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The first time Shoto's soba goes missing is on a random Wednesday.
He and a group of his classmates—Midoriya, Iida, Uraraka, Tsuyu, Mina, and Jirou—had just concluded a two-hour long study session for their math exam the next day.
“Do you guys want to order food, kero?” Tsuyu suggests. “It's getting late, and making dinner from scratch would probably take too long.”
“Where are we ordering from, though?” Mina asks. “Because I’m really not in the mood for fast food.”
“There’s that one restaurant right by the station,” Uraraka remarks. “I’m pretty sure Deku and Bakugo and Todoroki have bought food from that place when coming back from their work studies.”
Jirou raises up her phone. “I could make the call, what does everyone want?”
“You won't have to order anything for me,” Shoto replies as he stands up. “I have soba in the fridge that I’ve been meaning to eat.”
Jirou gives him a thumbs up, then turns to the rest of their classmates at the table as Shoto makes his way to the kitchen, opening the door of the fridge and—
Shoto blinks twice. The familiar red-and-black takeout box he’d been expecting to see wasn’t there.
Huh. Strange. He doesn’t remember eating the soba earlier, but…maybe he misremembered?
Shrugging his shoulders, Shoto closes the fridge doors and returns to the commons, where his classmates were still sitting.
“Could you order cold soba for me, actually?” Shoto asks, taking his seat on the ground between Iida and Tsuyu.
“I thought you still had leftover soba from yesterday?” Midoriya inquires, tilting his head to the side.
“They’re not in the fridge,” Shoto replies. “I don’t recall eating them, but now I’m not sure.”
At that, Midoriya nods with understanding. “Oh, I see. Maybe you ate them earlier and just don’t remember it? I do that a lot by accident.”
Shoto gives a small nod. “Maybe,” he replies, then turns to Jirou. “Could you ask them for extra dipping sauce, please?”
Jirou gives a thumbs up, writing something down on the paper in front of her before finally dialing the restaurant’s number into her phone. “Sure thing.”
—
— —
—
The second time Shoto’s soba goes missing is three weeks later.
He—as well as Midoriya and Bakugo—had just returned to the dorms from Endeavor’s agency. Midoriya is busy mumbling away about the Quirk of one of the villains they’d captured earlier in the day, and Bakugo is pretending to not listen intently.
Midoriya and Bakugo have always been a little unusual like that, but Shoto doesn’t mind. They’re all exhausted, after all. It’s been a long day.
“Your old man always works his interns to the fuckin’ bone?” Bakugo groans, stretching his arms over his head before slinging his bag on the kitchen counter and making a beeline for the pantry.
“This is his first time taking on interns,” Shoto replies, setting his own bag by Bakugo’s. “He doesn’t know any better.”
“It’s a good thing we have tomorrow off,” Midoriya remarks, taking out a cup of instant ramen from his bag before setting it on one of the kitchen island stools. “I’m beat.”
Shoto nods, making his way around the island towards the fridge. He’d purposefully bought an extra serving of soba to save in the fridge two days ago so that he’d have it today. It was a smart move—he could feel the exhaustion weighing down on his bones.
When he opens the fridge door, though, his soba is nowhere to be seen.
Shoto lets out a loud huff of air, frustration quickly bubbling up in his chest as he slams the fridge door shut.
“Everything okay, Todoroki-kun?” Midoriya asks, concerned.
“Yeah, why are ya slamming the fuckin’ fridge door like that, IcyHot?” Bakugo chimes in, stepping out of the pantry with an armful of ingredients.
Shoto shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. “Nothing. It’s just that I bought soba a couple of days ago so that I’d have something to eat today, and it’s gone.”
Midoriya’s eyebrows shoot up. “Again?”
“Yeah.”
Bakugo lets out a snort. “No shit, this class is filled with fucking leeches. They’ll eat anything.”
“It does seem like someone else must’ve eaten it,” Midoriya mutters. “I doubt it’d be on purpose, though.”
“Accident or not, though, it’s becoming a pretty frustrating ordeal,” Shoto replies, sitting defeatedly on one of the kitchen island stools.
“If you’re writing your name on the box, then it’s definitely not a fuckin’ accident,” Bakugo says, turning on the rice cooker.
Shoto blinks twice. When Bakugo turns around and notices the expression on Shoto’s face, he lets out a long sigh. “Fucking hell. You haven’t been writing your name on it, have you?”
He shakes his head. “That’s a smart idea, though. Thank you, Bakugo.”
“Yeah, good thinking, Kacchan!”
“Duh, shitty nerd.” Bakugo rolls his eyes, meeting Midoriya’s gaze. “I’m the best.”
He only acknowledged Midoriya’s compliment, Shoto notes.
Huh. Strange.
—
— —
—
The third time Shoto's soba goes missing is his final straw.
It had been a long, tiring day at his old man’s agency. Villains were more rampant in their patrol route than Shoto had grown used to—they barely had time to scarf down a quick lunch before they were rushing across town to stop a robbery.
On top of that, Midoriya had a fever, so he didn’t join them today. Somehow, he’d always be able to tell whenever Shoto was getting overwhelmed, even when he himself didn’t realize it. Bakugo didn’t notice anything was wrong until Shoto made a snappy remark at his dad while he was in the middle of talking.
