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“Guys!” Hagakure squeals as she bounces up to the table. She flings herself into her seat, nearly upsetting her entire lunch in the process. “Guess what happened this weekend?”
Shouto sinks lower in his seat. He usually sticks by Midoriya when he’s not by himself, sometimes Uraraka and Iida, too, but he hasn’t branched out to the others yet. He sits with them at lunch now, but he keeps to himself. At the moment he’s regretting that a bit, because several other people squeal as well and lean forward.
“What’s going on?” Iida asks, and Shouto is relieved that at least he’s not the only one out of the loop.
“I came out to my parents!” she says, and the sentence is barely over before the table is erupting into cheers.
Shouto winces.
“Tell us how it went!” Uraraka demands.
Hagakure’s sleeves flutter around excitedly. “My dad’s taking a little while to come around to it, but he was pretty nice anyway, and my mom was really happy for me. She said she always wanted a daughter to take shopping and that she’d get me new uniforms! So I don’t have to keep borrowing from you guys!”
Yaoyorozu hugs her fiercely while everyone screams again, but Shouto is too busy being confused. And he doesn’t want to offend anyone—he’s not a complete idiot, he knows what coming out means, he knows Midoriya is gay, he knows that’s not as horrible as his father made it out to be—but he’s just…lost.
“I-“ he starts, but everyone is talking too loudly. Brief flash of courage lost, he sinks back in his seat, resigned to gleaning what he can from listening.
Unfortunately, some people are too perceptive.
“Everyone! Be quiet! Todoroki is trying to say something!” Iida booms, silencing their table and a few nearby groups.
Shouto wants to crawl under the table as everyone turns to stare at him. The nearby tables quickly resume their conversations, but Midoriya’s friends do not.
“It’s nothing,” he says.
“It’s not nothing,” Tsu pipes up. “Don’t let us talk over you.”
There’s a chorus of variations on “Yeah, let's hear it!” and Shouto sighs. He’s not getting out of this.
Staring firmly at the table, he says, “I’m just…confused.”
Hagakure rests her chin on her hand…he thinks. “Confused about what?”
“I don’t want to be rude.”
“Oh, I don’t mind! You’re my friend. Ask away, I promise I won’t bite. If I don’t want to answer I’ll just say so.”
Shouto is all too familiar with the consequences of asking the wrong question, but…this isn’t home. And she said friend. He risks glancing up at her.
“I just…what did you come out to your parents as, exactly?”
Hagakure laughs, but it’s…a nice laugh? He thinks? Not directed at him? “Oh, sorry, I guess you haven’t known me long enough to know about it! I came out as a girl.”
Well that’s…more confusing. Shouto stares at her, struggling to decide if he should admit to yet more ignorance.
He waits too long, and Yaoyorozu leans across the table, eyes narrowed. “Is that a problem, Todoroki?”
Everyone is staring at them, holding their breath, and Shouto knows there’s only one right answer.
“No, of course not. I’m sorry, I was just surprised.”
Yaoyorozu nods once and sits back, satisfied. The conversation picks up again, hesitantly at first, and then with more strength. Shouto doesn’t say another word for the rest of lunch.
❆❆❆❆❆
Alone in his room that night, Shouto types coming out as a girl into the search bar. He stares at it for a while, then deletes it. Something about it makes him nervous. The internet is hardly a good source, anyway, right? But who is he supposed to ask? The class made it pretty clear it’s not something he’s supposed to question. If it’s the same sort of coming out as Midoriya had with him, it’s probably sensitive.
He just doesn’t understand. Shouldn’t Hagakure’s parents know she’s a girl? It’s fairly obvious, especially to people who literally gave birth to her. He knows about a dozen different ways people can be in love, thanks to Midoriya and a few hours with a whiteboard, but this is…different.
The next day, when everyone else files out of homeroom to head back to the dorms, Shouto packs up slowly and meanders to the front of the room. Aizawa is already sitting at his desk with some of their essays, but he looks up when he notices Shouto.
“Do you need something, Todoroki?”
“I…” Suddenly this seems like a bad idea. “Um. Yes. I think so.”
Aizawa puts down his pen and turns fully to face Shouto. “It’s not like you to hesitate. What’s going on?”
“I have a question and I think it might be a stupid one but I can’t ask anyone else about it,” Shouto blurts, all at once.
Aizawa looks surprised. “I won’t tell you there’s no such thing as stupid questions, because there definitely is, but I doubt you would have any. Hit me.”
“You know how people come out when they’re, um, gay or bi or whatever?”
“I am aware of the phenomenon,” Aizawa says, the corner of his mouth twitching like this is somehow amusing.
He’s come this far. Shouto steels himself to be laughed at and says, “What does it mean if someone comes out as a girl?”
Aizawa looks at him and doesn’t laugh. He seems to get more serious. “Kid, have you ever heard the word transgender before?”
Of course he’s missing something. Shouto shakes his head and stares at his feet.
“Hey, it’s not a bad thing, plenty of people haven’t.” He stands up and walks to the board, like this is a proper lesson. Hesitantly Shouto follows him. “When you’re born, a doctor looks at you and says whether you’re male or female, right?”
“Yes?”
“Well, sometimes what the doctors call us and what we actually are are two different things,” Aizawa explains. “For example, someone might be born who looks very much like a boy, but later on in life realizes that they’re actually a girl. Some people say it’s like being born in the wrong body; I don’t like to, but it’s a decent explanation to start with.”
Shouto takes a moment to process that. “So you can just…decide not to be a boy anymore?”
“Less a decision and more of a feeling,” Aizawa says, “but yes. There are also some people who feel like a boy on some days and a girl on others, and people who don’t feel like either one.”
He writes transgender on the board and follows it with genderfluid and nonbinary, then, after a moment, agender.
“And some people feel like they have no gender.”
“Like asexual?” Shouto asks. “But gender?”
“Exactly. There’s a lot more out there, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
Shouto nods and turns back to the board. “So if someone I know…came out as a girl, I should just treat her like all the other girls? There aren’t any, um, rules?”
Aizawa shakes his head. “No rules in this. In general, yes, if someone says that they’re a trans girl, you should treat them like any other girl you know. But it can help to ask just to make sure. Some people prefer different terms, or different pronouns than you expect-“
“Pronouns?” Shouto hasn’t heard that word in a while, since he was a kid learning the parts of a sentence.
Aizawa returns to the board. “Right, you’re new to this, sorry. So you know what pronouns are, right? He, she, we, they, it, all that?”
“Of course.” He’s not that stupid.
“Well, trans people usually change their pronouns when they transition. So a trans girl would most likely go from being called he to being called she , and vice versa for a trans boy. Nonbinary people can use any pronouns, but commonly use they/them.” He writes the three sets of pronouns out.
Shouto doesn’t mean to, but his eyes are drawn to the last one. “You can do that?”
“Which part?”
“Not…not be either. A boy or a girl. How do you even…”
“Not easily,” Aizawa sighs. “Some people don’t like trans people. I’m sure you’re aware of what homophobia is.”
“My dad is,” Shouto says without thinking. He presses his lips together, but Aizawa doesn’t seem shocked.
“I know. When I was a kid, before he was Number Two, he got on TV talking about it. I never heard him say anything once he was really popular, but I’m not surprised he stayed closed-minded. I’m sorry, kid.”
“I’m not gay,” Shouto blurts. “At least, I don’t…I don’t think.”
Aizawa waves his hand. “I’m still sorry. Let’s not do a sexuality crisis at the moment on top of this. What was I…oh, yeah. Nonbinary people.” He goes back to the board to draw some more. “The gist is, gender is less like two boxes and more like a color wheel. You can be pink, blue, purple, green, red, black, white…anything. You can use any pronouns you like, even…no, let’s not get into neopronouns yet.” He glances at Shouto. “As much as I’d like to give you the entire rundown, you did just learn about this a few minutes ago. Take your time thinking about it, okay? You can come to me with more questions, but it would be even better to talk to your friends.”
Shouto tenses. “What if they get mad at me?”
“No one is going to get mad at you for a good-faith question. Especially not Midoriya. I assume he’s who you’d want to ask.”
Shouto nods, toying with one of his backpack straps. “Okay. I’ll…see. Thank you.”
“Anytime, kid,” Aizawa says softly as he leaves.
❆❆❆❆❆
It takes Shouto four days to work up the courage to knock on Midoriya’s door. It takes another three daily visits to actually broach the subject. They’ve been doing homework quietly together for about an hour—or rather, Midoriya has, while Shouto stares past his paper and works through the conversation over and over in his head—before he speaks up.
“Hey, Midoriya?”
“Yeah, Todoroki?”
“So…so you know Hagakure came out to her parents?”
Midoriya spins around on his chair. “Yeah?”
Does he admit how little he knew? Knows, still, even with Aizawa’s help and a bit of nervous Googling?
Midoriya is watching him expectantly.
“I didn’t really know what trans meant, then,” Shouto says. Midoriya’s eyes widen, but he stays quiet. “I think I know now, I talked to Aizawa about it, but…he told me I should talk to you, as well.”
Midoriya nods eagerly. “Of course! I’m so sorry I never talked to you about this before, I guess I just never got to it. What do you want to know? Oh, what have you learned so far? Do you have any specific questions?”
“Midoriya.”
“Sorry.”
“Mostly, I was wondering about…nonbinary people.” He hasn’t said the word out loud yet; it feels awkward. “I don’t know if you know anything about that.”
Midoriya laughs and Shouto bristles in reflex. “Nevermind, just, forget I asked-“
“No, no, I’m not laughing at you! It makes sense that you wouldn’t know, I just forget, sometimes, but…Todoroki, I’m nonbinary.”
Shouto blinks, and something warm rushes in his chest, like admiration, or envy, or joy. He shoves the emotions aside to make sense of them later, or possibly never.
“You…you are?”
“Yep! I use he/they pronouns. You can use either one for me, it doesn’t matter, but I prefer if people switch it up sometimes.”
Shouto frowns. “You can do that?”
“That’s the cool part. You can do anything you want.”
“…Anything?”
“Yeah! I mean, there’s transphobes out there who don’t like it, but like, who cares about them? If it makes you happy it doesn’t matter. Be a boy who wears dresses or a girl who goes by they/them, change your name or have more than one name if you want to…anything. It’s really fun.”
“Change your name?” Shouto asks quietly.
“Well, yeah. Most trans people do, some don’t.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. Picked it myself.”
“What was it before?”
Midoriya blanches. “It’s rude to ask someone’s deadname—uh, the name they went by before. I’d rather not tell you. That girl was never real.”
Shouto’s face feels hot. “Oh. Sorry. Is there anything else I’m not allowed to ask?”
“Some people are more comfortable talking about things than others. But in general it’s not polite to ask about old names, or how people plan to transition, or what kind of, um, body parts they have.”
He thinks about that for a while. Absorbing.
“Todoroki? You okay?”
“How did you know?” he asks.
“I never liked being a girl. Actually, I kind of hated it. I never felt at home in my body, and I always felt like my name belonged to someone else. When I was in middle school I started looking things up and eventually I figured out trans people existed. I thought I was just a trans boy for a while, but at the end of last year I started experimenting more, and, yeah. I’m definitely pretty sure I’m nonbinary now, but I still like being called he some of the time.”
Shouto blinks in surprise. “You can change your mind?”
“Well, yeah!” Midoriya laughs. “Like I said, no rules. It can take a while to figure everything out.”
“Oh. Huh.”
“Are you asking me all this just because you want to understand,” Midoriya ventures gently, “or is there another reason?”
Panic sparks in Shouto’s chest. “No reason. I was just curious.”
“Okay. Do you have any other-“
“I should go. It’s late.” He grabs his books, not bothering to put any papers away as he stands up.
“It’s barely eight.” Midoriya protests.
“I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
He seems to deflate a little. “Oh. Okay. Goodnight, Todoroki.”
“Night.” He does not run down to his room. He just…walks quickly. And closes the door like a normal person, not leaning his back against it or double checking that it’s locked.
He sets his books on his desk—no chance of getting any more studying done tonight—and goes into the bathroom. Leans forward, studying his face in the mirror.
Who are you?
Todoroki Shouto: Creation, weapon, model student, future Number One.
Endeavor’s golden son.
Who are you?
If he’s honest with himself, he’s never felt like a person. More like a drifter, on the outside, while everyone else seems to know everything. Just playacting at being human well enough that they don’t notice.
He takes off his shirt and waits to feel something. There’s a word in the back of his mind, but he can’t quite remember. He grabs his phone, and finds several tabs still open from his last research session.
Dysphoria.
He doesn’t hate his body. He hates his fire and he hates his father, but when he sets the two aside, this is his skin. He’s always had to live in it. His body is covered in the marks of everything he’s survived: A map of who he is.
Isn’t it?
He looks at his face again.
Are you a girl?
Something in him recoils a little. Noted.
They, he thinks to himself, and it almost…it might…
He turns off the light and walks back into his room before his eyes can adjust to see himself in the darkness.
It’s fine. He doesn’t need to think about it.
❆❆❆❆❆
Now that he knows, he hears it more often. Has Yaoyorozu always called Jirou her partner? He’s fairly certain he hears a they tossed into the air once. He really hasn’t paid close enough attention if he hasn’t noticed that.
He practices writing sentences about Midoriya for two days until he can sit in the common room and say, “Yeah, they pulled a really good move on me at training.“
(Midoriya beams at him and he can feel himself blushing as he smiles back, the barest bit.)
And if some of his practice sentences have his name in them instead, well, no one can prove it after he burns all the pages.
He tries not to think about it most of the time.
