Chapter Text
Izuku finds himself in complete darkness, overwhelmed by the stench of damp metal.
He doesn't remember how he got here, or where "here" even is. His hand touches a craggy, sticky surface just before he can straighten his arm completely. Izuku deduces that he must be in some kind of cave, possibly underground.
He could really use some light. Izuku calls out, "All Might, I need you!"
The golden apparition appears beside him, a wide smile plastered on his face. The glow from All Might's translucent body is gentle enough on Izuku's dark-adjusted eyes, but strong enough to illuminate the space.
After spinning in a quick circle, Izuku's stomach drops. Panic starts to crawl up his throat. He's walled in by rock in all directions, stuck in an enclosed pocket that’s just large enough to hold All Might and himself. How is that even possible- how did he end up here in the first place?
The other disconcerting feature of this location: the stony walls are weeping rivulets of blood. Izuku can start to feel it soak through his shoes.
In response to All Might's appearance, a heavy wave of blood rushes out of the ceiling. Izuku yelps as frigid, viscous liquid drenches his clothes and gets in his eyes.
The bottom of the exitless cave forms a watertight seal. The blood creeps up to Izuku's knees, then his waist. If he doesn't act soon, he's going to drown.
Izuku shouts, "Make an opening in the cave!"
All Might winds up a brawny arm, then smashes through the dark, slippery rock.
The walls of the enclosure yield like eggshells to a hammer. Izuku holds his breath as the outflow of fluid takes him along for the ride. He tumbles for a few revolutions, then steadies himself on his hands and knees. Underneath his palms, Izuku feels the plush softness of... carpet?
He opens his eyes. All Might kneels before him, wordlessly offering him a hand. Izuku takes it, and the golden spectre pulls him upright. They're in the middle of a narrow hallway, illuminated by rows of wall-mounted torches. There are no remnants of the stone they burst out of, nor the blood that carried them here.
The torches flare; a gong sounds. A large man in a metal-plated mask appears before them. "So the Symbol of Peace has been passed down to a new wielder," he snarls in a deep, rasping voice.
All Might steps forward, but the stranger slashes a hand through him, dispelling his non-corporeal form. Izuku cries out as the backlash from All Might's smash attack returns to his body. He falls to his knees, clutching at his broken arm.
The masked man slowly advances, measured footsteps muffled by the carpet. Izuku starts to shuffle backwards, but his body succumbs to an involuntary paralysis.
The stranger closes the distance between them. Shadows lick at the metal-plated mask. "One for All. All for One."
An armored hand plunges through his chest. Izuku screams, and his vision starts to fade out. He can feel his panicked heart pound against the cage of his attacker's hand. This can't be real- but if this is a dream, why can't he wake up-
The masked man pulls his arm back with a hiss. Izuku sobs as the ripping sensation in his torso instantly subsides. Now it's the assailant's turn to scream: when he throws off his glove, his hand is now charred and bloated with weeping blisters.
The masked man growls and painfully curls his maimed hand into a fist. "This accursed quirk!" He exhales a rattling breath. "No matter. If I cannot have All Might at my disposal, neither can you."
Before Izuku can even think of running, the masked man wraps both hands around his neck. He feels the same tearing sensation wrack his throat now, but he can't scream while he's being strangled. Just as the pain and lack of air become unbearable-
-Izuku wakes up.
What a terrible, terrible nightmare. Izuku's heartbeat pounds in his ears as he brings himself back to reality. Eventually, his pulse returns to a normal tempo, and the ringing in his ears fades out. He heaves a heavy sigh, then realizes he can't hear his breath. He tries coughing, then speaking, then shouting, but none of his attempts produce any sound.
He can still hear the ticking of the clock on his nightstand, and the distant hooting of an owl outside. It's not Izuku's ears that are the problem.
His voice is truly, absolutely gone. And the dreamwalker's the one who stole it.
Ten days have passed since Izuku lost his voice. He intends to get it back.
The night before his departure, he pens a letter to his mother, urging her not to worry about him. He uses the low-burning candle to melt a wax seal into place, then leaves the letter on the kitchen table.