After that, Bakugo acted as a buffer between him and the old man, since he didn’t understand why Shoto wanted him to just shut up.
When they finally get back to the dorms, Shoto is half-certain that he’s going to collapse onto the ground before he can reach his dorm room.
“You look like shit, IcyHot,” Bakugo remarks, though his voice doesn’t hold any of its usual energy.
Shoto lets out a short hum, tossing his hero costume case onto the kitchen island as he fights down the urge to snap back at him.
He needs to calm down. This is just how Bakugo shows concern for his friends.
Yeah. They’re friends. Friends. It’s rude to yell at your friends. “Whatever,” he sighs.
Bakugo stares at Shoto for a second longer, as if searching for something, before letting out a wordless hum of his own. “Don’t stay up or else you’ll die of exhaustion, bastard,” he calls out, heading towards the elevator.
Shoto is about to reply when his stomach lets out a growl of protest.
Ah, right. Food.
Letting out a long, exhausted sigh, Shoto slowly makes his way towards the fridge. He’s pretty sure the only reason he didn’t completely lose his shit with his old man was the fact that he knew there was a batch of cold soba waiting for him when he got back. He’ll just eat right now, and then head upstairs to change.
Maybe he’ll write another letter to his mom today—though to be honest, a part of him just really wants to go to sleep—
Shoto opens the fridge door, and his red-and-white box of leftovers is, once again, nowhere to be seen.
The exhaustion that clings to Shoto's bones turns into hot, heavy frustration as it settles in his chest, dragging his heart down, down, down—the lights suddenly feel too bright, his vision blurring, and his clothes are too tight and itchy and suffocating and his heart's going to burst straight out of his damn chest and his breathing too fast, too fast—
Tears spring out of Shoto's eyes, a deep, bone-aching sense of despair pressing against him as he lets out a sob that makes his voice crack—he hates this, he hates this, he hates this, he fucking hates this—
“Hey, are you okay?”
Shoto whips his head around to the source of the voice, and standing at the entrance of the kitchen is a concerned Kirishima. He tries to talk, to tell Kirishima that he's fine, he just needs to get a grip, but all that comes out of his mouth is a wordless, jagged sob, ripping itself right out of Shoto's throat.
He buries his face into his hands, his entire body shaking with every sob. He hates this all so much, he wishes he could just disappear—
Two warm, steady arms wrap around him, pressing his face into a broad shoulder. “It's okay, man,” Kirishima whispers. “Let it all out, you’re okay. I’ll help you get up to your room alright? Get ya some privacy.”
Shoto can’t bring himself to speak—if he tries, he’ll be suffocated by the force of the sobs filling his throat—so he gives a small nod, burying his face into Kirishima’s shoulder as he grabs onto him, hands twisting the fabric of Kirishima’s shirt.
He can’t feel anything, yet he’s feeling too much—like he’s floating but drowning at the same time. The sharp ring of the elevator pierces Shoto’s ears, and his hands grip on tighter as he presses his face further into the fabric, the blinding lights burning at his eyes. Something presses against his ear, and the elevator sounds out again, this time muffled, but still a piercing pain.
“Hey…room,” Kirishima murmurs. “Key…for door?”
Shoto blinks twice, vision still blurry with tears. Still uncontrollably shaking, he reaches for the doorknob, turning it and pushing open the unlocked door. He stumbles forward, but Kirishima keeps him upright, slowly guiding him down to his futon.
God, he feels so stupid. Why can’t he stop crying? This is all too much, too much, too much—
Kirishima’s arms squeeze harder around Shoto, enveloping him in what feels like a warm, tight cocoon.
“It’s okay, Todoroki. You’re okay. If there’s a problem, then we can solve it together, yeah?”
Somehow, Shoto can feel the tension in his shoulders finally relaxing at that. Kirishima squeezes him again, and this time, Shoto’s hands start to shake less.
He’s in his room, on his futon, on the ground. The lights are off, and the warmth from Kirishima’s arms radiates out and seeps into Shoto’s skin, pressing down on his fraying nerves and soothing them.
Little by little, the sobs that were leaving Shoto’s throat aching and raw begin to slow, and begin to soften. His jagged sobs become muted sniffles; his bone-deep shaking turns into tear-soaked hiccups that stutter on their way up and out of his chest.
Eyes puffy as he slowly blinks, Shoto lets go of Kirishima’s shirt, leaning back as Kirishima brings his arms down.
There’s a big, wet splotch across the shoulder of Kirishima’s shirt, as well as various burn marks and frost residue. Shoto can’t help the heavy pit of shame and guilt that opens in his stomach.
“I’m sorry—”
“Nope!” Kirishima retorts, shaking his head. “You have no reason to be saying sorry right now. I used my Hardening whenever your Quirks started acting out, so nothing was harmed except my shirt. And even then, I have three shirts that look exactly like this one. It’s no big deal at all, I swear.” As if to prove a point, Kirishima grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it off, rolling up the fabric into a ball in his lap. “Seriously, you have nothing to apologize for, Todoroki. We’re friends, right? It’s the manly thing to do to help out your friend when they’re in a tough spot.”
Shoto isn’t sure how it’s possible, but he can feel himself relaxing even more, a wave of gratefulness washing over him. He hasn’t spent one-on-one time with Kirishima in a long while now, so he’s sort of forgotten just how relaxing his company can be.