It’s easier if he doesn’t.
Early one Saturday morning he heads down to the gym for some extra training. It’s barely dawn, so no one else will be down there. He hasn’t trained alone for a long time. There’s a shower running when he gets to the locker room, which is…interesting. Whoever it is must be finished with their workout, though, so he’ll still be alone. Not his business who wants to get up in the middle of the night and hit the gym.
He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and for half a second his face doesn’t quite look like his.
(Who are you, really?)
(He doesn’t know. Isn’t faking it easier?)
The shower shuts off while he’s still looking and he shakes himself, embarrassed even though no one has seen. A moment later, after he’s changed, Bakugou walks out in nothing but shorts and…and a sports bra.
Bakugou freezes.
Shouto freezes.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Bakugou screeches.
Shouto closes his eyes, but the damage has been done.
“I’ll fucking kill you-“
“I’m not going to say anything, okay?” Shouto snaps. “I’m not an idiot. It’s whatever.”
“Go to hell.”
“Why are you so angry?” He doesn’t mean to ask; he’s just been wondering for a long time.
“Fuck off.”
Shouto risks opening his eyes. Bakugou has a shirt on, arms crossed over his chest.
“Don’t fucking stare, you bastard.”
“I’m not. Staring. I just didn’t know.”
Bakugou huffs. “Yeah, because I don’t fuckin’ want people to know.”
“Why not?”
He levels him with a poisonous glare, like it should be obvious. “Because not everyone is goddamn Deku.”
He leaves before Shouto can ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean.
Shouto doesn’t end up training at all that morning. Too busy thinking.
❆❆❆❆❆
He can’t be trans, Shouto decides one night, lying on his back on top of his covers.
He made the choice—good or bad or something else entirely—to look up some history. Statistics. Current events. Laws. He read articles until his eyes burned.
And he found out exactly how much the world hated people like Midoriya Izuku just for existing.
Shouto needs to protect him. Protect all of them. As he is, he has more power. He could do that.
He just can’t be trans. If Endeavor didn’t kill him for it, someone else probably would.
It isn’t like it bothers him that much, anyway. There are so many worse stories than his. He’ll survive.
❆❆❆❆❆
“No, you guys, I think we need to ask Todoroki’s score, they’ve been way too quiet over there,” Yaoyorozu says.
The whole group is gathered in the common room, comparing scores from their most recent math test. No one did very well.
Judging by their conversation, Shouto’s got them all beat by at least five points, except Yaoyorozu, which is exactly why he doesn’t want to talk about it.
But he’s not thinking about that as Mina launches herself across the couch and grabs his test from him. He’s not feeling a strange mix of guilt and pride as the others exclaim over the score.
He’s hearing Yaoyorozu say, over and over again: they’ve been way too quiet over there.
They. They. They.
His heartbeat is thundering in his ears.
“Todoroki?” Yaoyorozu asks, breaking him out of his thoughts. Everyone looks at him. “You okay?”
He swallows. “It’s just…you called me they.”
“Oh! Sorry, dude, I was talking about Jirou right before, must’ve mixed it up.”
“It’s fine,” he mumbles as the chatter resumes.
It is. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Hey,” Midoriya whispers, nudging his knee. “Are you really okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
They bite their lip. “Well. If you ever want to talk about anything, my door’s open, okay?”
Shouto does his best to smile normally. “Sure. Thanks.”
❆❆❆❆❆
A month and a half since Hagakure made her fateful announcement at the lunch table and two weeks since Shouto has mentioned anything remotely related to gender, he knocks on Midoriya’s door.
His stomach is twisting itself into knots. He’s faced down robots and fellow students and villains and Endeavor, and he thinks he’s more nervous for this than any of those.
Midoriya opens the door with a grin. “Hi, Todoroki! Oh, hey, are you okay?”
Fuck, he must really be nervous if Midoriya can tell.
“I…I’m not sure.”
“Yeah?” Midoriya asks softly, stepping aside. “Come in.”
Shouto hovers awkwardly in the middle of the room until Midoriya sits on the bed, patting the place beside him. He sits.
“What’s going on?”
“I think-“ Shouto breaks off, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning forward as panic chokes him. He can’t.
He can’t.
“It’s okay,” Midoriya says. “Hey, whatever it is, I can help. I’ve got you.”
He takes a shuddering breath and looks up. “I don’t think I’m a boy,” he admits.
Midoriya smiles. “Okay. Cool. Do you know if you want to be called anything different yet?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been…thinking.”
“That’s fine too! Honestly, we’ve kind of been waiting for this to happen, so-“
Shouto cuts Midoriya off as they get more animated. “Who’s we?”
Midoriya blushes. “We have a groupchat? All the trans kids in 1-A. Sorry, I didnt mean to make it sound like we were gossiping, or anything, it’s just, we noticed some stuff? Oh, can I text them to come up here? They’ll be so excited, we have so much to—I mean, if you want, obviously. We can just keep it between us, too.”
Shouto wants. He just also spent all his bravery getting up here, and he doesn’t know if he can handle any more people.
“Maybe…in a few days. Just, for now, I want it to be just us.”
Midoriya nods seriously. “Absolutely. Can do.”
Shouto can’t think of anything else to say. It all feels rather anticlimactic.
“I should go.”
“Do you want to?” Midoriya asks. “We don’t have to talk about it. We can just watch a movie.”
Shouto chews the inside of his cheek. “Okay.”
“Great! But, uh, before we completely stop talking about it…can I hug you?”
Shouto, braced for more questions, stares in surprise. “Yes?”
Midoriya launches themself at him, wrapping him up in a tight hug with their arms around his neck.
“I’m really, really proud of you,” they whisper. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Shouto’s vision might be slightly blurry as Midoriya bounces away to pick out a movie. He’s pretty sure he takes an extra long time with it to give him time to compose himself. When he settles back on the bed, Shouto presses against him, a warm line from thighs to shoulders.
So far, it’s not so bad.
Maybe he can do this.
❆❆❆❆❆
Two days later Shouto allows Midoriya to add him to the groupchat.
todoroki: so. um. hello
Several people start typing, so he quickly dashes off the second message ahead of their responses.
todoroki: i don’t think i’m a boy
Immediately all the typing stops. Before he can work out how to feel about that, it begins again, the chat exploding.
jirou: I FUCKING CALLED IT
tsu: congratulations
yaoyorozu: welcome to the club!! please ignore jirou
jirou: do not ignore me. wheres shinsou i need them to know i won our bet
hagakure: HELLO! did deku add you?
hagakure: and also thank you for telling us
shinsou: jirou we do not have a bet.
jirou: we DO
shinsou: you decided we did. i did not agree.
yaoyorozu: can you not
yaoyorozu: it’s todoroki’s moment
jirou: IT IS INDEED
midoriya: here we go
jirou: WE NEED TO CONVENE THE COUNCIL TODO WHERE ARE YOU
He glances at Midoriya, questioning.
“The trans council,” he elaborates. “It’s just the groupchat. I told you they’d want to swarm you as soon as they knew. You can totally tell them not to, though!”
Shouto looks at his phone, considering.
todoroki: i’m with midoriya
yaoyorozu: midoriya
jirou: midoriya
tsu: midoriya
hagakure: midoriya
todoroki: what’s happening
shinsou: you’re very cute, todo.
“What?” He looks at Midoriya, who’s suppressing a laugh but refusing to elaborate.
jirou: shh shinsou dont tell them that youll get iced
todoroki: i would not freeze any of you outside of battle unless absolutely necessary
yaoyorozu: deku pls confirm or deny if he is doing the serious face
deku: :)))
shinsou: literally.
shinsou: adorable.
“I don’t understand,” Todoroki says.
“You don’t have to. It’s just Shinsou,” Midoriya assures him, which doesn’t really help.
jirou: okay enough chatter were coming. COUNCIL IS BEING CONVENED
And within five minutes they are, indeed, swarming. Midoriya’s room is far too small for all seven of them, but no one seems to mind. There’s a lot of screaming and chattering in the first few minutes, and Shouto inches closer to Midoriya on the bed until they all settle down.
“So,” Yaoyorozu says in her authoritative Vice Representative voice. She’s sitting on Midoriya’s desk, Jirou backwards in the chair next to her. “Name? Pronouns? Anything else?”
He shrinks back a little. “I…I don’t know.”
“Liar,” Shinsou says, no malice to it. Everyone turns to look at them where they’re leaning against the door.
Hagakure, sitting on the floor, protests, “You can’t go rooting around in people’s heads to make them come out!”
“I can’t read thoughts. I just know,” Shinsou says, bored. “It’s Todoroki. You’ve thought about it. You know. You just don’t want to tell us, which is also fine.”
Shouto is saved from having to reply to that by Midoriya’s door opening suddenly. Shinsou nearly falls backwards before they’re caught.
“Sorry,” Shoji says, easing around them. “Didn’t mean to be late.”
“Shoji!” Hagakure cries. “I totally forgot you were in the groupchat!”
He—he?—glances around the room before settling on the floor next to her. “Just because I don’t talk much doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention.”
“Lurker,” Shinsou says as they close the door—double checking that it’s locked this time—and take their spot back.
“I also forgot you were there, Shoji, sorry dude,” Jirou says, lightly ruffling his hair. Yaoyorozu and Midoriya echo them.
“I didn’t forget,” Tsu croaks. Shouto startles a little, spinning to find her tucked into the corner on Midoriya’s bed.
“We’re all getting sidetracked,” Yaoyorozu says. “Todoroki. You don’t have to make any decisions yet, but maybe you can talk us through what you’re feeling? That’s what helped me early on when I was figuring out I was a girl.”
Jirou nods seriously. “Yeah, definitely. At least one of us has probably felt exactly what you’re dealing with.”
“I don’t know,” Shouto says again. “Honestly I’ve been trying not to think about it. I didn’t want to be-”
He stops, gaze darting around the room, afraid he’s offended them. But they’re all watching attentively, and Shoji is nodding understandingly.
“Sometimes it feels like that at first,” he says.
“What were you looking up?” Tsu asks.
Shouto jumps again and faces her. “What?”
“I found a bunch of historical articles about trans people and how we were treated,” she explains. “I didn’t want to come out for a long time after that.”
Midoriya rests their hand on her knee.
“Yeah,” Shouto says. “Something like that.”
“But something made you realize. And come to Deku and the rest of us,” Hagakure points out. “What was that?”
Todoroki stares at his hands. It’s easier, somehow, to talk like this. “After, um, you told us about coming out to your mom, I went to ask Aizawa…what trans people were, exactly. I didn’t know the words.”
Yaoyorozu’s mouth drops open, and she groans. “So back then…you really were asking? Shit, Todo, I half-thought you were transphobic or something. I’m sorry. If I’d known I would’ve-”
“It’s fine,” Shouto cuts her off. “I mean. I’m used to not knowing things everybody knows.”
That doesn’t seem to help. Jirou leans against their girlfriend’s legs. “Keep going. You asked Aizawa? What did he say?”
“He’s been pretty good about all of us,” Shinsou says. “Can’t imagine he said anything wrong.”
“He just…explained the basics, I guess,” Shouto says. “I…”
Everyone waits while he puts his head in his hands, trying to put his thoughts in a straight line, trying to just get the words out. A hand brushes his back and he flinches without meaning to.
“Sorry, sorry!” Midoriya yelps, scrambling away a bit.
Shouto shakes his head. “No, you…you can. You just surprised me.”
Tentatively Midoriya moves closer, his hand hovering over Shouto’s shoulder for so long he can feel the heat radiating before it finally touches him.
“Why is this so hard, ” he grumbles into his palms. “I’m not…I shouldn’t be…I know it’s okay.”
“Still scary,” Hagakure offers. “When I first joined the group I was so scared it took me three tries to actually say anything. And then when I finally did, even though it went perfectly, obviously, I almost fell down the stairs afterward from shaking so much. But it gets easier, every time after the first.”
Shouto nods. Midoriya’s palm makes a few big, soothing circles on his back.
“Aizawa told me about, um, nonbinary people? Like Midoriya, and Jirou, and Shinsou, right?”
“Also me,” Tsu pipes up, “but I mostly just use she/her anyway. Um. Actually, sorry, Todoroki, but I was planning to tell you guys something soon.”
Shouto is just grateful for the reprieve as all the attention swings to her. He peeks between his hands and feels a pang of sympathy as she cringes a little under all their eyes.
“Yeah?” Shinsou asks, soft, prompting.
“I was just thinking about trying out he/him, too,” Tsu says. “Like, both.”
Shoji smiles and holds out one of his tentacles with a fist. “Hey, join the multiple-pronouns club with me and Mido.”
Tsu smiles and bumps his knuckles. “Anyway. That’s all. You can keep going now, Todoroki.”
Oh. Great. “Um. I don’t know. I guess I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I don’t…I don’t think I’m a girl.”
Yaoyorozu nods seriously. “See, you’re narrowing things down already!”
He peeks at her, rolling his next words around in his mouth. “And you called me they, once.”
“Called it,” Jirou announces. Yaoyorozu gives them a look. “Sorry. Totally saw the look on your face, though, and y’know. Like calls to like, and all that.”
“I didn’t know I was being so obvious,” Shouto mutters.
“If it helps, I didn’t notice,” Shoji says.
“We’re just really observant. We like finding new eggs.” Midoriya adds.
Shouto blinks. “Eggs?”
Midoriya waves it away. “Don’t worry about it. So. Recap. Not a boy, not a girl, and being called they…was good?”
Slowly, Shouto nods. “I think so.”
“And we can keep calling you Todoroki?”
