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thesakuragarnet · 3 months

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The Boy Born With Everything

Summary:

It had been five years since the war ended. Five long years that Touya had spent in an asylum of a hospital, watching from the other side of a glass tube, occasionally being let out to prevent his muscles from completely atrophying once the surgeries gave him range of motion…or to eat soba with his youngest brother. Once again, his body wasn’t supposed to last a month, much less years. Touya thrived on proving other people wrong…and he’d done it again.

Now, he finds out that, not only is he allowed to go back home (albeit with an ankle monitor), but also, his old hookup has nominated him for the new villain rehabilitation program.

After all these years, Touya will be able to fulfill his dream...he'll be a hero.

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! TAGS BENEATH THE KEEP READING SECTION

Word Count (first Two Chapters Posted): 8,212 words

AO3 link

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Hero!Dabi, DabiHawks, LOV redemption, MHA 426 coping (everything after it has been retconned probably with this), swearing, explicit s3xual content, Final War Arc Spoilers, drinking, making out, fluff, angst, smut, hurt/comfort, Touya has Both Quirks (Post-Quirk Awakening)

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Chapter One: Prologue || Before The Betrayal

One week before X day.

Merging with the Meta Liberation Army had its ups and downs…but this could definitely be shelved in the list of ups. Compress whistles as he rolls the dolly cart into the rec room of the Gunga Mountain Villa, and everyone’s heads turn to stare at the crate full of alcohol. It was a gift from Trumpet for the exponential increase in new recruits. Dabi, Toga, Spinner, and Twice had finished their meetings for the day, and they've been waiting on Compress to return with their “reward for cooperation”. Dabi’s eyes scan the bottles as excited murmurs bubble in the room.

Alcohol affected his body differently. His fiery Quirk processed it, burning it up almost instantaneously, resulting in him getting shitfaced quickly but also sobering up in the same hour. If Dabi wanted the buzz to last, he had to keep drinking. He was going to have to hoard a bottle for himself. Compress opens the crate with flair, brandishing each bottle as he sets it on the center table. There’s vodka, sake, whiskey…plenty of options.

“Oh, please can I have some!” Toga beams broadly, reaching for the bottle of vodka, but Dabi snatches it, opening it with little effort.

“ No ,” Dabi hisses firmly, annoyed at her puppy-eyed stare as Toga pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What’s the point in being a villain if you can’t break the rules and do what you want?” She grumbles, and Dabi rolls his eyes.

“It’s for your own good,” Dabi sighs, hating that he sounds like a parent…but he doesn’t want Himiko drunk around this compound of complete strangers. The liberation members come from everywhere…the last thing he wants is for someone to take advantage of Toga when she’s vulnerable, whether that be by stealing the little wad of money she kept in her A-line coat or…he doesn’t even wanna think about it. It comes down to the facts. It’s for her own good.

“C’mon, Dabi . You’re such a letdown . Nah, Toga, he’s right,” Twice replies as he drinks directly from a bottle of sake. Compress rolls his eyes, muttering something about Twice acting like an animal as he snaps, turning the two marbles in his hand into glasses before handing one to Spinner.

“He’s right, my dear. You should stick to tea,” Compress sniffs as he sits down in one of the armchairs, crossing his legs as he pours whiskey for himself and Spinner.

Dabi takes a breath as he puts the bottle to his lips, gulping it down, barely registering the ever-so-dull burning sensation running down his throat. The liquor starts filtering through his system the moment he pulls away from the bottle, sighing as the walls around his mind begin to dissolve, letting the real Touya come to the forefront. He found it harder to keep the mask up when he got intoxicated, acting a little more smiley and talkative than usual. He leans back onto the couch, sinking into the textured fabric as he unceremoniously props his leather boots up on the table.

“C’mon. You guys are so lame !” Toga groans, staring at her fellow League members drinking without her as she kicks her feet in the air on the beanbag.

“Dabi’s just lookin’ out for you,” Spinner explains, turning to Himiko as he sips his glass.

“Am not,” Dabi scoffs, trying and failing to keep up his front; in truth, he’d grown to view Toga as a little sister. He felt protective over her; it was incredibly irritating. Dabi starts slugging the vodka, gulping with a comical force that clearly shows he’s trying to get as wasted as possible.

“If you throw up, you clean up,” Spinner says flatly, but Dabi ignores him, draining the bottle until there’s only half of it left.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” Dabi huffs; his vision blurs for a moment and his body feels lighter.

“Guess I’m late to the party,” A familiar voice chuckles from behind Dabi, nearly scaring him out of his skin while simultaneously putting his heart at ease. Dabi never realized how much he enjoyed Hawks’ voice before; he never noticed how it was sweeter than honey beneath the shit-eating grin and the charismatic facade. Dabi would be lying if he said he never found Hawks attractive; embarrassingly, he’s had a little bit of a crush on him for a while. It was infuriating. Hawks has everything Dabi’s always wanted…and it makes his blood boil. He’s got the world’s eyes on him as the number two hero, always watching with overwhelming adoration. He’s got fans, he’s got fame…he’s got the approval of the number one hero…Touya’s father. It almost makes him sick how easy Hawks has it…to be beloved so easily. It’s not fair.

Dabi stares at Hawks through his thick upper eyelashes, eyes tinged with lust but mouth drooping in a jealous frown. Hawks is too pretty for his own good, Dabi decides the longer he stares at him. Surely that’s not just the alcohol talking.

