Chapter Text
“It is our nature to want to forget truths that keep us up at night.”
Ice was cold, unloving. Like his mother. His mother, who had looked at him with disgust and hate, like he was a monster. His mother, who had scarred his face.
Fire was warm, loving. Like his father. Loving, like the way his father would pat his back and say he was proud of him. The bright grin across his father’s face when he pushed himself just a little further, just for father. His father, who valued him, who loved him more than his other siblings.
The words father spoke about mother must be true. The times her eyes filled with warmth were nothing but dreams. They had never happened, for father said so and father only spoke the truth. The dreams where he lay vomiting as his father ordered ‘more, more!’ were nothing but nightmares, for father would never do such a cruel thing.
Ice was cold, distant. Fuyumi and Natsuo were never around. They were father’s least favorite. They looked at him with jealousy and hate. Fire was warm, present. Touya gave him hugs after their training sessions. Touya would let him under the sheets to snuggle and sleep during the cold winter months. Touya would laugh and joke and mess up his hair and always loved him.
He never saw the pity and helplessness in their eyes, and never knew they were forced to stay away by father. He never saw the pain Touya suffered when father demanded more from an unstable quirk, never knew the lengths Touya went to hide those things from him.
Ice was cold, painful. It caused frostbite, shivers, and sickness. What good could ice bring? Fire was warm, healing, and cleansing. It soothed the pain caused by the ice.
Fire was good. That was what his father told him. Fire was good.
“We die like men, unprepared and useless”
Denki was going to die, and he was excited.
He exaggerated. He wasn’t really going to die, and he wasn’t actually all that excited either. Nervous was more accurate. But dammit, he wasn’t about to back out now!
“—and the kickback from your engines could be used to—”
Ah, Midoriya. Denki wasn’t sure if he should be fascinated, terrified, or inspired by his rambling classmate. He leaned more towards terror, considering Midoriya had been talking to Iida about creative ways to use his quirk for the past seven minutes. He wasn’t sure if Midoriya was even pausing to breathe. Did Midoriya even need to breathe…?
And he, Kaminari Denki, had willingly chosen Midoriya to be his sparring partner. What was wrong with him?!
He took a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen anyways?
A lot of pain. That was what could happen, and probably would happen.
“Next pair,” Aizawa’s voice rang out.
Well, he had a good run.
“Let’s do our best, Kaminari!” Midoriya gushed. All he could manage in return was a weak nod of his head.
The match started and Midoriya was already moving.
Denki jolted back just as Midoriya’s foot whooshed where his face had been. He would have been embarrassed by his stumbling retreat if he hadn’t been busy, y’know, trying to survive!
He knew Midoriya was relentless. He’s seen this. It was a whole different thing to actually fight the crazy Zone Native.
He ducked and rolled to his left, narrowly dodging Midoriya’s fist. He lurched backwards again, bringing himself closer and closer to the out-of-bounds line.
Dammit, he had a plan! But it was so hard to focus when—
The air was punched from his lungs as Midoriya landed a strike at his stomach. He watched Midoriya draw his arm back, preparing another strike. Probably at Denki’s neck.
No, dammit, he wasn’t about to go down yet!
He grit his teeth and sent out a jolt of electricity towards Midoriya. Being so close, it was an instant hit. Midoriya jolted and shuddered, stunned momentarily. Denki seized the moment by wheeling away from Midoriya, running back towards the center of the field.
He might not be the smartest student in class, but even he knew it was stupid to leave his back to Midoriya any longer than necessary. But when he faced Midoriya again, he realized Midoriya hadn’t moved. The other boy’s eyes were narrowed. Focused. On him.
Denki felt a bead of sweat trail down his spine.
Still, Denki used the delay to his benefit. He took a few calming breaths (they didn’t calm him, but hey, he tried) and focused on his quirk. He had a new technique. If he could pull it off, he might have a shot at beating Midoriya.
The thoughtful look on Midoriya’s face vanished. Midoriya grinned wide, showing off his teeth. He charged.
Midoriya might not have a quirk, but the guy was fast. At least he was limited by what was humanly possible. Denki had just enough time to focus.
He balanced the polarities, carefully eased out the charge. When Midoriya came within his range, he let loose.
A light field of electricity burst from him in all directions. Damn it was hard to keep the output steady and light, but he didn’t feel the tell-tale sensation of his brain cooking. It was an improvement, since usually when he pulled out flashy moves like this he lost plenty of IQ points. His output was much lower than usual, but it was still an electric field. He was sure he could keep the new technique up for at least a few minutes, maybe longer. He really did need to thank Midoriya for the idea. He just needed to stay focused…
Best of all, Midoriya jolted and shuddered, his body falling over and seizing. It worked.
