming and tucking his nose into Shouto's shoulder on his cool side.

“How you feeling?”

“Ungh.”

“Is that better or worse than before?”

“...Eh.”

Shouto smiles up at the roof in the dark.

“Hey, roll over,” Touya says.

“Huh? Why?”

Touya seems to hesitate, but eventually says, “You always rub my back. Wanna rub yours.”

‘I wanted to be your big sibling too.’

“...’Kay.” He rolls, sliding his face across the pillows that no longer smell like just him. A hand lands on his back, and he startles.

“Relax, jumpy.”

He focuses on letting each muscle go as he breathes. Touya rubs across his shoulders, his fingers skimming the longer hair at the back of his neck. The touch makes him shiver.

“No one's ever done this for you, have they?”

“...No.”

“Mom would do it now, if you wanted.” He snorts, “The old man too, probably. Seems fuckin’ eager for it.”

Shouto is sort of glad Touya can't see his face. “I-I dunno…”

There's a big part of him that craves it. Attention, affection. There's also a big part of him that never wants either of his parents to touch him ever again. The hurt part of him.

“You have the opposite problem of me, huh.” Touya says softly. His hand skims along Shouto's spine, over his shirt. He rubs circles against his mid-back, and the feeling makes him want to close his eyes, so he does.

“Hm?”

“The old man neglected me. But he wouldn't leave you the fuck alone. Opposite problems.”

Well that's putting it simply. But it's also the most sensible way he's ever heard it.

“Mmmyeah. Suppose. ‘S not so bad, now. Mom's cool, too. I just…” He swallows. There's a sudden prickle behind his eyelids, but he ignores it. Touya hums. The movements of his hand get slower, choppier, but it still feels nice.

“Y'should think about it. I've seen the way you look at her. She'd spoil you like crazy, if you let her. Him too, I guess.”

Shouto feels a wobbly smile curl onto his lips. Hypocrite.

“Yeah. Yeah. I'll think about it.” Touya doesn't respond. He realizes the next moment his hand has stilled, and then Touya snores softly.

“Goodnight,” he whispers.

Touya spends the next day avoiding Enji. They try to watch another hero documentary, but both lose interest quickly without the rain to keep them inside. Shouto flops onto his back, waving a hand in the air, “We could spar– oh, no, probably not. Hmm. What the fuck do civilians do with free time, anyway?”

The essay nags at the back of his mind, but it's nothing a study date with Momo or Izuku won't fix. Touya frowns down at him, nudging him with his toes to get back at him, “That's fucking sad dude. You're sixteen,” he reminds him unhelpfully.

“Alright then, what do you do with your free time?”

Touya shrugs. “Smoke. Sleep.”

“Mmhmm, so what I'm hearing is, you're a loser.”

“Gasp, you wound me.” Touya lays a dramatic hand over his heart. “Get up, let's go fuckin’... throw rocks at the fish.”

Shouto jumps to his feet, “You wound me! The fish did nothing to you!”

Touya grins, sharp and playful and so full of life it takes Shouto's breath away for a moment.

“Shh, I know, jeez. Always the hero. C'mon, we'll see how far we can toss the rocks at nothing in particular, then.”

“Quirks or no quirks?”

“Oh fuck off.”

Aizawa arrives at 8:20 on the dot.

Fuyumi and Rei are already in the living room when Shouto takes his seat, and Touya sits next to him, dressed in baggy pants and a loose shirt, not that his body should change all that much. Hawks gives Shouto a smile he sees through immediately.

“Hello Touya,” Aizawa greets.

Touya shoots him a look, “Do I know you?”

“No. I know the older you, though.”

Shouto elbows him, “He's here to help, remember?”

After that, it's just a waiting game.

Someone, probably Enji, set a digital clock on the middle of the table, and Touya's eyes haven't left it since he sat down.

At 8:37, Touya reaches for his hand, and says softly, “Goodbye, Shouto.”

He feels like he's had the ground cut out from under him. Touya's smile is so honest, so open and caring, Shouto doesn't have a chance to respond before Touya's skin starts to glow, and then smoke. Reluctantly, Shouto removes his hand, and steps back to allow for the full transformation.

The room fills with puff of smoke, embers scattering down around the couches.

He doesn't look much different, when he looks up. A little more scarred, a little thinner. He takes in the room, all the eyes watching him, all the familiar faces, and then he drops his head and mutters, ‘fuck.’

“Touya…?” Shouto says.

He rubs a hand over his eyes, and then stands.

There's a visible reaction, as every person in the room tenses, or ups their guard. Touya doesn't address it. He steps around the table, past Shouto, and stalks toward Enji. Aizawa trains his gaze on him, ready to Erase him, but he doesn't need to. Touya only stares down at Enji, eerily silent. Enji holds his gaze, his chin raised, shoulders set. Not defensive, just steady. Touya doesn't end up saying anything at all. Instead, he turns to Hawks, “You. You're fucking my dad? Seriously?!”

Hawks reels back, and then opens his mouth to retort, but Touya just waves a hand at him dismissively, and stalks away. As he reaches the door, he pauses, contemplating. Shouto can't imagine what it's like. Having memories of the past week, on top of all his memories from before. The hurt, the betrayal, the anger and sadness.

Touya looks back, his eyes landing on Rei, and Fuyumi. “I'm sorry,” he whispers.

And then he's gone.

Aizawa breaks the tension with a long exhale. “Well. He's changed, hasn't he?”

Shouto doesn't hear the rest, because he gets to his feet, following Touya out of the door and down the hall.

He finds him in the shrine room.