“Hawks!” Twice gasps, leaping up from his seat on the floor and wrapping his arms around the hero in a vice-gripping hug. “You made it! I was hoping you’d be hit by a plane on the way here!”

“Jin, always a pleasure,” Hawks grins, patting him a little less than condescendingly on the head before squirming out of his hold.

“Care to partake with us?” Compress beckons, flourishing with another glass that practically appears out of thin air.

“No thanks. Can’t drink and fly. Don’t wanna get a ticket,” Hawks winks, and Dabi almost gags at the terrible joke. But if the dumb bird turned him off that much, why were his thoughts swimming with ideas involving Hawks? Why can’t he stop staring at his lips like he wants to kiss them? The idea of kissing Hawks makes his head spin…makes something stir deep inside that he thought was long dead. Lust? That had to be it. To think it was anything deeper was crazy; the alcohol was just probably making him horny. It was a silly coincidence, regardless of how often he thought of Hawks prior…which was daily. He’d become a little obsessed with his double agent, finding it hard to keep him on a longer metaphorical leash. He enjoyed his company…enjoyed talking to him…it was fucking weird. Sure, Dabi was well aware of his own abandonment issues and attention-seeking habits, but…why did he unconsciously latch onto Hawks ? He pretended to play dumb with himself, shoving any urges or ideas deep back from where they came from in his chest. But now, the alcohol is making them float right back up to the surface.

Dabi takes another long drink from the bottle, swishing the liquid in his mouth absentmindedly as Hawks makes eye contact with him. The hero looks mildly amused before he leans over the back of the couch, whispering in Dabi’s ear:

“Hey, Dabi, I need to talk to you. Can we take a walk?”

His husky voice and the heat of his breath totally don’t send something that can only be described as arousal pulsing through Dabi’s lungs. He hates it. It’s stupid. It’s just because he’s drunk. He’s clingier than usual…and Hawks is objectively attractive. That’s the only explanation.

“Mkay,” Dabi slurs, finishing off the bottle before slamming it on the table as he swallows a hiccup. He leaps to his feet on swaying legs, the room spinning ever so slightly and making him marginally nauseous.

“Fuck,” He whines under his breath, regretting chugging so much alcohol in a short period. Granted, he’d planned to just chill out on the couch all night, but, apparently, that was no longer the case.

“Back later,” Dabi murmurs sloppily to anyone who cares as he follows Hawks out of the room and into the hall.

Dabi is in another world; he’s hearing Hawks’ voice but not processing anything he’s saying at all. He’s mumbling and nodding, the illusion of paying attention, but he’s too captivated by the faint glitters in the hero’s irises. His gaze falls onto Hawks’ lips…they look so soft. Soft enough that part of Touya wants to reach out and touch them, even though he knows he wouldn’t be able to feel them. His senses are so fucked up…it cuts him viscerally to the core how much he wishes he could feel things again. Every sensation is dulled except his emotions, ironically…which have always been the strongest to begin with. His emotions are still as real and passionate and reactive as they were before his accident at Sekoto Peak.

The two keep walking down the hall, Hawks dawdling on about whatever “intel” he’s managed to obtain and how many copies of the Liberation manifesto he’s disseminated. Dabi loses his balance for a moment, nearly stumbling and falling on his face, but Hawks catches him, arm lurching forward and clutching his chest. Dabi blinks as he stands up straight, turning to look at Hawks. The hero seems… concerned . Why the fuck should he be concerned about him ? Hawks has zero reasons to give a shit. His eyes dart to the hero’s lips again…and lust undoubtedly pools in his gut.

Dabi just wants to feel something…anything at this point. Anything other than the raging anger and desperation that’s always bubbling beneath the surface of his cold and callous facade. Hell, just his imagination is enough to set his shriveled heart ablaze. The concept of another person…of Hawks touching him intimately…it’s ethereal. The temporary drunk confidence makes him completely interrupt Hawks as he slurs:

“Doyouwannamakeout?”

“Dabi. You’re drunk,” Hawks snorts, caught off guard and probably flustered with the sudden spray of pink that dusts his cheeks.

“I’d make out with you sober, too. And other things. If you wanted,” Dabi mutters bluntly, pointing his finger at Hawks and poking him sharply in the chest, “I don’t really wanna talk business with you right now.”

Hawks raises an eyebrow before taking a look around.

“Right here in the hallway?” He smirks in disbelief, but Dabi roughly shakes his head before grabbing Hawks’ wrist.

“My bedroom.”

…

The door slams shut behind Dabi, and he hears the click of the lock as the dam breaks and his inhibitions go up in azure flames. As soon as Hawks turns back around, Dabi’s hands cup his face and pull him into an overwhelming kiss. Kissing Hawks is just as heavenly as he’d imagined it. It’s perfect even in the haze of alcohol. From Hawks’ point of view, it’s suffocating; Dabi’s clearly never kissed anyone before.

Dabi drunkenly moans into Hawks’ mouth, panting weakly as Hawks’ tongue slides against his. Hawks takes his gloves off, throwing them on the floor in a rush before running his hands through Dabi’s hair, fingers combing through the cheaply dyed fluffy locks.