Denki bit his lip. Were it anyone else this would be where he won the match. This would be where he stopped his quirk and called it quits. But his opponent was Midoriya. He was not about to assume he’d won.
Much to his horror, his paranoia involving all things Midoriya proved to be good sense. Not even a few moments after going down, Midoriya stopped seizing. Which was absolutely terrifying. His electricity caused Midoriya’s muscles to spasm— that’s what electricity did. Even if Midoriya had died he still should have been seizing. But no. He went still.
Then he got up.
He got up.
Slowly, shakily, twitching: he got up. Like a zombie. Midoriya shuddered and took a step forward.
The yelp he let loose was not a yelp he was proud of, but who could blame him! He desperately clutched at his focus. He narrowed his static burst into a cone towards Midoriya. The strain on his head stayed minimal, but the intensity of the electricity increased. Again Midoriya went down hard, writhing on the dirt.
And then, like the unholy zombie he was, Midoriya got back up.
Midoriya took one step forward, then another.
Denki screeched. What would Midoriya do to him? If Midoriya reached him, what sort of terrifying painful experience would he inflict?!
All thoughts of calm and focus fled his brain, panic settling in like an old friend. He threw restrain to the wind, pumping as much electricity towards Midoriya as he could.
Midoriya shuddered but remained standing. Denki could see the twitches across Midoriya’s skin, could see the other boy’s muscles contracting and flexing. The strain on Denki’s head was going to leave him a blubbering mess at any moment, but for once he welcomed it.
He shut his eyes. Thought was getting… harder. Still, he knew his backup plan.
Midoriya mentioned that Denki didn’t need to hold back on account of permanent brain damage while in The Zone. Plan B was to put that to the test.
He forced more and more electricity in Midoriya’s direction. He couldn’t aim, not like how he was now. His head hurt. He kept his eyes squeezed shut. Either Midoriya would be knocked out and Denki would win, or Denki would knock himself out and wouldn’t have to face Midoriya. Win win!
He moaned in pain. Was it possible for his eyes to melt into goop? He idly wondered if Midoriya had made it to him and stabbed something sharp through his skull.
He opened his eyes, his thoughts drifting even as he pumped out more electricity than ever before. What… what was he doing again?
Green.
Midoriya stood in front of him, blinding smile in place. A hand thumped on Denki’s shoulder.
“Wow, you’ve really improved!” Midoriya’s voice sounded garbled, like he was underwater. “And you used my idea! That’s so cool!”
Denki screamed.
“ Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover ”
The training ground was quiet. Quieter than usual, at the very least. It had been two months since Touya’s disappearance. One month since father returned home with grim satisfaction, refusing to even hear Touya’s name spoken.
Training was quieter now that Touya was gone. Two months ago, Touya was declared missing. One month ago, father announced that Touya had been killed by a villain. He had announced that Touya had grown arrogant, thinking he would do better without his father. For that sin, he died.
Shouto missed his older brother. He desperately missed Touya. But showing that would only upset father.
A part of Shouto wondered if it was normal for fathers to move on from the death of a son so quickly. Another part of Shouto wondered if his father would act the same for him if he died.
Before, father split his attention between the two of them. Now his father watched him with fixed eyes as Shouto shot forth flames and ice with each fist. His father’s eyes picked over every little stumble and imperfection in Shouto’s form.
Shouto pushed himself to do better. To try harder. He couldn’t be like Touya. He couldn’t fail like Touya had.
So focused on pushing his flames hotter and hotter, he stumbled. With a yelp he fell flat on the ground. A bolt of fear raced through him as he panted on the ground, forcing himself to get back up. His limbs shook as he tried and failed to do anything more than sit up.
His eyes darted to father’s hulking form, looming over him. Father kneeled and placed his large hand on Shouto’s back. Father squeezed his shoulder, tight but not too painful.
“I’m sorry father, I can do better. I can!” Shouto gasped, eyes latching onto father’s face.
Father shook his head and tisked. “Not like this, you can’t. Do you think I don’t recognize your moves?” His volume was low and stern.
Shouto flinched. Of course father would notice. He gulped, but pressed on. Father hated when Shouto kept things from him. “... He’s not here to do them anymore. So that means I have to, right?”
“You have a very different quirk than he did, Shouto. A far better quirk.” Father frowned. “I told you to forget about him. And yet, you have disobeyed me.”