It's sparse, just bare wood and tatami, the central shine illuminated by low lights and the candles Enji meticulously maintains. Cautiously, Shouto crosses the room to stand next to his brother. He's so… quiet. So different from nineteen year old Touya; miles away from the thirteen and six year old versions of himself.

Shouto wants to touch his arm. He wants to reach out and hold his hand, or– something. But Touya just stares at that old portrait of himself, breathing slow and shallow through his nose. Shouto has the sudden, startling realization that this Touya is the closest one to back when he was in the hospital. The closest to the one he fought in the war. But he's also so… different. And it bothers him that he doesn't know why.

“I thought,” Touya starts slowly. “That I would be angrier.”

Shouto watches his face, illuminated by the candlelight, melancholy, but also strangely serene.

“I spent so many years getting stronger,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I spent so long hating him, and using that to fuel my flames. I just wanted him to feel even an ounce of the hurt he put me through.”

Touya takes a shaky breath, tilting his face up toward the ceiling. A few tears slip down his cheeks.

“But now he's different. It fucking sucks to even admit it, but I can't pretend I don't see it. What do I do, with all this anger?”

Shouto scrapes up enough bravery and finally steps forward, taking Touya's hand. “It's okay to be angry. I was angry for years. I still am.” He shakes his head, “You don't have to get rid of it.”

Touya glances back at him, “You don't seem angry.”

Shouto smiles. “It comes and goes. I've learned how to not take it out on anyone.”

Touya turns, grabbing Shouto's other hand and holding both between them, squeezing earnestly, “How?”

Shouto startles.

“O-Oh I guess…”

He's never thought about it.

“Well, therapy is the main thing, honestly. But my friend Izuku helped me shift my perspective, back when I first met him.”

He smiles at the thought, “I spent a long time getting strong too. I thought if I could do it on my own, I would prove to him I didn't need him. I could rub it in his face, and leave him behind.” He laughs, shaking his head. “We always have been similar, huh? But then he started talking about ‘atoning.’ I didn't believe him at first, but now… it's not just empty words. Did you know he started a National Quirk Resource Center?”

Touya raises an eyebrow.

Shouto nods. “He didn't tell me himself, either. I found out because I snooped through his mail. He's doing it anonymously. It's not even the only one– he's fighting for the board to include more quirk counseling in schools. He's talking to people about resources for kids with mutant quirks. And he's doing it all on his own, without speaking a word of it.”

Touya's next breath is shaky. “Shit…”

“I know.” Shouto says. “I don't think anything he'll ever do will make up for what he did to us as kids, don't get me wrong. I haven't forgiven him completely, and I don't think I ever will. And I can't blame Natsuo for cutting him off, even if I miss him.” He squeezes Touya's hands. They both look away at the mention of their brother. “But I… I don't know. I know he's trying. And I missed having– hell, I never had a father. This ones not great, but he's the one I've got.”

Touya's eyes swim with unshed tears.

“Do you think… I can still be a part of this family, after everything I've done?”

“Touya–”

“Even if it was justified,” He insists. “I still hurt all of you.” He raises a hand to brush the extra little scarring under Shouto's eye from the war. “Doesn't that make me just as bad as him?”

Shouto shakes his head adamantly. “No. Not to me.” He steps forward, wrapping his arms around his brother. “If it means we got you back, I don't care. You're worth it.”

He hears Touya's breath hitch shakily, and then feels a hand press against his back. “S-Shouto–”

“You are.” He insists.

Touya drops his forehead onto Shouto's shoulder, and leans his weight into him.

“T-Thank you.”

Shouto closes his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks. “You don't have to thank me, stupid. But you're welcome.”

He lets Shouto hold him for another few minutes until he pulls back, wiping his eyes. “I think… I wanna go talk to him.”

“Dad?” Shouto asks. “Are you sure?”

Touya clenches his jaw, his lips pressing together. “Yeah.”

Shouto nods, holding out his hand.

Hawks stands outside the living room, his back to the wall. Touya stops short when he sees him. “He in there?”

Hawks blinks at him in surprise, then nods, “Yup! He's talking to Rei and Aizawa. Boooring.” Which is code that means Hawks felt out of place and uncomfortable. Shouto may still be getting to know the guy, but he has more tells than he'd probably like.

“I wanna talk to him,” Touya says. “Is he almost done?” Hawks shrugs, but makes a ‘go on,’ gesture, stepping out of the way. Touya starts forward, and then pauses, looking back at Hawks.

“Hey, I'm sorry for…” He gestures vaguely at his own face, indicating the scar on Hawks’ cheek. “Our fight. I'm sorry.”

Hawks smiles sadly. “It's alright. I've come to terms about losing my quirk–”

“Your quirk?!” Touya's eyes flick toward Hawks’ back. “But I–”

“Oh! No, no . All For One took it. It's okay. Like I said.” Touya's eyes flicker back and forth uncertainly.

They all startle when the door slides open, and Aizawa steps out, quickly followed by Rei and Fuyumi. Rei gives Touya a surprised look, but it quickly fades into a soft smile. “Hello Sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom.” Touya steps forward, leaning down to press his forehead into her shoulder. Rei wraps her arms around her son, rocking him gently. She presses a kiss to the side of his head, and then holds him back by his shoulders to speak to him.

Aizawa gives Shouto a nod, stepping closer so he can ask, “How has it been going?” Shouto stiffens, but before he can dredge up something to say, he continues, “Your essay.” Aizawa gives him a knowing look. Ah.

“Right. Good.”

He reaches out to clasp Shouto's shoulder, “Let me know if you need any help with anything. Wouldn't want the… stress to get to you.”

Shouto smiles, “Thank you, but I'm doing just fine, sir. Enjoying it a little, maybe.”