At dawn, when Izuku leaves his bedroom with rucksack in hand, his mother is already awake. Her eyes are red-rimmed with spent tears. The letter is crumpled in a weathered hand.
She takes Izuku into her arms for what may be the last time. “Please, Izuku, be careful. I know your voice is important, but... it's not as important as your life."
Izuku nods and ducks his head into her shoulder. He mouths a silent promise to not act too recklessly.
Izuku steps out of their straw-thatched home and into the early morning light. The greyness of the Wastelands looms close to the horizon. He looks back just once, giving his mother a wave from over his shoulder.
Then he trips on a rock. Izuku overhears his mother's despondent moan as he shoves his belongings back into his rucksack and scrambles back onto the path.
It takes Shouto a week to reach the northern edge of the Kingdom of Endeavor. He's kept the pace brisk, but not to the point of tiring Shiro out. As he makes his way into the Borderlands that separate his father's territory from the Orcmaker's realm, Shouto pulls the scrap of parchment from his pocket.
Your mother is still alive.
The message is unsigned, and Shouto knows of very few people skilled enough to slip into the royal quarters undetected. He had left the castle shortly after discovering the note, before his father or anyone else could stop him. There hadn't been enough time to tell Yaoyorozu or Tokoyami about his departure, or his reason for leaving. Besides, something about the note suggests that it's for his eyes only.
Shouto dismounts to stretch out his legs and give his steed a rest. While Shiro grazes on hardy northern grass, he refills his flask with water from a small stream. Once they reach the Wastelands proper, there likely won't be any plant matter for her to eat. The grey terrain is dominated by hordes of orcs and not much else. It's unlikely for his mother to have taken refuge here, but this land is outside of his father's circle of influence, which means it's a good enough location to begin his search.
He tries to lead Shiro to the Wastelands, but she takes one sniff at the inhospitable, sulfurous earth and refuses to move. Fine, they can camp here. He'll try again tomorrow.
Gathering firewood is a new activity for him, but Shouto amasses a sizable pile of twigs from the woods adjacent to the stream. Just as he's about to light the kindling, he hears the crunch of a footstep on dead leaves.
His head snaps up. The intruder reveals himself: a young traveler, with a mess of green hair and eyes to match. The stranger gives him a friendly smile and a tentative wave. The scabbard by his hip catches the last of the fading sunlight.
Shouto makes the first move. With three quick steps and a flash of his right arm, he tips his sword to the traveler's throat.
"Who are you? Did my father send a spy after me?" The stranger puts both hands up in surrender, but doesn't answer the question. "Well? Explain yourself!" Again, the stranger keeps his silence. Shouto snaps, "Say something!"
He mouths, I can't!
Shouto lowers his sword a fraction. "You can't?" The stranger nods, eyes locked on the blade.
"Have you always been unable to speak?" A vehement shake of the head. "Did you lose your voice recently?" A brief pause, then a nod.
"Are you ill? Does it hurt when you try to speak?" The stranger shakes his head again.
"Is this because of a curse?"
The stranger's body goes rigid. His jaw clenches from exertion, but he remains immobile.
It's definitely a curse. Prohibiting the victim from alluding to the curse they're under is pretty standard. Unfortunately, that means Shouto can't learn more about the particulars of the spell, even if the stranger were to know them.
Shouto lowers his sword. The stranger hurriedly removes his rucksack. After unpacking several miscellaneous items from the overstuffed bag, he procures a pencil and a half-crumpled notebook.
My name is Midoriya Izuku. I'm searching for the man who- The pencil tip stops in its tracks.
I'm trying to get rid of- The message is halted once more.
I'm seeking to regain what I've lost.
Shouto grins slightly at Midoriya's verbal workaround. "And you believe the Wastelands are the best place to begin your search?"
Yes. Are you here for a similar reason?
"I'm looking for someone very dear to me, whom I haven't seen in a very long time. I don't know if she resides in the Wastelands, but I have reason to believe she may be out there."
Midoriya nods. And what is your name, if I may ask?
Shouto writes his family name in the margin of the notebook. He watches Midoriya silently mouth the string of syllables.