“Thank you, Kirishima-kun.”
At that, Kirishima flashes a small smile and a thumbs up. “Of course! It’s the least I could do, really. I’m glad I was able to help.” He then pauses, hesitance flickering in and out of his expression.
“Do you…wanna talk about it?”
Shoto opens his mouth, but the words don’t come out—the lingering sense of guilt weighs heavy on Shoto’s chest.
You did all that over nothing, more or less. Kirishima’s going to think that you’re being completely ridiculous—
“Ah, no pressure, though!” Kirishima exclaims, waving his hands in a panic. “I totally get it if you’d rather talk about this to like, Midoriya, or Iida, or whatever. It’d be unmanly to force you to talk to me about it, I didn’t mean to come across that way—”
“No, that’s not it.” Kirishima freezes at that, mouth slowly closing as he puts his hands down. Shoto avoids meeting his gaze, staring down at his lap. “It’s just…the reason behind why I reacted the way I did is…kind of stupid. I—”
Kirishima shakes his head, this time with a sense of certainty. “Ah ah ah, nope! I’m really sorry to interrupt you, Todoroki, but there’s no such thing as a stupid reason to cry. It’s manly as hell to cry, even if you think the reason is dumb, or if it's ‘not a big deal’, or even if you don’t know why you’re crying.”
For some reason, Shoto is reminded of the time that he’d given somewhat similar advice to Midoriya, back when he was interning under Sir Nighteye. It makes him feel a lot less bad about everything, in a way.
And so, after taking a long, deep breath, Shoto explains to Kirishima what happened—how it had been a long day; all the overwhelming and overstimulating things (and people) during patrol; how he was starving by the time he and Bakugo came back; how he’d saved soba for today specifically, only for it to be gone; how this wasn’t the first time his soba has been taken.
“I’m aware that it’s…childish, to lose it like that over soba,” Shoto says. “But—”
“Are you kidding me?!” Kirishima interjects, incredulous. “You’re telling me that not only did you put your name on the food, but that whoever’s taken it hasn’t even bothered to replace it?!” Kirishima frowns, shaking his head solemnly. “That is so unmanly, you have every single right to get upset.”
Before Shoto could reply—both the relief of and joy of being understood singing in his veins—Kirishima’s eyes widen, suddenly filling with determination.
“You still haven’t eaten though, right? Is there any other food you’d be down to eating right now? Even if it’s just a snack! That’d be better than going to bed on an empty stomach.” Kirishima is up on his feet in an instant. “I’ve got a ton of snacks in my room, even. Protein bars, chocolate, potato chips, Twizzlers, cheese and crackers—oh! Pocky sticks! What else—”
“You have Twizzlers?”
Kirishima looks down at Shoto, blinking twice. “Oh, yeah, I do. I know they’re more popular overseas and everything, but I think they taste pretty good.”
Shoto nods in agreement. “Me too. I like them a lot.”
Kirishima’s eyes widen, a wide smile filling his face. “You like them?! Oh my God, this is awesome! Okay, so I’ll grab a bag of Twizzlers for ya, and…?”
“Cheese and crackers sound good to me,” Shoto replies, then gives a thumbs up. Kirishima’s smile somehow grows even wider, and he gives two thumbs up in return. “Okay, cool beans! Give me, like, two minutes, I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
With that, Kirishima sprints out of the room, closing the door behind him. Shoto decides to start writing a letter to his mom while he waits.
Dear Mom,
Today, Midoriya-kun was sick. He wasn’t able to come with me and Bakugo-kun to our work study today. It was a long, exhausting day, but we got through it.
On the patrol route today, an old lady told me that I look like a heartbreaker. I’m not sure why so many old ladies feel the need to tell me that. I don’t think I look like someone who would make someone’s heart break.
When I got back to the dorms from patrol, though, I found that my leftovers were taken again. Kirishima-kun stumbled into the kitchen just as I started to get upset about it, and now he’s going to his room to get some snacks. Apparently, he also likes Twizzlers.
Ah, I almost forgot to mention—Kirishima-kun is a
“I AM BACK!!” Kirishima shouts as he opens the door. “And I have treasures!”
“Oh, good. I thought the sirens took you captive.”
Kirishima blinks twice, then breaks out into a large grin, cackling as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “Nay, my fellow sailor, the sirens shan’t take me today, nor any day!”
“That is a really good pirate impression,” Shoto remarks, watching as Kirishima sets down the black backpack that’s slung over his shoulder.
“Thank you, thank you,” Kirishima replies, bowing and waving his hand flamboyantly. “My sister and I would play pirates a lot as kids, and she’d only let me be the captain if I spoke in perfect pirate talk.” He opens the zipper of his backpack, pulling out an unopened bag of Twizzlers and a two-compartment bento box filled with small slices of cheese on one side, and salted square crackers on the other. “Dig in, matey! Tonight, we feast!”
After tapping their crackers against each other like people tap their wine glasses in American movies, Shoto eats cheese and crackers and Twizzlers.
It’s no cold soba, but it’s definitely better than going to sleep without eating anything.
“By the way, do you have any idea as to who’s been taking your soba?” Kirishima asks, eating an entire cracker in one bite.