That…that’s unexpected, because Shouto just sort of assumed they would, but…it feels good. It feels right.
“Got it. We can work with that,” Yaoyorozu says.
“Ooh, now that that part’s out of the way, can we…” Hagakure jumps up, whispering in Yaoyorozu’s ear.
Which is how Todoroki finds himself—themself—down on the common floor having a dance party. Mostly the others are having a dance party. They have to admit they don’t really know anything about dancing, or parties, or anything. As per usual. Midoriya and Yaoyorozu each take a few turns spinning them around, and that’s fun, but as soon as they’re left to their own devices they retreat to the side of the room.
“It’s okay,” Tsu says, appearing at their side a few minutes in. “I don’t like them either. But it makes everybody else happy. And that’s good.”
Todoroki watches Midoriya being lifted in the air by Jirou and Shinsou. “Yeah. Should we be doing this here? What if other people come down?”
Tsu shrugs. “They can join if they want. They don’t have to know what it’s for.”
The dance party quickly dissolves into loud music playing to cover their conversation while they squish together on one couch, despite the much larger space, and answer Todoroki’s questions. They realize they have a lot of them.
Todoroki’s nerves jump in a strange, good way any time the others say they. Once, Jirou starts to say dude, then cuts themself off and keeps going. Todoroki doesn’t say that it’s okay, because it is, they think, but also…they like the reminder. The trying.
Midoriya has good friends.
They wrap up after about an hour by silent agreement, when Tsuyu starts retreating further and further into himself. Todoroki can sympathize; they’re glad she’s a little more open about the music bothering her, because they weren’t about to say anything even if their skin feels too small at the moment.
Everyone joins a group hug after they turn off the music. Todoroki lets themself sag in the middle of all the arms for just a minute.
“Thank you,” they manage when everyone separates. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”
“You’re one of us now,” Jirou declares.
Momo—at some point during all this she became Momo in their head—nods fiercely. “So if there’s anything you need, you tell us. Anything.”
“Not even about gender!” Hagakure adds.
All of them agree, loudly, to that. Todoroki’s chest hurts, not in a bad way. It’s a few seconds before they can speak.
“Um. Actually,” they nod toward the girls and also Tsuyu and Jirou, “could I maybe borrow some clothes?”
All three of them enthusiastically begin comparing sizes, and within ten minutes Shouto is thrusting a bundle of clothes into their backpack, too flustered to even look at them too closely. As if they might disappear, or explode.
“Thank you.”
❆❆❆❆❆
CW for graphic child abuse/a transphobic attack in this section.
The next four days are a mess of last minute training and homework before their week-long break, and Todoroki sort of forgets about the clothes in the bottom of their backpack. Not entirely, but…it’s almost too much just to know they’re there, let alone anything else.
Endeavor made it very clear that they’re supposed to come home for break. So. That’s that. They pack as little as possible, bring their backpack along for homework, and text the groupchat.
todoroki: i’m leaving now
momo: going home??
toru: no!!! i was making Plans
jirou: cant leave with that shitty goodbye. common room.
The others don’t appear to be online yet, and Midoriya responds privately.
deku: are you going to be okay?
For some reason their throat constricts.
todoroki: always am
deku: be safe
deku: text me
They say goodbye to everyone in the common room—everyone being the chat plus Uraraka, Iida, and, strangely, Kirishima—and head out before they can be convinced to stay for lunch. The longer they delay going home, the angrier Endeavor will be.
The house and its ink black roof have never loomed so imposingly. It’s been almost three months since Todoroki was here.
The transformation comes easily, the pulling on of a second skin. Shouto walks through his front door, removes his shoes, and heads upstairs to unpack.
deku: did you make it there okay?
Day one isn’t so bad. Suffocating silence until dinner, when Endeavor asks about his progress and Shouto admits he has been getting better at dual-wielding. His father accuses him of lying; he didn’t start being able to do it until two months ago.
Shouto makes the mistake of defending himself, and goes to bed hungry with a split lip. He does his homework to distract himself.
deku: i went swimming today!! i tried using my quirk in the water but it didn’t really work
deku: we should go swimming when you get back
deku: if you want
He trains.
It’s the usual. But three months has him out of practice with this kind of pain. He’s not as strong as he used to be. He can dual wield if he tries, but it’s not good enough. The ice and fire are still unbalanced. He’s too slow, too soft, not enough, not enough, not good enough.
deku: are you okay?
deku: i can see you reading my messages
Every failure gets taken out on his flesh.
momo: hey deku’s worried about you
momo: so am i. for the record
Shouto nurses a cracked rib and gently treats the worst burns.
On the fourth day, Endeavor goes out on business, and Shouto is left alone for a while.
bakugou: hey you icyhot bastard
bakugou: fucking text deku back so he calms the fuck down and stops annoying me
bakugou: bitch
Shouto drags out his English textbook and notices the crumpled pile of fabric at the bottom of his bag.
He shouldn’t.
Endeavor isn’t around, is he?
He could get caught.
Without thinking about it he reaches in and strokes his fingers over soft black cloth.
He blinks, and the girls’ uniform is laid out in front of him, wrinkled from a full week in the bottom of his bag.
Does Endeavor ever really come into his room?
deku: todoroki please
They slide the skirt on. Carefully button the shirt. It even feels different than their normal one.
Don’t look don’t look don’t look-
In the mirror is someone. Someone else. A stranger.
Todoroki toys with the skirt, just a little shorter on their legs than most of the girls. It feels…new. Good new, maybe.
bakugou: the silent treatment doesn’t make you cool. it just makes you an asshole
They stare at their reflection, wild-eyed and scarred, bruised on the chin, but soft, too. Rounded at the edges. Their hair’s grown out a bit; longer in the back.
Girl, Todoroki thinks experimentally. I’m a girl.
It feels off, but…closer.
They hardly dare to breathe.
momo: come on todoroki, say something
Their bangs are just long enough to tuck behind their ear. They stare at their wide blue eye, their scar.
Pretty.
It doesn’t hurt.
deku: todoroki?
Footsteps on the stairs jolt them out of their thoughts.
deku: todoroki i have a bad feeling
deku: at least read my texts
“Shouto!”
deku: please
There’s nowhere to hide. There’s no time.
jirou: todoroki are you okay
Todoroki grabs their phone with trembling fingers, blinking at the blurry screen. Their father’s footsteps are shaking the house apart.
momo: we’re your friends
momo: please don’t shut us out
Black spots and tears smear their vision. They can’t breathe. They can’t think.
todoroki: m sorry
The door opens.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Endeavor snarls, and then it’s over.
Todoroki forgets everything as soon as it happens. An old mechanism they thought they trained themself out of at UA—hard to talk about a sparring match when you can’t remember any of it.
Apparently not.
The next time they’re properly in their own head, Endeavor has them by the back of the neck like a kitten. They recognize the feeling of burns marking their body, but despite that it’s cold. Their head hurts. Their chest hurts.
“Get out of my house,” Endeavor growls.
The sidewalk rushes up to meet their face, and they catch themself on their hands. Agony lances up their right arm alongside the sickening sound of grinding bones.
Yeah. That wrist is broken.
Their backpack lands an inch from their head, spilling books and papers and pens across the ground.
“Come back when you’re ready to stop being a tranny and start being a hero.”
The door closes, leaving Shouto alone.
He drags himself to his feet, wincing as blood drips down his freshly-scraped knee. It’s only when he tucks his broken wrist against his stomach and feels skin that he realizes his clothes are burnt. Not even his clothes. He’ll have to apologize, replace them. His fault for being an idiot.
The shirt hangs off of him in tatters, the skirt barely intact enough to keep him decent. It’s freezing. It wasn’t this cold before.
He picks up his things slowly. It’s dark out. He didn’t notice it getting this late.
He doesn’t know when Endeavor came home, how long it’s been since. Probably not long; his father’s anger rarely comes with patience. Shouto gets hurt, but at least it’s usually over fast.
He picks his bag up with his broken wrist, unthinking, and grits his teeth to keep from screaming.
His shoes are still inside.
He walks. It hurts as badly as the time he snapped his tibia (nine), but higher, like the time he dislocated his hip (twelve). It’s still different from both of those, though, so it must be a different problem.
He can walk. That’s all that matters.
Two, three, four streets away—it’s all a blur—he gets too dizzy, too tired. He sits against a streetlamp. On the other side of the road, a young woman walking her dog slows to stare at him. He tries to wave. She jogs away.
His phone is buzzing, so he pulls it out.
deku: Missed call
deku: Missed call
deku: Missed call
deku: what do you mean?
tsu: what are you sorry for?
shinsou: are you okay?
todoroki: im fine
He is fine. He will be fine. He just needs to rest, and then he can fix himself.
todoroki: sorry i worried you
todoroki: just. bad days
More texts come in response, but it hurts too much to try and read them. At least they’ll probably believe him now and go to sleep. He doesn’t need anyone else’s concern.
Should’ve fucking known, sending you to that school.
Can’t have an ounce of goddamn respect for your family, can you?
If it wouldn’t be such a waste, I’d kill you myself.
Shouto walks until he finds a park. Sleeps, but not for long; it’s only been three hours since his last text. It’s so cold. It hurts. When he touches the right side of his head, gingerly, his fingers come away bloody.
He needs-
He can-
He doesn’t know.
He opens his phone, wincing at the light, squinting until he can make out words. It’s so cold his fingers are numb, like his breath ought to be clouding the air, but it doesn’t. He can’t call any of his friends. They’ll be asleep by now, anyway, just after midnight, and he doesn’t—they can’t know. What Midoriya knows is bad enough.
His thumb finds one of his contacts, hovering over the call button. It’s supposed to be for emergencies only, said so seriously Shouto had wanted to shrink back in his seat.
He shouldn’t be bothering a pro hero this late. He’s always been able to take care of himself.
The phone is ringing.
And ringing. And ringing.
Shouto hangs up in the middle of the voicemail message and presses his hands between his thighs, shuddering violently. Everything hurts. There are two handprint-shaped burns on his hips, wet with oozing blood.
Well. There’s that. He has to take care of himself now. That’s fine. He’s used to being on his own, cleaning up his own messes, tending his own wounds.
The phone rings.
Shouto answers.
“Hey, kid, what do you need?” Aizawa asks, blurry with sleep.
“I-“ Shouto chokes on the shame making a home in his throat. What comes out is a strangled sob.
“Woah, woah, breathe. Talk to me, Todoroki. What’s going on?”
“Hurts,” Shouto manages.
“Were you attacked?”
“No. No villains.” No villains, no monsters, no heroes. Just Endeavor and fire and Shouto’s mistakes.
“So what happened?”
Shouto can’t tell him. He can’t. Endeavor, Endeavor would, maybe all of this was a mistake, stop being a tranny and start being a hero, maybe this isn’t right, maybe this will make it worse.
“Okay, okay, calm down. Todoroki, I need you to take some deep breaths for me. In and out. You hear me?”
Air freezes on the inhale and burns on the exhale, but Shouto thinks he’s managing.
“Okay.”
“Never mind, you don’t have to tell me what happened yet. Where are you?”
“Don’t,” Shouto says, clutching the phone so tightly his frozen fingers ache. “Don’t come.”
“Kid, I’m not leaving you somewhere alone when you’re hurt.”
“Didn’ say I was alone.”
“And yet you are. Tell me where you are before I have to track your location.”
“A…a park. Near my house. I think. I-I don’t know.”
“Okay. I’m coming. Stay exactly where you are and don’t fall asleep.”
Shouto might answer. It’s hard to tell. After a moment he lets the phone slip into his lap. He stares at it, at the curling edges of thumbs burned into his skin, at the scorched tatters of his borrowed skirt. He stares for so long the image resolves into nothing, a smear of colors and black.
A car rumbles somewhere behind him. Footsteps crunch over the grass. He is aware he’s not alone, and he still flinches when a figure all in black crouches in front of him.
“Shit, Todoroki,” Aizawa breathes. “How are you still—no, never mind. Can you walk?”
Shouto nods, levering himself up with his left hand. He still has to grab his backpack with his right.
At his sharp hiss of pain, Aizawa frowns, looking down at his wrist. “Is that—no, what are you thinking, that’s broken, here, give me your bag.”
And then it’s gone and Shouto is standing on his own, swaying, swallowing back nausea as his vision swims.
“Kid, you’re going to pass out, you can’t walk.”
“I’m fine,” Shouto mumbles. He makes it three steps before he collapses.
A pair of arms catches him with a muffled string of curses, and he’s being carried.
“I got you, kid. Just hang on, we’re going to the hospital.”
Shouto can’t help the full-bodied flinch that makes Aizawa stumble. “No!”
“What do you mean, no? I can’t take you to Recovery Girl, you don’t have the stamina, and I can’t treat you myself.”
Shouto buries his face in Aizawa’s chest. Not his best attempt at hiding, but he doesn’t have many options. “No one can know.”
“Know what?”
“Anything.”
A car door opens and he’s settled in the back, stretched flat out. It hurts a tiny bit less. Aizawa crouches next to his head, smoothing his hair out of his face.
“You don’t have to say anything. But you’re covered in burns, you don’t have anything with you but your backpack, you were at home, and those clothes are a mess but I’m fairly certain this used to be a skirt. I can put a few things together.”
Shouto swallows hard. A tear races down the side of his face. “If I go to the hospital he’ll know,” he whispers. “And if anyone finds out it was him-“
“I know,” Aizawa sighs. “I understand. Hang on. I’ll go as smoothly as I can.”
“No hospital?”
“I’m taking you to Recovery Girl. She’ll have to be enough.”