Midoriya takes a seat by the campfire. Shouto had planned on eating some of his dried rations for dinner, but Midoriya procures a cooking pot and some root vegetables from his bag. Shouto finds it strange that Midoriya would offer to share his food supply with a stranger, let alone someone who had just pointed a sword at his neck.
The potatoes in Midoriya's bag are still dusted with soil, as if they've been recently harvested. Perhaps he's a farmer by trade. But the well-worn hilt of Midoriya's sword would suggest otherwise. Either way, he appears to be an ordinary, unassuming man. What could he have done for a dark wizard to place such a powerful curse on him?
Shouto adds some of the dried meat in his bag to the stew. They eat in a somewhat comfortable silence. Shouto offers to wash the dishes in the stream, since Midoriya had done the majority of the cooking.
As he scrubs the wooden bowls in the water, Shouto murmurs, "I apologize about earlier. I thought you had malicious intentions."
He hears Midoriya's hurried scribbling beside him. It's understandable- it's best to keep your guard up, around these parts. So you ran away from home? And your father is chasing after you?
"More or less. Leading the chase himself would be beneath him, but my father has likely sent some of his men out to do the job. It's only a matter of time before I'm caught, but I still have to try to find that person."
We can look for her together! It would be safer that way. We're both searching for someone without a clear destination in mind. Perhaps we can stick together for the time being.
Shouto wonders why Midoriya has no apparent qualms about traveling with him, after his antagonistic first impression. "You would be willing to potentially delay your own quest? For a stranger who threatened to slit your throat?"
Midoriya smiles sheepishly at him, then writes his response. I wasn't truly in much danger. You're not used to handling a sword- I could tell by your stance. Perhaps this is presumptuous of me to "say," but it would have been quick work to disarm you, if it had come to that.
Shouto grits his teeth at Midoriya having called his bluff. He changes his mind about Midoriya not being dangerous.
Shouto wakes with the dawn; Midoriya doesn't.
The sunlight is weaker up north than it is around the capital. Last night, the campfire had cast harsh shadows on the angles of Midoriya's face. Now, the early morning paints him in a more youthful light; he looks close to Shouto's age, if not younger. Even so, exhaustion still clouds the swordsman's features- the bags under his eyes, the weary set of his mouth. By the looks of his attire and belongings, Midoriya has likely been traveling for quite some time.
Shouto snuffs the remains of the campfire, then starts packing his things.
He tells himself that leaving Midoriya behind is a strategic move. Shiro is neither willing nor able to carry two people at once, and traveling on foot would significantly slow down his pace. If Midoriya were to discover his true identity, he might try to claim a bounty by returning the youngest prince of Endeavor back to the king. And at that point, he might never get another opportunity to escape the castle.
In order to justify his decision, Shouto conveniently ignores the risks of traveling alone through treacherous, uncharted terrain. This is definitely a strategic move, and not a result of his slighted ego or his propensity for misanthropy.
Shouto writes a short note and pins it under a rock near Midoriya's bedroll. He wakes Shiro as quietly as possible, then they continue north.
Izuku jolts awake, heaving several silent breaths. He doesn't know how long he slept, but any amount of time is too long, this close to the Wastelands. The orcs tend to be more active at night, so Izuku had watched over the campsite while Todoroki had slept. But he must have dozed off at some point.
When Izuku slides out of his bedroll, his hand meets paper instead of dirt.
I've decided it's best if we travel separately. Good luck with your quest.
He crumples the note and tries to rein in his disappointment. Todoroki hadn't seemed particularly enthused at his suggestion to travel together; he should have expected this turn of events. Besides, given Izuku's uncanny knack for attracting orcs, Todoroki might be better off without him.
Even so, he can't shake the feeling that Todoroki might be in over his head. The sword by his hip had been of high-quality steel, but Todoroki had wielded it without much finesse. His bladework may not be enough to fend off a pack of bloodthirsty orcs.
It doesn't take long for Izuku to make up his mind. Despite the foolishness of pursuing a horseback rider on foot, he follows the fresh trail of hoofprints into the Wastelands.
It doesn't take long for Shouto to run into trouble- that is, for trouble to run into him.