Shoto shakes his head, making another cracker-cheese-cracker sandwich and taking a bite before replying. “No clue. Since they’ve been taking it even after I wrote my name on it, I doubt they’d confess if I were to just ask.”
Kirishima lets out a thoughtful hum, slowly nodding his head as he pulls out a Twizzler from the bag. “Yeah, you have a good point. Maybe you could, like, set up a camera? Or something?” He bites the Twizzler, yanking it with his jagged teeth. “That way you could catch the unmanly culprit in the act.”
Shoto blinks twice, eyes widening. “That’s…a really good idea, actually. Thank you, Kirishima.”
Kirishima blinks twice in turn, then flashes a wide, ecstatic grin. “No problemo, man! That’s what friends are for, right?”
Shoto smiles, a soft warmth flowing through his veins. “Yeah.”
After they finish their impromptu snack dinner, Kirishima bids Shoto good night and heads to his dorm room, leaving Shoto alone once more.
After changing into his pajamas (he’ll just wake up early tomorrow to shower off today’s grime), Shoto sits at his desk to quickly finish his letter to his mom.
Ah, I almost forgot to mention—Kirishima-kun is my friend. He likes Twizzlers, too. I think you’d like him.
Love, Shoto.
—
— —
—
The camera that Shoto orders arrives after two days.
He decides to set it up in the kitchen while everyone’s asleep so that he doesn’t risk someone seeing him bring it down from his room.
Technically speaking, being up and about past curfew hours is against the room. Stealing someone’s belongings is against the law, though, so Shoto’s pretty sure that he’ll be fine.
Almost everything’s set up. Shoto put bait leftovers in the fridge in hopes of luring out the soba snatcher, and he’s even downloaded the app that comes with the camera.
The only thing that’s left is actually setting up the camera. He isn’t sure why, but for some reason, the instruction manual is written only in English and Spanish. Sure, he does well in English class with Yamada-sensei, but that doesn’t stop him from struggling with the instructions.
Letting out a quiet sigh, Shoto starts to reread the instructions again and—
Ding.
Shoto’s heart drops to his feet just as steady footsteps begin sounding out, coming closer and closer to the kitchen.
Shoto quickly ducks down, hiding behind the island counter.
Shit. He left all the camera setup materials on the counter. Shoto slowly crawls towards the right, poking his head out through the legs of the island stools. He holds his breath, quietly watching as Kirishima walks in, letting out a long yawn as he opens the cup cabinet, pulling out his cup. He makes his way towards the fridge— right across from Shoto’s hiding spot—then presses the cup against the water dispenser on the door.
Kirishima chugs the water, then turns to place it on the island counter when he spots Shoto and jumps back, flinching as he lets out a sharp gasp.
“Todoroki? What are you—”
Shoto shushes him, bringing his finger up to his lips before gesturing for him to come closer. After about half a second of consideration, Kirishima refills his cup of water, then crouches down and joins Shoto on the floor.
“So. What brings you here at—” Kirishima pauses, holding up his wrist to check the time on his watch. “Eleven forty at night?”
“I took your advice and bought a camera,” Shoto whispers back. “It must be an overseas product, though, because the instruction manual only has English and Spanish. I’ve been trying to figure out how to set it up so I can find out who’s been taking my soba.”
Kirishima’s eyes widen, a grin filling his face. “Oh yeah. Time to expose our secret soba snatcher. I can help set up the camera if you want.”
Shoto nods hurriedly. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
Slowly, Shoto and Kirishima bring down the camera parts and manual to the floor, and within fifteen minutes, the camera is up and running.
“Thank you so much, Kirishima-kun,” Shoto murmurs. “I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't shown up.”
Kirishima waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, it's nothing. I couldn't just leave you without helping. Wouldn't be very manly of me otherwise.”
Somehow, despite the fact that they were in a dark kitchen, Shoto could almost swear that Kirishima’s eyes were glowing. He doesn't think he could look away if he tried—
“Where are you thinking of setting up this bad boy?”
Shoto blinks twice, and Kirishima holds up the camera.
“Oh!” Shoto rapidly blinks again, mind going blank as he looks up. “Um. I think on top of the fridge would be best,” he says, standing up.
“Yeah, good idea,” Kirishima agrees, standing up next to Shoto. He then turns to him, handing him the camera. “Ready?”
Shoto stares. “Ready for wha—”
Before Shoto can begin to process it, Kirishima bends down, wraps his arms around Shoto's knees, and picks him up so effortlessly that for a fleeting moment, Shoto is convinced that he's floating.
He almost drops the camera, but Shoto tightens his grip on it, ignoring the way his heart races in his chest.
Well. Trying to ignore it, at least. He can't be blamed, really—anyone would be surprised at the amount of strength Kirishima has, considering that his Quirk has nothing to do with enhancing his strength.
Through some miracle, Shoto manages to set up the camera above the fridge, angled in such a way that anyone who goes to open the fridge will have their face caught on camera.
Kirishima sets Shoto down with gentle carefulness, quickly standing up straight and inspecting Shoto. “You okay?”
Not quite able to muster any words, Shoto gives a small nod and hums. With that, the two of them head towards the elevator.
“I sure hope we find out who's been taking the soba soon,” Kirishima remarks. “I can't imagine how annoying it's been.”