Shouto lets his eyes fall closed. “Thank you.”
Aizawa starts driving. A phone is ringing, softly.
“Hizashi? Yeah. I got him. It…it’s bad. We’re going to Recovery Girl. I don’t know what she’s going to be able to do, so make up the couch in case.”
“I have a room-“ Shouto croaks, but Aizawa glances back, silencing him.
“You’re not staying alone tonight. Yeah, that was him. I know. It’s…it’s something. And, Zashi…” he looks at Shouto. “Hold on.”
“What?”
“Can I have Present Mic go into your room and get you something to wear? There’s always spare stuff somewhere, but I think you’d be more comfortable in your own clothes.”
Shouto nods.
“Right. Okay. Hey, can you go down to Todoroki’s room and grab some clothes? Don’t—don’t ask. Something warm. Yeah. I’m calling her next. I love you, too.”
Aizawa hangs up and immediately calls someone else. Shouto loses track of that conversation quickly, turning his head into the seat. It doesn’t help his throbbing head in the slightest. Eventually the car is quiet again, and stays that way until they stop.
The door opens. “You still with me, Todoroki?”
“Yeah,” he whispers.
He’s carried again. They meet no one in the halls, not even Present Mic. Recovery Girl, though, practically shrieks when she sees him.
“You need to learn to give me proper information,” she scolds Aizawa.
“I was a little worried trying to keep them from dying,” Aizawa replies. “I did my best.”
Them is a staccato in Shouto’s head. He half hopes Recovery Girl doesn’t notice. He half hopes she does.
“There’s no way they have the stamina for my quirk right now, but I’ll do my best. Now, get out of here, you’re in my way.”
“Wait,” Shouto gasps. “Wait, don’t.”
“Shouto?” Aizawa asks.
“Don’t leave me alone.”
He has no idea why he asks, why he reaches for Aizawa with his good hand, but he does. And his teacher sits beside him, gently holding onto him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.
It isn’t long before Todoroki drifts into sleep.
❆❆❆❆❆
When he wakes up, it’s light out, and Aizawa is still beside him, holding his hand.
“Good morning,” he says evenly, calmly, like this is any other day. “Or afternoon, rather. It’s around two. You were asleep a long time.”
Shouto blinks away sleep, trying to piece the night back together.
“Hello, little listener,” Present Mic adds from the doorway with a small wave. “Glad you’re awake.”
Shouto tries to smile gratefully, and luckily Aizawa drags his attention back before he has to think of something to say.
“How much do you remember?”
“I called you. You brought me here.”
Aizawa raises one eyebrow. “Before that?”
Shouto shrugs. “I try…I try not to. Remember. Or I don’t try. It just kind of happens.”
“Okay. That’s okay. We’ll work it out. Recovery Girl gave me the extent of your injuries, if you want to know.”
Shouto closes his eyes, only briefly. “Please.”
“Broken wrist, cracked pelvis, eight broken ribs, and a hell of a concussion. Those are the worst,” Aizawa reports. His fingers drum on Shouto’s wrist. “Second-degree burns on 20% of the body. Gash on your cheek needed a few stitches. The rest were minor cuts and bruises.”
“Oh,” Shouto says. It’s all he can think to say.
“I’m sorry, kid.”
“It’s my fault. I made a mistake.” All at once the words fall into his head, clear as a bell, stop being a tranny and start being a hero, and he chokes on a violent sob. “I messed up, I can’t, I can’t-“
Endeavor was right, wasn’t he?
Aizawa takes his arm. “Can’t what, Todoroki?”
Shouto’s studied heroes since he was little. The only one who knows more than him is Midoriya. And he knows that in spite of Class 1-A’s existence, Endeavor has to be right. He usually is, especially when Shouto hates it.
“I can’t be here anymore,” he gasps out, unable to stop it and wishing he could lie.
It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.
The sky is caving in on his head and he feels like he’s dying-
“Why can’t you be here?” Aizawa asks, deadly serious.
Shouto rolls away as much as he’s able, pulling his arm free, ignoring the fresh throbbing in his broken wrist, the scream of his burned hip.
“Because trannies don’t get to be heroes.”
Everything freezes. From this angle Shouto can see Present Mic’s expression drop from concern into horror as he rushes forward. He closes his eyes. A chair scrapes the floor.
“Wait, wait, I can’t just-“
“C’mere, babes, look at me for a second.”
The door closes. Shouto opens his eyes, and he can see them right outside it. No sound, and Aizawa’s back to him, but he watches him fall into Present Mic’s chest, watches them hug.
They know now.
It’s over.
His chest aches, but at least it’s done.
Recovery Girl looks from him to the door, clucks her tongue, and goes back to her reports, muttering about stupid children.
Aizawa comes back in, his eyes red-rimmed and more bloodshot than usual, and crouches in front of Shouto again.
“I apologize for leaving,” he says roughly. “But I need you to never say that word to me again.”
“Okay,” Shouto whispers. “‘m sorry.”
“It’s…yeah. Okay. The first thing you need to know is that you’re wrong. Whoever told you that was a bigoted bastard.”
“You know who it was,” Shouto mumbles.
Aizawa sighs. “Yeah, I do. And he’s wrong, okay? He’s a liar. I would know better than most.”
He cracks a small, watery smile, and Shouto’s battered brain takes a long moment to catch up to the implications. Then his mouth falls open.
“You…you’re-“
“I’m a trans man, yes. Just because it’s not on the news doesn’t mean we don’t exist. People like me, like you, we’ve always been here. We’ve always been heroes in our own ways. I keep it quiet because it’s very personal to me and I don’t like the spotlight, but I’m still sorry for that now. I’m sorry you felt alone.”
Shouto can’t stop staring at him. His teacher. A pro hero.
“Shit,” Aizawa whispers, “did I say the wrong thing?”
Through the flow of tears Shouto shakes his head. He grabs clumsily for Aizawa’s hand.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, kid.”
❆❆❆❆❆
When he’s a bit stronger Shouto gets hit with Recovery Girl’s quirk, which takes care of the worst of his injuries, but he’s still banned from training for a few weeks until all his fractures heal. His second afternoon he finally opens his phone again. Screens don’t hurt as much, with his concussion dialed back about ten notches.
There’s approximately a thousand texts waiting for him, easily two dozen missed calls.
Two days.
He opens the groupchat.
todoroki: hi
jirou: you fucking asshole oh my god
jirou: you SCARED me
momo: explanation. now
toru: guys calm down
toru: are you okay todo??
shinsou: we missed you.
deku: what happened? why’d you disappear?
Shouto blinks at his screen. He starts to say something and then deletes it. Glances at Aizawa, who is practically living in this room with him.
“Can my friends come in here?”
“If Recovery Girl says it’s okay.”
“As long as they’re not loud and don’t stay too long,” she relents.
Shouto nods and turns back to the chat. Types and deletes, types and deletes, and finally sends:
todoroki: it’s complicated
todoroki: i’m with recovery girl
todoroki: if you’re not too mad to visit
momo: WE’RE COMING
todoroki: don’t tell anyone else yet
“I’ll let you be alone with them,” Aizawa says quietly, slipping out of the room. Recovery Girl follows, with a last reminder not to get too wound up.
Less than five minutes later all of them are at the door. He was half afraid they wouldn’t see his message and would drag the rest of the class along too, but they’re alone.
“Oh my god,” Midoriya whispers, stopping dead just inside the room.
“Holy shit,” Jirou concurs, rushing around him. “What the hell, Todoroki?”
Momo stalks up to him, stalks, like a predator, and leans in close to his face.
“Who did this to you?”
“No one.”
“Don’t give me that. You give us radio silence for days, send a couple of measly texts, and then disappear again and now you show up like this? Who hurt you?”
Shouto doesn’t mean to, but his eyes flick over her shoulder to Midoriya. Momo notices, whirling around.
“Deku! Did you know about this?”
“I-I didn’t, I promise, I knew he was going home but I didn’t think-“ Midoriya clamps their mouth shut.
“Didn’t think what,” Momo asks, her voice a dangerous growl.
Wide-eyed, Midoriya looks from her to Shouto.
Momo’s not going to let this go.
“My dad,” he rasps, snatching all of their attention, “doesn’t like me very much.”
He tries to smile, to make it a joke, but the only looks he gets in return are of horror.
“Endeavor?” Shinsou asks softly.
Shouto nods. “It…it was stupid. My mistake. I just, I had your clothes, and he was out of the house, and I thought…and he came home.”
Momo and Midoriya are both openly crying. Shinsou’s jaw tightens and he looks away, fists clenched at his sides. Jirou kneels next to the bed and grips just his fingertips—it still sends a spark of pain up his broken wrist, but he ignores it.
“Has he hurt you before?” they ask, and he knows they’ve seen the scars. The ones half-hidden by his new wounds, many of them faded enough to be unnoticeable without looking closely.
He closes his eyes. They swear colorfully under their breath.
“Todoroki, you need to tell someone.”
“I can’t. He…he kicked me out, anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
Momo’s expression turns thunderous. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Please don’t,” Shouto says tiredly.
“Todoroki, do you even see yourself? You could have died.”
“Please don’t shout.”
Jirou slides away to comfort their girlfriend. Izuku immediately takes their place.
“He deserves to go to prison, Todoroki. I know you know that.”
“He’s the number two hero,” Shouto mutters. “Who would believe me?”
“I believe you. We all believe you. Who wouldn’t, if they saw this?”
“It’s just training, most of the time.”
“That isn’t training,” Tsu says, voice trembling.
Shouto looks down. “Can we…not talk about this anymore? For now?”
All of them exchange looks over his head.
“Sure,” Izuku says. “What do you want to talk about?”
For a brief moment Shouto considers bringing up the moments before everything came crashing down, in front of the mirror, but then he shoves them aside. Later. When he doesn’t hurt so much.
“You said you were practicing using your quirk in the water?”
Izuku grins and launches into an excited, rambling story.
❆❆❆❆❆
Shouto gets to go home that night, under the condition that he be under observation. Protocol or something.
He ends up in Aizawa and Present Mic’s apartment, sitting at the counter and eating cold soba. They leave him alone for a while, doing their own things in the kitchen or the living room, sometimes pausing to not-so-subtly watch him. Once or twice they disappear down the hall and he can hear them whispering, but he tries not to think about it too hard. This is their house. They probably have lots of things to talk about that they don’t want to say in front of him. It’s not necessarily about him.
Then Aizawa pulls a stool around and sits across from him, folding his arms seriously on the counter.
“Hi,” Shouto says lamely.
“Hello,” Aizawa agrees. “I’m not going to push you, but I think we need to talk.”
“…About what?”
“Mostly about the fact that I’m not sure what to call you anymore,” Aizawa says carefully. “I know this probably wasn’t how you planned to come out, and you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but…if this is the one thing I can do to make life a little less shitty for you at the moment, I will.”
Shouto turns the words over in his head, struggling to come up with a response.
“I-I don’t…Todoroki’s fine. And…before I left for break I was talking to some of the others and…I was trying they/them out, a bit.”
“Do you want to keep trying it?”
Not trusting himself—themself?—enough to speak, Shouto nods.
(They don’t admit that Shouto doesn’t feel like theirs anymore, either. Not yet.)
“Okay. Anything else you want me to know, or any questions?”
Todoroki considers. “Um. When can I go off campus again?”
Aizawa’s expression darkens. “Todoroki, I’m not letting you go home.”
“No, it’s just…I want to visit my mom.”
Aizawa relaxes, head hanging as he sighs. “Of course you do. You’re supposed to be staying off your feet as much as possible right now, but in a week I suppose you could go visit.”
A whole week. There’s itching under Todoroki’s skin. They think…they think they want to tell her. Endeavor knows. If they’d gotten any choice in the matter, it would’ve been the other way around.
They don’t say any of that. They just nod and go back to eating until Aizawa sighs again and slips away.
All three of them watch TV for a little while after dinner until Todoroki is left alone to sleep. Alone being a bit of a stretch—they know Aizawa is keeping watch from the kitchen, making sure nothing spontaneously goes wrong. They’re not as bothered by it as they would’ve expected.
They pull out their phone, heading to the main class groupchat first. It’s mostly talk about classes starting again tomorrow, what everyone did over break. They start typing, then think better of it.
uraraka: todoroki!!! come back i haven’t talked to you in like a week!
kirishima: hey todoroki! how was your break?
todoroki: fine. nothing special
They switch to the other chat. Even now it’s hard to call it the trans group, even though it’s named 1A Trans Council right at the top. It’s just Izuku, and Izuku’s friends, and…and maybe Todoroki’s friends as well.
todoroki: momo, toru, jirou, tsu
momo: yeah?
jirou: ??
toru: that’s not cryptic at all
todoroki: sorry. and also sorry about your clothes. i realized i never said that
todoroki: i can replace everything in a few days
There’s an immediate flurry of typing. Todoroki winces.
jirou: do not you dare
momo: i know you just got out of the hospital but i will kill you if you try to do that
tsu: why was momo included all her clothes were too big for you
hagakure: todo, affectionately, sometimes you are not smart
todoroki: what?
jirou: you loser we fucking love you
jirou: you personally could burn everything in my closet and i would just make momo buy me more clothes
momo: hey
momo: but i would do it
shinsou: completely hypothetical question.
shoji: oh no
deku: hi shoji!!
shinsou: hello shoji.
shinsou: todoroki, may i duel your father.
todoroki: please don’t
todoroki: you would lose
todoroki: and i like you
shinsou: no one speak to me. i’m swooning.
jirou: haha gay
shoji: what if i helped
momo: me too
deku: we would have tactical advantage
“What are you smiling at?” Aizawa asks. Todoroki quickly hides their phone against their chest.