In the back of Dabi’s brain, he knows this is probably empty; Hawks is probably seducing him for intel to get closer…to gain Dabi’s trust. That’s why he agreed so quickly. There’s no logical reason he’d actually be interested in his disgusting patchwork mug. But…part of Dabi wonders if he does feel something for him…if there’s a chance that he’s actually wanted by someone…for once in his miserable fucking life. He shoves the thought back into the recesses of his mind, focusing on the faint sensation of Hawks’ lips as they suck and bite and lick Dabi’s troubles away. Dabi’s hands drop to rest at Hawks’ waist, gripping tightly beneath his jacket as his fingertips slide along the sides of the hero’s belt.

“Top or bottom?” Hawks grins slyly as he breaks the kiss. Dabi’s mind reels; not only was he kissing Hawks, but they were gonna have sex. It’s highly suspicious for the hero to want to move so fast; the Commission probably ordered Hawks to get information by any means necessary, but who knows when he’s going to get another chance like this? It’s not like Dabi’s even had sex before…and now…the number two hero is going to be his first time.

“Don’t care- hah -just want you,” Dabi huffs, greedily pulling Hawks in by the front of his shirt for another filthy kiss. Hawks melts into the gesture, hands delicately reaching down to unbuckle Dabi’s belt. Dabi breaks free from the kiss with a gasp, looking through his fuzzy vision to watch Hawks slip the belt off him with ease, tossing it to the side before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Dabi blinks, and he’s on his back on the bed; Hawks tugs the villain’s pants down enough to free his half-hard cock from his gray boxers. Dabi’s eyes widen as he watches Hawks climb onto the bed, kneeling down to press a gentle kiss to the tip of Dabi’s dick. The villain gulps, chills rolling beneath his skin as he stares at Hawks; the Pro kisses up and down his shaft, maintaining eye contact beneath his winged eyeliner, seamless and sexy.

Dabi chews his scarred bottom lip, imagining what it would be like to fuck Hawks’ throat. Imagining what it would be like to fuck him…to be fucked by him…to succumb to mutual pleasure. The concept of feeling good was foreign to him, much less in a sexual manner, but this whole situation stirred his insides from his brain to his balls. If he was going to die in the war in a week, he might as well not die a virgin, even if he was so drunk he might fall asleep before aftercare.

“You taste sweet. Not what I was expecting,” Hawks sneers as he laps up the beads of precome slowly dripping down. “But I’m not complaining.”

He’s doing this on purpose. The soft whisper of his voice and the deep intonations send vibrations up Dabi’s spine. Hawks is completely giving his all to seduce him right now. Dabi doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’ll probably be even clingier after this hookup. The war was in a week. And he would be dead. This wouldn’t matter. What does matter is for fucking once he’s giving in to his inhibitions…to an experience that he’s never had…one that might reward him in the end. His dopamine pathways must function somewhat .

Hawks presses his lips to Dabi’s tip before slowly taking him into his mouth, sucking his length inch by glorious inch.

“Fuck,” Dabi borderline whimpers, his other hand reaching down to run through the hero’s blonde locks. He was pretty sure he was getting off more on the idea of everything that’s happening than what he was actually feeling, but, regardless, it felt euphoric. This was a high he’d never felt before; it made his head feel floaty and his stomach feel warm and his heart pound with a violent fervor.

Dabi’s head falls back onto the pillow, arm coming up reflexively, hiding his eyes as his back arches and his jaw drops. His voice comes out in a raspy groan, low and long and rising in pitch the more Hawks’ head bobs up and down. Dabi mumbles something unintelligible, panting heavily as he resists the urge to buck his hips. The lewd noises consume Dabi’s bedroom, the slurping and sucking of Hawks’ lips perverting the quiet and mixing with Dabi’s weak gasps and hums of pleasure.

“You like that?” Hawks murmurs, knowing damn well that he’s skyrocketed the villain to cloud nine. Dabi can only manage a weak nod as he risks looking down at the depraved scene between his legs. It sends another jolt of pleasure through his body when he realizes that Hawks is naked from the waist down…and fingering himself. He can barely make it out in the darkness, but it’s clear the way Hawks bites his lip.

“You ready to fuck me?” Hawks taunts, and Dabi’s absolutely sure he isn’t, but he wants to get on with it anyway, so he nods.

Dabi nearly chokes when the tip of his dick catches on Hawks’ rim; the noises pouring from the hero’s throat are like forbidden fruit, kissing Dabi’s ears and filling his chest with butterflies…or maybe it’s just the alcohol.

Hawks’ hands grip Dabi’s pecs over his thin white V-neck T-shirt, thumbs tracing over perky nipples and making Dabi groan.

Hawks sinks down until he’s sitting fully flush in Dabi’s lap, eyelids fluttering as he bites his lip to hold back a moan.

“Dabi, you feel so good ,” He cries out, voice strained and breathless as he grips at Dabi’s shoulders. Dabi stares up at him, alcohol boiling in his blood as the hero begins to ride him, rolling his hips in a way that makes his dick twitch. It’s all in his head. He knows he can’t really feel it, but… goddamn if sex with Hawks isn’t more intoxicating than the vodka. He looks like a Greek god, stripped down, heavily muscled, and haloed in the dim sunset from the window. He’s never looked more attractive; it’s too good to be true. There’s no way the number two hero is riding his dick right now, and yet, the brutal sounds of skin slapping against skin and Hawks’ needy moans suggest otherwise.