It feels good to admit. Aizawa gives him the hint of a smile, mainly just a softening around the corners of his eye. He pats Shouto's shoulder again, and says, “Alright. See you soon, kid. Take care.”

“‘Course, sir.”

“That means you too,” he says to Touya.

“Yeah yeah, Eraser,” he mutters, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Fuyumi waves goodnight to them, and then scurries off to show Aizawa out. That leaves the four of them in the hallway. Touya turns toward Shouto, his eyes searching. Shouto only smiles, and gives him a nod. He would say more, but he has a feeling that Touya doesn't actually need it, even if he thinks he does. He must be right, because Touya nods back, and then approaches the sliding door.

After a breath, he opens it, and slips inside.

Hawks claps his hands together. “Tea, anyone?”

Shouto bolts upright in his seat when the yelling starts. His mom clasps his arm to stop him, just as Hawks holds up his hands, “Just give them one more moment…”

Another bout of yelling, and then a sob. They're far away enough they can't make out the words, but Shouto hears his fathers deep timbre as he responds, low and calm. There's a response from Touya, weaker and more emotional. The anger fades to sadness, and Shouto takes his seat again.

It's tense, as they wait. Hawks tries to appear normal, but Shouto knows his flitting around the kitchen making tea and a late snack is all nervous energy. If he still had those wings, they'd be puffing and fluttering around him, getting feathers everywhere. Fuyumi hasn't come back since she showed his teacher out. His mothers face is calm, but in that forcibly blank way as she sips her tea with her entire focus. Shouto doesn't miss the tiny tremble in her hands. Shouto glances at Hawks, “I think Mom and I will go outside. Will you be alright?”

Hawks straightens, glad to be given a purpose. “Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

Shouto nods, and then he slips off his stool, holding out his hand for her. Rei follows after him gladly, clutching her cup to her chest. The rest of the estate is eerily silent– even the night holds its breath. Shouto guides her to the koi pond, and they sit beneath the moon and the cloudless night sky.

Rei takes a breath. “Beautiful out here, isn't it?” Shouto watches the profile of her face, back-lit by moonlight, highlighting wrinkles he somehow hadn't noticed before.

“Mmhmm.”

When she turns to look at him, her eyes are glistening. “You've always done things like that to protect me, sweetie, ever since you were little. I'm afraid I haven't done the same.”

“M-Mom?” He stutters, alarmed.

Rei wipes her eyes. “I was a horrible mother to you.”

“Mom–”

She holds up her hand, “It's just the truth. You can defend me all you want, and yes Enji caused me a lot of pain, but… By the time I had you, I had given up on being a mother.”

Shouto's heart pounds with adrenaline. Part of him is touched, but most of him doesn't want to hear it. The little boy inside him screams its not your fault! Its not your fault!

She turns to him, smiling tightly. “I loved being a mother at first. Despite the circumstances, despite your father. My children meant everything to me. But…” She shakes her head. “I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you the same as them, Shouto. I failed you.”

He opens and closes his mouth, but nothing comes out. He's stuck somewhere between fight or flight, a horrible freeze that leaves him feeling breathless and useless.

Rei tucks her short hair behind her ear, “That's why I was so happy when you started to come see me. I felt like, just maybe, we could start over.” She frowns. “And then the war happened, and all of our stress, our entire family's problems, fell onto you.”

Shouto can only stare, frozen in shock. She reaches out for his hand, but palm up, letting him decide if he wants to give it to her. Belatedly, he does, clumsy and slow. She smiles, squeezing his hand.

“I'm so sorry baby. I still want to be your mom, if you'll let me.”

The sob sneaks up on him. Shouto covers his mouth, blinking sudden tears from his eyes. Too choked up to respond, he nods, again and again, until she smiles, and reaches up to pull him into a hug, tucking his face against her neck. “I've got you, sweetie. Let it out. I'm here.”

For the first time in a long time, Shouto lets himself cry openly, held in his mothers arms.

They stay out in the gardens talking until it's too cold. Neither of them really feel it, but his Mom's fingers get stiff enough it's hard to hold his hand, so Shouto takes them inside.

Hawks smiles tiredly at them.

“How'd it go?” Shouto asks.

“Go take a look.”

Shouto raises an eyebrow, but he and Mom follow him down the hallway to peek inside the master bedroom. Inside, Touya is curled up against his father's side, head on his chest, as Enji snores lightly, his hand resting on Touya's side.

“They fell asleep like that,” Hawks tells them, watching over their shoulders with a soft smile on his face.

Mom covers her mouth, her eyes watering at the corners. Shouto puts an arm around her shoulders. Hawks leans around them to shut the sliding door before they wake them. He turns his back to the door, chuckling, “Guess I'll sleep on the couch for real this time, huh?”

Shouto shakes his head, “Like Dad said before, it's your room too. I don't think Touya would mind.”

Hawks glances back toward the door, “Y'think so?”

“Of course sweetheart,” Mom agrees.

Hawks gives her a surprised look. He's still so cautious around her, despite knowing her for over a year now. Mom steps forward, taking Hawks shoulders in her hands, “Don't run from your own relationship. He's good for you, and you're good for him. This is your home now, too.”

Hawks blinks several times, and then smiles crookedly. “Thank you…”

“‘Rei.’ You can call me Rei, if you'd like."

Hawks’ smile broadens, his voice raspy with emotion, “Thank you, Rei.”

He gives her a short bow, which she returns, and then turns to slip inside the bedroom. Shouto takes that as their cue to leave.

“Will you stay the night, Mom? Or do you need to go back home with Fuyumi?”

She smiles up at him, “If you'd like me to stay, I'll stay.”