Shoto hums. “Yeah. Hopefully, it'll all be over soon. I plan to check the camera’s footage in the morning.”
The elevator door dings open, and Kirishima turns to look at Shoto.
“Good night, Todoroki. Sleep well.”
The warmth in Shoto's veins spreads out into his chest, wrapping itself around his ribs and making itself at home. “Good night, Kirishima. Thank you again for all the help,” he replies, giving a small smile as he waves. “Sweet dreams.”
Kirishima's eyes widen for a split second before a wide smile overtakes his face, giving a small wave back as the elevator doors close.
The warmth in Shoto's chest accompanies him all the way to his room, and it envelopes him as he gives himself to the clutches of sleep.
—
— —
—
Shoto wakes up to two notifications on his phone.
The first one is a text message from Midoriya, bidding him good morning and asking if he's got a patrol shift at his old man's agency today.
The second is a notification from the camera app that says Motion Detected.
Shoto hurries to sit up, heart racing in his chest as he clicks on the notification. The app opens, indicating that the motion detector was activated three times throughout the night. He presses the video feed, and it pulls up the first of the detections—Shinso making instant ramen, grabbing chopsticks, and leaving.
The second of the detections shows Yao-Momo and Tsuyu drinking tea and making small talk before leaving once more.
The third of the detections shows a glitched, fuzzy feed. Shoto frowns, rewinding the video, but all is in vain. It didn't pick up anything.
Disappointment and confusion bubble up in Shoto's chest as he runs his hand through his hair. Did the culprit know he set up a camera and sabotaged it somehow?
Just as Shoto is about to look through the camera feed again, he gets a third notification.
Kirishima Eijirou: good morning todoroki!! i hope you slept well :D
Kirishima Eijirou: did the camera catch the soba snatcher? 👀
Shoto smiles, then downloads the clip of the third motion detection before sending it to Kirishima.
You: [video attachment]
You: Unfortunately, it seems the soba snatcher was one step ahead. I think they sabotaged the camera somehow.
Kirishima Eijirou: OH MY GOD??????
Kirishima Eijirou: HOW DID THEY KNOW
Kirishima Eijirou: maybe it's a witch 0-0
Kirishima Eijirou: how else would they have known omg that's actually insane
Shoto can't help the small laugh that leaves him, all his disappointment fizzing out. Even though the situation is pretty upsetting, Kirishima is somehow extremely endearing through it all.
You: To be honest, I'm not sure where to go from here.
Kirishima Eijirou: there is only one way forward now
Kirishima Eijirou: we’ll just have to catch the soba snatcher red-handed
Kirishima Eijirou: THE SUPER SECRET SOBA STAKEOUT IS ON!!!!!!!!!!
Kirishima Eijirou: 💪😤
You: I like that name. It’s very fitting.
—
— —
—
Shoto and Kirishima agree to do the Super Secret Soba Stakeout over the weekend—that way, if they stay up really late, they'll have a day off to recover before classes start up for the week again.
Shoto heads up to his dorm to wait for everyone else to go to bed. He does some of the homework for the week, then writes another letter to his mom to tell her about the soba stakeout, promising to update her on the identity of the culprit.
Around 11:30 PM, Shoto quietly makes his way down to the commons, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.
When he walks into the commons, he finds Kirishima already there, angling one of the couches so that they can see who's in the kitchen, but also so they could be able to hide.
Kirishima's face lights up when he spots Shoto, waving excitedly. “Hey!”
Shoto waves back, walking up to Kirishima. “Hello, Kirishima.”
“I'm so nervous,” he remarks, sitting on the couch. “But I'm so excited, too! This is almost like a sleepover, I haven't had one in ages.”
Shoto sits down next to Kirishima, glancing down at the wide array of snacks and drinks on the ground in front of them.
“I've never had a sleepover before,” Shoto replies. “I'm glad that my first one will be with you, though.”
Kirishima stares at Shoto, eyes round like saucers before he rapidly blinks, letting out a small chuckle. “Well then, we'll have to make this a sleepover that you'll never forget!”
Shoto doesn't think he'll ever forget this regardless, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he listens intently as Kirishima shows him the battery banks he got for their phones, as well as the various two-player games that he downloaded on his.
Even though he's known Kirishima for a while now, Shoto's come to realize there's a lot that he didn't know about him.
Through whispered conversations, Shoto finds out that Kirishima has two moms—he has a lot of photos of them. Apparently, one of them is a photographer, and the other is a vet.
Kirishima also happens to know sign language. He explained to Shoto that technically speaking, he becomes deaf in his Unbreakable form because his eardrums also harden. He spends the better part of an hour teaching Shoto how to sign a couple of words—hello, goodbye, friend, soba.
When Kirishima pulls out a pack of pocky sticks for them to snack on, Shoto is more than delighted to find out that they're both big fans of strawberries.
Shoto also comes to realize that he doesn't talk that much about himself—he’s pretty sure he was more surprised about the fact that Kirishima didn't know he had siblings than Kirishima was about him having siblings.
“I remember Bakugo mentioning something about a sister of yours, like, once,” he says. “I never knew you had more!”