“ Hawks ,” Dabi pants, wanton and delirious, cock throbbing inside as Hawks bounces up and down and up and down. His throat feels tight…like how it used to before he would start crying before his accident. Dabi starts rolling his hips, thrusting up into Hawks, and the hero gasps, wings flaring out as his face contorts into pleasure. Curses fly from his lips, involuntary and jumbled together as his breath hitches. Dabi’s mind is on fire; desire bubbling in his lower back and making drool pool on his tongue. Heavy breaths fill the air as the bed beneath them creaks from their rampant movements. Hawks brings his own hips down with every upward rut of Dabi’s, getting as much friction for the both of them as humanly possible. Hawks doesn’t realize Dabi’s only getting off on the raw emotions and intimacy of what’s happening over any physical pleasure.

Dabi sits up, hands moving to Hawks’ hips to get a better grip when he sees the hero’s leaking cock, hard and untouched. Before Hawks can say a word, Dabi wraps a hand around it, coating his fingers in precome as he starts to jerk him off. Hawks twitches, Dabi’s name on his lips, sweat beading on his brow.

“ God ,” Dabi moans like a bitch in heat, head fuzzy and speech garbled as the high reaches an almighty climax. He can feel something happening when he watches Hawks writhe in pleasure. “Gonna come.”

“Me too,” Hawks grunts, moans pitching higher in tune with Dabi’s rasps as they both let the euphoria consume them.

Dabi comes first, completely wrecked and not even sure how it’s happening. His hips stutter, cock pulsing and balls emptying as a pathetic moan bursts from his lips. Hawks keeps riding him through it, sending sparks across Dabi’s vision as his own orgasm hits like lightning down his spine. It gets all over Dabi’s hand, but he doesn’t even hardly notice, haphazardly jerking Hawks off through every spasm.

Finally, the overstimulation is too much for them, and everything stops…stillness pollutes the bedroom, save for Dabi and Hawks’ chests heaving with each intake of breath and sigh of relief.

Dabi’s vision is blurry, the alcohol slowly leaking out of his system as his Quirk finishes processing it. He should be completely sober in a few minutes, long enough for the afterglow to wear off. He vaguely registers Hawks lifting off of him, his own dick falling limp against his thigh as Hawks crawls forward, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Dabi’s lips.

The villain’s eyes close, letting the blackness envelop him as he moves his lips to complement the hero’s. He can barely taste the sweat on Hawks, but it’s enough to confirm that this isn’t a dream. Dabi lazily wipes the come off his hand and onto the sheets beside him. He’ll worry about cleaning up tomorrow; right now, he wants to live forever in this moment. This moment of temporary bliss with someone who’s making him feel wanted … seen … loved ? That’s probably the wrong word to use, but Touya doesn’t care. The man was so touch-starved it’s a wonder the mere lack of hugs hadn’t killed him, but Dabi didn’t need to reveal that to anyone else. He didn’t need to reveal just how desperate he really was for the attention. They didn’t need to know that he clung to it like a moth to a candle. When he opens his eyes, Hawks is smiling at him.

BZZT! BZZT!

Hawks’ phone vibrates in his pants pocket, and a feather pulls it out, bringing it to Hawks, whose forehead wrinkles when he reads the message. He sighs as he pushes himself off of Dabi, getting ready to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

“This was fun, Dabi, but, I’ve gotta head out-”

“Don’t leave,” The words come out as a desperate hiccup, embarrassing and full of fear that Hawks has never seen on Dabi’s face or heard on his lips before.

Hawks freezes when he sees the empty expression in Dabi’s eyes, longing for connection…for any sense of security. This wasn’t the villain he was used to spending time with. Hawks expected him to just roll over and sleep without so much as a “thank you” for everything he just did to him.

“Please, don’t leave,” Dabi repeats, eyes distant and welling with bloody tears. His mask is slipping…Hawks is seeing Touya . It puts a pit in his stomach as the alcohol starts to wear off. He’s being too vulnerable. He needs to shut up and act like none of this mattered. He grits his teeth, tongue heavy in his mouth as he blinks away the crimson beads. Silence…silence is the clearest option. If he takes it back, it’s acknowledging that it happened.

Hawks doesn’t say a word about it, letting the thoughts stew in his brain as he begrudgingly sinks back into bed beside Dabi, hating that he’s going to have to explain himself to his handler. The villain grips the sheets, staring at the ceiling as the numbness consumes his body, unable to feel the warmth of the hero snuggling next to him. It floods his veins, hardening his heart and reminding him of one simple fact. Everyone leaves him eventually…and he will never be enough for anyone to want to stick around.

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Chapter 2: Home

It had been five years since the war ended. Five long years that Touya had spent in an asylum of a hospital, watching from the other side of a glass tube, occasionally being let out to prevent his muscles from completely atrophying once the surgeries gave him a decent range of motion…or to eat soba with his youngest brother. Once again, his body wasn’t supposed to last a month, much less years. Touya thrived on proving other people wrong…and he’d done it again.

The hospital had thoroughly milked Enji Todoroki dry. Enji Todoroki’s alleged “atonement” involved pouring money into the best doctors and researchers the world had to offer…and…with surgery after surgery, Touya began to look like himself again. Compared to the last time he’d been turned into a burning corpse, the extra two years of rehabilitation and work made a drastic difference.

