Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shouto glanced around his room anxiously, and despite how empty it was, he couldn't help sense it. There was something . . . there.

It wasn't a person. It wasn't even an object. It was more like . . . memories, despite that not making much sense, even to himself.

The memory of him and him mother getting rid of the tatami floor mats after he said they only reminded him of training, and mentioning to her it sometimes spurred his nightmares.

Enji hadn't cared enough to stop them.

The memory of him and Natsuo replacing his futon with an actual bed, after he confided that futons were too uncomfortable for him, and afterwards Natsuo had given him three pillows, to which he only added to as time went on. 

Enji hadn't cared enough to stop them. 

The memory of Fuyumi helping him hang five different photographs after he said his room felt empty. One with each of his siblings, one with his mother, and one with the five of them. His father wasn't in any of them.

Enji hadn't cared enough to stop them.

The memory of Touya sneaking him all sorts of different knickknacks, all of them hidden in a shoe box under his bed. He was almost certain Enji knew about this, he was almost impossible to get anything by.

Enji hadn't cared enough to stop them.

It was funny to Shouto - ironic was really a more fitting word - how Enji couldn't give a shit about Shouto what Shouto did until it had the slightest chance of distracting him from his training.

Then it was hell.

The U.A. entrance exams were that day. He had convinced Enji to let him take them.

Maybe if he made it to U.A. and stayed on top it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe Enji would be proud of him.

Shouto stopped his thoughts there. His father would never be proud of him.

That was fine.

Shouto didn't need anyone to be proud of him. He was fine on his own. He -

A knock on his doorway broke him from his thoughts.

"Sir Shouto, your father has requested you." A man in a black suit with white accents spoke stiffly, bowing at a polite forty five degree angle. Shouto couldn't recall his name, Enji never kept hired help around long enough for that to be worth it anymore.

Shouto wrung his hands at the mere mention of his father, a nervous habit of his that his father still hadn't noticed, or if he had it wasn't deemed important enough to try to beat out of him.

But he slowly processed the man's words, and resigned himself to the wrath of his father before even knowing the circumstances.

Shouto rose from his bed, giving the man a tiny bow of his own, before exiting the room quickly. 

He didn't have to ask to know his father was in his office. He always was, at least when he wasn't at his agency or with Shouto in the dojo.

A right, two lefts, the first door to the left. He knew this path by heart. 

He knew of the other rooms the house had of, but the only ones he ever frequented were his room, which had a bathroom attached to it, his father's office, the dojo, the kitchen, and the dining room.

He occasionally stopped by the library Enji had filled with books over the years, but all the only books consisted purely of political strategies, quirk laws, and the newest physics discoveries.

A small smile - or moreover an upward twitch of his lips - appeared on Shouto's face as his mind drifted back to when Touya would sneak books into the back shelves of the library. 

His facial expression shifted when he recalled Enji finding the books and burning them.

He had claimed they were a distraction.

They really weren't.

If anything they had made the ruthless 'training' he received just a bit more bearable. Not like Enji would have ever heard him out about it though. 

So now Shouto was restricted to politics, law, and physics.

At least he learned something?

He supposed it was better than being constantly trapped in his mind though, he supposed.

Shouto came to an abrupt halt in front of the beautifully carved mahogany doorway of his father's office. 

He stayed out of sight for a moment, collecting his thoughts as quickly as he possibly could.

After a moment he came to the disappointing conclusion that one could only stall for so long, and stepped into the doorway, rapping quietly on the intricately carved doorway.

Enji looked up from a stack of paperwork, scowl etched deep on his face. Upon close inspection the papers could be recognized as property damage fines, Shouto noted with amusement.

Enji didn't speak a word at first, only staring at Shouto with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Suddenly he spoke. "You've got a visible bruise on your cheek. You've got a burn on your forehead as well. Go cover up, then we can talk."

Shouto felt a slight heat rise up to his cheeks. He thought he had covered up this morning. Guess not.

"Yes father." He accentuated it with a polite nod, then made his way back to his room. 

Now it was a left and two rights. Only door in the hall. The same path as before but reversed.

He had this one memorized - perhaps the word 'implanted' would fit bigger there - as well, as he was sent away from his father's office almost too many time to count.

He entered his room and quickly made his way to the little bathroom attached to it. It was only there so Enji could lock him in his room without having to let him out for bathroom breaks.

He turned to the sink, looking in the mirror that hung above it.

He took in his appearance. 

His mismatched eyes, steel gray and cerulean blue. The way his blue eye had dulled since he had received his scar often went unnoticed die to his different colored eyes.

Nobody knew he was blind in that eye.

His dual colored hair, cutting off just past his shoulders. Enji had long given up on trying to get him to cut it, leaving Shouto with a petty sense of satisfaction.

It hung in a messy ponytail.

He chose not dwell on his scar, instead seeking out the bruise and burn Enji had mentioned.

Sre enough, there was a large yellowish bruise that looked almost blue in the center placed right along the upper curve if his jaw. A burn with marred pink skin peeling ever so slightly rested upon his forehead.

Shouto fought the urge to gag.

He reached for the small gray fabric bag that he kept his minimal injury masking supplies. 

Enji considered anything but the basics some kind if weakness. 

Shouto didn't get it, but he did know that was the reason he was limited to gauze bandages, burn cream, and basic makeup to cover his facial scars, and sometimes the ones on his arms.

He made quick work of covering up his injuries, it was almost concerning how quickly he finished up - or it would be concerning, to anyone but Shouto.

Shouto packed his stuff back into the small bag, and placed it back by the sink where he always kept it, but made no move to leave.

He didn't want to leave the bathroom.

Not when he knew the only thing that awaited him outside was an angry Enji, demanding he be the best and settle for nothing less.

He perked up slightly upon remembering the U.A. entrance exams were today, and that after so tediously convincing Enji that it would be beneficial to take the exams along everyone else rather than just be accepted as a student on recommendation.

He was not letting that opportunity go to waste.

He had told his father that taking the exams would be a way to flaunt his power, a way to show everyone that be was best from the get-go.

That wasn't the truth. 

That was telling Enji what he wanted to hear.

The real reason Shouto wanted to take the entrance exams was so that nobody could say he leeched if his father's reputation, so that nobody could say he had just piggybacked in on Enji's back.

He wanted people to know that he was not Enji. That he was Shouto. That he was his own hero.

Own person. Hero didn't sound right. Shouto wondered if it ever would.

Sighing for what felt like the umpteenth time that hour, Shouto stepped outside the bathroom and exited his room, letting his eyes linger on the picture frangs hing up upon his wall.

A right, two lefts, first door on the left. Again.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the doorframe. Again.

Enji looked up, his scowl lessened this time, and Shouto realized he had pushed aside the stack of property damage paperwork.

He would probably dump it on some wide eyed, innocent, unassuming sidekick when he got to his agency later. 

Shouto felt bad for whoever it was.

"Better." Enji grunted, and it took Shouto a few seconds to realize her was referring to his cover up job. 

Shouto just nodded in thanks - they both knew he wasn't actually thankful, but it was always better to just pretend it was. For both of them.

"Now, as you know, today is the day of the U.A. entrance exams." He spoke louder than what was necessary, but Shouto didn't shush him. Couldn't shush him.

"Yes." Shouto just went along with it.

"Right. Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew that I will accept nothing less than first. You're lucky I let you do this already. Do not make me regret my decision." His voice was tinged with venom. Shouto wasn't scared if it anyone though.

"Of course." He nodded again. He normally wasn't this agreeable with his father, and there was a certain level of surprise in Enji's facial expression, but there was nothing to disagree with. 

Shouto himself didn't intend to get anything but first. Though, he wasn't doing it for Enji. He was doing for himself.

It wasn't necessary for Enji to know that though. Not when there was no point earning a while new collection of bruises and burns for something so trivial.

"Excellent. I haven't spent all my free time training you for nothing. You should be grateful, that I, as a top performing pro hero, have made time to help you become the best hero. Better than All Might." Enji launched into his all to familiar 'You Should Be Grateful I'm Letting You Take On My Legacy And Beat All Might' spiel.

Shouto tuned him out.

He wasn't grateful. He didn't want to be a better hero than All Might. He wasn't even sure he wanted to be a hero.

Of course he only disclosed one of these facts to his father's face.

His father didn't have to know he didn't care about All Might.

He definitely didn't have to know that Shouto wasn't sure he wanted to be a hero.

"I'm not grateful. I never will be." Shouto's voice was tinted with authority and finality, but he knew that it meant nothing in front of Enji. That had never stopped him before though. It didn't stop him now either.

"Shouto. When will you get over this childish rebellion of yours? You have to understand that I am simply trying to do what's best for you." While the words were kind, nothing about Enji was, making them somehow seem more if a threat than a question.

"I don't understand that you're doing the best for me because you aren't, and the sooner you see that the sooner my so called 'rebellion' will be over." Shouto shot back through gritted teeth.

The temperature in the room rose.

Shouto had always hated his fire side. He never used it in 'training'. He would give his father the satisfaction. 

However even he knew it was stupid to let one half of his incredibly powerful quirk go to waste. That wasn't him being prideful or arrogant. That was what people had been telling him for years. 

Everyone looked at him in fear. If they didn't after learning who his father was, they did after they learned his quirk, or vise versa. 

He knew he had an amazing quirk.

As depressing as it sounded, that was the reason he was made.

That didn't mean Enji would ever reap the benefits of his 'masterpiece'. He would never reap the benefits of Shouto.

He practiced with fire quirk on his own time, and while he much preferred the soothing cool of his ice side, he wasn't going to waste half of himself just because it his old man.

Enji wasn't worth enough for that.

However Enji saw Shouto's refusal to use his fire side against him and only him as a childish rebellion.

Shouto didn't care.

Enji opened his mouth to reply, but a knock on the office doorway interrupted him.

"Apologies for interrupting Sir Enji." The woman who knocked spoke quickly as he saw mounting anger growing on Enji's face.

Shouto's father just tsk'ed, a silent 'go ahead' to the woman.

"Right. Sir Shouto, the chauffer is ready to take you to U.A." She had a small grin on her face, and Shouto knew it was a silent 'good luck' that she couldn't at say front of Enji, who would either call luck bullshit or claim his son needed no luck.

"Thank you, I will be there momentarily." Shouto gave her a small polite bow. She returned it and left quietly.