Shouto wakes with an unsettling awareness of what the next day will bring. He tries very hard not to let it show, and thinks he does a good job of putting on a brave face for Mom and Hawks in the kitchen, but when Enji and Touya come around the corner, speaking quietly, and Touya looks up to smile at him, Shouto turns his back.

The guilt is immediate.

Shouto ducks away, tidying the counters, putting the dishes away, anything to be useful. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Touya frowning at him. But Shouto thinks he knows what this feeling is, even if he doesn't want to, so surely if he keeps running from it, he won't have to feel it.

After avoiding him at breakfast, he decides to just avoid everyone, and hides in his room to actually work on his essay. He stays there for the rest of the day, stewing in guilt. He doesn't want Touya to think somethings’ changed, but if he can't face him, he won't.

God, why was fighting him easier than this?

Shouto can't sleep.

His futon feels too empty after a week of sleeping in bed next to another person. He tosses and turns a couple of times, watching the shadows stretch on his ceiling. Even the croaking of frogs and the gurgling of the fountains in the courtyard don't do their usual job of lulling him to sleep.

Frustrated, he throws back his blankets and walks to the kitchen for a glass of water. On a whim, he sidetracks, taking the turn toward his fathers room instead of returning to his own. Then he pauses at the door, unsure what to do now. He never did this as a child. He knew his siblings went to each other's rooms, he would hear them sometimes. But none of them ever willingly sought out their parents for anything.

He decides to just crack the door. He'll just have a peek, and then everything will be fine and he'll go back to bed.

He opens the shoji as quietly as possible, but it still makes a soft noise as it slides against the frame. Inside, someone stirs on the futon. It's larger than his own, almost twice the size, and he can make out three distinct shapes, one of which sits up.

“Sho'oh?”

Oh. Ohh that makes him–

Shouto makes a very fast and very impulsive decision. He kicks off his slippers, steps inside, and shuts the shoji behind him carefully. Touya is already stretching out his arms for him when he looks back.

“You alright?”

Shouto nods in response, too choked up to get his words to work. He kneels, leaning into his brother's embrace gratefully.

Touya tugs him down gently, when he won't budge at first, saying ‘it's alright, there's room, there's room.’ He's tugged and pulled into place, until he's got an arm over Touya's body, his head nestled against his chest. The contact immediately hits the off switch on his anxiety. Magic.

Touya pets a hand up and down his back, “Bad dream?”

“Mm mm. Couldn't sleep.”

He hums in response. Shouto's stomach twists.

“Maybe I should just go, I'll keep you up–”

“Don't,” Touya says, wrapping a thin arm around his back. “I want you here.” And then, quieter, “Missed you.”

Shouto stifles a smile into Touya's shirt.

“‘Kay.”

Touya's quiet for a while. The fan whirs, a clock ticks distantly from somewhere in the house. He startles when Touya starts rubbing his back. ‘Jumpy,’ Touya teases.

“You gonna tell me what was up with you today?”

“Ugh.”

Shouto turns his face the other way, watching the shape of his father's silhouette ebb and flow with his deep breaths. Knocked out on top of him, Hawks twitches slightly in his sleep, hair ruffled and sticking up enough Shouto can see the shape of it in the moonlight.

Touya pokes gently at his side, “C'mooon, I've been cosmically forced into spilling my guts this entire week. The least you could do is let your big brother know what's on your mind.”

And that, right there, is precisely the issue. Hit the nail on the head without even trying. Bullseye, bingo, fuckin’ yahtzee: Touya's ‘cosmic’ problem.

“You know what happens tomorrow, right?” Shouto whispers, so soft his voice breaks with it. Touya's fingers tense against his back.

“I know.”

Shouto huffs.

“Wait. That's it? That's your problem? You don't have the answer to the puzzle, so you're being an ass–”

Shouto sits up on his elbows, hissing indignantly, “My problem is that I might see you die tomorrow. Again. O-Or loop, and start all over. Or any number of things, I don't know–”

“Woah, woah.”

Shouto sits up, turning away to hide his face. An arm shoots out to stop him, but relaxes slightly when he realizes Shouto isn't actually leaving. Touya twists to sit up, scooting over to the edge with him. The hand returns to his back, this time hesitant.

“You're really… worked up about this.”

Shouto takes his face out of his hands, “Yes, captain obvious, excellent observation.”

“...Why?”

Shouto shoots him a glare, even if he can't see it properly. Touya seems to receive the message anyway, holding up his hands defensively.

Behind them, someone snorts in their sleep, and then grumbles. They glance back, and Touya lowers his voice to answer, “Look, Shouto I…” He rubs a hand over his eyes. It makes Shouto dizzy with guilt again. His last night, and Shouto's keeping him up with his stupid little–

“I guess I don't get it. Ever since the Daycare, everything was planned. I sought out Giran and the league with a purpose, and that purpose was revenge. I didn't have an after planned. I was going to go out with a big bang, and that would be it.”

“...Shit.”

Touya laughs dryly, rubbing the back of his head, “You know, uh, saying that out loud… I think I get why you're worried now.”

Shouto can't help snorting, “Y'think?!”

Touya smiles. Shouto can't see it, but he can picture it, wry and crooked. “Sorry. I keep saying I wanna be here for you, but I'm the reason you're all…” He gestures vaguely.

“Hey,” Shouto points, “Dads’ half the reason. Mom too, sorta. Don't give yourself too much credit.”

Touya shakes his head sadly, “Nah I mean, right now. Since the war, really. I wanted to cause you both hurt at first, but now…” He sighs, and in that breath Shouto can hear the massive weight his brother bears on his back. Touya's hand finds his hand and squeezes. “M'not saying this right. What I mean is, it's okay that you're scared. You don't have to hold it in, you can lean on me.”