Within the first year, Touya went from being able to speak only a few minutes a day to holding a conversation for a full half hour. Now, he can yap as much as he did when he was a little kid, which is unfortunate for everyone else’s ears. Shoto, however, doesn’t mind. Touya always manages to fill the silence that Shoto quietly occupies, and he’s more than happy to listen.

Natsuo was the one who had the hardest time coming around…and, after about a year and a half, Touya began to come to terms with why. The sibling that he had the closest bond with fell into the path of his anger, and Touya himself cringed when he remembered how he bragged about almost having him killed.

The rage still lurks below the surface, but Touya’s taking steps to keep his anger in check. Therapy had worked wonders. Once the doctors realized Touya wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Rei petitioned for Touya to talk to a therapist to get him to open up more.

The first session fundamentally shifted the world for Touya because, for the first time since his reveal, someone from the outside actually acknowledged that he was abused. Touya believed no one cared; the public had only given a shit because Dabi was a villain. They hadn’t cared about Endeavor’s sins against his family. To hear someone voice that his pain and anger were real and valid felt liberating.

When he finally got full control of his motor skills again, Touya wrote Natsuo a letter; he showed up to visit him a few weeks later. It was a rough reunion; there was a lot of yelling on Natsuo’s part. For once in his life, Touya kept his mouth shut.

He knew Natsuo had a right to be angry. All he could do was apologize and explain why he did what he did. Natsuo’s relationship with Touya was going to take time to be repaired; it wasn’t something he could fix overnight. Besides, he had a new life now with his wife. Touya understood.

Fuyumi always brought such a bright smile with her behind her glasses during her visits. She often came with a basket that the workers would either confiscate or sift through to pick and choose what Touya got. Touya used to see Fuyumi as just another chess piece that got in his way growing up…but…now…it’s different.

No one else brings things for him.

Touya often asks her why she decided to waste her time teaching brats, but she just brushes it off, changing the subject.

Fuyumi was the first person other than Shoto to learn that Touya had in fact come back to the house. He felt obligated to tell her. After all, he hadn't just left her with the burden of being the oldest sibling once…but twice.

Fuyumi broke down halfway through, sobbing about how she thought she was seeing things when she saw a shadow in his old room that day. One minute, Touya was standing in front of his altar, and then, he was gone in the blink of an eye. A few months later, Touya opened up even more to her.

“I’m sorry for calling you and Mom useless.” The throaty rasp echoes from the tube, reluctant and crackly. Fuyumi stands in front of the glass, peering at her older brother through the darkness.

“When did you do that?” She raises her eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden apology as she smooths her dress.

“A lot…before Sekoto,” Touya admits.

“Oh…,” His sister trails off, lips pursed.

“I don’t think that anymore. Think it was just Dad. His views. Toga and Magne weren’t useless. Changed my mind,” Touya speaks slowly, trying to articulate with his new lips. They’d finally finished the facial reconstruction surgeries, and he’d just gotten the bandages off the day before, just in time for Fuyumi’s biweekly visit.

Rei Todoroki held the record for the most visits to Touya Todoroki, the former supervillain known as Dabi. She coordinated with the rest of her children to ensure they still got their time out of the week in the early stages of Touya’s rehabilitation. She didn’t care that Touya could only speak a few sentences; seeing her eldest child alive and breathing was a blessing in disguise. Their first private meeting was tearful, but it gave Rei unimaginable hope. When she saw her son crying real tears, not blood, she knew he was going to survive, and demanded Enji to put as much money into his recovery as possible.

Not that Touya would show a shred of gratitude to his excuse for a father…too little too late. Touya didn’t want to see him, regardless of Enji’s promise to stay by his side until the end of his days. He was a coward, a fraud, and an abusive piece of shit for lack of better words. Touya would see his father in hell, just like he’d promised. Until then, he didn’t care if they breathed the same air on the same planet…at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

He hated that a part of him still loved his father; he was latched on like a leech, disgusting hope bubbling in his stomach. But his memories were too powerful for him to ignore. Touya couldn’t separate himself from the neglect.

The first few times Enji showed up, Touya ignored him…and it soon became clear that he didn’t outwardly care anymore about his father’s approval. Now, Enji was living in the old Todoroki house with a caretaker where he wouldn’t be a problem, divorced from Rei and mulling over his own consequences. Truth be told, Touya still doesn’t understand why he isn’t behind bars…and he regretfully knows his questions will never be answered.

His hair had grown back to the same style from when he was thirteen; it's soft, white, fluffy, and always hanging in his face to the point where it's borderline annoying. His tear ducts were fully functioning again, which was simultaneously relieving and irritating; he could easily fall into the trap of being the crybaby of the family again.

His skin was still mismatched like it had been when he’d woken up the first time; after all, Touya doubted they could do a better cosmetic job than Ujiko. However, they had succeeded in restoring the nerve damage after several breakthroughs. Touya finally had physical feeling.

Once Touya’s doctors assured the staff he was no longer a danger, they removed the metal bindings keeping his limb strapped to his side; they couldn’t restore his right arm, so they developed a prosthetic one.

The prosthesis felt…alien. An extension of his body made up of alloys and other shit he can’t give names to. He’s gotten along just fine with it so far.