“Nothing, just…friends.”
Aizawa smiles faintly.
todoroki: none of you can fight my father
tsu: that’s too bad
todoroki: because i’m going to
jirou: FUCK YEAHHHH
jirou: get his fuckin ass todo
deku: we’re all totally coming along, though
shoji: for moral support
shinsou: and to watch the show.
toru: toshi no
And they continue like that for a while. Eventually Todoroki’s head starts to hurt from the screen, so they say goodnight and plug their phone in. The lights are already out, stars blinking through the windows. Todoroki is tired, but they’re not ready to sleep yet. They’re thinking.
“Aizawa?” They glance over their shoulder, find him standing by the kitchen counter.
“Hm?”
“You said people like us have always been heroes, the media just doesn’t show it, because it’s hidden?”
Aizawa hesitates. “Yes.”
“D’you think my class’ll be the first?”
Aizawa sighs in a thoughtful kind of way. “Maybe. There’s still two years above you. But it’s possible.”
“Some people could hide it. Like you did. And they could be okay like that.” Todoroki is dancing on the edge of realization, watching Aizawa’s face.
“Perhaps. Maybe not as happy as they would be for some, but yes, it’s possible.”
Todoroki looks at their lap. “But…for people like me. If I want to have people address me the way you and my friends do…”
Aizawa buries the bottom half of his face in his scarf. “You have to tell them. You have to come out.”
“Yeah.”
A long silence.
“What do you think the media would do?”
Aizawa looks away. “I won’t insult you by lying. It wouldn’t be pretty. But for what it’s worth, there are kids exactly like you growing up right now, and as hard as it would be, you’d also be making space for them. Giving them a hero to look up to.”
Todoroki stares at their hands. Half cold, half hot. Like even their quirk couldn’t decide which box to fit into.
“It’s not fair,” they say before they can stop themself.
“I know, kid. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know why I said that.”
“Well, it is true.”
“Life isn’t fair. I’m not special. It’s…I’m going to sleep.” A beat later they realize that’s rude, and awkwardly add, “Thank you. For letting me stay here. And everything else.”
“You’re welcome,” Aizawa says, and his voice sounds strange. By the time Todoroki looks back again, he’s gone.
Well, that’s fair. They can’t exactly expect their teachers to stay up all night for them. They lay down properly and tug the blanket up over their shoulder, staring at the moonlight bathing the walls and trying not to feel like…something. It’s hard to tell.
Someone is humming in the kitchen. Present Mic? Todoroki stays still, feigning sleep and waiting for him to go back to bed. After a few moments, though, footsteps cross the room and their teacher appears in front of them. Todoroki blinks, momentarily thrown off by his bright golden hair pulled into a loose bun rather than sticking straight up on his head.
Also, thrown off by the small gray tabby cat in his arms.
“We weren’t sure if you were allergic, or liked animals, so we were keeping Ghost in the bedroom, but I thought you might like her company.”
Todoroki can’t quite stop themself from reaching for the cat, trailing their fingers through her fur. “Oh.”
“I take it you like her?”
“....Yeah.”
“Cool. She can be your snuggle buddy, then. She really loves people, she’ll lay right on top of you if you give her space.” He settles the cat gently against Todoroki’s stomach, and they hardly dare to breathe as they stroke her ears.
“Gotta admit, I didn’t peg you for an animal person.”
“I’ve never…I mean, I’ve seen cats before. Never had one. I don’t remember when I last got close to one.”
Present Mic’s face falls a bit before he forces a smile. “Well, Shouta and I have two cats and he’s always on the lookout for more strays, so you can come hang out with them any time you want. As long as you don’t tell any other listeners. Technically we’re not allowed pets on campus.”
“There’s more?” Todoroki asks.
“Yup. The other one’s a bit of a mean old girl who only likes Shouta, so I just brought little Ghostie out here for you.”
“Why’s she named that?”
Present Mic’s expression is very serious. “It’s a long story.”
Then he grins, so Todoroki tentatively smiles back. “Thank you for bringing her out here, Present Mic.”
“Aw, kid, no, none of that. You’re living in my apartment—yeah, yeah, special event, one night only—and my husband is like, ridiculously attached to you. Hell, so am I. So here you can call me Hizashi, okay?”
Todoroki pets Ghost while they think. “Okay.”
“Cool.” Hizashi grins, and then he just…walks off. Back to the kitchen, picking up his humming again. It’s a soft song, gentle, quite the opposite of what Todoroki would expect from him.
They listen for a moment, but he doesn’t come back or go to his bedroom, so they just gently pet Ghost and fall asleep with her purr rumbling in their chest.
❆❆❆❆❆
Screaming.
Fire.
Ice.
Shouto’s eye is burning, black, his vision hazy and wrong.
Todoroki’s skin is sloughing off, their bones collapsing into ashes.
Endeavor’s voice comes from everywhere, rumbling and tinged with smoke: “People like you don’t get to be heroes.”
“I will!” Todoroki/Shouto screams, thrashing in his/their ruined body. “I will be a hero!”
Todoroki jerks awake, but they can’t get very far, thanks to the strong bindings wound around their body. They’re still on the couch, but when they look around there’s a scorch mark on the cushion beside them and ice beginning to melt on a pillow.
Shit. Hizashi and Aizawa just took them in, after they woke Aizawa up in the middle of the night and made him come get them, and now they go and destroy things?
Distantly they can hear voices, and go very still, straining to listen.
“…don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.” Aizawa’s voice, sounding more tired and defeated than Todoroki has ever heard.
“I know,” Hizashi says.
“It’s so fucking hard, I never, I thought, after we graduated, I thought it was over-“
“I know.”
“-I thought…they’re just a kid, ‘Zashi, and I want…and I can’t-“
“I know.”
“Stop saying that!” Aizawa snaps, and even from the relative safety of the couch Todoroki flinches, curling in on themself as much as possible. “Don’t fucking patronize me or Todoroki, you don’t know.”
“Shou-“
“No, shut up, I’m tired of this, I’m tired of you and Toshinori and Nedzu and Nemuri tiptoeing, poor little Aizawa, having a hard time.” There’s a heavy noise, like a thud, and a sharp hiss of pain. “Don’t. I’m fine. Just…stop.”
“This isn’t the only thing you’re upset by,” Hizashi says quietly. “Something else happened that I don’t know about.”
A pause. A long one. Finally, a shaky exhale and Aizawa’s voice.
“Todoroki cannot know.”
“Okay.”
“I fucking mean it.”
“Okay.”
Soft tapping, a slide. “This. Someone must’ve seen them before I got there. There’s quotes…the money they must’ve paid to get people to talk about Endeavor’s…they aren’t saying anything solid yet. But. There’s speculation. They’re circling the possibility. And this, this is exactly the bullshit that keeps me underground, I never wanted this for any of my kids, and it’s so much worse for them.”
“I-“
“Don’t say anything. Don’t try to say that you understand. You like the spotlight, and you never had to worry about this fucking-“
A crack, sharp, has Todoroki flinching again.
“Aizawa-“
“Why are you even here?”
Even Todoroki loses their breath at that.
“Because you’re my husband.”
“I don’t need you. This is between me and Todoroki, I never should have gotten you or anyone else involved, we don’t need you. None of you know. None of you have lived this.”
There’s so much bitter venom in Aizawa’s voice that he barely sounds like the teacher Todoroki knows. They can feel themself trembling.
Hizashi isn’t cowed, though. There’s a warning bite of sarcasm in his voice when he retorts, “Of course I don’t understand. It’s not as though I was your best friend since we were little kids. It’s not like I spent all of high school covering your ass and blasting out the eardrums of anyone stupid enough to disrespect you-“
“I was and am capable of handling-“
“No, you’ve said your piece, it’s my turn. You’re right, I don’t know what you felt or what you went through. I just stood next to you. I’m sure I have no comparable life experience whatsoever. It’s not like the media ran a full smear campaign on me when they found out I had a secret husband or anything.”
“That’s not-“
“It’s not the same. But I’m not going to let you paint me as some stupid, heartless bastard just because you’re upset. That’s not fair to either of us. I’ve been right here the whole time, Shouta, because I love you, and I’m here now because I love Todoroki, too. And I can see this is hurting you.”
Aizawa sniffs. “I should be better than this. I’m their role model. I’m the only one they have.”
“You’re a person, Shouta. A person with a lot of trauma under a frankly ridiculous amount of stress even before all of this. You’re allowed to have a hard time with it. You’re allowed to need space and help. That’s what I’m here for.”
“They’re worse off than I was,” Aizawa says quietly. Todoroki squeezes their eyes shut. “‘Zashi, those injuries…”
A sigh. “Yeah. But we’re gonna stop it, okay? They’ll heal up, get back to training. You know that kid never let anything stop them before.”
“It might not be enough. It might not fix everything. That nightmare-“
“You had them too,” Hizashi says. “Nearly strangled me with the scarf in your sleep once, remember?”
“I never did that.”
“Yeah, you lump, you did. And we’ll take that shit as it comes, like we did back then. I’d argue you turned out more or less okay, yeah?”
Aizawa laughs, very nearly genuine.
“So we’re good?”
“Yeah. I…I’m sorry I yelled-”
“Don’t be.”
“-and they’ve been sleeping better so far, probably will stay that way till morning, so…”
“Shouta, I’m not going to bed. You go.”
“You have class in the morning.”
“So do you, babes. And I napped today in preparation for the night shift.”
Aizawa hesitates. “What if something happens?”
“Honey. You are literally one room away. And I can yell very loudly when needed. Go, okay? Rest.”
“Fine.” The conversation grows softer, inaudible, but Todoroki thinks they catch an exchange of I love yous before Aizawa’s soft footsteps pad into the bedroom.
Hizashi sighs loudly. After a minute, he walks toward the couch. Todoroki quickly shuts their eyes and pretends to be sleeping.
“Okay, little listener. Let’s talk about what you just heard.”
Todoroki’s eyes fly open. “You knew I was awake?”
Hizashi nods, moving to untangle them from the capture weapon as he talks. “My ears are a bit shot, but I’m good at vibrations. Would’ve shut Shouta up right away, but he needed to get that shit out of his system and he didn’t need to know you were awake. So don’t tell him about any of this, got it?”
“Got it.” Todoroki swallows. “And I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Hizashi tilts his head. He looks tired, his hair half falling out of its bun, stress lines around his mouth, bloodshot eyes.
“I messed up your couch-“
“Oh, this? I’ve been saying we need a new one for ages. Now Shouta has to agree with me.”
Todoroki frowns, because that’s almost certainly a lie, but they don’t argue the point. “And I’m sorry for stressing Aizawa out. It’s my fault for calling him in the first place-“
Hizashi holds up his hands and somehow manages to make a small sound like screeching static. “No, no, don’t say that. He gave all you kids that number for emergencies. That’s what you used it for.”
Todoroki looks away. Hizashi moves to kneel in front of them, tapping their chin. “Hey. Todoroki. Eyes. Thank you. You listening to me? I want to make sure you understand that if Aizawa didn’t come for you, you very likely would have died. You had some really severe injuries, kiddo, and you weren’t in any state to get your own help. At best someone would’ve happened across you in the morning, and by then…”
It might’ve been too late goes unsaid.
“I’m sorry,” Todoroki says again. “For worrying you.”
Hizashi actually smacks his forehead with his palm. “I’m starting to see why Shou is the way he is all the time now,” he mutters. “You don’t have to be sorry, okay? You needed help. We got you fixed up. And maybe more importantly, we got you away from him. Even if you had managed to survive that night on your own, what were you going to do? Go back?”
“I have to eventually. He’s my father.”
“Not if we can help it,” Hizashi says darkly. “Todoroki, I don’t think you fully get the lengths Shouta’s willing to go for you.”
“He’s saved all of us from villains before. He got up in the middle of the night to come rescue me, and stayed with me after. I’m in your house right now,” Todoroki points out. “And, all due respect, Endeavor is the number two hero. He’ll spin everything into his favor and the public will adore him. Sh—Aizawa is just underground. I don’t know how much he can do.”
Hizashi just shakes his head. “As far as Shouta’s concerned, Endeavor is a villain who tried to kill one of his kids. If the police don’t do the right thing, he’s planning to take matters into his own hands.”
Todoroki struggles to sit up. “He can’t! You can’t do that, what would happen to your reputations, your licenses—what if you got arrested?”
“I am both pleased that you’re acknowledging I wouldn’t let him do it alone and insulted that you think we would get caught,” Hizashi tells them. “But like I said, that’s a last resort and a long ways off. Nothing you need to worry about yet.”
Todoroki nods and tries to crane to look back at the bedroom, naturally seeing nothing. “He sounded…earlier. I’ve never heard that before.”
“He doesn’t lose his temper like that often,” Hizashi agrees, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It was because of me.”
“No! Well, yeah, okay, I technically gotta give you that one. But seriously, it’s not your fault. Shouta…I’m sure you can imagine he had a hard time growing up. Going stealth, being an underground hero, it’s helped him a lot. Your situation is just bringing up a lot of shi—a lot of ugly memories for him. So he’s stressed. People snap sometimes when they’re stressed. ‘S why I sent him off to bed. He’ll be better in the morning, trust me.”
“What did he show you that I’m not supposed to see?”
Hizashi winces. “I really can’t tell you. Shouta would have my head.”
“If it’s about me, I deserve to know.”
“Trust me, you don’t deserve this. It doesn’t do you any good to give them more attention. The media is the worst.”