Shouto's breath stutters.

He can't say anything. It's like someone twisted up his vocal cords into a jumbled mess. Instead, he squeezes Touya's hand back, and turns to press his forehead against Touya's shoulder. He has to scrunch down uncomfortably to do it, but he doesn't care. Touya leans his head down on top of Shouto's, letting out a sigh that's less burdened, and more relieved.

Shouto doesn't remember falling asleep. But in the morning when Hawks wakes, stretching and groaning, Shouto peeks an eye open, sandwiched between his brother and his father. Hawks blinks at him, and then smiles warmly.

“Go back to sleep,” He whispers, so Shouto does.

Shouto's startled awake the second time by someone repeatedly pressing the doorbell. Shouto groans. Touya sits up like a zombie from its grave, blinking against the bright light. Once they get to their feet, Shouto shuffles after Touya, rubbing his eyes. They follow the sound of scuffling, and muted voices.

In the entrance way stands Fuyumi, holding Natsuo by his ear. Natsuo is scowling, swiping half-heartedly at her arm. Enji's already wheeling away, as Hawks waves to them, and then turns his back. Fuyumi brightens when she sees them. She pulls Natsuo forward, and then flings him toward Touya, tripping and stumbling as she frees his ear, “Here you are. Now go talk to him like a fucking adult, Natsu. Shou and I will wait in my room.”

“We will?” Shouto flinches when Fuyumi turns her vicious smile on him. “Ah. Yeah. We will.”

Mystified, Shouto's dragged away by Fuyumi. He waves placidly to Natsuo as he pases, who sheepishly waves back, avoiding Touya's gaze. “Stupid fucking boys,” Fuyumi snarls, hurling Shouto into her room by the arm, slamming the shoji shut.

“So uh, he responded to your texts, did he?”

Her eyes flash, “Yes! That idiot waited until the very last minute– he still didn't want to come here! Tried telling me he didn't need to, like he wasn't whining at me over texts all week about how badly he wanted to talk to Touya, and get closure, and see him one last time, just in case…”

Shouto's heart sinks.

Fuyumi must notice a change in his demeanor, because she sighs. “I'm sorry. I know it's been a lot for you.”

Shouto shrugs. Fuyumi steps around their shoes to give him a hug. Shouto melts into it slowly, breathing out the tension that had crept into him since waking up.

“I-I just…”

“You can tell me, if you want,” Fuyumi says, leaning back to hold him by the shoulders. “I'm your big sister too.”

Shouto smiles.

So, they sit on her bed, and Shouto tells her as best he can about the horrible, clawing feeling he's been trying to push down. He talks about how when he's around his brother, nothing seems wrong, but that when he's away from him, he can't stop the cycle of worry and despair. When he runs out of words, Fuyumi smiles at him, “It sounds to me like you love him. There's nothing wrong with that, Shouto.”

He startles. It's so simple, and yet… He does. He loves all his siblings, but even since he's been allowed to be around them, he hasn't felt this close with any of them. Not Fuyumi, and certainly not Natsuo. Touya is someone he can really be himself with, even if he still struggles to understand who that is. The sickly feeling rises in him, curling around his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

He bows his head, admitting in a hoarse whisper, “I just got him back. I don't want him to go.”

“Oh sweetie,” Fuyumi murmurs.

Her hug isn't the one he desperately wants, but it's still nice. Fuyumi is gentle, (when she wants to be) and her shirt is soft, and she smells good. She reminds him of Mom.

Natsuo leaves after about an hour.

He said he still wants no contact with them, and asked them to respect his wishes. Shouto understands, even though his absence rips a hole in his chest.

Touya hugs Fuyumi when the front door closes. “Thank you, ” He whispers. Fuyumi smiles, big and wobbly.

“‘Course.”

She holds out her hand in invitation for Shouto, so he joins the hug with his siblings by the front door of their childhood home, the weight of what that evening might bring sitting heavily between them.

The last day is quiet.

Touya tries to crack a few jokes to get everyone to lighten up, but he gives up quickly when he realizes there's no budging their dour moods. Shouto stays by his side the entire time. Somewhat for his own peace of mind, but also because Touya appears just as in need as he does. Once, when he tries to get up to go use the bathroom, Touya flinches violently, his hand shooting out to grab Shouto's. It's probably not healthy. Shouto vaguely remembers something he heard in therapy about dependency, blah blah, he doesn't really care. He thinks this is an instance that doesn't apply.

Mom arrives around seven. They eat dinner out in the courtyard, to enjoy the nice evening, and no one addresses the massive elephant. When they gather in the living room at eight, Shouto hears Hawks when he pulls Touya aside to whisper, “–don't have to be in here with all of you when it happens, I can–”

“What are you, deaf?” Touya snaps, “I already told you you're family now too. Stop saying that shit.” Touya shoves Hawks hand off and stomps away, but Shouto sees the fond smile Hawks shoots after him.

Shouto's come to despise the ticking of that damned digital clock as much as he hated the hospital monitors. The conversation dies down around 8:30, leaving Touya to squirm under their scrutiny. He fiddles with his fingers, and then rubs harshly at the skin on the back of his hands. An old habit from dealing with far more damaged skin. When the rubbing turns to scratching, Shouto lifts one of Touya's hands off his lap and holds it in his own.

8:34. Touya wipes a hand over his eyes, and then keeps it there, his head bent and his body scrunched. Enji wheels closer to lay a tentative hand on his son's shoulder. Rei smiles and tells him it'll be okay. Fuyumi nods, even though Touya can't see it. Struggling for words once again, Shouto just squeezes his hand, and Touya squeezes back so hard it feels like his bones creak.