"Right. You'd best be going now." Enji nodded. "Being late is unacceptable."

"Of course." Shouto didn't mention he'd be just fine walking. He turned to leave, but Enji spoke just once more.

"Remember Shouto, anything but number one is disgraceful." His tone was laced with threat and authority, but that didn't stop Shouto.

"Then what are you?" He asked simply, quickly leaving the room before Enji could reply.

He could vaguely smell smoke from where he stood in the hallways, and could easily hear Enji curse him under his breath. He smirked, moving faster down the maze of halls.

From his father's office to the front door, it was two lefts, a right, and a second left.

Shouto seriously wondered sometimes why a house had to be so big when it occupied only two people.

Rei and Touya were gone. He didn't like to think about them. It just brought back memories. Bad and good.

Natsuo was in college halfway across Japan, and Fuyumi had an apartment a couple cities over. 

They both tried to text, but there was too little to talk about.

Shouto would be the first to admit he missed them. All of them.

He shook his head. It wasn't the right time or the right place to dwell on those thoughts.

He sighed, realizing he had reached the front door. It was beautifully carved, one of the few things that Shouto could appreciate about their traditional home.

He pulled the door open easily, and stepped out into the front garden.

He relished the clear air in comparison to the stuffy, smoky scent of inside. It was nice, as he would get used to the inside smell, so going outside was like clearing his senses.

He wondered on more than one occasion why his father took so much care and effort into keeping the garden nice. It wasn't like Enji cared for flowers and nice gardens.

Shouto liked them though.

He took a deep breath, and scanned the road in front of the yard. Sure enough, a sleek black car that Shouto didn't bother recalling the model of sar there, waiting for him.

Despite his previous conversations - that's right, multiple - with his father about how he'd be just fine.

Oh well. It was what it was.

A man with a similar black suit to the man who had interrupted his thinking back in his room - but with a chauffer cap - stood by the backseat, clearly waiting for him.

Shouto sighed, and approached the man slowly. 

He'd rather just get it over with if possible.

"Ah! Sir Shouto! Are you ready to go?" The man asked, a huge grin on his face.

Shouto could tell this man was newly employed. 

His smile was real, not like the forced upturned lips of the majority of the staff. The staff that knew they were at easy disposal, the staff that knew exactly what happened behind closed doors but didn't - couldn't - do anything.

It was cynical, sure, but Shouto doubted that smile would be on his face for long.

With a resigned feeling settling in his gut, Shouto answered simply. "Yes."

The man didn't look too put off by Shouto's very unenthusiastic answer, and simply smiled even wider and opened the door open for him.

Shouto clambered in, checking his pockets for his phone before closing the door behind him, not waiting for the driver to close it for him.

In almost no time at all the chauffer had seated himself in the front, and his hands hovered over the radio dials eagerly for a moment before he seemed to remember himself.

"Any music sir?" He asked cautiously.

"Anything you like is fine." Shouto waved his hand a bit to show how little he cared, but it was likely gone unseen. The driver nodded, before slowly changing to the classical music station.

Shouto had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't his first choice.

There was nothing he could do about it without possibly insulting the guy's music taste though, and classical music wasn't all that bad, so he sat back and listened.

The music quickly began to go in one ear and out the other as his thoughts began to wander once again.

His mind drifted to the U.A. entrance exam. 

Despite all the shit he gave his old man about how he was never going to be a hero, he had no idea what else he wanted to be.

There was something scary about defying your entire purpose of existence. Shouto was made to be number one.

It was ironic in a way. When he thought of heroes, he thought Endeavour, and the man behind the flaming mask.

But when he thought of who he wanted to be, the words 'a hero' were still stuck his tongue, as if he were a child.

He shook his head subtly. Now wasn't the time to be thinking of things like that. Not when he had one goal in mind.

Passing - no, winning - the U.A. entrance exam.

Chapter Text

Shouto huffed a sigh of relief, pencil scraping against paper as he filled out the last line on the written part of the U.A. entrance exam. 

He flipped the crisp white piece over paper over on the desk he was using, signifying he was finished.

He began to tap the ballpoint pen he had been given to take the exam against the chipped wood of his desk, glancing around the room quickly.

There was really nothing to see.

It was a small classroom, probably used for an unpopular elective class, and there was nobody in it but him.

He might have been alone in the room, but he had no doubt he was being watched through some sort of security system.

He looked up from his test, scanning the room with observant eyes, brushing a long strand of white hair that had fallen put of his ponytail out of his face.

There it was.

A tiny camera, embedded in the ceiling of the corner of the room, almost invisible.

Shouto would have been shocked if there hadn't been any kind if monitoring device.

Was this U.A.'s way of seeing which people would resort to cheating?

Surely nobody would lack the common sense to cheat on the entrance test to one of the most prestigious schools in Japan.

His mind then wandered to a few of the heroes he had seen on the news lately, supposedly U.A. alumni.

Ok maybe a few people lacked the common sense.

There was no other explanation as to how they had gotten in.

But Shouto was not one of those people.

Then again he had read every quirk law book there was in his father's library by the time he was ten. He probably had an advantage here.

At least the advantage for one half of the exam.

The exam was basically split into two halves.

The first half was about how well you knew quirk laws and villain rights to an extent, like 'what are the terms of legal quirk use on private property' and 'what rights do apprehended villains have before tried'.

'If a person or persons is doing damage to people on the property, or the property itself, necessary means should be taken, quirk use included' and 'the right to speak and request witnesses, phone calls, and support' were what Shouto had written down.

From a book he had read at the age of six and a book he had read at the age of nine respectively.

Shouto knew from long overheard phone calls between his father and whoever was in charge of compensating victims of property damage they Enji took advantage of that first one on an unhealthy basis.

But the second being was about more personal subjects, and motivation roots, like 'what is your biggest inspiration and 'why do you want to be a hero'.

These were a bit harder.

'My mom is my biggest inspiration' and 'I want to be a hero like my father', is what he had written on his paper.

They were half true so it worked well enough.

It was mostly total bullshit, but it wasn't like anyone could prove it.

It looked a lot like something Fuyumi would write - though Fuyumi would mean every word of it.

Shouto didn't.

Not in the slightest.

But there wasn't much he could do, so he turned his attention back to the camera nested in the corner if the room, giving it a nod of his head, waving his finished exam around for extra emphasis.

Shouto sighed and leaned back slightly in his chair, but not to the point where it was noticeably disrespectful.

A good habit with bad roots, he supposes.

Most of his habits are honestly. Small things that, somehow were never overlooked by Enji, so they were forced upon him at a young age.

Like his habit of fidgeting - or lack there of, really.

He had picked it up as a very young child, sometimes he would make ice to chew on, sometimes he just used his nails. 

Both his mother and Fuyumi would make him bracelets be could fidget with under the long sleeves Enji would make him wear to cover jo his bruises. Sometimes Natsuo and Touya would help too.

Enji had out an abrupt stop to this when he was about ten or eleven.

Or like his habit of keeping up a very clean appearance.

Every strand of his hair was - normally - meticulously arranged, seeing as red and white clashed quite noticeably.

He had gotten more slack with this over the past few years though, the messy ponytail he adorned currently spoke for that itself, with strands his bi-colored hair falling into his face.

He blamed it on his now long hair, but Enji and him both knew he was simply petty.

Then again, there were the bad rooted bad habits as well.

There was his tendency to blatantly disrespect people.

He didn't fault himself for it though. He grew up with Enji. Of course he problems with authority, what with Enji being the only constant authority in his life.

There was really no way around it - that Shouto knew of anyways.

Enji didn't seem to mind this habit, considering he seemed to share it.

There was also his -

The loud clicking sound of the door followed soon after by the door banging loudly against the wall as it swung broke him out of his thoughts.

A man with long blonde hair gelled back into an atrocious hair style, all pointy and pulled back, and sparkling green eyes stood there, the fluorescent lights of the small room catching his gaudy orange tinted sunglasses slightly.

Yamada Hizashi, or Present Mic, the voice hero, or the same hero Enji was always complaining about whenever he was forced to go on collaborative missions with other heroes.

Shouto loved those days.

He knew it was petty to find his father's misery amusing.

He just didn't care.

"Hey!" Yamada yelled excitedly, and Shouto could barely keep himself from flinching at the sheer volume of the man's voice.

That was his quirk though.

"You nodded to the camera!" He clarified at Shouto's slightly confused face, as if that explained everything.

"Yes?" Shouto offered confusedly. 

He had expected someone to come in and collect his paper, maybe try to make pleasant conversation, and take him to where he would take his physical exam.

Not a loud blonde man that had no intention of even glancing at his test, and that seemed to think waving at a camera was the most awe inspiring thing so far this century.

"Leave him alone 'Zashi." A man - or was he a caterpillar - with messy shoulder length black hair and tired red eyes appeared in the doorway next to him.

This was Aizawa Shouta, or the underground hero Eraserhead. He tended to stay out if the media, but that was all but possible, being the homeroom teacher to be of class 1A of the hero course.

Hopefully the class Shouto would be in, but being in 1B or 1C wouldn't be bad either. After all, the separation was entirely by chance, or so he had heard.

Shouto didn't really care what class he was put in.

Enji insisted class 1A was superior, but Shouto couldn't care less, it wasn't like his father was his biggest inspiration.

His father was too blind to see that not everything had to be done the way he did it for it to be considered heroic.

If Enji could even be considered heroic in the first place. 

Shouto didn't think so, but then again, the majority of all of Japan would beg to differ. 

Shouto shook his head to clear his thoughts, right as Yamada spoke up again.

"But Shouta!" He whined, dragging out the underground heroes name in a way that the man clearly despised. "He saw the camera!"

"Is that a problem?" Shouto asked, arching his left eyebrow in question.

"Oh no!" Yamada insisted. "Quite the opposite really, it's just, not many even think to look for one."

"Why would that be?" Shouto asked, more to himself than either of the men though. "It would make absolutely no sense for U.A. - or any school really - to allow students to take their exams with no supervision. Even if they took away things like phones, those dedicated enough will find a way to cheat."

"But the cameras are supposed to be really hard to see!" Yamada exclaimed, his quirk wavering in and out if his words.

Shouto winced.

"It wasn't in clear vision." Shouto started, not quite sure where they were going with this. Was this an argument? Were they mad? Impressed?

He had no idea.