Shouto’s eyes widened. “No! I, I mean, I… I’m trying!” It was hard. He wanted to do as father said, because what father said was best. But… Touya was his brother. Had been his brother. Natsuo and Fuyumi were still alive, but Shouto barely knew them. Not like he knew Touya.
A part of him still rebelled against the idea that Touya had disobeyed father. In the dark quiet of night, sometimes Touya would whisper treasonous rants about father. But to go so far as leaving?
To leave Shouto?
Father patted his head. Shouto leaned into the touch, savoring every moment of father’s love. “You aren’t lying to me, are you Shouto?” Father’s voice was even and light, barely stern. Almost gentle. Still, Shouto felt himself quake at the tone. “You know how I feel about lying, Shouto.”
“No! I’ll try harder, I promise!” Shouto all but begged.
Father ruffled his hair, a small chuckle falling from his lips. “I know you will, Shouto.” Father leaned closer, his voice falling to a low timber, only for Shouto’s ears. “You try so hard, even when you disappoint me. This is why you are my favorite, Shouto.”
“Truth is like a sculpture- One perspective is never enough for true understanding”
“Midoriya,” Aizawa called, “see me after class. Next pair!”
Hitoshi eyed Midoriya, the boy’s smile crumpling into panic. He didn’t have a chance to say anything potentially reassuring though, since he was up next. Midoriya carefully guided the babbling Kaminari off the field.
Hitoshi ambled over to the field, taking his place across from Todoroki. It would be an interesting fight, at least. Maybe.
“Let’s have a good fight, yeah?”
Todoroki just narrowed his eyes.
“Yeesh. No need to be rude.”
Todoroki threw a spear of ice towards him.
Hitoshi ducked around it. “No need to be so frosty towards me. This is just a spar, y’know. Anyone ever tell you to chill out?”
Todoroki just grunted and tossed another wave of ice. This attack was much harder to dodge than the smaller spear. He twisted to the side, ice clipping him but not flinging him out of the arena. “Not much of a talker, huh?” He dashed towards Todoroki. Looked like he would be forced to handle this the old-fashioned quirkless way.
Todoroki didn’t make it easy on him. Ice, ice, more ice. Hitoshi frowned. “What, no fire?” He spread his arms wide. “I can handle a little bit of heat, you know. A lot of heat, actually.”
Todoroki’s face twisted. Ah-hah, Bingo.
A chunk of ice clipped his head, forcing him down momentarily with a grunt. His head was one of the few places he still had nerve endings that felt pain. “Hey, we should be pals. You’ve got a burn scar, I’ve got a burn scar… I have to wonder about that.” Hitoshi finally made it past Todoroki’s endless ice barrages, stepping into his space as he slugged a punch. “That’s not a burn scar from fire, though. Mind telling me where you got it?”
Todoroki grunted, flinching as Hitoshi’s hit connected. Retaliating, the other boy grabbed Hitoshi’s arm. Ice crept down scar tissue. It probably would have hurt a lot if Hitoshi could feel much of anything in his arm.
“Still no fire? What, scared of your own flames?” Hitoshi brought his knee into Todoroki’s stomach, freeing his arm. He took his iced-limb and smashed it down on Todoroki’s head. “Thanks for the improvised weapon by the way.”
A pillar of ice extended from the ground and connected with his chest. He went flying back. Damn, the ice had been blunted, not sharp. If Todoroki had impaled him, he still would have been within Hitoshi’s reach.
Stumbling into a roll, he minimized the impact of the fall. He spat out a glob of blood. A few of his ribs were cracked after that. He rolled to the side as another wave of ice nearly enveloped him. He charged forward. This time, he was ready for Todoroki’s ice. With his still ice-covered arm, he smashed at the oncoming ice. Leaping over it, he slid down the slick path straight to Todoroki. He tackled the other boy, both of them tumbling to the ground.
“Did your daddy give you that burn, hm?”
Todoroki’s expression cracked. They both grappled each other, but when it came to raw fighting, Hitoshi had far more practice.
He also had no shame playing dirty.
Especially not with a Todoroki.
“Did it hurt? I wonder what you did to upset your daddy. Where’s your fire? Afraid to give me a burn?”
Todoroki snarled as he scrabbled at Hitoshi, his fighting growing sloppy.
“Does your daddy burn all of his sons?”
“Shut u—!”
“Gotcha.” Todoroki’s blank eyes stared up at him, his body going limp. “Walk out of bounds.”
Hitoshi pulled himself off the ground as Todoroki walked away. He smashed his arm against one of the small glaciers left behind, cracking some of the ice away. It would take a while for the rest of it to thaw.