A few miles into the Wastelands, a band of orcs rises up from the gravelly landscape, surrounding Shouto in a loose circle. Shiro kicks out her back legs, knocking one of the orcs to the ground. Shouto dismounts and freezes four of the monsters in place before turning to the final brute behind him.
The remaining orc charges at him with a heavy, stony mace. Shouto parries the incoming blow, but the orc uses its thick tusks to wrench the sword out of his grip. He dodges the downward swing of the mace, then blocks the next attack with his ice. Shiro slams into the enemy's side, throwing it off balance, and Shouto summons a series of frozen spikes to pierce its limbs. The orc groans in frustration as it struggles against the restraints; purple-brown blood oozes from the puncture wounds. One more ice spear stabs through the heart, and the beast stills.
Shouto redirects his attention to the rest of the orcs. He reinforces the ice encasing their bodies, until they're encapsulated in a single frozen block. Shouto steps forward, raises his right hand, and murmurs an incantation. He feels the ice hone itself from the inside, lengthening and sharpening upwards until each orc is vertically impaled.
It's a gruesome spell, one he's only used on the practice range with wooden targets and livestock carcasses. Shouto exhales a frosty breath, then lets out just enough heat from his left side to regain feeling in his extremities. He's about to retrieve his sword when Shiro whinnies a warning.
The first orc has begun to stir, writhing its way off of the frozen spikes. How could it have survived his attack? Once the orc has freed both of its arms, it pulls the chunk of ice out of its torso. Shouto helplessly watches the gaping wound knit itself back together, until the orc's gray-green skin is perfectly unmarked once more.
Shouto curses and backs away from the monstrous creature. Perhaps he has no other choice. If ice won't work against them, he'll have to use his father's flames-
A glinting metal blade bursts out of the orc's chest. The brute howls and falls forward, transmuting back into stony earth before its body hits the ground. Midoriya runs up to him, sword in hand.
Then Midoriya runs past him, to take care of the remaining orcs. They, too, are muscling their way out of their icy impalements, wounds regenerating with not a scratch left behind. Shouto takes a half-step forward with his right foot, ready to immobilize them again, but Midoriya beats him to the punch.
Shouto watches the ensuing spectacle, slack-jawed. Midoriya seamlessly weaves through his opponents without a single wasted movement. His bladework is graceful, yet unrelenting in its power, and his sword strikes true. In less than a minute, the rest of the pack has been completely vanquished. The orcs disintegrate into the cracked-mud crevices, until the only remains of the skirmish are thawing chunks of ice.
Midoriya runs back to him, not even out of breath. He mouths, Are you okay?
Shouto blinks and recollects himself. "I'm fine. What are you doing here? Did you not see my message?"
Midoriya pulls out his notebook and starts scribbling furiously. I followed your trail anyway, just in case you ran into trouble. And it's a good thing I did! Why didn't you use your sword on the orcs after freezing them?
Shouto shrugs as he fetches said sword and returns it to its sheath. "I presumed the ice would be enough to kill them."
Midoriya gives him a bewildered look. Orcs are enchanted elementals- you can't kill magicked monsters with more magic! The only way to neutralize them is with an iron blade. Why would you venture into the Wastelands alone, when you don't even know that much?
Shouto bristles at Midoriya calling out his incompetence. "I'm not a native of the Borderlands; my homelands are to the south. I don't have any direct experience with fighting orcs." Shouto's attended plenty of military meetings where orcs were discussed, but his father's advisors had debated large-scale strategy, not the particulars of how to slay them. "And anyway, I was disarmed during the attack."
If you're not a strong swordsman, you shouldn't be wandering through the Wastelands alone. You're going to get yourself killed!
Shouto shoulders past Midoriya's obstinate frame. "You don't know anything about me. And I can fend for myself."
Can you?! Did you have any sort of plan or research going into this?
Shouto can feel himself getting heated- figuratively and literally. Midoriya has a point, as much as he hates to admit it. He left the castle as soon as the opportunity presented itself, without much time to prepare for the journey ahead. But it's too late to change that. Right now, he has to tamp down his anger, before his left side rears its ugly head.