"But if you took the best angles to get a good view of the entire class into account, as well as how big and small the cameras would be, and their purpose, it wasn't really that hard." He finished.

"Whadya mean?" Yamada asked, confusion all over his face.

Shouto knew that this man wasn't dumb, he was actually quite a good hero, even Enji had once credited him with that - under the influence of a beer or two too many - but he knew from interviews and his radio show that he could be quite clueless.

"I mean that it would obviously be in one of the corners of the classroom, with a good view of the door. It would also be as small as the situation would allow, as I'm sure the purpose of the cameras were to catch students doing things that they wouldn't do if they knew they were being watched." He responded slowly.

Yamada looked shocked for a moment, allowing Aizawa to speak up. "If only more people had the same common sense you did kid." 

He looked vaguely impressed, so Shouto decided he hadn't done anything wrong.

Hopefully.

He shrugged, not quite sure how to respond.

Was this normal?

By 'this' he meant to men with very contradictive personalities telling him he had common sense.

He hoped not.

"What's your name kid? I kinda forgot to check what student was using this room after I saw you interact with the camera." Yamada asked sheepishly.

"Todoroki Shouto." He replied plainly.

Shouto did his best not to stiffen at the 'that explains it' from under Yamada's breath.

The blonde shook his head vigorously, a bright smile stretching over his face once again. "Anyways, it's super cool that you saw it!"

"Stay on task 'Zashi." Aizawa elbowed him gently in the ribs, though his eyes held both an array of emotion, most notably exasperation.

An embarrassed flush spread over Yamada's face before he began to speak. "Right, sorry. Shouta here will take you over to where you'll be taking your physical exam, seeing as you're already in your PE uniform."

Shouto looked down at his clothes, his previous white turtleneck with black jeans discarded for U.A.'s signature PE uniform.

"Alright, is there anything else?" He asked, standing up from his seat in the middle of the classroom.

"Nothing I won't full you in on later." Aizawa confirmed.

Shouto nodded towards him in lieu of a proper response.

"Anyways, see you later Shouta!" Yamada sang loudly, then skipped away.

Aizawa looked after him in fond exasperation, then turned his gaze to Shouto.

"Right." He spoke gruffly. "Just leave your paper there. Hizashi - erm, Yamada was supposed to grab it, but he's always been easily distracted. He'll remember eventually."

Shouto nodded, making sure the paper was face down on his desk before standing up wand walking over to Aizawa.

"Follow me then." He said briskly, then turned on his heel, Shouto scrambling to keep up.

Shouto memorized the directions as they moved through the hallways.

Another habbit, he supposed.

One left. One right. Two lefts. One right. Three -

"So I assume you already know this but it's policy I tell you."

God damnit.

Shouto sighed internally but simply raised an eyebrow in response to Aizawa's words.

"Basically there are four different groups, and all of them will be taking the physical exam at different times." Aizawa began. 

"And I'm in what group?" Shouto asked, interrupting him.

He only realized that was probably rude after he did it.

Oops.

"You're in group three." Aizawa sighed. "You'll be with forty-nine other kids, and you'll basically be doing whatever the task assigned is in order to earn points. The scores from all the groups are compiled and the top scorers get in, so it doesn't matter what group you're in, we only use groups to keep better track of everyone."

"Ok." Shouto nodded, biting back an 'I already knew that'. "I do have a question though."

Aizawa sideyed him, before sighing. "Shoot." He offered.

"How many kids do you actually catch cheating?" Shouto asked eagerly.

It had been eating at him since it had been brought up earlier.

Aizawa laughed, though it sounded more maniacal than anything else. "You'd be surprised."

"Try me." Shouto insisted, once he realized Aizawa wasn't intending to disclose any more than that.

Aizawa just smirked.

He sighed, knowing he wasn't getting an answer any time soon.

The walked in silence for a minute or two, and only then did Shouto realize he had no idea how they had gotten there.

He had lost track when Aizawa had spoken to him.

Shit.

"Alright, well here we are kid." Aizawa stopped abruptly as they rounded a corner - to the right, Shouto noted - next to a door labelled 7F. "Your exam starts in," he checked his watch. "Five minutes, at 3:30.

"Right." Shouto nodded slightly, then a single thought crossed his mind.

A bone chilling, terrifying thought.

"Are there going to be forty-nine other teenagers with insanely powerful quirks in that room?" He asked tentatively.

Aizawa smirked.

"Oh fuck no. I don't know anyone stupid enough to try that, and believe me," his eyes twinkled for a moment, "I know a lot of stupid people.

Shouto felt his lips tug up at the corners ever so slightly as he heaved a small sigh of relief. "That's reassuring."

Aizawa just smirked wider in reply.

Shouto nodded - half to himself half to Aizawa - reaching for the door handle, when he realized it was probably polite to say something.

"Thank you Aizawa-San." He spoke cautiously.

"Drop that honorific. Use Sensei instead." He replied. Even though Shouto barely knew the man, he knew that was his way of saying 'I've got a good feeling about you'.

Shouto nodded. "Then thank you, Aizawa-Sensei."

"Don't sweat it kid." And with that he was gone, black hair cascading down his shoulders as he turned around sharply.

Shouto didn't bother watching him leave.

Shouto took a deep breath, hand hovering over the metal knob, before retracting it quickly and fishing out his phone.

He wasn't stalling.

He just wasn't sure when he'd be able to check it again.

He turned his phone on with a sigh, smile tugging at his lips when he saw two messages, a 'good luck shou' from Fuyumi and a 'don't bomb it baby bro' from Natsuo.

Shouto responded with a simple 'thanks' to both of them, deciding he could chide Natsuo later for calling him 'baby bro'.

There was also an 'I expect excellence' from Enji, but Shouto left that one on read.

He always left those on read.

They never had anything important for him to read anyways, so he didn't see the point.

He checked the time, 3:27.

He had three minutes.

Shouto sighed, reaching for the door handle a second time, pulling down hesitantly.

With a soft clicking sound the door opened, and Shouto stepped in without glancing at what - or who - was in the room.

No turning back now.

Chapter Text

Shouto slowed to a stop, taking in his surroundings closely.

The physical exam had started no more than thirty seconds ago - his ears were still ringing from Yamada's yelling and -, and he was trying to make sure he was alone.

Everyone else had veered off to areas they were comfortable with, such as the more suburban neighborhoods or high rise apartment replicas, while he had shot off in the opposite direction.

He was aware that this choice had put him in a less than ideal area, but he didn't really care, he could handle it just fine.

He just needed to be alone.

Looking around he realized he was in a replica of a neighborhood on the not-so-great side of town, for lack of a better definition.

He stood in a small neighborhood, in the middle of a small street with five dilapidated houses on either side, and if he continued ahead he'd reach a dead end.

Looking back the direction he had come, there was a run down train station - U.A. really went all out - and a few larger buildings dotting the skyline as far as he could see, which, wasn't very far.

There was no one else around, as far as Shouto could tell.

Perfect.

He paused for a moment, making sure he was ready for anything.

As if aware of Shouto's plans, a staggering two-pointer came into view from behind one of the houses, scorpion-like tail thrumming steadily against the pavement, sparks flying into the air when it the concrete slightly too hard.

Shouto frowned thoughtfully.

The robot shouldn't be acting like this, unless it was malfunctioning, or another contender had already managed to get a few hits in against it.

He found the letter of the two possibilities unlikely, as the exam had started all of a minute ago.

The two-pointer wobbled closer to Shouto, situating itself right in between two houses, spinning around around, tail slamming into the walls of the houses, causing the plaster to crumble in its poorly built foundations.

Shouto hummed in preparation, watching as the robot spun in circles still, faltering slightly when it's legs landed unevenly on the ground.

This was going to be easy.

The scorpion resembling machine balanced for a moment on two of it's four legs, teetering back and forth, coming dangerously close to falling and imploding on itself.

Shouto now had a clear advantage.

He took it.

With a few long strides Shouto had crossed the distance between the two-pointer and where he had been standing, the machine still spinning, trying to regain footing.

He stooped down to grab a sharp shard of brick that had fallen from the now destroyed house walls in his right hand, leaping atop one of the large shields of armor that protected the robots front legs and used the momentum to further jump onto it's back.

The robot whirred loudly in protest, Shouto could hear the gears turning and the sparks flying from inside the machines heavy armor. 

Its legs buckled beneath it from the addition of Shouto's weight, and the two-pointer crashed down to ground with a loud 'thud'.

Satisfied now that the robot was immobilized, Shouto readied his shard of brick, prying off the panel that was placed on the robots armored backside.

With a satisfying 'snap' the panel flew off, landing somewhere in the distance.

Shouto winced.

Maybe he had applied a bit too much pressure.

Turning his attention back to the robot, the now uncovered back of the two-pointer showed a array of wires, all covered in different colors of plastic coating.

Given the time, Shouto probably could have named each of those wires and their purpose.

He did not have the time.

He reached again for his scrap of brick, hacking at the wires until they snapped and stretched further than could be considered usable.

The machine powered down almost instantly, and Shouto jumped down, satisfied.

He was well aware he could have done the same thing with a mere flick of his wrist, letting his flames grow hot enough to melt it down to nothing, or letting his ice frost the machine over so much so it couldn't move any longer, but . . .

But it was just exhilarating.

To know that he had done that, without his quirk, without following his 'purpose'.

Shouto shook his head fiercely, trying to get the thought to just leave his head.

With one last glance at the fallen two-pointer, he took off, making his way nimbly in between the houses, rather than using the main roads.

After only a few seconds of running, no more than thirty seconds later, he heard something.

"Help!" The voice was high pitched, but Shouto could tell that the pitch was higher due to panic. "Please!"

Shouto sighed, pushing his better judgment aside as he changed course, veering to the left, where houses started to grow sparse and apartments took over the majority of the buildings.

At least he'd be able to score some rescue points from this.

Probably.

Hopefully.

"Help! Please help!" The voice called again after a moment, and Shouto had to bite back an 'I'm coming'. 

He didn't know whether the robots could pick up noises yet, and he wasn't taking any risks.

Shouto belatedly noticed that he was reaching the busier part of the replica city as he ran, with tall buildings cramped together and narrow alleyways between them.

He figured the person who had been calling out to him was trapped inside of one if the aforementioned alleyways, likely trapped or cornered by the robots.

He wove in and out seamlessly, checking for other bots as he went along.