8:37. Touya tucks his face into Shouto's shoulder.

Shouto doesn't want to watch the clock, but he can't look away. None of them can.

8:38.

First, nothing.

There's a collective holding of breath, and just when Shouto starts to think it's fine, he's safe, Touya starts to glow.

“No,” he whispers, taking his face out of Shouto's shoulder to stare desperately down at his glowing hands. Smoke starts to billow from him, “No, no…”

Shouto sobs, sudden and harsh.

Touya turns to look at him, even as he glows brighter. “H-Hey, hey, it's alright Shou–”

“Don't go,” he whispers, grabbing both of Touya's hands, and dragging them over his own chest, over his heart, “Please, please don't go–” And then, terrified he won't ever get to say it, he gasps, “I– I love you, Touya.”

Touya's mouth falls open, those blue eyes widening, turning white in a flash of blinding light–

The light fades, the smoke clears, and Touya sits before him, unchanged.

** Epilogue **

Nobody sleeps that night.

They're all too excited, too relieved, to want to go their separate ways, Touya thinks. Even Mom and Yumi agree to stay the night. He keeps staring at his hands like he's waiting for them to dissolve and fade into nothing. But he does his best to smile, for them. It turns into a bit of an impromptu celebration. Touya still feels a tad bit overstimulated, but he wouldn't want– no– he can't take this away from them. They all look so happy. Because of him.

Fuyumi produces a bottle of wine that Hawks opens with a loud pop! Dad even lets Shouto sneak a small glass, when he thinks the rest of them don't see. (They do).

At the same time, Mom still has tears in her eyes, and Dad won't stop sneaking glances at him, like he's double checking he's still there. Touya doesn't know what to do. He wants to reassure them, but he still feels like he's caught in Kurogiri's warp quirk; halfway there, and halfway somewhere else.

Shouto has yet to let go of him.

In small ways, at first. A hand fisted in the hem of his shirt, as they move from the living room to the kitchen. Then his hand, tight around Touya's wrist. Eventually, in a quieter moment, Touya gives in and turns to him fully, pulling Shouto into his arms. Shouto sighs, and as he does, his body melts right into Touya's. He leans down to rest his head on Touya's shoulder, like he knows he's not too frail, and can hold his weight. (He can, even if his legs wobble just a little).

“I was so scared,” he admits, like it's hard to say.

“I know,” Touya says softly, into Shouto's hair. It's such a familiar scent, one that reminds him of bath times with Fuyumi and Natsu. Touya wonders if that means Dad still buys the same damn shampoo, all these years later.

“You were scared too,” Shouto points out.

“I… Yeah.”

Shouto's hands tighten in his shirt. It's a bit of a startling realization. There's also a strange undercurrent of dread. He thinks back to his conversation with Shouto the night before. It's never been about the future for him. Maybe when he was a kid he hoped for a future where Dad was proud of him, where he'd be even stronger than All Might. How sad is it that he stopped thinking about the future at six years old?

“I dunno what I'm gonna do.” He says it louder than he means too, and Dad looks over at him, then Fuyumi, and Mom. Hawks is the last to look up, still uncomfortable, like he's trying not to be seen.

Shouto pulls back from the hug, just a little, so he can look at him.

“We'll figure it out. You're here now.” It's such a simple thing to say. Maybe a touch naive, and childish. But it makes Touya's chest hurt with something he thinks maybe, just maybe, is hope.

They wake to pounding on the doors, for the second day in a row. Shouto groans, sitting up. Touya huffs, rolling over into his vacated warm spot. Ha, loser. Distantly, he hears Shouto get up from the couch (they fell asleep on the couch?) to go answer the door.

“Yeah, yeah I'm coming– Izuku? Katsuki?! What the– yeah, he's in the living room, hey–!”

Touya sits up, since apparently he won't be getting any more sleep. Deku and that spiky blond kid screech to a halt in the doorway, staring at him with equal looks of confusion. He doesn't look that different. Well, from the hospitalized version of him, sure, but. He's just missing a few staples and the more severe burns… Yeah, he supposes he looks pretty different.

“H-Hey,” Deku waves lamely. Shouto finally catches up, nearly slamming into both of them, looking flustered.

Touya wipes a hand over his eyes, yawning, “Wassup?”

“Well, I had a dream about you. Uhm!” Deku says, as he realizes how that sounds, “I-I mean, about this… Situation?” He waves vaguely.

Blonde kid snaps, “One For All shit, you get used to it. Kinda.”

Touya waves to the other couches, “By all means, be my guest.”

“Sorry,” Deku bows. He scrambles inside, taking a seat hesitantly. It's hard to think this kid is the one that beat Shigaraki's ass into the ground, but as his friend sits next to him and Shouto follows, Izuku's face hardens into a serious mask, erasing all traces of anxiety. Huh.

“So, as you may or may not know,” Deku starts, “I was the last wielder of One For All, and I gave it to Tenko, so he could help me put an end to the war. But u-um,” his voice wavers here. Bakugou reaches out and squeezes his hand. “Tenko… died. Before he could give it back to me. But I don't think it's gone, anymore.”

Touya frowns, glancing at Shouto, who shrugs.

“Okay, and this has to do with me because…?”

Deku meets his eyes. “I think you have One For All now.”

Huh?

“...Huh?!”

“Let me explain,” Deku says, waving big, scarred hands. “In my dream– I used to have dreams about being inside One For All, the quirk, uh it's like this little realm–”

“Take a breath, ‘Zu,” Bakugou reminds him, looking amused. Deku follows his instruction, the gears turning almost visibly inside a brain that moves too fast for his mouth.