Midoriya stoops over his notebook, presumably penning some kind of diatribe against Shouto's fecklessness or recklessness.
Shouto grabs the notebook out of his hands and slams it shut. "Look. Whatever you have to say, I don't want to h- read it right now." He exhales a hot, angry breath, then hands back the notebook before he can set it on fire. "I need some space. Just give me a few minutes."
Before Midoriya can draft a reply, Shouto sends up a wall of ice between them. He grips his left arm with his chilled hand, trying to smother the latent heat that threatens to burst out of his skin.
Shouto sits with his back against the ice and ducks his face into his knees. He hears Shiro step around to his side of the wall, then feels her warm breath somewhere over his head. Without looking up at her, Shouto raises his right hand, and Shiro nibbles affectionately at his sleeve.
Once he's done regulating himself, Shouto asks, "What do you think we should do?" Shiro snorts and flicks her tail. Shouto exhales and acquiesces to her response. "You're probably right." He pats Shiro's cheek, then stops her from licking the ice before her tongue gets stuck to the surface.
To his surprise, Midoriya is still waiting on the other side of the wall. Since he hadn't barged over, Shouto had assumed he'd already left. Midoriya has his notebook open in hand, but he gestures to Shouto, allowing him the first word.
Shouto admits, "You were right. I wasn't ready to go into the Wastelands by myself. And I appreciate that you went out of your way to rescue me. But I still don't trust you."
Midoriya grins slightly at him. You don't have to fully trust me- we just met, after all. And if you decide you still want to journey alone, I won't stop you.
There's something Shouto still doesn't understand. "Why would you insist on us traveling together?"
I already told you why it would be unwise to brave the Wastelands by yourself.
"Not that part. What I meant was- why did you follow my tracks when I left? And why did you suggest traveling together in the first place? You're clearly an experienced swordsman, and more familiar with these lands. I would only serve as a burden to you."
You wouldn't be a burden, not at all. It's always nicer traveling with a friend.
"We're... friends?"
Aren't we? We've eaten together and fought together. Doesn't that make us friends?
Shouto didn't realize friendship was that simple. "If you say so," he replies, unsure of how to respond. Midoriya eagerly nods back.
Todoroki hitches Izuku's rucksack to the back of his horse's saddle, then joins him on foot. Without his bag's heavy weight, Izuku feels several inches taller. He keeps his sword at his hip, plus his pencil and notebook close at hand.
Todoroki, Todoroki, Todoroki... The sound of the name loops in Izuku's mind to the rhythm of plodding hoofbeats. His new traveling companion shares a surname with the royal family of Endeavor, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's a part of it. There are dozens of Todorokis amongst the nobility, far too many for Izuku to keep track of, and most of them aren't direct relatives of King Enji.
It's odd for a nobleman to venture beyond the bounds of his estate; Todoroki's presence so close to the Wastelands is especially bizarre. The woman he's searching for... Izuku can only assume she's a long-lost, forbidden lover, most likely a user of dark magic.
He dares to hazard a guess. Is your lover a powerful witch, if you're searching for her in the Wastelands?
Todoroki stumbles in his step when he reads the question; his horse huffs at the unpleasant tug of the reins. "She's not my- I don't- no." Shouto shows Izuku a scrap of parchment from his breast pocket. "I'm looking for my mother."
Izuku furiously crosses out his previous note, until his words are obscured in a thick stripe of graphite. Below that, he adds: I'm sorry, you said you were looking for a woman who's very dear to you, but I shouldn't have assumed...
Todoroki blushes. "Well, now you know."
It doesn't take long for them to get separated again.
After an hour of uninterrupted, uneventful walking, Todoroki's horse digs in its heels and refuses to budge. Todoroki tries to pull the reins forward, but he's met with resistance. The horse neighs indignantly, then turns away and veers off of their intended path.
Todoroki jogs after his steed. "Shiro, what's wrong-"
Izuku jumps back as a great fissure opens up in the earth, right where they had been standing. The ground continues to split apart, until he and Todoroki are separated by a wide, jagged chasm.