“Wow, good job Shinsou!” Midoriya called to him, though his usual thousand-watt smile was nervous.
“Thanks.” He knew Todoroki was staring a hole into the back of his head, but he ignored the other boy.
“What did you say to him? He ignored you right up until the end…”
Hitoshi waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
“That fight was almost… normal?” Iida commented, looking at him with a worried frown. “Your fighting style is very vicious, though.”
“What, surprised no one not-died a horrible, gory, not-death?” Hitoshi shrugged. “I fight to win, but unlike Zone Natives I try to avoid lethal damage. Wasn’t too hard. Todoroki only knows how to fight with his quirk.”
“That was super cool!” Uraraka made a punching motion. “You were all ‘pow!’ and ‘bam!’” She gestured to his still semi-frozen arm. “I thought he had you when he froze your arm, but you turned it against him!”
Hitoshi glanced back to the field where Ashido and Sero faced each other. “Hey, Midoriya, any idea why Aizawa-sensei wants to see you after class?”
“I don’t know! I must not have done well enough against Kaminari. Or maybe I did something else wrong. I could have taken Kaminari out a lot faster, but I wanted to see his quirk in action. That’s not very efficient, Aizawa must have noticed. Or maybe I took him out too fast? What if—”
Hitoshi slapped a hand over Midoriya’s mouth. “Nevermind.”
“We are punished by our sins, not for them”
It was Shouto’s twelfth birthday. He knew the date was important, as it marked him one year closer to being father’s successor. On his birthday father often gave him a nice trinket, or taught him a new advanced technique. The day was not much different from other days, but it was nice.
This year, father was taking him out. The car ride had been amazing— incredible sights of tall buildings, crowds of people, all sorts of things. Things he could remember from being a child, before mother had burned him, before he had moved with father to The Zone. Things he was unsure if he had dreamed up.
The crowds of a near infinite amount of people faded as they left the big city. So much of it he knew from books but had never seen.
“You are to assist me today, Shouto,” father’s neutral timber rang through his ears. “I will not tolerate disappointment. Hero work is dangerous, and as such, you are to do exactly as I say.”
Shouto nodded. “I understand, father.”
Father smiled in full, teeth flashing and grin spread across his face. “Good boy. Don’t forget Shouto, you are my favorite.”
Shouto nodded again, trying to keep his face professional as a smile threatened to show. “Yes father.”
The car came to a stop. Father began to walk into the forest ahead. Shouto scrambled to follow, quickly finding it difficult to match father’s larger strides. Father never slowed, so Shouto pushed himself to keep up, even when he was forced to jog. He grew tired quickly, but he refused to disappoint father.
His legs and lungs ached, but he was good at ignoring the pain. Anything to make his father proud. Anything.
He couldn’t end up like Touya. He wouldn’t.
Finally, father stopped. Father blessed him with half a minute to catch his breath, saying nothing of his disappointment. Still, Shouto berated himself for his weakness.
“Up ahead is a clearing. There are five villains hiding.”
Shouto’s eyes widened. Villains? Five?! He took a deep breath to calm himself. Father was here, father would make sure he was safe.
“It is your duty to incapacitate them.” Father’s words entered his ears and tangled around his throat, squeezing him as a flash of panic threatened to surface. “You shall be doing this alone, without my help.”
Shouto wanted to shake his head, wanted to beg father. He couldn’t do this, not alone. He couldn’t!
Father’s stern eyes were fixed on Shouto’s. Shouto knew he had no choice.
“Father… how?”
The very same smile from earlier appeared, teeth bared. “Use your head, Shouto! Your flames will do nicely.”
Shouto took in breath after breath. Yes, he could do that. Fire. Fire was easy. Fire was good. Fire would stop the villains.
“It’s time for you to make me proud, Shouto. Prove to me why you are my favorite.”
He nodded. Father turned and left. He turned down the path and began walking, as silently as he could. Just as father said, there was a clearing. There were three structures— more hobbled together rags than actual tents.
Shouto considered his options. He couldn’t see anyone, but father had said there were five villains here. Father was never wrong. So the villains must be inside the tents.
Fire danced along his fingertips. Yes, it would be smarter to attack before they saw him. He would burn down their tents. The fire raced along his arm as he raised a hand. He focused, the flame in his palm blooming into a massive flower. He flung the blaze at the small cluster of tents. He made sure his flames were hot. Shouto was only 12. He was too small to fight off a villain with his hands alone, so he needed to take them down before they could get close.