“Hizashi-“
“No, Todoroki. I’m sorry, but this is gonna have to be my one boundary. I’m not showing you. Go back to sleep if you can, okay? You need it. I’ll get this out of your way, too.”
He reaches for the capture scarf, but Todoroki grabs it, pulling it close to their chest.
“Actually…can I keep it? Just for tonight?”
Hizashi smiles, soft and fond. “Of course. Sometimes I steal them, too, especially when he does night patrols.”
He stands, pausing to lightly ruffle Todoroki’s hair. “Goodnight, little listener.”
“Um, Hizashi?” Todoroki sits up again. “Can I ask one more question?”
“Shoot.”
“Where did Ghost go? She was sleeping with me, and then I activated my quirk and…I didn’t hurt her, did I?”
“Oh! Don’t worry about her, Todoroki, she’s perfectly fine. I was watching you, and as soon as you looked like you were having a bad dream I moved her, just in case.” Hizashi wanders away as he talks, quickly returning with the gray tabby. “Here, you can take her back. I’ll keep watch and everything.”
Todoroki tries to inch away from the little cat, giving her space and less chance to be hurt, but she crawls right on top of their chest and settles there, seemingly unbothered by the opposing temperatures splitting down the middle. She starts to purr, a rumble that ripples through their chest.
They hardly dare to breathe, running two fingers down the length of her spine. She doesn’t move.
“She’s asleep. You should be, too.”
“Will Aizawa be okay?” Todoroki asks around a yawn as their eyes drift closed.
“He will,” Hizashi confirms, and if he’s lying, he’s very good at it.
“‘Kay. Goodnight, Hizashi.”
“Goodnight.”
❆❆❆❆❆
So Todoroki heals. They move back into their dorm room after that one night, because they don’t need to be monitored at all hours anymore and they want space alone to think.
(That’s what they tell Present Mic and Aizawa. In reality they keep hearing their teacher’s ragged voice in the shadows, the crack of a tablet screen they noticed early the next morning before it was quickly hidden away. They don’t want to cause more hurt than they already have.)
The lie they tell the rest of the class is that Todoroki caught a bad illness while visiting home and is recovering, so no one should go near their room. Of course their friends sneak in throughout the day anyway. It’s nice.
After a week, they’re cleared to return to classes and to light training. Aizawa promises to convince All Might to go easy on the whole class for a bit, so Todoroki doesn’t have to be singled out. They don’t really think that’s fair, but they don’t want to explain that my dad fractured eleven of my bones so I have to take it easy, either.
But before that…it’s the weekend. And Todoroki can leave. So they’re going to the hospital. Problem: They can’t walk that far without injuring themself again, and they wouldn’t mind that so much except it would inconvenience everyone trying to keep their secret.
So.
They’ve barely started to knock when Present Mic—when Hizashi—opens the door.
“Hey, listener. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Todoroki answers automatically. Hizashi leans judgmentally against the doorframe. “Really, I am. I just…sort of need a favor.”
“A favor? Sure, kid, shoot.”
“I want to visit my mom.”
Hizashi nods. “Yeah, Shouta mentioned you asking about that. So you need a ride? Give me one second and I can get him for-”
“Actually…” Todoroki glances down. “I was going to ask you.”
Hizashi’s tone shifts somehow, but they can’t parse it. “Yeah? Why’s th—shit, Ghostie!”
Todoroki lunges after the small gray cat, just barely managing to grab her and scoop her up before she vanishes down the hallway. She doesn’t seem all that annoyed by her escape plans being foiled, happily snuggling against their chest.
“Thanks. Here, you can bring her inside. Why don’t you want Aizawa to take you to the hospital?”
Todoroki sits on the couch—it has, in fact, been replaced since they burned/froze it—and settles Ghost in their lap. “I’m causing enough trouble for him already.”
“And I accepted the responsibility of taking care of troublemakers years ago when I became a teacher,” Aizawa says, voice low and rough as if he’s just woken up. He walks over to stand beside his husband. A large, fluffy seal point cat is draped over his shoulders, tangled in his scarf. “My personal feelings have nothing to do with that.”
“But-”
“Todoroki. It is entirely your choice whether I come with you. I won’t be upset with you either way. But you should know that I want to come. Especially if you’re planning to do what I think you will.”
Todoroki looks between the two of them for answers, finding none. Hizashi just looks back at them impassively, making it clear that the choice is up to them.
“Maybe…both of you can come?”
Aizawa’s shoulders slump in relief so fast the cat nearly slides off of them, and Hizashi’s grin is blinding. “I’ll get the keys.”
The drive to the hospital is pretty short—Todoroki wonders if it’s close to the school on purpose, for those times Recovery Girl alone isn’t enough for injured students. Probably. Hizashi and Aizawa both insist on accompanying them inside, though they do at least wait in the hall while Todoroki goes into their mother’s room alone.
“Shouto?” she asks, and they have to suppress a wince. It’s been a few days since they even called themself that name.
“Hey, Mom.”
“What did he do to you this time?”
The lie slides between their teeth as easy as breathing. “Nothing.”
“You’ve come here every week for months, and suddenly you stop? Besides, I know what people look like when they’re hurting. Sit. Is it your hip?”
“Pelvis. ‘S mostly healed now,” Todoroki admits quietly. They’ve never been able to lie to Todoroki Rei for long.
She stands in front of them, hands on her hips. “What else?”
Quietly they repeat the list of injuries, same as Aizawa gave them, same as they told their friends. Her jaw is clenched tightly by the time they’re done, her eyes shining with tears, but she’s strong enough not to let them fall. She doesn’t ask what Todoroki did, what provoked him. She never does.
But today Todoroki wants to tell her.
“He caught me wearing one of the girls’ uniforms when I was at home for break,” they report.
Rei doesn’t immediately respond. They can see the wheels turning, and all at once they’re terrified that this is too far. Endeavor hurt her, too, but what if she agrees with him? What if she only wants her son?
They’re staring at their fists clenched in their lap, so she has to kneel down to look them in the eyes.
“Sweetheart,” she says, and they break.
“I’m not a boy, Mom. I…I’m not a girl, either, I’m just…I’m just something else. It’s called nonbinary. I-I’ve been trying some things out with my friends at school for a few weeks and I really think I’m sure, and I’m sorry that I can’t be your son anymore but-”
“Shh,” Rei says quietly, cupping their hands in hers. Three cold and one warm. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m just trying to understand. I don’t care if you’re my son or not. I care that you’re happy. Does this make you happy?”
Todoroki thinks about dancing, about the light feeling in their chest whenever their friends so confidently use the right words. About conversations about fashion and silly jokes in the dark and Aizawa, and voices telling them you too can be a hero.
“Yeah,” they whisper. “It’s really scary, sometimes, but…it makes me happy. It makes me so happy, Mom.”
She cups their cheek, her eyes soft. “I’m glad.”
Todoroki has a few seconds to lean into the touch before she stands up, suddenly all business, suddenly the wife of the Number Two Hero and the matriarch of a powerful, broken household. They haven’t really seen this version of her, the version she presented to the media, to Endeavor, in eleven years.
“Alright then. That’s settled. What do I call you?”
“I-I’ve been using they/them.”
She mouths the words to herself, feeling them out, and nods once. “Good. And your name?”
This is the hard part, the part that’s been sitting as a half-formed thought in the back of Todoroki’s mind for a while, the part they didn’t even want to admit to themself. “Um. Actually, I was hoping you could help with that. I don’t want to be Shouto anymore, I don’t think.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Your father always insisted on naming his creations. I’ll admit I’m glad to see it go. Any better ideas?”
“I was sort of thinking…” Todoroki closes their eyes. Easier that way. “I want to be named after you.”
“Ah,” Rei says, and when they open their eyes a tear is slipping down her cheek. She pulls them into a careful hug. “I think I have something in mind.”
An hour later, Todoroki Kurei has their father’s eyes and their mother’s name and a brand new world to step into. One they’ll mold to fit who they’re becoming.
For a few brief moments, they are not afraid.
❆❆❆❆❆
The fear, of course, returns the next day, when they ask the whole of 1-A to come to the common room. While they wait, they awkwardly smooth out their skirt and wonder if it was really the right outfit choice. If it will give anyone the wrong idea.
(They’d said as much to the groupchat the night before, and surprisingly it had been Shoji who responded first. You are who you say you are. Wear what makes you happy. If anyone else has a problem with it, tell them to fuck off. Shoji a) texting and b) swearing are such rare occurrences that they hadn’t fought him.)
Their friends get there first, taking up seats on the floor and the edges of the couches nearest them; defensive positions. The rest of the class trickles in within a few minutes, along with some awkward, startled greetings and a few whispers.
“Todoroki?” Iida asks once everyone is present. “You called us here. What…what’s going on?”
They take a deep breath and self-consciously touch the clip sweeping their bangs out of their eyes. It’s grown out even more in the past week or two, brushing their shoulders in the back. They like it.
“I have something to tell you all,” they begin, soft at first, louder when their voice doesn’t shake. “I’m trans. Nonbinary, specifically. My pronouns are they/them, and…and my name is Kurei.”
For a brief moment, silence. Then Uraraka leaps up and runs to hug them.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kurei!”
The tension breaks and Kurei finds themself surrounded by their classmates. Thankfully, they settle quickly enough, and when Kurei has a little space to breathe and tells them there’s no more to the meeting, a few of them leave. They manage to sit with their friends and a few of the remaining others and answer a few basic questions (How long have you known? How did you find out? The skirt, the hair, it really suits you.) (Okay, the last one isn’t a question, but it makes Kurei’s heart swell anyway.)
Eventually, though, they do have to excuse themself to the kitchen. There, it’s exactly like Toru said: Adrenaline comedown, joy, relief, it all combines until their legs shake and they have to grab the counter to keep from falling.
They did it. It didn’t hurt.
“Kurei?”
And right away they’re tense, turning around slowly to find Iida standing in the kitchen.
“I apologize for following you, if you want to be alone I can leave, but I-I wanted to tell you something.”
Iida’s uncharacteristic anxiety is what makes them relax a bit. “Yeah?”
He straightens his spine, looking somewhere over Kurei’s head in what they mentally refer to as Class Rep Mode. “I want you to know that I am proud to have been trusted with this new information about your identity, and also that it will not in any way have an impact on our relationship or my opinion of you as a classmate, friend, or hero. And if anyone in our class—no, in the school—gives you any trouble, you can come to me and I will take care of it.”
Kurei chuckles lightly, because it is a bit of a ridiculous proclamation, in that booming, authoritative voice. “Thanks, Iida. I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome.” He relaxes, very slightly, but only to immediately look nervous again. “May I…ask a few questions?”
“Yes?”
Iida pulls out an honest-to-God index card, and Kurei abruptly realizes that they didn’t see him after the initial announcement—did he sneak away to take notes? It’s an extremely Iida thing to do.
He asks about the girl’s uniform (Kurei likes skirts, is all, and clothes have no gender even if people assign them one. But they will probably wear both depending on the day) and about whether Kurei will come out to the rest of the school (yes, on Monday, but not as a big announcement this time), what words he should use for them (anything, really, except strictly boy or girl), whether he can correct people who misgender them (yes, after he gives Kurei the chance to do it themself), and finally…
“Are your parents aware of this?”
Kurei winces. “It’s…complicated. But yes. My mom knows. She, uh, helped me pick my name.”
Iida smiles. “Rei, right?”
“Yeah, it’s…yeah. My father knows, but…he really doesn’t like it.”
“Ah.” Iida adjusts his glasses, or tries to. He fumbles badly enough that he almost drops them. “So if I meet Endeavor, how should I refer to you?”
Kurei thinks about Aizawa and Hizashi, and the fire burning deep in their own gut, and shakes their head. “Honestly, I don’t think it’ll be a problem at all. But on the off chance you do, you can call me Kurei.”
Iida looks a bit confused at that, but doesn’t press. “Okay. Those were, um, all of my questions. I apologize for taking up so much time. I just want to be the best class rep I can be.”
“I think you’re doing a pretty good job,” Kurei offers. Iida beams a little.
“Thank you. And, um, Kurei? One more thing.”
Kurei tips their head, questioning.
“I’m…I’m very happy for you. And I am proud to be your friend. Seeing you this evening….I’ve never seen you smile this much the entire time I’ve known you.” He ducks his head, a little shy. “I’m glad we’ll get to see more of it, I suppose. It looks nice on you.”
Kurei grins so hard it hurts and hugs him. He lets out a shocked noise and carefully hugs them back.
“Yesterday I would never have expected this,” he says.
Kurei steps back. “I guess I’m just trying a lot of new things lately. I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Iida says. “Goodnight.”
He heads upstairs, and Kurei barely steps out of the kitchen before they’re being shoved against the wall with a hand on their shoulder, Bakugou right in their face.
“What are you-”
“Shut up,” he growls. “I’m just here to say fuckin’ congrats on the pronouns and shit. You didn’t pick a completely shitty name.”
“My mom picked it.”
“Good for her. And don’t think this means we’re buddies, because we aren’t, but if anyone tries to start shit with you in my presence I’ll blast ‘em to hell for you. Okay?”
“Get in line,” Kurei mutters, cracking half a smile. “But sure. Thanks.”
“Shut up.”
“You know, the rest of the class took it really well. They’re not all Izuku, but they’re not terrible, either.”
Bakugou, of course, knows what they mean. “They took it well for now. And I didn’t just mean other people when I said not everyone is Deku. It’s a little fuckin’ different for me.”
“Why? Because they don’t like you?”
Bakugou growls.