“Okay. Basically, through the embers I still have, I can feel One For All, somewhat. I hadn't talked to any of the vestiges since the war– the vestiges are the previous users– but last night, I did. Or well, I saw something.” He rubs a hand over his neck, glancing at Touya. He nods for him to go on. “I think, when Tenko had both of them, they sort of… combined,” he says, steepling his hands and overlapping the tips of his fingers.

“Okay, but, he… died, right?” His stomach sinks, saying it outloud for the first time.

Deku nods, “And when I got the quirk from All Might, it was passed through DNA, just like how I passed it to Tenko. All For One was sort of similar, it worked through touch. But in this dream, I saw the powers combine, a-and I don't think they have that limitation anymore.” He looks up, “I think it chose you.”

Touya falters. “Why?!”

Deku shrugs. “No idea. It must have wanted to bring you back, and that's why you…”

“Were reborn,” Bakugou offers. Deku nods.

Touya shakes his head, “Hang on, why didn't it bring him back then?! Tenko, uh, Shig– boss, he had just as much reason as me. It should have… Why didn't it bring him back first?”

“I wondered the same,” Deku muses, and then jolts, “Um! N-Not that I didn't want you to come back, I'm very happy you have. B-But my theory is that it has to do with the physical. You still had a body, so it could actually do something with you. Tenko… and even Toga… we haven't found her body,” he says, his voice growing weaker.

Touya blinks several times, glancing down at his hands. One For All, and All For One…

“How do I get rid of it?”

“Huh?” Deku startles.

He raises his hands, “Can I give it to someone else? To you? I don't want this crap. My body could barely handle my own stupid quirk. This thing would probably kill me on the spot if I tried to use it.”

Shouto makes a choked sound.

Deku blinks, “Well… I-I don't think it works that way anymore.”

Touya makes a face, dismayed.

“Giving and taking quirks, and an accumulation of quirks,” he gestures, bringing his hands together, "I think when those two combined, it sort of created something else entirely.”

“The Phoenix,” Shouto says.

“Huh?”

“It's what made you younger,” Shouto realizes, glancing at Touya. “I wonder… If it was all tied to his quirk.”

Deku nods, “I'm almost certain it is. I think this new power cycles someone back through their quirk, like turning the dial back on the age and progression of a quirk itself. And then skips forward, letting the quirk regain itself.”

“Sort of like Eri's quirk,” Bakugou says. “But with more steps.”

Touya rubs the space between his eyebrows, “Well okay, you think I ended up with this thing. What now?”

Deku fiddles with his thumbs, “Well, there's a possibility, seeing as One For All could be passed to someone else, and seeing as we think it's this new power that brought you back, Kacchan and I are wondering if you might be able to…” He gestures vaguely, making a looping motion.

“Able to what,” he says, his patience waning. If this wasn't Shouto's friend, and therefore someone dear to him, he would be snapping much more harshly by now.

Izuku runs a hand over his cheek, the one marred by a scar jutting across his face up into his mop of green hair, “I wonder if… you could bring back someone else– if you might be able to bring Tenko back. O-Or even Toga.”

Touya blinks. The kid wants him to bring the boss back? He shares a glance with Shouto, who seems to hesitate. Their silence must be telling, because Deku holds up a hand, “Listen, I know he caused a lot of pain. But Tenko, the kid Tenko, never got a chance to be his own person. If there's even a chance of letting him have a life, I-I want that for him.”

No wonder Shouto likes this guy. He's got a good heart. Touya nods, “I ain't arguing with you. I'm only worried about…” Society. He waves vaguely at the window to demonstrate.

Izuku sighs, “I know. Me too. But the same could be said for you, once people find out you're back.”

Touya shrugs. “I'm prepared for that. If I spend the rest of this life in prison, then these past two weeks, with all of you…” He looks at Shouto, “...Will have been worth it.”

Shouto bristles, “I will not let that happen–”

Touya reaches out to squeeze his hand, cutting him off. Shouto scowls, tearing his eyes away. Touya meets Deku's earnest gaze.

“What do I do?”

“You sure this will work?” Touya asks later, standing in the middle of the dining room, facing Deku, with the rest of the nosy family (and Bakugou) lingering around to watch.

“No, I'm not sure of any of this,” Deku reminds him. “It's still worth a try, no?”

Touya nods, holding out his hands. Clumsily, Deku takes them, and together, they close their eyes.

‘It's likely to be emotion based, just like other quirks can be,’ he'd said. So, together, they think of Tenko. Well, Touya never knew Tenko. He knew Shigaraki, just as Shigaraki knew Dabi. But he thinks about him.

They were never close. Touya never let himself get too close to any of them, afraid they'd put together the pieces before his big broadcast was ready. He was too broken then, the jagged edges of his exterior too sharp to let anyone in. Still, there were times Shigaraki said things that struck chords in him. As bad as the notion might be, it was Shigaraki's rage and pessimism that kept Touya there. That reminded him of his purpose, and his goal.

Even if those goals ended up separating. Even before Garaki's meddling, he'd started to… shift. Touya would have never admitted then that it scared him. He could see it on Spinner's face too, though. A hesitation. A weariness. He has no idea what will come of this. Touya is still so uncertain of this second chance, even if he's sure he wants it. He doesn't know what Shigaraki– what Tenko will think of it.

When he opens his eyes, he meets Deku's, big and green and shining with purpose. Touya's eyes flick to the scar on Deku's cheek. One of the last things Shigaraki touched in this world, that they have access too.