They’d been working on it since they realized Touya wasn’t keen on dying, and he’d gotten to test it out for the past year whenever he’d be released to spend time with Shoto. He’d exploded his right arm on purpose during the fight, opting to keep his dominant hand. It seemed like a fantastic idea at the time…but…then again…he hadn’t planned to survive. He hadn’t planned for anyone to survive.

Touya feels like every day is whiplash. His heart is under constant monitoring; the doctors are worried it’ll freeze solid or melt at a moment’s notice.

His body isn’t used to harboring both sides of the family Quirks, and he’s still having trouble believing that he has both. Since his Quirk Awakening, the facility kept him doped up with Quirk suppressants, for his safety and for theirs…mostly theirs.

The chest strap of the heart monitor still feels uncomfortably tight…something he’s going to have to get used to.

Feeling was something he was going to need to get used to.

…

“Todoroki Touya,” The worker’s voice bellows, and Touya steps forward, zoning into reality. He’d been lost in his own thoughts all day, mulling over the fact that he’s finally being released.

One of the first things Touya wanted to do when he got out was get new piercings… that was something the doctors hadn’t prioritized, so his helices and triple high nostril were missing from his new flesh. He’d have to find some seedy place to get them later this week; today is his coming home party that his family hasn’t been able to shut up about. Originally, it was supposed to be a surprise, but Shoto hadn’t gotten the memo.

Ker-CHICK!

Touya’s jaw drops in a silent gasp as they shoot the tracker implants into his neck. Pain was another thing he was going to have to get used to. He hadn’t felt physical pain in so long…it was weird.

“Protocol,” The guard huffs, and Touya shrugs, staring beneath thick eyelashes. He didn’t blame them. The guard nods toward the end of the hallway, and Touya walks past, still handcuffed and lucid.

Touya can’t wait to get out of these gaudy prison scrubs. Fuyumi and his mother had shown him some outfits online and let him pick out something that he could change into when he got home. He feels like it’s silly to be chomping at the bit for soft clothes, but these thin itchy scrubs have been the bane of his existence since he regained feeling in his skin.

He wonders if the others were given such a shitty wardrobe? Touya hadn’t been allowed to ask any questions about his fellow League members; he’d been answered with cold silence whenever he tried…and Shoto said he wasn’t allowed to disclose anything.

‘I just hope they fucking made it…,’ Touya thinks to himself, remembering his ragtag found family after so many years of living alone on the street. Now…he’s going to be with his blood family. He wouldn’t be lounging around a bar, drinking his troubles away while laughing about petty arson. He’d be sitting at a table, eating dinner with his mother, his youngest brother, and his little sister.

Maybe he could figure out a way to get in touch with Himiko…he finds himself worrying about her the most. She was a total psycho, but she was his total psycho, his unspoken little sister.

He’d let her paint his nails when she begged incessantly. He’d helped her draw faces and insults on the other members with lipstick while they were sleeping. He’d helped her fix her hair the way she wanted, pulling it in those tight space buns that would have been nearly impossible if Touya hadn’t been adept at dissecting YouTube tutorials. Toga was just as much his sister in his eyes as Fuyumi.

Touya waits patiently at the door at the end of the hallway, turning his wrists and wincing at the tightness of the cuffs. The green light above the door illuminates, and they slowly swing open, allowing two staff members to walk through. One stands directly in front of him, brandishing a taser. Even though they’re letting him out, they don’t trust him. Typical.

The other man walks behind Touya and begins clicking through the cuffs to unlock them.

“You’ll be able to get your belongings at the front. Remember to take the Quirk suppressants as instructed. It’s medication, so it’s important to follow the instructions. You’ll have to wean yourself off of them or you won’t be able to-”

“Control my Quirk. Yeah. Got it. As if I was good at that before anyway,” Touya scoffs sarcastically, flexing his hands once the cuffs fall free from his wrists.

The staff member falls silent, lips pulled into a thin line that proves he’s stopping himself from reprimanding Touya’s smartass comment. People are still afraid of him. Touya isn’t sure if he’s happy about that or not. It’ll mean people will leave him alone, sure…hopefully.

Touya brushes past the two workers who eye him warily, following the signs toward the discharge station. This facility had grown to replace Tartarus in the past few years, and it felt like a new maze every time he was allowed to roam the halls. It isn’t long before he stops at the final set of doors.

Touya takes a deep breath before raising his prosthetic arm. The silver glares from the overhead lights, making him squint as he pushes open the door, recoiling at the harsh lighting of the lobby area.

“Touya!”

When his eyes adjust, he comes face to face with his mother. His heart twists. This is the closest he’s seen her; he was only allowed out of his holding tank or cell when Shoto was the visitor.

Her scar is gnarly up close, slicing across her face and spreading like fire; it makes a pit hollow out in Touya’s stomach. He put that there…whether he meant to or not. The flames of his supernova-like predicament from the final fight had consumed everything…if it hadn’t been for Rei, Natsuo, and Fuyumi…he would’ve died in that explosion.

Her hair had grown back to just below her shoulders just like Fuyumi’s. Touya’s sister jumps up from her seat in the lobby and rushes forward with a bouquet of flowers to Touya’s chagrin.

“What’s with those?” Touya mutters pointedly, trying to withhold any cutting remarks. She’s trying…the fact that his family is trying speaks volumes to him. It’s no longer empty words and promises.

“Oh, I figured we’d brighten up the house! Mom and I fixed up your new room!” Fuyumi smiles before covering her mouth with her hand, “Oh, shoot! That was gonna be a surprise!”