“I’d burn anyone who tried to start shit,” Kurei says softly.
Bakugou steps back as if they had activated their left side. “Whatever. Don’t tell any of those damn nerds about this.”
“Obviously.”
He stomps away, and Kurei returns to the couch, where everyone is gone except their friends, plus Uraraka and Mina. Who…actually, are probably also their friends.
Kurei…Kurei has a lot of friends.
That’s nice.
“Hey! We just saw Iida go upstairs a minute ago,” Momo says as they sit between her and Izuku. “Was he talking to you?”
“Yeah. Just wanted to like, make sure he was respecting me. Kind of cute, honestly.”
“That guy,” Izuku says with a fond shake of his head. “I came out to him in our first week. He asked me so many questions. But he means well.”
“Everything else go okay?” Shinsou asks. “How you wanted?”
Kurei nods. “I think it maybe went better.”
❆❆❆❆❆
Their training explodes. Dual-wielding is suddenly almost as easy as each side on its own. Fire grows to the same level of power and control as ice, and then both keep going. Kurei is dancing across the training fields, fighting not to laugh out loud because this, this is what they’ve been waiting for their entire life.
“It seems, Kurei,” All Might remarks when they pause for a breather, “that the two sides of your body are finally at peace.”
They grin. Iida wasn’t wrong; it feels right on their face, and they’re getting better at letting themself show it.
They know exactly what All Might means.
❆❆❆❆❆
The school takes Endeavor to trial. Kurei testifies.
Their father’s lawyer is a shark, and that’s an insult to sharks. “Shouto-”
“My name is Kurei. My pronouns are they/them. I am not Endeavor’s son.”
She looks irritated. “I’ll kindly ask you not to interrupt me.”
“I’ll kindly ask you not to misgender me.”
“Shouto-”
“Kurei.”
“That is not a name listed on any of your official documentation.”
Eventually the judge orders Kurei to shut up and take it, but with more polite phrasing. They answer every question. Evidence is presented. Objections are raised, dismissed. Kurei’s identity is picked apart and laid out to be examined.
Afterward, Aizawa and Hizashi take them out for ice cream. For three days they don’t use their fire at all, a stupid little protest, but the only kind they have anymore.
❆❆❆❆❆
Innocent.
He walks free.
❆❆❆❆❆
Kurei spends most of two days curled up in Aizawa and Hizashi’s apartment with Ghost and, occasionally, the other cat. Her name is Sushi.
No one asks why they aren’t in class. The whole thing was televised, naturally. Endeavor wanted the world to see him win.
❆❆❆❆❆
“Todoroki! Todoroki!”
They sigh. First day attempting to leave the campus, four days since it happened, and of course the swarm of reporters remains.
Kurei just wants to visit their mom.
A microphone is shoved in their face. They grip the straps of their backpack.
“Todoroki, you were pretty adamant in court about identifying as-”
“Your father’s always touted you as the future Number One, do you think you can claim that title with such a controversial-”
“-anything to say about the accusations that you were faking your gender identity in order to build a case against Endeavor?”
“Shut up, you bastards!” A familiar voice roars. Kurei takes a step back, turning to see Bakugou Katsuki literally flying in, explosions lighting up the sky behind him.
“DIE!” he screeches as he plows into the group.
Kurei braces to help out, but as the reporters attempt to scatter the rest of the class is already there, penning them in. No one is actually attacked, but Bakugou grabs the nearest man by his tie, yanking him down.
“Your future top 3 are all trans and there’s not a fuckin’ thing you can do about it,” he snarls. “You can quote me on that in your shitty paper if you want to. Now get out of here.”
The reporter runs. Iida is giving an impassioned lecture to another reporter, and a few other classmates are yelling, defending them. Some are just standing silent guard. After a few minutes the media circus disappears, and Kurei’s classmates vanish as quickly as they arrived, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
“Bakugou,” they say, catching his arm as he stalks away. “Thanks.”
He jerks away. “Whatever. I threw a kid out a window once for calling Deku a girl.”
“You what?”
“Tch, she had a flight quirk, she was fine.”
Kurei has no idea if he’s being serious. They watch him walk away.
The rest of their visit to the hospital goes very smoothly.
❆❆❆❆❆
Kurei goes shopping with Momo, Jirou, Shinsou, and Izuku one weekend. Shoji and Hagakure are visiting home, and Tsu didn’t want to be in all the crowds.
At first Kurei just wants to get in and out, but the others insist on a full shopping experience. Momo yells something about a montage—whatever that’s supposed to mean—that gets them an angry look from some employees. In the end, they wind up parading at least a dozen outfits in front of the other four.
“People are going to recognize me,” they mutter early on, hunching their shoulders in the third outfit. Black rose-patterned overalls, a white shirt with thin gray stripes, and brown boots.
“Yeah?” Jirou asks, leaning back in their chair. “Let ‘em look. You’re fucking cool, Kurei.”
“It needs something,” Izuku comments, frowning.
“Hat,” Shinsou suggests.
Momo leaps to her feet. “Of course! Hang on.” She vanishes, returning in a moment with a wide-brimmed black hat, which she settles delicately on their head. “ There you go. I think it’s great.”
“Seconded!” the others chorus.
Kurei looks in the mirror, and they have to admit, it’s not terrible.
(They like it.)
Around the eighth outfit Shinsou starts giving Kurei a bit of a strange look, but they try to ignore it. Number eight is a half-tucked blue button up (Momo says it brings out their eyes) and a vest with dark patterned pants. Kurei nearly asks them what the look is for, but then they’re distracted by Jirou coming up and unbuttoning the top three buttons of their shirt.
“My friend, I am like, totally a lesbian and totally in love with Momo, but… damn. Wait, we never had this conversation, did we?”
“What conversation?” Kurei asks.
“Sexuality! I mean, it’s absolutely chill if you don’t know, but you have like, every label on the table right now.”
“And I have been missing so many opportunities to set you up with people!” Momo adds, bouncing to her feet.
“Momo!” Izuku protests, scandalized.
Kurei is busy thinking it over while they bicker. “I guess…I don’t know. I never got what the big deal about girls was.”
Jirou makes a disappointed noise.
Kurei’s gaze flicks to Izuku, then Shinsou, and in their mind Shoji and Bakugou are flashing in their head. “I think…maybe boys?”
At that, Jirou nods solemnly. “I do not understand, but that’s cool.”
“Hey!” Shinsou and Izuku say simultaneously.
“Toshi, you aren’t even a dude.”
“Yes, but I like them. I am speaking on behalf of my hypothetical partners.”
“Okay, okay,” Momo says. She winks at Kurei. “I’ll keep that in mind if I see any cute boys wandering the mall.”
Kurei can feel their face heating, and not because of their quirk.
By outfit number ten, Shinsou’s odd look is back. There’s nothing special about ten to warrant it; just a short white sundress and tights, a dark jean jacket, and reddish boots with curling flowers.
“You like me with the floral theme, don’t you?” they ask.
Momo grins. “It suits you somehow.”
Kurei isn’t sure, but they tip their foot sideways to examine the boot. When they look up again, Shinsou is a few inches from their face. Their eyes widen.
“Wha-”
“Hold on.” They walk behind Kurei and start gathering their hair. It’s been a couple of weeks since their proper coming out, and while they’ve cut their bangs shorter, the back has grown another inch or two.
Shinsou pulls the two-toned hair into a small, low ponytail and steps back, admiring their work. “You should start putting your hair up. It’s cute.”
Kurei blinks at them and turns to look in the mirror. Cute. Maybe so.
“Kurei?” Shinsou asks, and it’s only then that they realize their expression is mostly blank. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah. No, definitely okay. Just…I don’t know if I’ve been called cute before.”
“You definitely have been,” Shinsou says, appearing in the mirror over their shoulder. Kurei realizes, almost for the first time, that they are tall.
They scoff to cover up the swirl of feelings happening in their head. “How are you so sure?”
Shinsou glances down at their phone and then holds it out, showing a conversation from the group chat a little over a month earlier. “Because I did it. Twice.”
“Oh. I…guess I forgot.”
“Mm.” Shinsou tucks their phone away. “C’mon, you still got two more outfits.”
“Aren’t any of you bored just watching me?”
They tip their head. “Nah. Never.”
Behind them, Jirou and Momo are whispering, and Izuku’s eyes are wide. Kurei goes back into the dressing room to change.
That night, they change Shinsou’s name in their phone to Hitoshi. Not for any particular reason. Just because.
❆❆❆❆❆
At school the next Monday, Bakugou doesn’t hide from the others when he changes for hero training for the first time. He glares pure murder at everyone the entire time, so no one says anything, but Kurei can tell that they all notice. They give him a small smile when he catches their eye, which only serves to make him growl and glare harder.
They’re happy for him anyway.
❆❆❆❆❆
“Aizawa.”
“Yes, Kurei?”
“Don’t go after my father.”
“Kid, I’m not just going to let you go back-”
“Don’t. Not until I’m done with him.”
And Aizawa smiles, the slow curve of a gleaming scythe.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
❆❆❆❆❆
Exactly three months after Kurei landed in a broken, bloody heap outside their own front door, they stand before it again on the first day of summer break.
White sundress. Tights. Burgundy boots coiled in flowers. Jacket.
Ponytail.
Kurei’s dressed for war.
Endeavor opens the door, his eyes immediately sparking into raging fury.
“You little-”
Kurei freezes him up to his shoulders with their hands still tucked into their jacket.
“You know, I decided I didn’t want to come back,” they say calmly as he struggles. His fire’s powerful enough to melt the ice in about two minutes; that’s more than long enough. “I unlocked a third option. Tranny and hero.”
Endeavor snarls wordlessly. Molten lava twists beneath his skin.
“Catch me if you can,” Kurei says, and then they skate away on a path of ice. Endeavor’s furious roar literally shakes the earth; it’s like old times.
Except now Kurei isn’t afraid.
They reach the park, the same one Aizawa rescued them from what feels like a lifetime ago now. Aizawa’s here, naturally, ready to help, alongside Present Mic and the rest of the class, but if all goes according to plan Kurei won’t need them.
No, this is a battle they want to fight alone.
It doesn’t take long for Endeavor to show up, preceded by a huge burst of flame. Kurei counteracts with their own fire, and the grass is scorched around them by the time both sides burn out. They knew he would begin like that. They’ve been fighting him, watching him fight, since they were a little kid. Endeavor’s at a disadvantage here, because of their semester at UA: He doesn’t know all their tricks anymore.
They’re fast, too, flexible and light on their feet, and Endeavor is more accustomed to blasting his way through things like a lumbering bull. Ice chips and sparks fly everywhere and then, skating on an ice path, Kurei gets in close enough to tap his nose. Frost blooms, then melts almost instantly in a searing burst of flame. Not an injury, just an insult. Kurei laughs.
Endeavor whirls to follow them, shooting fire they don’t quite avoid; it burns their forearm, puts a hole in their jacket. Damn.
“You insolent boy,” Endeavor snarls, the first words he’s spoken since they started.
And that? That’s annoying. Because three months ago he would have said “insolent child,” and now he’s just conscious enough of his words to make them hurt that little bit more.
“I’m not a boy,” Kurei tells him, just before skating close enough to punch him in the face.
He grabs their wrist and they brace for the burn, but at the same second his fire vanishes completely. Kurei glances over his shoulder and finds Aizawa under a tree, hair floating above his head. He nods to them.
They call ice to cover their right fist and smash it into Endeavor’s nose. Before Aizawa’s quirk runs out they keep going, ice and fire and ice again, pushing their father to his knees and icing him. Down, down, until he’s on his back and Kurei is standing on a foot of ice over his chest. Dragging his core temperature down as fast as they can so he can’t use his flames.
Endeavor spits, snarls, all venomous barbs that would drive straight through to Kurei’s heart if they were bothering to listen.
Aizawa blinks.
Endeavor’s fire surges and Kurei calmly keeps the ice going, freezing as quickly as he melts. It’s much easier now, with Endeavor’s temperature lowered, but they still won’t be able to keep it up for long.
Luckily they don’t need to.
“We’re in a public area,” he growls. “People will see you.”
Kurei finds themself smiling. “Maybe they would, if my friends weren’t making a perimeter right now and warning everyone away from Endeavor’s fight against a powerful but previously unknown villain.”
His eyes widen. He struggles; the ice is melting a little, giving him room. Kurei freezes him solid again and watches the one small patch of ice they’ve left untouched the whole time—a circle of space over his heart. They hold their right hand behind their back, making something new.
“You brought this on yourself,” Kurei tells him. “If you were halfway worthy of being a hero none of this would’ve happened. I’m not a fan of villains generally, but I think I’m willing to take a page out of Stain’s book on this one.”
Endeavor’s blue eyes go wide, wide, wide. “You can’t!”
Almost ready. “I’m your prodigy. Of course I can.”
“You won’t get away with this, Shouto.”
And that’s the final nail in the coffin, as it were. Kurei drops to one knee on his frozen chest, considering.
“No, I’m pretty sure I will.”
Then they drive a sharp spike of ice directly into his heart.
“And my name is Kurei.”
They don’t bother hanging around to watch the life fade out of him. They have no interest in killing Endeavor, really. It’s just that the other option was going home to him, and that? That wasn’t a choice at all.
It takes a few steps for the reality to hit, adrenaline fading, blood roaring, relief singing as their injuries begin to make themselves known. Kurei stumbles, but doesn’t fall, because Shinsou is there grabbing their shoulders.
Their eyes are more awake, more alive, than Kurei’s ever seen.