"Hello?" He called out softly, figuring by now it wouldn't matter if the machines could hear him or not anymore.

"Here!" The voice called out, not far at all.

Shouto hummed in acknowledgement, fully aware that whoever was calling for help probably couldn't hear him.

He turned down an alleyway to his left, not at all surprised fo see four different robots near the entrance, clambering over each other, all trying to move forward into the narrow alleyway.

As far as he could make out, it was two one-pointers, one two-pointer, and one three-pointer, and looking past them he could barely make out two figures, huddling close fo each other.

Shouto sighed, knowing there'd be no point in trying to take down all of the robots on his own without his quirk, reluctantly raising his left hand.

He created a wave of ice, knocking the robots towards him instead of away from him, trying to keep them away from the huddled figures in the back.

One of the one-pointers was crushed under the three-pointers foot, and Shouto vaguely wondered who would get points for that before turning his attention back to the remaining three bots. 

The other one-pointer came staggering towards him quickly, being lighter and faster than the other two.

Shouto iced the ground with a flick of his wrist, skating forward at the same time. He used his momentum to push the one-pointer out of the alleyway, the ice carrying it easily.

The three-pointer lunged towards him, heavy, spider-like build making it quite slow.

Shouto dodged easily, sliding between it's legs, using the grips on his boots to keep him from sliding too far, then spun to look back at the spider-resembling machine.

The three-pointer was still lunging, too slow to change course at this point.

Shouto sent another wave of ice after it, successfully breaking off two of it's six legs and pushing out of the cramped alleyway.

He turned to the last robot - the two-pointer -, surprised to see it completely powered down, a girl with pink hair and sharp green eyes standing over it with a proud smirk.

Looking past her and the fallen robot, he could vaguely make out a boy with messy purple hair, unconscious and slumped against the back wall of the alleyway.

Shouto wondered what happened to him.

"Hey you!" The pink haired girl called out to him, a wide grin on her face, looking oddly happy for someone who's companion - or at least Shouto thought - was sprawled on the ground and unconscious.

"Me." Shouto nodded, eyeing her confusedly.

She tilted her head back and laughed, then spoke up again. "Thank for that, we totally needed it. Name's Hatsume by the way. Hatsume Mei."

"Nice to meet you Hatsume. Todoroki Shouto." He held out his hand, and she took with her own oil and soot stained one.

Shouto found he didn't mind the mess.

"Likewise Todoroki!" She exclaimed, skipping over an honorific like he himself did most often.

Something about being called that felt wrong though.

"Shouto, please." He cleared his throat as he let go of her hand, and she gave him an odd look before breaking out into another grin.

"Sure thing Shouto." She gave him a mock salute and Shouto rolled his eyes, huffing out a small laugh.

That was better.

"Is your, erm, friend over there ok?" Shouto tilted his head towards the purple-haired boy he had noticed earlier.

"Hm?" She tilted her head slightly the giggled. "Oh, Shinsou?" She asked, mainly to herself. "He's fine." She hummed silently go herself. "At least, he will be."

"How do you plan on getting him up?" Shouto asked, knowing full well he should probably get moving.

"Oh! That's easy, my dear Shouto." She chuckled slightly to herself before bounding over to the robot she had felled. 

She ducked out of sight for a moment before turning back to him, bow holding to different wires in her hands. She then ran over to the boy - Shinsou, he assumed - and held them both out to touch his arm, shocking him awake.

Within seconds Shinsou had bolted up, eyes flickering open to reveal a deep purple color, darker than his hair.

"Hatsume!" He gasped, giving the pink-haired girl a betrayed glare.

"Shinsou." She echoed innocently.

"That could not have been good for my health." Shinsou huffed indignantly, gesturing to the wires Hatsume had since discarded to the ground. 

"You're still alive aren't you?" She asked.

"Oh fuck off." He muttered, pulling himself up easily, only then realizing Shouto was there too.

"Who are you?" He asked, violet eyes narrowed.

"Todoroki Shouto." Shouto sighed, already of tired of introductions. "You?" He asked, already knowing this answer. 

"Shinsou Hitoshi." Shinsou shot back coldly.

"Aww, you look like you'll be besties in no time." Hatsume cooed from where she stood next to Shinsou.

Shouto honestly couldn't tell of that was sarcasm or not.

"Yeah right." Shinsou scoffed, and Shouto was tempted to do the same. "How long was I out?" He turned back to Hatsume.

"Eh, five, seven, nine minutes?" She shrugged.

"Thanks for being specific." Shinsou rolled his eyes.

"No problem!" Hatsume snarked.

"I should probably get going." Shouto piped up awkwardly, hoping he wasn't coming off too rude by cutting into their conversation.

"Oh yeah!" Hatsume nodded enthusiastically. "Thanks again for the help Shouto!"

"It was no trouble, really." Shouto nodded to her, pointedly looking away from Shinsou, before taking off, running out of the alleyway.

"That was . . . odd I suppose." Shouto murmured to himself as he sprinted along the wide city streets, looking for other targets.

"Then again," He mused under his breath, panting slightly from exertion. "I know very little about normalcy."

He continued on quickly, using his ice to elevate himself, and to move faster.

Shouto easily took down a pair of one-pointers, using his flames this time, a simple flick of his wrist melting their thin sheets of protection easily.

He went around quickly, occasionally stopping to ice people's injuries, hoping it might score him a few rescue points.

He had just waved off a girl with dark hair and blue eyes, with the ability to make things shrink or grow by touching them, having iced a massive bruise on her forearm, when Yamada's voice rang out through the PA system.

"Twenty more minutes contenders, be -"

A metal beam shoved into his side abruptly caught him off guard, cutting off Yamada's words and knocking the wind out of him, as he lay splayed out on the ground.

A looming zero-pointer stood over him, so close he could hear the gears whirring from under it's heavy metal protection.

When had they let out the zero-pointers?

Shouto cursed under his breath, glaring at the machine as he struggled to stand up, succeeding only after a few tries.

He could already feel two of most likely many massive bruises already sprouting on his body, the first being on his lower abdomen where the robot had hit him, and the second being on his shoulder where he had hit the pavement the hardest.

Flinching slightly at the pain, Shouto sighed, turning towards the robot.

This was annoying, to say the least.

He hadn't intended on trying to fight a zero pointer.

It was obvious that they were there to see who would do the 'heroic' thing and try and stop it, but Shouto wasn't here to be heroic.

He was here to win.

With an annoyed groan, Shouto turned back to the looming robot.

A few ideas flashes through his mind, but one stood out.

If there was ever time to give it his all, this would be it, wouldn't it?

A smirk made its way onto his face, as he angled his palms towards the massive machine.

It was time.

The zero-pointer's gaze locked onto Shouto once again, and within seconds it was lunging at him.

Shouto's smirk grew as he let the burning heat run through his left arm, and a cooling freeze through his right, not even bothering to dodge.

The robot wouldn't make it close enough to him for that anyways.

Then the fire and ice left his fingertips, and the world was made of hot and cold, if only for a moment.

There was a clear difference, a clear hot, a clear cold.

It felt amazing.

Not right.

If felt so good, to finally have a clear difference between so many opposites, but it didn't feel right. 

It felt like it was missing an in between.

But it still felt good, still provided a small sense of euphoria.

All too soon it was over, as Shouto was aware that his quirk could easily destroy more than it was intended to.

With a drawn-out sigh, he lowered his hands, pleasantly surprised to see the zero-pointer, half of it frozen in place, one of its arms still raised high, and the other half melting, in a mess of hot metal and overheated wires.

Shouto could vaguely hear other competitors gawking at him, having seen his display of full power.

He honestly couldn't care less.

He still had work to do - the the exam wasn't over yet.

Chapter Text

Shouto sighed, tapping his foot repeatedly on the floor as he leaned against the doorway.

Enji had received the letter from U.A. in the mail, only the day after the exam. Well, U.A. was nothing if not speedy, Shouto supposed with a small shrug of his shoulders.

He glanced at the clock, eight forty-five, it read.

"Don't slouch." Enji's voice rattled him so much more than Shouto would ever to admit - even to himself.

"I'm not slouching." Shouto didn't let himself visibly waver, no matter how much he wished to. "I'm shrugging."

"Same difference." Enji tched.

"You wanted to see me?" Shouto asked, ignoring him. It was fun to push his father's buttons, but he had to be strategic about it.

"Yes." Enji pushed his way past Shouto into his office, a gleam in his eye he was all to familiar with. "I thought we could go over your U.A. entrance exam scores together." He spat out the word together scathingly.

'I already know them.' He wanted to say.

Shouto chose not to respond verbally, instead raising an eyebrow as a silent 'go ahead'.

Enji scoffed and continued. He brandished a small white envelope, a red wax seal with the U.A. emblem stamped on it.

He ripped it open with no regard for the envelope.

Fitting, Shouto mused dryly.

"You scored with seventy-seven points in the villain attack category." His father spoke gruffly.

"And in the rescue category?" Shouto prompted, though he was almost sure of the answer.

"Does it matter?" Enji asked, eye twitching.

There it was.

"Yes." Shouto affirmed simply. "Yes it does."

Enji wasn't listening to him, his eyes were focused in the official-looking letter again.

"What is this Shouto?" He asked tersely after a moment, his cerulean eyes hard with flaming anger.

"The U.A. entrance exam scores." He reasoned, not missing a beat.

"No this!" Enji demanded, shoving the letter in his face. "This Bakugou Katsuki kid scored seventy-seven points in the villain attack category."

"Good for him." Shouto shrugged, though he knew he would regret that later.

"Do you understand what this means?" Enji's flames turned blue at their base, a clear cut sign of his father's anger.

"That he managed to achieve the same villain attack point count as me." Shouto shrugged, knowing he was fanning the flames now.

"And?" Enji demanded loudly.

Shouto held back another cringe.

"And we tied in that category." Shouto's eyes shone with defiance. "But," He snatched the paper out of Enji's hands. "I scored seventy-seven points in the rescue portion of the exams as well, bringing me up to twice his score."

"Rescue points mean nothing!" Enji raged, and only then did Shouto realize he had inadvertently been cooling himself down as the temperature in the room had rose along with Enji's anger.

"Clearly they meant enough to put me at twice the score of Bakugou." Shouto shrugged.

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.

"Training room. Ten minutes." Enji managed, through gritted teeth.