“It’s alright, dear,” Rei smiles warmly.

“Hey.”

Touya spins around at the sound of Shoto’s voice, and notices he's holding a duffel bag.

“I got your things. I wanted to make sure they actually gave back all of your stuff,” He admits, the corners of his mouth pointing upward softly. Touya’s heart skips when he realizes Natsuo didn’t show up. It made sense.

He has his own life and his own family now. Rei, Shoto, and Fuyumi are the only ones living in the new house…and now…Touya’s going to be living there too. He’s not really sure what his next steps are going to be yet. It’s not like he can just get a normal job after being one of Japan’s most feared villains of the generation. Hell, he doesn’t even have proper education past middle school.

…

The car ride home was less than ideal, primarily due to Touya’s motion sickness. He managed to survive the car ride without incident, but only after he begged Fuyumi to drive ten under the speed limit.

Touya’s breath is taken away just by the outside of the house as they pull up to the property. Rei planted Rindou flowers all along the outside garden, creating a sea of cerulean. Fuyumi parks in the garage, and, finally, the car stops.

Shoto hops out of the car, grabbing Touya by the wrist and pulling him outside. Touya takes in his surroundings, squinting in the fading sunlight as Shoto leads him around the side of the house through a door.

The living room is enormous, and the largest television Touya’s ever laid eyes on is mounted on the wall. He doesn’t get much time to look around as Shoto continues to drag him along as soon as they kick off their shoes. Shoto opens another door, leading to a hallway with art pieces adorning the walls. The colors blur as Shoto pulls him up a staircase leading to the second floor.

“Can we slow down?” Touya blurts.

“On a schedule,” Shoto mutters, making Touya raise an eyebrow.

“Schedule?” Touya echoes, but Shoto appears to ignore him, his grip tightening on Touya’s wrist. Finally, they reach a door…with a crude sign that reads “Touya-nii” on it.

“Here,” Shoto releases his grip on Touya’s hand and unceremoniously flings the door open, stepping aside for Touya to walk in first.

He inches into the room, socks sliding against the hardwood as he takes in the space. Fuyumi and his mother set up a desk for him in the corner, decorated with an empty vase (probably to be filled with the flowers Fuyumi bought), a picture of the family from many moons ago (with their father quite obviously cropped out), and Touya’s old comics and Pro Hero books. Shoto sets the duffel bag in the middle of the desk while Touya keeps exploring. He stops when he sees the bed.

The thin mattress is covered by his baby blanket; the yellow and blue stars are faded with age. It looks incredibly tacky, but it makes warmth bloom in Touya’s chest. He can’t believe they even kept that. There’s another handmade sign leaning against the back wall that reads:

WELCOME HOME :)

The only other aspect of the room that stands out is the bookshelf littered with Touya’s old belongings…he recognizes them from his altar in their old house.

Touya flinches for a moment, the memory of praying in front of his own altar flashing across his vision.

“Do you like it?” Fuyumi’s voice sounds hopeful as Touya turns around to see them standing by the desk.

“Your new clothes are in the closet! I’ll go start dinner!” Fuyumi grins cheekily as she leaves the bedroom.

“You just get settled in, sweetheart,” Rei whispers, walking up to Touya and kissing him on the cheek before she slips out of the room, followed by Shoto, who closes the door behind them.

Touya walks to the closet, jerking it open to see a pair of black cotton drawstring pants and a simple, soft gray sweatshirt with a black cat on it. He reaches up inside the sleeves, temporarily indulging in the gentle sensation of the fabric rubbing between the pads of his fingers. It definitely is going to feel better than these stupid jailhouse scrubs.

Touya never realized how much of the world he missed when his tactile senses were numbed.

He strips out of the old clothes, tossing them into the corner of the room before he slips on the new outfit. He sighs in relief, feeling the itchiness fade before walking up to the mirror.

It fits. Good. He was worried he’d told Fuyumi the wrong sizes.

He turns his attention to the bag on his desk…his belongings from the facility.

Touya opens up the duffel bag, his heart stilling when he sees the fireproof synthetic fabric spilling out. He lifts the jacket up, examining the stitching and conductor cuffs; it’s his jacket from the first war. They must’ve raided all of the hideouts.

It’s the jacket that he was wearing during his vision…dissociation…whatever it was before he practically exploded. The image of himself as a hero with his family was burned into his brain…but…Shoto wasn’t in that fantasy.

Over the past few years, Touya had grown to realize how much he appreciated his little brother, and it made his heart pang that he directed his anger at him for so long.

Touya walks over to the closet, putting the jacket on a coat hanger before walking back to the duffel. The boots and stitched leather pants are the only other notable things in the dark void besides his clear bag of medications.

Touya pulls out the bottle of Quirk suppressants, reading the instructions on the side of the bottle.

TAKE 1 PILL EVERY 12 HOURS FOR 1 WEEK. THEN TAKE 1 PILL EVERY 24 HOURS FOR 5 DAYS. THEN TAKE AS NEEDED. REFILLED UPON REQUEST.

Touya sighs as he opens the bottle, shaking a pill out into his palm. He puts it in his mouth, letting the pill dissolve on his tongue and swallowing the bittersweet taste.