Even though Shoto doesn’t really have group photos with his siblings, he still shows Kirishima the photos of Fuyumi and Natsuo that he has. In turn, Kirishima shows him photos of his sister—who lives overseas—as well as various photos of his rock collection.
Apparently, Kirishima is a huge fan of rocks. He talks about how he wanted to bring the whole thing with him to the dorms, but since it was too big, he only brought a part of it. The collection that he was able to bring with him to the dorms was his collection of teeth—more specifically, Kirishima’s teeth.
It turns out that since one of his moms has a shark Quirk, he inherited teeth that constantly fall out and regrow, and his sister sometimes takes some of the teeth to make jewelry with them. Kirishima seemed a little hesitant to tell Shoto that piece of information, but to be honest, Shoto finds it fascinating.
After a while, Kirishima opens up his phone, and they play some games together. Shoto discovers that Kirishima has an extraordinary talent for playing mobile 8-Ball. He doesn’t do too badly when they play a couple of rounds of 3D bowling, so he’d say they’re pretty evenly matched.
A little past one, Kirishima offers to show Shoto some of the songs on his playlist. Shoto agrees, and Kirishima hands him one of the earbuds before plugging it into his phone and opening up his music app. Their shoulders press against each other, and a part of Shoto can’t help but marvel at how much warmth constantly radiates out of Kirishima.
“Do you want me to pull up the lyrics?” Kirishima murmurs out.
Shoto covers his mouth as he yawns, then gives a small nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”
After going through Kirishima’s playlist—as well as quietly asking him to send Shoto the names of some of the songs—they decide to keep their earbuds in and watch something on Kirishima’s phone. In the end, they settle on an American romantic comedy about a small-town girl moving to a big city for college and finding love.
As the main love interest plays a song on his guitar for the girl, Kirishima lets out a quiet sigh. “Y’know, I really hope that one day, I can meet someone who will do dumb, cheesy stuff with me,” he whispers. “It seems really nice.”
Shoto tilts his head. “But if all of those cheesy things are important and mean something to you, why would it be dumb?”
Kirishima stares at Shoto, eyes widening in some sort of realization before giving a small nod. “Yeah, I guess so. You make a good point.”
Shoto yawns again, wiping away the tear that clings to his lashes as he gives a small hum in response.
He isn’t too sure when, or how it happened, but in one moment, he’s watching the girl and love interest fight in the rain, and the next, Kirishima is gently calling his name and shaking him awake.
“You really aren’t a night owl, huh?” Kirishima whispers, a small smile on his face. It’s only then that Shoto realizes he’d fallen asleep on Kirishima’s shoulder.
Face flushing, he quickly jolts back, rubbing his face so he can wake up faster. “Sorry,” he says.
Kirishima waves his hand dismissively. “You’re all good, don’t worry. But I did hear the elevator go off, so someone is coming.”
With that, Shoto and Kirishima quickly scramble to the floor, ever so slightly poking their heads out from the side of the couch. The elevator dings once more, and Shoto can just barely hear the sound of its doors opening.
Soft but steady footsteps approach the kitchen. Shoto holds his breath in his throat—he wouldn’t be able to look away if he tried. A hand reaches out to turn on the nightlight, revealing a sleepy Midoriya.
Shoto lets out a quiet sigh of relief. He can see the way Kirishima visibly relaxes, too. They still don’t move from their spot though—watching as Midoriya opens the cup cabinet, then slowly trudges towards the fridge, pressing his cup against the water dispenser. He downs it all in two large gulps before setting it in the sink and turning around.
Shoto and Kirishima both quickly duck their heads away, Shoto’s heart racing in his chest.
A couple more footsteps sound out, only for them to pause.
“Oh,” Midoriya’s voice sounds out, and the footsteps sound out again, only this time they’re getting closer. “They must’ve moved it for game night.”
Kirishima meets Shoto’s gaze, and he’s sure that he’s just as panicked.
Shit, shit, shit—
Midoriya steps into view, and Shoto hurries to grab his arm and yank him down. Kirishima is quick to cover Izuku’s mouth with his hand, stifling his startled yelp. Shoto presses a finger to his lips. Midoriya—eyes wide and definitely not sleepy anymore—gives a small nod, to which Kirishima takes his hand off of Midoriya’s mouth.
“Todoroki-kun? Kirishima-kun?” Midoriya whispers, voice filled with confusion. “What’s going on?”
“We’re trying to catch the person who’s been stealing my leftover soba,” Shoto explains. “I tried setting up a camera to catch the culprit, but they messed up the camera somehow.”
“So we decided to implement the Super Secret Soba Stakeout mission,” Kirishima chimes in. “Nobody’s come down to take the soba yet, though.”
Midoriya’s eyes somehow grow even wider, except this time, they’re lit up with curiosity as he begins to quietly mumble away, saying something about the camera. Kirishima glances at Shoto, who shrugs in return. It seems like a third has joined the Super Secret Soba Stakeout.
Before Shoto can think of what to say, the elevator dings once more. Shoto brings his finger up to his lips once more, shushing Midoriya. Kirishima’s eyes widen, and Midoriya’s mumbling comes to a halt.
The three of them all slowly poke their heads out from the side of the couch, silence settling in the air as the elevator doors open, and footsteps head towards the kitchen.