Shouto left with a slight nod, internally cursing himself.

Without noticing it he unconsciously made his way to his room, one left, two rights, only door in the hall.

He opened his door slowly, dragging himself over to his bed, collapsing on the comforter with an elongated sigh.

It wasn't the training he was dreading - no, he had been through that too many times to count.

He was used to it, awful as it sounded.

It was the aftermath.

The smell of burnt flesh that would never air out, the remaining flames casting shadows on the blood stained walls. The heat of flames flickering against his skin, burning him but never letting him feel it.

That was when it was all too much, no matter how many times it had happened.

He would never get used to it.

Never get used to the memories it bought back.

Memories of the people Enji destroyed, mentally and physically.

Mom was crazy, insane, or so Enji liked to say. Shouto could barely remember her, only her kind eyes full of tears, and her high pitched screams full of terror.

Mom was also gone. Out of Shouto's reach but held tightly under Enji's power. He knew she was in a mental hospital, but Enji made sure he knew nothing else.

Touya was a maniac. He had burned himself to death because he couldn't handle his quirk, or that's how Enji said it. Shouto didn't remember him much.

Touya was gone too. That was probably for the best. He wasn't under Enji's grasp anymore. Shouto didn't think he was dead though. He had seemed too strong.

Fuyumi was kind, always trying to be there for the family when no one else could. She still was, but now it was almost a forced kindness, like she knew nothing else.

Fuyumi was gone, but not far. Shouto could reach out for his phone and text her now. She would answer. But what would he say? There was nothing to say.

Natsuo was a fighter. He always was. He would scream at Enji time and time again, telling him to do better, be better. He never stopped, not until the day he left.

Natsuo was gone, but just like Fuyumi he wasn't far. Shouto could text him too, ask him to try yelling some sense into Enji again. It wouldn't work though. Never did.

All of them would do their best to intervene, to stop Enji.

Nobody ever succeeded.

And Enji had broken them.

With a sigh, Shouto stood up, trudging slowly to his bathroom.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror for a moment, standing still.

He saw his father, inside himself.

His eye.

It was duller than Enji's due to the fact he was blind in it, but it was still the same. He just lacked the flaming anger in them, a dull defiance simmering in them instead.

He did his best to associate his eyes with Touya, not Enji. It rarely worked.

His hair.

It was longer than Enji's, for different reasons. The first being that it pissed Enji off he had long hair, as long hair was for girls, or so he said. The second being it was his.

It was as different as his hair could get from Enji's. It was as good as it'd get.

Then he saw his mother too.

His eye.

It was a piercing steel gray, unfeeling on the surface, nothing like his mother's soft warm, loving ones, and he doubted anything would ever change that. Even so . . .

That wouldn't, no, couldn't, stop him from hoping that someday it'd change.

His hair.

It was long, more like his mother's, whose hair he could remember tickling his face as they clung to each other, crying. Granted, his was only at his shoulder, but,

It was similar. It was similar enough to being a tiny, small, smile to his face.

And finally, there was his scar.

His scar wasn't like his mother, or his father, not really anyways.

It was his mother's because she was the one who did it, who grabbed his face as boiling hot water ran down his face, mixing with tears.

But it wasn't hers because that person, the one who gave him his scar, wasn't his mother, but a broken spirit worn down by years of abuse.

It was his father's because it was him, the cause of the chain of events, the starter of it all, the very reason that his mother gone, replaced.

But it wasn't him because he wasn't the one who had stood above him with a tea kettle, gasping, sobbing and trying, but only making it worse.

Shouto knew who he blamed.

But that didn't change who was there in the kitchen with him that night, however much he wished it did.

Looking back at his reflection, he groaned. He hadn't bothered covering up, there was nobody he'd be seeing for a while anyways.

He was sure he'd be sporting at least a few new marks by the end if the hour.

It was practically unavoidable.

"Shouto!" Enji's booming voice echoed through the room, braking his thoughts and making Shouto flinch.

He only did that when Enji wasn't around, as 'flinching was a sign of weakness'.

Enji's words, not his.

Never his.

Shouto glances at the clock that hung in his room, swearing silently as he looked at the time.

It had been eleven minutes.

He rushed out of his room, casting a longing glance at the library as he passed it.

From his room to the training room it was two lefts and a right, only room in the hall.

Anything was better than training, even boring books he had already read.

He reached the training room in a matter if seconds, ever so slightly out of breath.

"You're late Shouto." Enji spat from where he stood in the middle of the room.

"I'm aware of that." Shouto replied evenly.

"I-" Enji stopped himself with an elongated roll of his eyes. "Nevermind." He muttered. "Just come here."

Shouto obliged, however moving painfully slow, enjoying the way that one vein popped out of his father's forehead.

Once the two were standing across from each other, at about an arms length, Enji took the first swing.

A sickening crack filled the room, and that was all it took for Shouto to lose himself.

The pain didn't break him from his thoughts anymore, it hadn't for a long time.

If anything the pain made them more strong, as if he was trying to distract himself.

He probably was honestly - subconsciously.

Shouto didn't fight back either, he never did, despite Enji's constant yelling. 'Get up boy!'s or 'Fight me like a real hero's were pretty common.

He never fought back.

During training is.

Every spare moment he had he'd fight, argue, tease, almost never relenting. But during training he stood, still as a statue.

Because that was the opposite of what Enji wanted, and Shouto would never push himself in the slightest to appease Enji.

Even if there was a part of him that wanted a dad to tell him he did a good job, that he was more than his quirk, that he was enough on his own . . .

He would ignore it.

Enji would never be a good dad.

So Shouto would never try to be a good son.

And if -

A particularly strong blow forcibly shoved Shouto out of his thoughts, causing him to collapse to the ground.

The pain was a slow, dull, ache compared to the ways the burns and punches used to sting sharply, but Shouto knew it was bad.

He knew it was bad because he could feel the bile rising up his throat, along with the distinctly metallic taste of blood.

Enji looked down at him with cold eyes that held so much passion.

Just not the good kind.

Shouto met his stare defiantly, clenching his jaw.

Enji scoffed. "Pathetic." He muttered under his breath, though that didn't stop Shouto from hearing it.

It wasn't meant to.

His father stepped out of the room with one last scathing look at Shouto, who was sprawled out on the floor, still refusing to stand back up and fight him.

He never would.

Once Enji's loud footsteps had faded, Shouto stood up shakily, his legs quivering and a bruise forming on his lower jaw.

He stood in silence for a moment, trying to regain his breath, and his thoughts.

Groaning softly in disdain, Shouto made his way slowly out of the room, legs not strong enough to go any faster.

Two rights and a left on the way back to his room.

That's all there was to it.

He'd get himself patched up, pass out on his bed, and wake up the next morning ready for a day full of ignoring Enji.

Or disrespecting Enji.

It really depended on his mood.

But . . .

With a sigh of resignation - even though he was resigning to his own whims - Shouto stopped, never taking the final turn - a left - and walked into the library.

He stood at the entrance for a moment, unsure of what to do.

Why had he come here?

Another sigh escaped his lips as Shouto made his way to shelves furthest in the back, where they kept their books, the fun ones.

He passed by, skimming the shelves, unamused as he remembered the hours of combing through each and every one of them, just for something to do.

'The Do's And Dont's Of Property Damage Offending Cases', a well worn novel by Hiroto Ita. Enji had read it multiple times, which was really no surprise, and Shouto had merely skimmed it over.

Unlike his father, he had no intention of burning down entire neighborhoods.

'The Rules Of Villain Rights'. A book by Sakura Michiya that might as well have a 'And How To Break Them' tacked on to the end, what with it's downright volatile tactics on how to completely dismiss villain's rights.

Shouto had barely touched this one, it was absolutely disgusting.

'The Truth Behind High Ranked Politicians' was an absolutely fascinating work by Ayako Kimura, slightly singed from the time Touya had shown it to Enji, claiming there should be at least an entire chapter covering him.

This was, without a doubt, placed at top five of Shouto's favorite books.

There were a few others here and there that Shouto had read, but they held little significance anymore.

Now moving quickly towards the back, Shouto couldn't help the small feeling of giddiness that followed him, his mind reverting back fo when he was six, his siblings leading him to a quiet, hidden place, where he could read without Enji scolding him for reading fiction, before burning the book and shoving a book about physics into his hands - that more often than not Shouto had already read.

With a small upward twitch of his lips at the fond memory, Shouto reached the wall of shelves up against the back wall of the library.

He ran his hands down the shelves, stifling a wince when he felt the smooth, glossed, texture of the wood change to the rough, flakey, feel of charcoal.

It had happened a few days before Touya left.

He didn't know how Enji had found them, but he did.

They had been huddled together, the four of them, in the furthest corner of the room, near the shelves of All Might books Enji only kept around to study his tactics, but didn't approach anymore.

Yet they had still been found.

Touya had been reading him a really interesting book too!

He didn't remember what it was about anymore.

Screams took up most of his hazy remembrance of that moment.

That was probably for the best though.

Shouto sighed, long, drawn-out, and tired.

He looked down at his quivering legs, his burnt arms, and came to the conclusion, maybe a library visit wasn't the best choice.

He turned on his heel, staggering slightly at the sudden movement. "Shit." He whispered, pausing a moment before making his way back to his room.

Just a left. Only room in the hallway.

Shouto seriously wondered why the house was so big.

"It's not like he has a family anymore." He mumbled bitterly, under his breath as he pushed the door to his room open.

He sat on the bed for a moment, relishing the lack of pressure on his legs, before stifling a groan as he stood and made his way to the bathroom, where he stored his lackluster medical supplies.

He pulled out a roll of gauze and some burn cream, essentially the only things in his bag, and got to work.

The process was therapeutic, morbid as it may be, what with the repetive movement and the sensation of bandages on his arms, wound tightly, but not enough so to hurt.

Shouto knew that his legs didn't really need any medical attention, they were just tired, from standing up to face Enji every time he fell.

He shook his head softly, exiting the bathroom with a quiet sigh and flopping onto his bed, grabbing at one of the many pillows he had piled together.

Shouto closed his eyes contentedly, clutching the pillow tight, curling around it as he brought it up to his chest, inhaling the musty scent.

This was the first pillow he had added to his collection, a gift from Natsuo when they had first gotten him a real bed. His first among many.

It was old and worn and dirty, but it was his favorite, the off-white color so familiar, so homey, just air wonderful.