There were screams. The screams didn’t surprise him. It was when the screams stopped— he hadn’t expected them to stop so soon.
Shouto tensed, eyeing the flaming tents. Why weren’t they screaming anymore? He threw more fire at the tents. Had the villains put themselves out? If so, they would come after Shouto. He sent stream after stream of fire until there was nothing left to catch flame. Only ash and the smell of burning meat.
A clapping sound startled him. He whirled, fire at his fingertips. He relaxed when he saw it was only his father.
“Well done. Efficient! Very well done.”
Shouto nodded. “Now we retrieve them, right?”
“Of course not.” Father gestured to the flickering flames. “Do you see any corpses to retrieve?”
Shouto frowned. He didn’t see any bodies… His stomach sank. Fear sank into his stomach. “Did they get away?”
“What? Of course not.” Father tread over into the mess of ash. He kicked at something with his thick boots. Kneeling, father picked something up. “See here? You did well.” Father held something blackened and charred. It was vaguely human shaped. “This is how villain filth must be dealt with.” He kicked another human-like shape. It was a lot smaller. About Shouto’s size.
“We take them into custody now, yes father?”
Father threw the body on the ground. “Did you not hear me Shouto? These villains are corpses. You did well to exterminate these vermin. Border squatters, they disgust me.”
“But, what about when they get better?” Shouto didn’t understand. “They need to be branded, so that they don’t harm others.”
Father clapped an ash-covered glove onto Shouto’s shoulders. “There will be no ‘getting better’ for these villains. We’re leaving, boy. Come!”
Shouto followed father. He didn’t understand. Something in his stomach felt wrong. He didn’t understand.
"The greatest enemy of any one of our truths may be the rest of our truths"
“I would like to practice with my ice.”
Father glowered at him. “You’ve practiced with your ice enough. You must hone your fire.”
Shouto clenched his jaw. He tried to follow father’s orders. Fire flicked at his fingertips. He remembered the smell of burnt meat. Remembered how those people would never get better.
He hadn’t known fire could do that.
He hadn’t known.
“Shouto!”
He swallowed. The fire in his hand grew. His nausea grew. He vomited.
Father was displeased.
He practiced with fire. When he finished, he ate dinner with father. When that was finished, he went to bed.
He wanted to ask questions. He knew his father did not want to hear his questions. He did not ask them.
He laid in bed. His sheets were cold and lonely. Or maybe that was him.
He knew fire could hurt. He’d been lit on fire more than enough times to know that. He’d heard people scream before. He’d seen the way skin charred, the way it cooked.
Fire cleansed. Whenever he healed from a burn, he always felt good as new. Reset. Fire was good, even if it hurt.
He hadn’t known fire could kill.
Ice couldn’t do that. Ice crushed and tore and stabbed. Ice caused frostbite and hypothermia. Ice was uncomfortable, it made his body and mind shut down. It was cold. It couldn’t cleanse like fire could. It didn’t move, it wasn’t alive like fire.
For the first time in his life, Shouto thought that maybe that was a good thing.
If fire could be bad…
Was father also bad?
"The vessel of Revolution can arrive at port only on a sea reddened by torrents of blood"
Mirio stared down at the little bundle in his arms. The bundle stared back.
Brilliant purple brands were scrawled across the girl’s face. Dangerous quirk. Very, very dangerous quirk. Purple was a very bad color to be branded with. The worst, actually.
In Mirio’s arms, he held a wanted villain. He held a villain that would be executed if he turned her over to the authorities. He held a villain that had run to him, running from someone. He held someone who had turned to him for help.
He held a little girl.
Protecting a branded villain within The Zone was liable to get him branded for his trouble. Harbouring a branded individual was very, very harshly punished.
He’d never seen someone so young branded. Never heard of someone so young being branded. Branding wasn’t something done lightly.
He couldn’t take her to the authorities. He couldn’t take her back to whoever she had been running from. He couldn’t even leave The Zone with her— the border checkpoints would catch her for sure. He couldn’t abandon her.
Whoever wanted the little girl was following him. Whoever they were, they were powerful. They had connections. They would find the little girl. He lost them a little while ago, but he knew better than to assume he was in the clear.
He needed somewhere to hide the girl.
He knew a place almost no one ever went to. He stared at the pier.
“Can you be brave for me, Eri?”
She pressed her face against the fabric of his costume, her fists tightening around clenched fabric.
He didn’t have much time. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Eri. This will hurt. But after that, you’ll be safe.”
Now all he had left to do was drown a little girl.