‘I should probably see if I can help with dinner…might as well make myself useful,’ Touya thinks to himself as he walks out of his room. He gets to the top of the staircase when-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound echoes through the household.

“Oh dear,” Rei’s voice sounds strained.

“He’s early!” Fuyumi gasps.

“He used to be the fastest Pro alive, and you didn’t think he’d be early ?” Shoto bluntly replies.

‘Fastest Pro alive? Wait…’

Touya’s heart races as he slowly makes his way down the staircase.

The last time he was face-to-face with Keigo Takami, he was trying to charbroil him for murdering his friend and breaking his heart…for being a lying traitor…for confirming everything Dabi already knew but didn’t want to face.

The sex meant nothing. The kisses meant nothing. Keigo was playing with him like a toy to be used and cast aside.

He’d talked to his therapist about Keigo…about how he thinks that’s the first time he felt romantic love for another person. The burning devotion turned to seething hatred the moment Hawks murdered Jin Bubaigawara.

He’d fully mourned Jin during these five years, processing the death, wondering why Keigo had chosen to target Dabi for intel.

Dabi wondered if he meant anything to Keigo, even though he knew he probably didn’t. He knew Hawks probably didn’t think about him…knew he was probably glad he was locked up for so long.

For a while, Touya wrestled with whether or not he was upset that he failed to finish Hawks off. He felt so many conflicting passionate emotions toward him. It felt chaotic…unstable…nuclear, even. Sometimes he felt consumed with regret for hurting him, and others he found himself reliving the betrayal.

When Touya finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, he sees Keigo standing in the living room. He’s wearing a suit with a katana bag strap draped across his chest.

Keigo Takami looks up…and his golden gaze meets Touya’s turquoise.

Touya’s heart monitor beeps twice, giving himself away by signaling an elevated heart rate. He needs to sit down.

For half a second, he wonders if he’ll just black out and get concussed on the stairs like an idiot. Instead, he slowly sinks to sit down on the final step, loathing how weak he must appear.

“What are you doing here?” Touya manages to squeak out, his chest feeling tight.

Keigo opens his mouth to speak, staring at Touya in disbelief. His eyes scan over the skin grafts before falling to his prosthetic arm. Touya feels naked.

“Hawks! Come help me in the kitchen!” Fuyumi materializes, whisking Hawks out of sight without a word. The heart monitor keeps beeping.

“Touya?”

His mother’s voice kisses his ears, soothing his erratic heartbeat as Touya zones back into the real world, pulling himself out of memories as she puts her hands on his knees.

“Why is he here?” Touya’s voice sounds pathetic, leaving his lips in a broken mumble. His mother seems shocked that he doesn’t sound angry. Tears well up in Touya’s eyes, and he hurriedly wipes them away.

He can’t let Keigo know he’s crying over him.

Rei’s eyebrows furrow when she notices the tears, but she chooses not to bring attention to them.

“He’s here to discuss…Hero Commission business with you, Touya.”

‘The Commission?’

“Didn’t he lose his fucking Quirk to All For One?” Touya sniffs indignantly.

“Touya! Language!” Rei hisses.

Touya mumbles a half-hearted apology.

“Hawks is the HPSC President now,” Rei explains.

Touya’s heart monitor whines again.

‘Why would he do that? After everything they put him through? Why the fuck would he ever accept that position? After they groomed him to be a glorified brainwashed soldier to do their dirty work?’

Touya shouldn’t care…he shouldn’t care what Keigo does. He shouldn’t care how it affects him or his past. Keigo has no affiliation with Touya. They had a one-night stand. He was an old situationship.

Touya swallows.

“He couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” He groans.

“He wants to talk to you about this as soon as possible, honey,” Rei sighs, “I had a long talk with him. I think…I think it’ll be good for you.”

‘Keigo talked to my mom ? What the fuck did he tell her? Did he tell her about us ? Us…what am I thinking? There was never an us…’

“Okay.”

…

“Keigo.”

“Touya.”

The two sit in tense silence on opposite sides of the table, facing one another with an unspoken uncertainty. The rest of the family remains in the kitchen, trying not to eavesdrop, but most definitely hanging on to every word the two speak.

“So…do I call you Mister President now or-”

“Keigo is fine,” He admits, straightening up in the chair. He looks tired, but he’s still as annoyingly smiley as ever.

“I’m,” Keigo takes a deliberate breath, “I’m glad you were able to recover smoothly.”

“Me too…,” Touya trails off, slightly disgusted with the awkward small talk.

“I have a proposition for you,” Keigo clears his throat, and Touya raises his eyebrow.

“Oh?” He huffs mockingly. He hates that Keigo is speaking with such formality. It’s unbecoming. It’s unlike Keigo.

It’s another mask for Keigo Takami. Touya can see right through it. They know each other more intimately than this. This is stupid.

“Well…you’re allowed to say no…you need to know you’re allowed to say no and that will be one hundred percent acceptable.”

“Spit it out,” Touya scoffs, curiosity suddenly piquing.

“I’ve consulted with a number of members of Class 2-A of UA and the higher-ups. And…you’ve shown considerable progress mentally and emotionally…and physically, obviously, but. Based on your psychological evaluations…and…and your…um…past aspirations. I’m-”

“Cut the shit, what is it?” Touya taps his foot impatiently.

“You’re eligible for the program I put together. The new villain rehabilitation program…we’re making former villains into heroes.”

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