Shouto cracked an eye open - his right one, he couldn't see out of his left - to glance at the wall opposite to him and his bed

It had five picture frames hung on it, the glass of them shattered from repeatedly being thrown down. Fuyumi had held the hammer for him.

But he always put them back up, despite Enji's constant disagreement and disdain. It was a reminder he wasn't alone.

Shouto slithered out of bed, leaving the pillow atop his comforter as he moved to the floor, on his knees, eyes level with the mattress.

The floor felt so different to the tatami that made up the rest of the home, in the absolute best way possible. It was nice.

He was too young to help his mother at the time, so he had watched with wide eyes as she tore up the flooring, replacing it with hardwood.

Shouto reached out, feeling under the bed until his hands hit something, slightly dusty, a box shape. It was his shoebox.

He pulled it out, wiping the majority of the dust from it with his hands, then he pulled the lid off, marveling silently at it's contents.

He didn't touch anything, or take any of it out. He just sat there a moment, looking. With a sigh, he put the lid back, and shoved it under the bed.

Shouto clambered back up on the bed, this time pushing Natsuo's pillow as far away as he could, turning around purposefully, away from Fuyumi's picture frames, and sunk into the soft bed, a stark difference from his mother's flooring.

He wanted to forget, at least for now.

He wanted to forget the people that Enji had destroyed, the people he had turned to nothing more than memories.

He laid on his bed, staring at the clock as it ticked on, lulling him slowly to sleep.

"Goodnight." Shouto whispered silently, to no one at all.

Chapter Text

Shouto huffed in displeasure, before bringing his eyes up to meet his father's.

"Don't disrespect me Shouto." Enji growled.

"I'll do as I please." Shouto snorted, knowing he was safe - for now.

There was little Enji could do in the five minutes he had before he would be leaving for U.A.

Clearly coming to the same conclusion, Enji sighed, though it also sounded a lot like a growl.

"Don't disappoint me Shouto." Enji spoke clearly, cerulean eyes glinting in displeasure as he looked at his son.

"I'll do as I please." He repeated defiantly.

"You'll do as I please." His father snarled angrily, but the teen barely batted an eye.

"No." Shouto replied simply, glaring at the man in front of him. "I'll do what I want, and If our goals happen to align at the moment, I'll comply with you. But I am not you, and I'm never going to try to be you, nor will I ever try to shape myself into you're perfect little protege."

"And pray tell Shouto," Enji snarled. "What is your goal?"

Shouto hummed.

He wasn't really sure.

He didn't want to be a hero, but he didn't want to be a villain either. 

He didn't know what he wanted to be.

But going to one of the top schools in Japan couldn't hurt, no matter what he decided to be.

No matter what he wanted to be.

"I'm not sure." Shouto shrugged. "But I'll let you know when I find out."

Enjoy huffed, glaring at Shouto once more before making his leave.

Shouto stifled a groan as his father passed him, patting him roughly on the shoulder where he knew it was bruised.

Asshole.

At least he wouldn't have to deal with him for a few more hours.

It was small, but an accomplishment nonetheless.

He made his way quickly to his room - a left, two rights, only room in the hall - where he had been keeping everything he needed for school - away from where Enji could burn it in a fit of rage, something he wouldn't put past his father.

He glanced at his bag, then shook his head, taking a quick detour to the bathroom, just to double check.

Enji would be pissed if he forgot, and as much as that was one of Shouto's favorite pastimes, he really didn't want to be bothered with the trouble of coming up with an excuse.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, satisfied when he saw no visible marks on his face, and his shoulder length dual colored hair was pulled into a neat half up half down style, the top half twisted into a neat bun, the bottom half cascading down to his shoulders softly, with a few pieces falling to frame his face gently. 

Shouto smiled slightly at himself in the mirror, before pushing his way back into his room, sliding the black messenger bag over his right shoulder, quickly sorting through it to make sure he had everything.

Notebook? Check. Pencils? Check. Pens? Check. Highlighters? Check. Sketchbook? . . . check.

He had decided it would be better to keep his sketchbook at school from this point on, in his desk or locker, as to not run the risk of Enji finding and destroying it.

Shouto wasn't a great artist, but he was ok, and Touya used to draw a lot, so there were fond memories there.

Painful, but fond.

With a sigh he pushed the bag further up his shoulder and made his way outside, quickly, but not quite running.

He let himself enjoy the garden for a moment, specifically the white roses he had watched his mother and siblings plant. 

Perhaps not being able to join in would be a bitter memory for some, but Shouto never knew anything else, so they all remained fond, if not a bit wistful.

He continued down the path, sometimes stopping to admire a specific flower despite his time crunch.

The same chauffer as last time was waiting for him, the same hat and the same chipper grin plastered on his face, though Shouto grimly noted that the excited light behind his eyes had dwindled.

He wondered how the driver had found out, and how much longer Enji would keep him around.

Not much, was Shouto's guess.

After people found out it was only a matter of time before they fired, and either paid for their secrecy, or threatened for it.

With a sigh, Shouto opened the car door, ignoring the chauffeurs offers to open the it for him.

"A-any music?" The man stuttered once they were both situated, as the car pulled away from the curb.

"Whatever you like." He offered, awaiting some sort of neutral style, like classical, just something to fill the silence.

He was pleasantly surprised to hear some American styled song, poorly translated to Japanese. Not something he'd play often, but he didn't mind it.

"I like this." Shouto hummed softly, voice barely carrying over the music, but with the way the driver all but melted with relief made it obvious he was heard.

He wasn't lying.

The drive was short, barely ten minutes, and Shouto briefly wondered what he'd have to do to convince his father to let him make the walk instead of driving.

Not much, he supposed, if he brought up the point of not having to interview, hire, then pay off another driver.

Shouto hummed softly as bobbed his head up and down slightly, doing his best to ignore the look the driver was giving him.

The look of pity.

Shouto was no stranger to pity.

He knew that there were multiple people outside of the Todoroki family that knew of what they actually were, of what Enji actually was.

It was inevitable.

He didn't blame anyone for not saying doing anything - saying something, because how could he be so hypocritical?

Shouto knew what they had gone through was nothing short of abuse, but he only knew this because of his mother.

She told him stories about her childhood, about playing outside and having friends and crushes, about giggling obnoxiously at the smallest of things.

That was the only reason he knew he was different.

Though it didn't feel that way.

It felt like everyone else was different, and that he was normal - they were normal.

In reality though, it didn't really feel like that. He just had to pretend it did. Lie to himself.

Because in the end it was so much easier to pretend that what was happening was normal than to waste time thing about it.

Than to wonder why it was happening to them of all people, to wonder why he had to be born with the quirk of a lifetime, to wonder why everyone he loved had to leave 

To wonder why Enji had to be so damn selfish.

"We're here!" The driver chirped happily, gesturing outside the window where the shadows of the tall, looming, U.A. gates reached all the way to the streets.

"Thank you." Shouto mumbled, sliding out of the car gracefully as the chauffer opened the door for him.

"No problem kid." The driver waved his hand, then seemed to remember himself. "Erm, of course sir."

Shouto let out an amused chuckle. "Please, don't worry about it. It must be odd calling someone at least ten years younger than you sir."

The chauffer gave him a skeptical glance, than sighed, relieved. "No kidding."

"Anyways, I should be going now." The dual haired teen whispered, wistful.

The man grimanced. "Yeah. Be - be careful kid."

Shouto huffed. "I've been careful for fifteen years. That's not gonna stop now."

"Right." The man grimanced, then with a wave and a forced smile, turned away.

This was it.

Shouto didn't bother looking around the campus as he made his way to class 1A's homeroom.

He did, however make sure to count his turns.

It was two rights, a left, then another right, the first of five doors on the left side of the hall.

And now he was here.

The doors were massive and intimidating, but Shouto knew the cause for the overly big doors was for any students or staff who had quirk that made them abnormally large.

He pulled out his phone, checking the time - 8:22, so he had two minutes, as he liked to be at least five minutes early - and then made sure everything was in place in his bag, despite having already done so earlier.

He tugged on a strand of his hair and then he tucked it behind his left ear, now out of his vision. 

He scratched his at nose, and dug his nails into his palms, leaving behind crescent shaped indents. 

He brought his hands close to his face and examined them carefully, allowing frost to coat one of his palms and weak flames to dance at his fingertips.
 
He checked the time again, 8:24.
 
Finally, he sighed, seemingly out of things to stall time with - not that he was stalling in the first place that is.
 
Shouto rested his hand on the cool metal knob, pulled down, and pushed.

Despite what he had been taught, he didn't bother looking around the room, didn't bother making mental notes about any of the students.

They were all talking, or staring, or something.

It was so loud - too loud - and he didn't want to be seen - couldn't be seen - he had to sit down.

He made his way to the back of the class quickly, letting his quirk cool and warm him on his respective sides, a grounding mechanism he had been using since he was seven.

Shouto let out a breath of relief as he slung his bag across his chair, and sunk into the uncomfortable surface gratefully.

Although it was short lived.

"Who're you?" A loud voice demanded as a pair of hands slammed down on his desk in front of him.

The hands were smoking. 

They were burning, they were hurting, they were being hurt, they were - they were -

They belonged to a boy with red eyes and spiky blonde hair, who was looking at him angrily, malice in his eyes as he leered at him.

Angry. He was angry.

Good. He could handle angry, he was good at angry, he was used to to angry.

This was good.

"Todoroki Shouto." He hummed softly in reply to the boys question, letting the situation play out for now. 

He couldn't defuse the very well if he didn't know the cause in the first place.

"Todoroki Shouto . . ." The boy hummed under his breath, then he snarled as his eyes gleamed in recognition. "You placed first at the entrance exam!"

A few other students in the classroom paused to listen in on them. Shouto couldn't see them, he only knew that it had gotten quieter around them.

"Yes, I did." Was all the dual haired teen offered in turn.

What was he supposed to say?

"I'm better than you!" The boy declared loudly, but the look in his eyed wasn't like normal.

It wasn't like Enji's when he claimed to be the best, when he claimed to be in control of anything and everything.

It was like Touya's when he said he would be better than dad, when he saw flames dancing high but still stood strong.

It was defiant, but threatened.

Threatened by Shouto.

"Bakugou Katsuki?" Shouto raised an eyebrow.