Since the nightlight is on, though, Bakugo walking into the kitchen isn’t that much of a reveal. He glances around briefly, seeming to not notice the couch, before letting out a low tch, pulling his phone out of his pocket, and leaning back against the counter, angrily tapping away at the screen.
Midoriya suddenly stands up, hurrying over towards Bakugo with quick and quiet footsteps, gesturing with his hand for Shoto and Kirishima to stay back.
Once Bakugo turns and spots Midoriya, all the agitation on his face melts away, leaving an eerily calm expression on his face. Midoriya leans against the counter next to him, and they begin to quietly converse.
“I knew Kats was sneaking out of his dorm after curfew,” Kirishima whispers, his hand coming up to rest on Shoto’s shoulder. “I thought I was imagining hearing his door open late at night.”
Shoto doesn’t quite process what Kirishima says—every part of him decides to fixate on Kirishima’s palm pressed against his shoulder, the warmth seeping through his shirt and into his skin. He almost can’t focus on anything else.
Almost, because Bakugo goes quiet, then suddenly leans forward and kisses Midoriya. Kirishima lets out a breathless gasp, covering his mouth with his free hand. Shoto is also quite surprised—though he’s more surprised at the fact that Bakugo kissed Midoriya first, and not the other way around.
“God, I hope they don’t start making out or something,” Kirishima murmurs, and Shoto watches as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I really don’t wanna hear tha—”
Kirishima’s mouth hangs open, almost frozen in place as Shoto feels his face growing hot—with how close their faces are to each other, Shoto is almost certain Kirishima can feel the heat radiating out of him, and God, why do his eyes keep looking down at his lips—
The elevator dings, and Shoto almost jumps into the air, heart leaping to his throat and racing away. Bakugo and Midoriya rip themselves away from each other, the panic clear on their faces.
Kirishima shoots up from his place behind the couch, and Shoto follows suit, waving Bakugo and Midoriya over while Kirishima whisper-shouts, “Over here!”
Midoriya’s face is a mix of relief and embarrassment as he rushes over, ducking down and sitting by Shoto. Meanwhile, Bakugo’s face is twisted into some sort of incredulous shock, eyes darting from Midoriya to Kirishima and Shoto, to the snacks and drinks Kirishima had brought.
“What the fuck are you all doing h—”
Midoriya grabs Bakugo’s arm, yanking him down out of sight. Bakugo curses as he comes down, only for the three of them to hurriedly shush him as the elevator doors sound out, and slow, stuttering footsteps sound out.
Before he even steps into the kitchen, Shoto can hear Kaminari’s electric static fill the air.
The four of them watch as Kaminari steps into the kitchen, his hair glowing yellow as sparks of electricity shoot out towards various appliances, which all shut down, their humming quickly fading away. Kaminari stops walking, mumbling something incoherent before throwing his hands up in the air. “Why would you invade Nicaragua without me?”
Kaminari pauses, then slowly turns. Shoto’s breath catches in his throat, his heartbeat spiking as Kaminari stares straight at the couch, where all four of them are frozen in place.
Instead of acknowledging them, though, Kaminari holds his arms out, then slowly spins in a circle, incoherently humming some sort of song before suddenly clapping, then pointing at the fridge.
“Abracadabra,” he says, then opens the fridge and pulls out Shoto’s leftover soba container, with his name written in thick, bold marker on all sides of the box.
Aha. Busted.
Shoto quickly stands up. “Kaminari-kun?” he calls out.
Despite the panic on the other three’s faces, Kaminari doesn’t reply. Shoto slowly walks around the couch towards the kitchen. Kirishima is quick to follow suit, followed by Midoriya and Bakugo.
Even with all of them out in the open, Kaminari seems entirely oblivious to their presence, pulling chopsticks out of his pocket as he sets down Shoto’s soba on the island counter. “The donuts are here,” he remarks, laughing as he sits on one of the kitchen stools. His head starts drooping down, like he’s about to go to sleep, when he suddenly shoots up, sitting straight.
“Why won’t you disco, pookie?” he asks, voice filled with concern. There’s a pause, and then Kaminari frowns, opening up Shoto’s soba and eating it.
“I think Kaminari-kun’s sleepwalking,” Izuku murmurs, waving his hand next to Kaminari, only to get no reaction. Bakugo pulls out his phone and starts to record Kaminari blankly staring into space, his mouth stuffed with cold soba as he slowly chews.
When Kirishima gives him a pointed look, Bakugo flips him off. “Shut the hell up, Shitty Hair. Sparkplug here won’t believe that he’s been stealing IcyHot’s food in the dead of fucking night.”
Rolling his eyes, Kirishima turns to look at Midoriya. “Should we wake him up?”
Izuku shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea, it could be dangerous. Since his Quirk is already active and acting out of his control while he’s asleep, if we wake him up and he startles, it could hurt him and us. We should just wait for him to head up to bed on his own.” He then turns to Shoto. “You can go to his room and tell him about the soba situation in the morning." Shoto nods, though he can’t help but mourn the loss of yet another box of soba.
You did well, soba. This is a necessary sacrifice.
Shoto and the others all quietly watch as Kaminari finishes the soba, stuffing the chopsticks into his pocket again. He stands up—and pauses for a moment before rapidly stomping his feet—and takes the empty container, walking to the trash and dumping it in before slamming his hand on the counter. “You are not a bird, man. Let it go.”