Awkwardly, Touya pulls his left hand out of Deku's hold, and reaches up to brush the scar with the backs of his fingers. Not sure how much contact is necessary, he flips his hand so his whole palm touches Deku's face. Nothing. He spreads his fingers, trying to cover more space, trying to cup his cheek a little more… nicely. Or something. Nothing happens. He just needs to keep trying, he thinks. Maybe both hands?

Deku catches his other hand before it can reach his face, “It's alright,” he says softly.

Touya's chest constricts when he realizes what he means.

“No, I-I can do it, I just need to–”

Deku grabs both of his hands, “It's alright,” he says, but the little fucking liars eyes are full of tears.

I let him down. I wasn't good enough–

Deku hugs him. At first, Touya freezes, unsure what to do with the contact. But he's the same size and shape as Shouto, so he tugs him closer and holds him against himself. He thinks he might sob. It's stupid. He feels so stupid.

Someone gasps. Touya blinks his eyes open in shock when something close to his face lights up blindingly bright. He stumbles back, watching in awe as Deku's cheek shimmers and pulses with light. Cracks start to spread across the surface, throwing off multiple rays of light, and then each ghostly fragment crumbles away into dust, leaving Deku's original scar behind, as the light leaves his body entirely, and floats from his face into his hands.

Deku stares at the shining ball of light cradled in his broken, patched together palms. Touya remains silent, as does everyone else watching.

The light dims, and Deku is left holding a small, black haired child under the arms, who blinks up at him owlishly, reaching up to rub one of his eyes.

Tenko returns with Deku, Bakugou, and Shouto to the dorms, to stay with Aizawa while the kids are in class.

The house feels emptier with Shouto back to school, and Fuyumi and Mom away at their apartment. It's much nicer than a hospital, though, and miles above the old league hideouts or little hovels he stayed in before that. And Dad is there.

He's getting better on his crutches.

It's painful for Touya to watch. He feels responsible, and that guilt is so heavy it makes it hard to breathe, sometimes. (There's also the other smaller remnants of a version of him that is filled with a sick glee to see his father struggle. Touya doesn't like these parts).

Hawks is surprisingly good company too. When he's not at work, or cooking or tidying up the house, despite Dad telling him to rest (‘you're not our maid!' ‘I like to help!’) he plays board games with Touya. Or watches TV. Or walks with him in the gardens.

When Touya can stomach it, he talks about the next steps. “We'll have to get you cleared by the HPSC. There'll be legal action, most likely, I'm doing all I can to push for a type of community service. Citizen's reactions are the biggest concern, but there are more people than just me that are trying to change that. People's opinions ruling everything hero related is part of why we crashed and burned so hard in the first place, in my opinion.”

It's a lot.

There's quite a few times when Hawks rambles off about what action to take next, and Touya listens, spiraling faster and faster until Hawks catches on (it never takes him long), and he'll ease Touya's fingers out of the clenched fists they were in, or take his fingernails away from his fragile skin.

He's still healing, in more ways than one. For now, he's content to stay quiet from society, until he's more prepared.

He wants this future – it's just terrifying to take the first few steps. He's slightly comforted by the knowledge that maybe it won't ever stop being terrifying. And maybe if he's always scared, eventually he'll have to take some step or another, and then it'll get easier from there. That's what his shiny new therapist says, anyway.

The future feels just that much brighter two weeks later when he greets Shouto at the door, light and sound spilling from the entryway of the already noisy house. He hugs his little brother, checking him over for bumps and scrapes, but he's just fine, blushing and batting off his hands, conscious of the eyes on them.

At the front gate, stands a brown haired girl, Bakugou, Deku, and a thin, tall young man around Touya's age. Dark hair, red eyes–

“Boss.”

Tenko smiles. “Hey, stranger.”

Dinner is even louder, with Shouto's friends, the new girl (Uraraka, he learns) and Tenko. He's quiet himself, but he smiles a lot. Touya supposes he does too.

After dinner, Tenko wipes his palms on his pants as Uraraka approaches him, an open cut on her palm. Toga's blood.

Again, they have no idea if it will work. But the moment her hand starts glowing, Touya feels the cycle start all over again– an hourglass overturned, a clock beginning a new cycle.

A phoenix reborn, eternal.

Notes:

Does the estate probably have like 6 guest rooms? Yes. Shh.

Actions

Kudos

wild_trash_goblin, SunshineArtz, FoulLily, Monnwo2814, Little_Buddy, Sleepypersonhere, PurpleCatreadingFan7, AFeralRacoon, oliveanntucker, Ady8747362, xKawaiiStarry, BatmanIsGoth23, DynilMaze, FantasticWitch, JustDaisies, Alex05180, Hainum4ki, cz3ri, OnceLovers, preternatural_aura, ETAAAA, Cata_20, harunoheiji, luscinia_luscinia, pie_with_pudding_on_the_side, Lericafort, rara_is_a_moa, dayzeddayz, MoonPrince1, Ilyanaaa, Juh_dah, robo15, Fas55, CucumberWire, tism_lizard_289, kinda0_0fruity, sparknotes987, sh4y1ee, AMBher93, atsumuqueen, User_1997, orestes_yeager, EyxlessJxvk, yikesyokes123, Snappities, Ophelia_lover, MahhRiddle, twcm255, myaubedo, loonyCaterpillar, and 207 more users as well as 90 guests left kudos on this work!

Archive of Our Own^beta

Actions

Work Header

Eternal

Aaeinr_Styx

Summary:

Notes:

Work Text:

Notes:

Actions

Kudos

Comments

Footer

About the Archive

Contact Us

Development

设置面板

字体大小

显示选项

阅读历史

用户账号

加入社区