"How'd you know?" The red eyed teen demanded, still glaring darkly at him.

"Nobody that didn't score as well as you on the entrance exams would walk up to me and declare to be better." He responded, working a compliment into his words without reminding the boy in front of him that he had done better.

He had been told he was dense before, he had been told he was oblivious to people's feelings.

That wasn't true, not really.

He was oblivious to what he didn't know.

What he did know though? When he knew something he learned all he could about it, overanyalized it and sifted through it so many times, just to get a grasp on what was going on, just to ground himself.

And he knew the look in Bakugou's eye all too well.

Bakugou tched, clicked his tongue, then walked away in lieu of a proper response.

A tall boy with navy blue slicked back hair and rectangular glasses that fit his face nicely chased after him, pausing to bow to Shouto formally, and introduce himself as -

"Iida Tenya, I'm aware." Shouto hummed pleasantly, shaking the offered hand slowly.

Brother of Iida Tensei, known as Ingenium to most. 

Son of the heads of a hero company, a hero company Enji didn't work well with.

Shouto had also seen Iida at the occasional hero event, or fancy gala.

The ones he was given a script for, forced to play a part for an never break 'character', the character of the picture perfect done of a picture perfect family.

He forced those bitter thoughts out of his mind as Iida spoke again 

"Todoroki Shouto, pleasure to make your acquaintance." Iida grinned at him, pulling his hand back.

"Please, call me Shouto." He corrected.

"Then I Tenya." Iida - now Tenya - nodded to him, then pointed in the direction Bakugou had gone, excusing himself poilitely.

A boy with green eyes and matching curly hair quickly took his place.

Shouto sighed inwardly

Social interaction was hard.

Polite social interaction anyways.

It was easy to be rude, not so much to be nice. And while Shouto normally didn't care how he came off to people, but these people would likely be his classmates for the next three years of his life.

Even he knew not to make any enemies.

One look at Bakugou said he didn't share that sentiment, however, with how he was yelling at Tenya.

"Midoriya Izuku, nice to meet you!" He held out his hand, and Shouto took it.

"Todoroki Shouto." He responded evenly, but Midoriya went a bit pale in the face.

His widened as he stumbled over his words. "T-todoroki? As in Enji Todoroki or Endeavour's son?"

Shouto sighed, drawn out and long suffering. "Yes, but please, call me Shouto, if you could."

"O-of course!" Midoriya squeaked. "Then would you like to call me Izuku? It's common courtesy but if you don't want to that's fine as well, maybe you - " Shouto cut him off.

"Whatever your most comfortable with."

"Izuku then!" He answered quickly. "You can call me Izuku. But anyways, that's not why I came over here."

Shouto raised an eyebrow in question, prompting the green eyed boy to continue.

"I wanted to apologize for Kacchan's attitude, it's been like that since we were kids, but still, I know it's not exactly pleasant for most - ah, but please don't tell him o said that! He'd be so - " Shouto cut him off, again.

He was confused.

He figured Kacchan was Bakugou, that much wasn't hard to figure out, but . . .

"Why are you apologizing for his behavior?" He asked, voice soft, or as soft as he could manage.

Izuku paled further. "Well it's just, we've been friends since we were little, and there's really more to it than that, but . . ." He trailed off with a sad look on his face.

Shouto used this as an opportunity to speak up.

"You don't need to apologize for his behavior, at least not to me. Focus on your own."

Izuku frowned softly at him, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, I gues you have a point. Erm, thanks."

He quietly moved away from Shouto, not saying another word, and Shouto was left to wonder if he had done something wrong.

Was that impolite of him? 

Should he have not commented at all?

A voice from the left of him spoke up. "You handled that well Shouto-Kun."

He turned to see girl with long black hair tied into a sleek black ponytail, looking at him happily, a smile on her face.

Momo Yaoyorozo, not a close friend of his, but his closest, seeing as she was the only person he had ever talked to more than a handful of times that wasn't a Todoroki.

Familiar with his social akwardity and tendency to need confirmation on most interactions he held.

"Ah, thank you Yaoyorozo, I'm glad you think so." He paused a moment. "I was unsure if I responded correctly."

She chuckled softly. "You did fine Shouto-Kun." She craned her neck to to throw a glance at Izuku's back. "It's more him I'm worried about honestly.

He hummed in acknowledgement of her words. "What do you mean by that?"

She sighed softly. "Bakugou-Kun was yelling at him earlier, something about him being quirkless? I'm afraid I don't remember the exact details, I wasn't exactly trying to listen."

"Ah, is he quirkless?" Shouto asked,

"Not to my knowledge." Yaoyorozo hummed. "Perhaps he was a late bloomer. It's not common, but it's not I heats of either." She paused, laughing. "I've definitely heard odder."

Shouto huffed out a laugh as well. "As have I."

There was no more conversation between them, just comfortable silence as they watched their classmates tall back and forth, some loudly, some quietly, some with exaggerated gestures and some from their seats.

It was . . . overwhelming, to say the very least.

He had never seen so many people, all interacting. It was odd, or so he thought.

As he had realized with Hatsume and Shinsou, he knew little if nothing of what was normal and what wasn't.

He sighed tiredly, looking down at his hands, lying them atop his desk, then looked up.

It was another habit of his, he supposed.

Never look in one place for too long. 

Things can change fast.

This wasn't the worst habit he had picked up, and it seemed to pay off, as a familiar sleeping bag clad figure slipped through the door, shoulder length black hair spilling out of of the yellow cloth as sharp red eyes analyzed the sea of chatting, oblivious students.

Aizawa Shouta, the man from the entrance exams, or, their homeroom teacher.

Shouto wasn't oblivious to his presence like the others though, so he sat up straight, clasped his hands together and put them on his desk, looking attentively at his teacher.

He didn't say anything though.

They were heroes in training, they'd realize eventually.

If they didn't, that was on them.

He looked around to see that Yaoyorozo had also seen him, and was mirroring his pose, but everyone else remained entirely unaware.

A few seconds later though, the green headed boy - Izuku, Shouto remembered - spoke up excitedly.

Or was he nervous?

"That's Aizawa Shouta or the underground hero Eraserhead! Our teacher!" He exclaimed.

Everyone quieted at that, attention now on Aizawa, but their teacher didn't look impressed.

"Nine seconds." He hummed disapprovingly. "That's too long. Imagine what could have been done in that amount of time."

A few displeased murmurs could be heard, but Shouto had to agree.

He had seen things happen in nine seconds, none all that pretty.

He moved his hand up to his scar apprehensively.

The things that could change in nine seconds.

He shuddered, let his hand fall down to his side, then turned his attention back to Aizawa.

"Anyways, abysmal observation skills aside, we have work to do." He announced, a terrifying grin spreading across his face. "Line up in two lines, ten in each, by the door. We're taking a test."

A girl with pink hair and pink skin - Ashido, he was pretty sure he had heard the spiky redhead call her - raised her hand, and without waiting to be called on, she spoke. "I thought there was an assembly?"

"There is." Aizawa confirmed. "We're just not attending."

A few groans could be heard from the class, as well a few excited shouts, clearly, there were mixed emotions about skipping.

Ashido asked another question. "What kind of test then?"

Aizawa's grin grew. "Glad you asked. We'll be taking a quirk apprehension test, to test how well you can use your quirk and your natural physical strengths."

Shouto hummed softly to himself.

That wouldn't be hard at all.

He wasn't sure what the tests were, so he didn't know how he'd incorporate his quirk, but he was sure he'd be just fine.

Years of training didn't get you nowhere, after all.

But Aizawa wasn't done. "The higher scorers get bragging rights or whatever, I couldn't care less. The lowest scorer," he paused, either for suspense or lack of caring that he was talking to a group of excitable teens.

Probably the latter. 

"Will be expelled." He finished promptly.

Shouto scoffed quietly as the rest if the class began groaning or protesting loudly.

That was unlikely.

The while point of attending to U.A. was to become stronger, so if you expelled any weak links without giving them a chance to grow, that would be contradictory.

There was also the fact that even the lowest scorer on the test was still one of the strongest teens applying for hero schools in all of Japan, regardless of where they were ranked in the class.

And even if he was being serious, Shouto didn't have to worry about being last.

One could call him conceited, call him arrogant, they could call him anything they wanted. 

He'd still ace this exam, and anything else thrown at him.

Chapter Text

Shouto glanced at his teammate, as they waited by the entrance to the building, for Aizawa to tell them to begin.

Shouji Mezou, he remembered, from the quirk apprehension test.

He had a strong enough quirk, definitely unique, and with an array of different purposes. It was good for terms of strength, and he could probably win this on his own, given they were against Ojiro Hagakure, two of the weaker students in the class.

Shouto only needed him for one thing though.

Aizawa's shout rang out, telling them to begin, but he had already turned to his partner.

"What floor are they on?" He asked

Shouji quirked an eyebrow - barely visible under his hair - but responded evenly. "Fourth floor, to the north."

"Thank you." Shouto hummed, turning away. "I'd suggest you wait outside." He said. "It would be best for the both of us."

He didn't wait to see if Shouji had gone, reaching out with his left hand, pressing it against the inside wall of the building, watching with a satisfied smirk as ice crept quickly across the building, spreading thin, like spider webs.

He moved forward slowly, not really caring about his pace.

If he was lucky, the game was already won.

He sent a silent thanks to the costume designers for the grooves on his boots, that gave their bottoms the appearance of sports cleats.

In fact, his entire costume was well done, though there would always he room with improvement.

He had designed himself - Enji had offered to have his professional designers work on it, but Shouto refused.

To the shock of no one.

The costume consisted of a pair of white boots, a dark navy blue, almost black bodysuit, a white utility belt around his waist, and an mask the same navy color of his suit.

His suit was made of a temperature resilient material that was created around the time of  the discovery of quirks. It was practically impossible to set on fire, and even harder to melt, whose also being quite slick, meaning ice wouldn't attach as easily to it.

The material had no name, but Shouto had no idea as to why.

The utility belt hung loosely around his hips, with five pouches attached to it. Two of them held water, and the other three held important medical supplies, numbing cream, burn cream, gauze, antiseptic, and stitching material, to be exact.

At one point the design had intended the pouches to be vials, but both Natsuo and Fuyumi protested it, for some odd reason.

The mask had a small oxygen supply, for any dire situations, as well a voice modifier. He'd be the first to admit the modifier wasn't exactly necessary, just something he figured could be useful occasionally, and wouldn't hurt to have.