“That was the most badass thing I’ve ever witnessed and I think I love you and I would really like to kiss you, right now, if that’s okay,” they blurt out, all in a rush.
Kurei’s clothes are ripped and burned and dirty, and there’s still frost covering their skin, and most of their hair has come free of their ponytail, but…
Shinsou is still looking at them like they’re afraid Kurei will disappear if they blink.
They surge forward to kiss them instead of answering. For a second, Hitoshi doesn’t move, and then their hands settle over their hips, over shiny handprint scars, and lift them up. Spinning. Kurei laughs into their mouth, and Hitoshi sets them gently back on the grass.
“You’re incredible.”
Kurei doesn’t think they’ve ever beamed at anyone before. “Do you think the teachers can handle things from here?”
A small smile curls over Hitoshi’s face. “I think it would be incredibly irresponsible to leave you at the scene of the crime.”
The rest of their friends join them on the way back to UA, and they never let go of Hitoshi’s hand.
❆❆❆❆❆
“The nation mourns the unexpected passing of Pro Hero Endeavor today, following a fight with an unknown villain near his family home. Also on the scene were UA High teachers Eraserhead and Present Mic, alongside some of their students, who were out on a class trip when the fighting began. No other major injuries have been reported.”
“A memorial service will be held at-”
The TV goes dark and Kurei jumps guiltily. They turn to find Aizawa standing in the common room behind them, arms crossed.
“It’s late. You need to get to bed.”
“I’m watching the news. Staying informed.”
“That’s bullshit, kid.” Aizawa comes to sit on the couch beside them. “Talk to me.”
They pull their knees into their chest, staring at their reflection in the black screen. They look small. “I don’t regret it. Killing him.”
“That’s good,” Aizawa says mildly.
“I hate that no one knows. I hate that he has to be remembered as a hero.”
Aizawa sighs. “So do I. I wish things could be different, but I also like having you in class instead of behind bars for life. You should get to sleep. There’s no point in torturing yourself. Where are the others? I know they didn’t all go home, break or no.”
“In my room,” Kurei admits. “I snuck back down.”
He hums thoughtfully and pulls out his phone, typing something. “I could bring Ghost over if that would help.”
“I thought we weren’t allowed-”
“You’re not. Neither am I. And yet, Ghost exists, and Hizashi is bringing her over.”
Kurei can’t find it in themself to protest, and within a few minutes Hizashi is slipping inside, cradling the gray cat inside his jacket.
“She really is small,” Aizawa comments with a frown. “Are we sure she’s fully grown?”
“Vet said so six months ago,” Hizashi says, amused, as he passes her over to Kurei. “How are we doing?”
“Fine,” Kurei says.
“Watching memorial coverage,” Aizawa adds. Traitor.
Hizashi sucks his teeth. “Figured as much. Mind if I sit?”
Kurei nods at the empty space on the couch beside them, and he sits down. “I’m…not not okay,” they say quietly.
“That’s good,” Hizashi says, no inflection.
“Do you think I should go. To the memorial, I mean.”
“No,” Aizawa says. “But if you choose to, you’ll have our support. Whatever you need.”
They snuggle Ghost a little closer. “Good. I don’t want to see him, anyway.”
The room is dark, the TV screen black. Kurei watches the clock on the wall tick over to midnight. A new day. A new start. It feels like a miracle.
❆❆❆❆❆
“Kurei! Are you ready yet? Your boyfriend is here!”
They jump a little, stepping back from the mirror where they’d been examining their face. It’s been a month since Endeavor, and, well….a lot of things are different.
One last check of their outfit, another (mostly useless) adjustment of the way their hat sits on their head, and they practically sprint to the front door. Rei sends out a blast of icy wind to slow them down, laughing.
“Don’t go running off yet. They still have to prove they’re worthy of taking my youngest child out.”
“Mom!” Kurei groans. “You’ve met them like six times!”
“Yes, and this is the first time you’re going on a proper date.”
“It’s okay, Kurei, I got this,” Hitoshi pipes up. They hold out their hand and proceed to be every perfect, polite movie boyfriend, even with Kurei’s mother making no allowances at all, more no-nonsense than En—than he would have been, even.
Not that Kurei would’ve been allowed to date.
After a few minutes Rei nods and ushers them out the door, smiling as she reminds them to be safe and home by dinnertime.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Hitoshi says.
Immediately Rei’s hand closes on Kurei’s sleeve, pulling them to a stop with narrowed gray eyes. “Excuse me?”
Kurei yanks free. “Mom! Don’t worry, it’s just something I’m trying with them. Sorry I didn’t tell you. They’re not, like, disrespecting me.”
Hitoshi nods quickly. Rei relents. “Okay. Make sure it stays that way, all right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kurei has to hold their hat on their head so they don’t lose it as Hitoshi drags them down the street. The she/her stuff is new—they’d been afraid, at first, to ask, since Hitoshi likes boys.
(“I’m still not a girl, not even a little bit, I promise, but-“)
(“You know it wouldn’t matter if you were, though, right?”)
(“But…but you don’t like girls.”)
(“Kurei, I like you. Whatever version of you that is. It doesn’t matter what label I use as long as I get to be your boyfriend.”)
(“Oh. I-I’m still not, though. At all.”)
(“Okay. Cool. So there’s this restaurant I wanted to try-“)
And now they’re here. For some reason Kurei is nervous, even though they’ve been officially dating for almost a month now and this is a quadruple date (whose idea that was, they’ll never know), so it’s more of a group hangout than anything. Still.
Hitoshi smiles at them just outside the entrance, but their expression drops at whatever Kurei’s face looks like. They pull them to the side, frowning.
“Hey. You okay?”
Quickly they school their features into practiced neutrality. “Yes.”
“Oh, come on, Kurei. Don’t hide from me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! I’m just…nervous. We haven’t gone out in public before. I haven’t gone out much. Mostly I stay at school or at home. People’ll recognize me, recognize 1-A.”
“And that’s bad?”
“…Maybe.”
“You’re a hero, Kurei. You’re incredible. If people look at you, it’s because they know that. If anyone even tries to prove me wrong on that today…” Their eyes flash. “I’ll just ask them a question.”
“Don’t get yourself arrested on my account,” Kurei murmurs. “We should go. Our friends are probably waiting.”
Hitoshi puts their hand in the middle of Kurei’s back to guide them inside. Warmth radiates from that spot all the way to their toes, even on their right side. Tucked into a long table in the corner are their friends: Uraraka and Tsu, Momo and Jirou, and Bakugou and Izuku. Kurei had been very surprised about that last one when Hitoshi had mentioned it, because obviously it was bound to happen eventually, but they would’ve thought more like…third year, maybe.
“About time you two showed up,” Bakugou growls.
“Kacchan,” Izuku chides lightly.
“You two get sidetracked? What’d you do to them, Shinsou?”
They duck their head. “Her mom wanted to talk to me.”
(That’s the thing. She/her is for Hitoshi only, the same way only Izuku gets to call Bakugou Kacchan. At first they had worried about offending the others, tried to explain it’s not that I don’t trust you, but they’d practically tripped over themselves to let Kurei know it’s okay.)
(And the words feel safe in Hitoshi’s mouth, like a secret, a promise.)
It’s a good first date. It would feel exactly like every other time they’ve hung out with their friends, except….Hitoshi keeps nudging Kurei’s foot under the table, and Kurei insists on sharing their food, and at some point they end up holding hands for no reason at all. And all the time there’s a look in Hitoshi’s eyes, same as that day in the park. Like they’re afraid they’ll disappear, like they’re too precious to even waste time by blinking.
Kurei thinks they’re giving them a similar look in return.
After they get the check, while they’re all still talking and unwilling to leave, someone approaches the table. With their back to most of the restaurant, Kurei can only see Hitoshi stiffen, feel them grip their hand more protectively.
Oh boy.
They turn, but it’s just a kid. Their age, but not a UA student Kurei recognizes.
“Um. Hi. You…you’re Todoroki, right? Todoroki Kurei?”
Hitoshi relaxes. Kurei smiles. “Yeah, I am. What’s up?”
“I don’t want to interrupt or anything, I’m sure you’re busy with your, um…”
“Quadruple date. Not my idea. This is my boyfriend, Hitoshi, but don’t let their scary face fool you. They’ll only bite if you bite first.”
The kid beams. “I know you! You’re the one with the brainwashing quirk who almost beat Midoriya without even—oh, um, sorry.”
Izuku giggles, waves. “It’s okay! Nice to meet you.”
The kid looks flustered, blushing. “Oh, wow. Uh.” They glance back to Kurei. “I know you’re busy, but, um, I was wondering if I could get your autograph?”
Kurei’s eyebrows go so high they might be gone entirely. “Me?”
“Yeah! I saw you at the Sports Festival, you’re amazing, and also, um, the whole trial thing, and I thought it was really cool how you stood up for yourself and I believe you, you know, no matter what the courts said—fuck, sorry, I told myself not to get carried away.”
Kurei laughs. The kid plays with a bracelet on their wrist, and they notice the colors: yellow, white, purple, black.
“It’s cool. I’m friends with Izuku, I know all about rambling. No one’s ever asked for my autograph before, but yes. I can do that.”
“Oh my god, okay, um, I really wasn’t prepared for this, but I have my notebook?”
“That works,” Kurei says, taking it and a black pen, flipping through to the first clean page. The kid is practically vibrating next to them.
“I’ve just…I’ve never met a hero like me,” the kid says softly as Kurei signs. Their hand goes still, and they look up.
“What’s your name?”
“Aoko,” they admit, and Kurei recognizes that rawness, the careful ragged edges. Still gets it half the time.
“That’s a good one. Pick it yourself?”
Aoko shakes their head. “My friends helped.”
“My mom picked mine,” Kurei says softly. They finish what they were writing and without negotiation pass the notebook over to Hitoshi.
The kid’s eyes go round, but they don’t say a word. Kurei turns fully toward them.
“Look, Aoko. I’ll let you in on a secret a pro told me. There are trans heroes. There have always been trans heroes. It’s just that 1-A are the first to come out.”
“You mean…right now, there are pros…”
“Hell yeah. Can’t tell you who, y’know, none of them want to go public, but I promise they’re there. We’re everywhere. You’ve never been on your own, okay?”
Aoko nods, looking a bit like they’re about to cry. Kurei can sympathize. “Okay. Wait, did you say are the first-“
“You’re looking at seven out of nine trans kids in the class,” Bakugou reports. There’s a distinct challenge in his gaze as he does. “‘Cept Uraraka. But she’s nice, so we let her tag along.”
“Hey!” But she’s laughing.
Everyone at the table signs the kid’s notebook, and they manage to chat for another few minutes about where they’re going to school, what they plan to do, all that, before a woman calls a name that is distinctly not Aoko and their shoulders hunch up to their ears.
“Sorry, I gotta-“
“Hang on,” Kurei says. They grab the pen and a napkin and scribble on it. “If you need anything. Not for villains, I don’t have my license yet,” they laugh, “but anything else.”
Aoko nods, shoving the napkin into their pocket, and darts off.
“Did you give them your number?” Momo asks.
Kurei shrugs, cheeks heating. “Maybe. Kid needs a friend, I think.”
“Softie,” Hitoshi says fondly.
A few minutes later they’re saying their last goodbyes in front of the restaurant, exchanging hugs and promises to meet up again soon. Hitoshi links their arms, tucking their hand into the pocket of Kurei’s overalls. Kurei follows suit, their hand in Hitoshi’s jacket pocket. They walk home that way, arm in arm, smiling quietly, hips bumping together.
“I like you like this,” Hitoshi says. “You look happy. You’ve looked happy.”
Kurei’s feeling brave enough to roll their head toward them, smirking. “You didn’t like me before?”
Hitoshi looks shocked, then laughs, bumping against them a little harder that time. “Of course I did. You had this whole stoic thing going, and you were so competent, and no one knew anything about you. I like every version of you.”
It’s not really a joke anymore. Kurei slows their steps as they turn onto their street. “Really?”
“Yeah. I like this one best, though. It’s like…you finally figured something out. I mean, duh, but like-”
“No,” Kurei says softly. “I understand.”
They do. Everything slotting into place, their body feeling like theirs, finally home, finally safe, finally feeling like a living, breathing, functioning human being for the first time. Feeling like a person. Feeling alive.
“It’s not weird, is it?” they ask as they head up the walk to their front door.
Hitoshi tips their head. “Nah. I was the same. It just…makes me really happy. To see it on you. It’s dramatic.”
“You’re dramatic,” Kurei blurts, choking back a sudden rush of tears.
Hitoshi laughs, head tilting back, and that’s it. They kiss them in front of the door, in the warm summer air after a date, and it’s everything they never thought they’d get to have. Certainly not unless it was some pretty future-housewife girl, quiet and Endeavor-approved. Certainly not while wearing denim embroidered with roses, kissing their boyfriend, their boyfriend who sometimes calls them she.
They manage to not cry long enough to hug Hitoshi goodbye, and the second they’ve walked down the path and out of sight the front door opens. Rei stands there, stern, hands on her hips, but she doesn’t get a word out before Kurei is hugging her, weeping. Everything is hitting at once, toomuch toomuch, good-bad-perfect.
“Honey, honey, calm down,” Rei says, tugging them inside and kneeling in front of them. “What happened? Did something go wrong?”
“No, Mom,” Kurei manages, scrubbing their eyes with one palm. “I’m just…I’m happy. I’m home.”
A few months ago Todoroki Shouto was ashamed of not having all the answers, desperate and terrified to put the missing pieces of himself together.
Now, Todoroki Kurei is whole, and they aren’t scared at all.