“He’s neater when he’s fucking asleep than when he’s awake,” Bakugo remarks, crossing his hands over his chest.
With that final remark, Kaminari walks out of the kitchen and towards the elevator, mumbling some more nonsense as he presses the button, stepping in, and disappearing as quickly as he came. Meanwhile, all the appliances that had shut down click and hum to life once more.
“Sorry about your soba,” Kirishima says solemnly. “Must've been tough having to watch the soba snatcher eat it all."
Shoto lets out a small sigh. “Yeah. It will be missed dearly.”
“Well, cheer up!” Kirishima replies, putting his hand on Shoto's shoulder once more. “Since tomorrow's a weekend, how about we get an off-campus request from Aizawa-sensei and go have soba for lunch? My treat!”
Shoto's mourning is quickly replaced with buzzing giddiness as he nods. He knows that Kirishima is offering this as a friendly gesture, but he can't help the way his heart races in his chest at the thought. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”
Kirishima’s face fills with a wide grin. “Alright, awesome!” He then turns to Bakugo and Midoriya. “Would you two wanna come with?”
“Oh, it's okay!” Midoriya replies. “We wouldn't want to intrude on your date, y'know?” He says it with such genuine earnestness that for a fleeting moment, Shoto doesn't quite process what Midoriya said.
It seems that he and Kirishima both process Midoriya's sentence at the same time, because Shoto feels his face become red hot, and Kirishima's hand—that’s still on Shoto's shoulder—becomes stiff.
The stiffness only lasts for a second, though, because in the blink of an eye, Kirishima's hand is gone and waving frantically back and forth. “Oh, no no no, you’ve got it all wrong, Mido! I—Todoroki—we’re not dating!”
At that, both Midoriya and Bakugo’s expressions morph into ones of shock. Unlike Midoriya, though, Bakugo proceeds to burst out into laughter, pointing his finger at Kirishima.
Face as red as his hair, Kirishima shoves Bakugo’s shoulder. “Don’t make fun of us, you asshole!”
“I’m really sorry!” Midoriya exclaims. “It's just—I…assumed wrong, I guess…”
Shoto swallows down the lump in his throat. “What…why did you think that we…?”
“Well,” Midoriya starts, fidgeting with his hands. “I noticed that you were texting Kirishima-kun a lot this past week. And you seemed—or, well, you looked pretty happy whenever you two would be texting.”
“And there was that stunt you two pulled back last Tuesday,” Bakugo comments, giving Kirishima a pointed look. “Pinky and I saw you carrying IcyHot here fucking bridal style up to his room while petting his hair and shit. I told Pinky to shut her trap about it until you tell us about you two.”
Shoto blinks twice, his mind racing a mile a minute as he meets Kirishima’s gaze. His face feels so hot that if he didn’t know better, he’d think that his Quirk was activated. “You…carried me…?”
Kirishima’s eyes somehow grow impossibly wider, his face beet red as his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.
A sudden wave of bravery fills Shoto. Heart slamming against his ribs like a war drum, Shoto takes a deep breath.
“Do you…like me?”
Kirishima makes a wordless sound, almost doubling over before standing up straight, hands still covering his face as he mumbles out, “Yes.”
Shoto’s breath catches in his throat. “Me too.”
Kirishima takes his hands off his face, shock etched deep into his expression. Midoriya is bouncing up and down with the heels of his feet in excitement, grabbing Bakugo’s arm.
“Dumbass,” Bakugo mutters at him. He doesn't make Midoriya let go.
“Do you want the soba trip tomorrow to be a date?” Kirishima asks, hands balled up into fists at his side, eyes fixed on Shoto.
In turn, Shoto nods, a small smile making its way to his face. “I’d like that.”
Midoriya claps, a wide smile on his face. “Oh, congrats you two!! I'm so happy for you.”
“Thank you, Midoriya,” Shoto replies. “Maybe we all could go on a double date sometime.”
This time, it's Midoriya and Bakugo’s turn to become flustered, cheeks filling with rosy red.
Shoto blinks twice, and Kirishima gasps. “Oh my god, was that kiss earlier a confess—”
“You have three seconds to run before I fucking kill you, Shitty Hair.”
“And that's my cue!” He exclaims. “Good night, Todoroki. Sweet dreams.”
“You too, Kirishima.” Shoto waves as Kirishima runs off towards the elevator, with Bakugo hot on his trail.
“I hope you have fun tomorrow!” Midoriya remarks. “I'm gonna go get Kacchan.”
“Bye, Midoriya.”
After Shoto closes all the lights in the kitchen, he makes his way up to his dorm room, quietly shutting the door behind him. The letter he started to his mom sits at his desk.
Warmth buzzing in his veins, Shoto turns on his desk lamp and picks up his pencil.
As it turns out, the soba snatcher culprit was one of my classmates, Kaminari Denki. Apparently, he sleepwalks, so he’s not aware that he’s been eating my soba.
It’s okay, though, because Kirishima is taking me out tomorrow to have soba for lunch. During one of our breaks, I’ll be sure to bring him with me when visiting you, Mom.
I like Kirishima a lot. I hope that you’ll come to like him as much as I do.
Love, Shoto.