On the off chance the mask kept him from breathing, it had an easy detachment clasp.

Shouto figured the next time he sent his costume in he could add an order for a pair of goggles, another useful component to have.

He realized belatedly he was at his destination, climbing up the stairs and making his way through the twisting hallways on autopilot, much like he did at home.

Shaking his head, he pushed the door open, smirking at the sight that greeted him.

Ojiro had been resting his tail on the ground.

He had been counting on that.

If he had been holding his tail up, he would easily be able to smash the ice around his feet, easily freeing himself.

Shouto would still be able to win of course, but this just made it so much easier.

The two noticed his presence almost immediately, and out their fists up in a threating stance.

He could see Hagakure's gloves easily, making him wonder if she was wearing any armor at all, and why, if she was, it wasn't able to extend to her gloves.

If she wasn't wearing anything, that would he a problem, Shouto knew.

It didn't matter what her quirk was, it still broke hero costume regulations, the ones that pro hero Midnight ended up being the cause of, after her debut costume.

He shook his head.

He'd ask Hagakure about it later.

"You can try." Shouto warned dismissively, snapping back to reality. "But is it really worth tearing the skin off the bottom of your feet for a training exercise?"

They didn't answer, just watched him with wide eyes - at least, he assumed that was what Hagakure was doing - as he walked past them easily.

And then it was over.

He turned back to the pair, Hagakure waving her hands around in despair and Ojiro's slightly miffed expression.

"Hey," he started, unsure of how to hibernation his advice without seeming to standoffish - he was told he gave off that impression a lot. "Does it take a lot of extra stamina or effort to keep your tail in the air?"

Ojiro frowned. "Just a little."

"Then do that. You would have had a better chance then."

"But I still wouldn't have won?" He was smiling now, albeit nervously, a bit like the ones Natsuo wore when Enji was around, but he was still trying to lighten the mood.

Shouto hesitated.

He didn't want to sound rude, but he didn't want to lie either.

"No." He settled on. "I don't think so."

Ojiro's grin didn't falter though, and he smiled wider. "Probably not." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Thanks for the advice though, Todoroki-Kun."

"Shouto." He hummed, returning the smile, albeit at a much smaller degree. He turned to Hagakere. "That goes for you too."

She squeaked. "O-of course To-Shouto-Kun."

"The honorific is unnecessary." He clarified. "But I won't ask anymore."

Before she could reply, Ojiro cut in.

"Sorry to interrupt, but d'ya think you could get us out? I saw your work at the entrance exam, I was in the same group as you. I know you have fire too."

Shouto nodded at the same time Hagakure spoke up again. "He has fire too!?" She wailed, though Shouto could make out a teasing tone, only thanks to the many times Natsuo had to painstakingly teach him what sarcasm was.

His lips quirked up. "Unfortunately for you, yes."

Hagakure giggled, and he made quick work of melting the ice, his mind racing as he did so.

That was a normal enough social interaction, as far as he knew.

Fuyumi would be proud, he deducted, as steam began to rise and water dripped down from the ceiling and pooled on the floor.

"You coming?" Ojiro asked from where he and Hagakure stood by the doorway.

"Yeah." Shouto murmured, following them out the room. They walked along in relative silence, the other two exchanging pleasantries as Shouto chimed in with noncommittal grunts.

It was nice, in a way.

An odd way, but still.

They made it out of the building, Shouji still standing outside, eyed slightly wide as he looked at the wet and dripping building.

"Wow." He whispered quietly.

Shouto grimanced, shifting his weight back and forth between his left and right feet.

A voce that sounded a little too much like Fuyumi told him he should apologize.

"Sorry." He muttered awkwardly.

"It's fine." Shouji turned to look at him. "Your teamwork might need improvement, Todoroki, but that's what we're here for, right?"

Shouto froze. "Yeah."

No.

No, it really wasn't.

He was here because it was a matter of convenience - one less training session for him and one more moment Enji was lured into a sense of false security.

He wasn't here to get better.

Because what was he getting better for?

Maybe he could pass it off, saying he was getting better for himself - but what was the point.

Shouto didn't want this.

He shook his head. "But please," he pushed all thoughts out of his mind to the best of his ability. "Call me Shouto."

"Of course Shouto-Kun." Shouji complied, then turned around as the four of them made their way back to the monitoring room the rest of the class was waiting in.

He didn't bother correcting him on the honorific, too lost in the thoughts he tried to push away.

Shouto thought he knew why he was here - and he did, to an extent.

He was here - and he didn't know why yet, but it wasn't to be better.

Not because he thought he was invincible, but because - because there were always things to improve with Enji, said condescendingly as he was sprawled on the training room floor, or hurled cruelly across the dinner table, or told through a painstakingly long death glare.

Never mentioned in passing - never along with a friendly glance - never with encouraging phrasing -

Never like that.

Not once, and he hadn't even known it was possible - because it he had only known it's opposite, he supposed.

And Shouto was fine with that - really - because improvement wasn't meant to be easy or kind - it wasn't meant to be friendly and fun sounding.

It wasn't.

It was meant to be demanding, it was supposed to ne hard, it was natural for it to be painful.

Or so he had been taught.

Then again, anything taught by Enji had a good chance to be of some sort of faulty logic.

With an elongated sigh Shouto followed Ojiro into the monitoring room as their group of four shuffled in, a single file line.

It was quiet as everyone gawked at them - him in particular - until Aizawa cut through the tense silence, glaring at him.

"What was that Todoroki?" He asked tersely.

Shouto flinched slightly at the use of his last name, but glared back at his teacher. "A training exercise."

"I mean, what was that teamwork? It was horrible." Aizawa clarified, exasperated.

"With all due respect sir," Shouto answered in his most disrespectful tone. "If there had been anything less than total compliance on Shouji's part then we would have done something differently."

His teacher turned his gaze to his partner. "Shouji?"

"He's right sir." Shouji nodded. "I agreed easily."

Aizawa sighed in response. "Fine then, Shouto. We'll be working more on teamwork later anyway." He looked away from him and down at his paper. "Midoriya and Uraraka against Bakugou and Iida." He droned tiredly.

Bakugou growled as Tenya clamped a hand over his shoulder and told him calm down, while Uraraka took to calming down a very panicked Izuku.

He took no mind.

He briefly noted how Aizawa had used his first name - he must have seen him flinch - but there it was again - the casualty of it.

The way his mistakes - the things he needed to improve on - were brought up so easily then dismissed in the same manner.

Like his mistakes weren't always to focus on.

Shouto . . . Shouto wasn't sure if he liked it yet. It was nice - but so different.

Different was rarely a good thing, he knew.

Because different was when things changed, and he had seen enough change to know it wasn't a good thing.

Change is what left him alone.

"Young Bakugou, please calm down!" All Might's voice rang out, breaking through his thought process.

His real name was Yagi Toshinori, Shouto knew, but somehow, despite being the number one hero, his real name managed to be a relative secret, so he had insisted the class call him by his hero name.

Hero. The number one hero to be exact.

What a title.

Personally, Shouto didn't see the appeal.

So the guy had super strength, good for him.

But there were so many quirks out there, some of them were bound to be better than All Might's, some of them bound to be more powerful.

It really made him wonder just how rigged the system was towards muscular people with an easy to comprehend quirk.

Quite like Enji, really.

Shouto shuddered at the thought of his father, now that said father wasn't around to scold him for it.

The system was definitely rigged.

Then again, as with all things political, it wasn't really that surprising - for it to be tipped towards people with big muscles and simple quirks.

By simple, he meant easy to understand. Easy to comprehend and therefore leaving jo chance of the unknown.

No chance if accidents.

He shook his head, reminding himself that he was barely any different, with only a slightly more complicated quirk than most, but with a naturally lean figure.

His face soured at the thought of comparing himself to any of the current top pros, and forced his mind to drop the subject.

He had nothing against the All Might - for the most part - he just didn't see the appeal.

Unlike Bakugou and Izuku alike, who were looking at the blonde man with stars in their eyes - albeit Bakugou much more subtly than Izuku.

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his costume Bakugou stomped out of the room, casting Shouto an extra long glare as he departed. Tenya was close behind, nodding at Shouto formally as their eyes met, before bustling out after the angry blonde. Uraraka skipped up to Tenya quickly, and Shouto could hear the two of their voices growing fainter as they left. Izuku was last, trailing after Uraraka nervously, a look of fear in his eyes.

It wasn't completely uncalled for, Shouto reasoned, recalling the many time Bakugou had singled the boy since the year had started - all of a week ago.

He turned his eyes to the monitors after a few moments, where Tenya and Bakugou where taking stance around the fake missile, while Uraraka continued to try and calm Izuku down.

There was no sound coming through the screens, but it wasn't hard to tell what was going on.

Next to the fake missile the villain team was supposed to defend, Tenya was yelling at Bakugou, and Bakugou was yelling back.

Shouto could make out words like 'no' and 'fuck off' based on the way their mouths moved. He had been able to read lips - roughly, that is - since he was a child, as sometimes training sessions would leave his ears ringing, or his hearing temporarily impaired, and he had learned to make due in those situations.

Near the entrance of the building, Uraraka was trying to convince Izuku of something or other, words like 'you can do it' and 'it's just a training exercise' identifiable in their conversation.

Ashido groaned from next to him. "I wish I knew what they were saying!"

"Tenya and Bakugou are yelling at each other, Uraraka is reassuring Izuku of something." He hummed, not really sure why he had taken it upon himself to answer.

"Thanks!" She grinned at him. "Todoroki, right?"

Shouto turned his head to look at her. "Yes, but Shouto, if you could."

"Of course!" Her grin got wider. "You can call me Mina then!" She waved her hands around wildly, before finally sticking one out for a handshake.

He took it with a small smile, then they both turned back to the screens, right as the buzzer went off.

Within seconds Bakugou had let put a massive explosion, and was out the door, leaving an exasperated Tenya behind, and Uraraka and Izuku were off, a scared sort of determination on the green haired boys face as he ran ahead of Uraraka.

Well, Shouto mused silently. His teamwork skills - or lack thereof - paled in comparison to Bakugou's, thankfully.

This fight was going to be interesting.

He winced as Bakugou and Izuku collided, a flash of fists instantly destroying walls of the building.

And painful.