The fissure emits a chorus of groans. Izuku draws his sword and backs away from the opening, hoping that the orcs will be primarily interested in him. He mouths, Stay there!, but Todoroki gives him a confused squint- he can't read his lips with the current distance.
A pack of orcs rushes up from the earth; as expected, their attention is set on Izuku's side of the chasm. Izuku switches his sword to a one-handed grip and reaches for the throwing knives at his belt. He manages to eliminate three of the orcs before the fastest fliers in the pack get to him.
Once he starts engaging with the first wave of orcs, Izuku loses sight of how many more are to follow. He can't afford to lose focus; if the orcs incapacitate him, they'll go after Todoroki next. Izuku slashes through orc after orc, but there's no end to the incoming surge of enemies.
Then he hears the crystalline crepitations of Todoroki's quirk. Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku spots him at the edge of the crevasse, feeding his ice downwards to close the gaping fissure. Izuku tries to signal to him not to get involved, but the moment of distraction earns him a shallow slice near his ribs.
"On your left!" Izuku sidesteps a rush of ice. Todoroki's attack splits the remaining swarm of orcs, freezing half of them in place. Izuku stabs the exposed necks of the orcs that were trapped in the ice, runs behind the barrier, then risks a look back at Todoroki. He's crossed over the ice-packed fissure, and his sword is drawn, but he doesn't attempt to dash into the fray, much to Izuku's relief.
The remaining orcs reconverge towards Izuku, but they're swiftly neutralized by the combination of his bladework and Todoroki's quirk. Once the final enemy collapses into gravelly dust, Izuku hunches forward, catching his breath and taking stock of his injuries.
Todoroki runs over to him. "Are you all right?"
Izuku nods, still panting. He's about to sheathe his sword when he hears the crackling of ice behind them.
A geyser of water erupts from the chasm. One last orc flies out from the frozen depths. Izuku gasps soundlessly as the rest of the ice in the chasm melts, and swirls of water loop around the orc's veiny arms. Izuku's fought hundreds of orcs at this point, but he's never seen anything like this. How can an orc have a quirk-
Todoroki takes a step forward, but Izuku presses him back with one hand. His ice will only add to the enemy's power. Izuku charges at the orc sword-first, dodging its water whips along the way. As he closes in, the orc draws more water from the leftover ice on the battlefield, doubling the number of liquid appendages he has to evade.
When the orc is just a sword's length away, Izuku takes a risk. He thrusts his blade forward, intent on slicing through the orc's defenses. But instead of cutting through the water, his sword gets caught in a whirling mass of liquid. Izuku foolishly tries to wrench the sword free, instead of letting it go. He doesn't feel a watery tendril wrap around his ankle until it's too late.
Izuku realizes he's flying through the air a moment before he hits the ground. His body crashes into unforgiving rock, knocking the wind out of him. The good news is that he can still feel his arms and legs. The bad news is that what he's feeling in his limbs, and the rest of his body, does not feel good at all.
"Midoriya!" Todoroki's voice is still coming from behind him, but it's much too close. Izuku swears to himself and reaches for his last throwing knife, but he comes up bladeless.
This is it, then. He's unarmed, and in no shape to fight. He can't yell at Todoroki to run and save himself. He can't scream, or cry, or anything of the sort. All he can do is lie here and meet his end.
The orc freezes its water into a wickedly sharp trident. Izuku closes his eyes and laments that, despite his best efforts, All Might will die with him-
He hears and feels the roaring rush of fire. Izuku's eyes snap back open. His entire field of vision, except for the silhouette of Todoroki's body, is filled with flames.
Oh. So that's why Todoroki's ice always comes from his right side. That makes sense.
The orc screeches as Todoroki's flames melt, then boil off its water supply. The orc itself is soon to follow. The elemental's stony body bursts open with an explosive pop, like the one time Izuku used river rocks to line a campfire. Before the regeneration process can start, Todoroki draws his sword and jams it into the remnants of the orc's torso. The beast crumbles into rubble.
Todoroki turns back to him, his left shoulder still lightly smoking. He holds up his sword and remarks in monotone, "I remembered this time."
Midoriya's in pretty bad shape, but it looks like he won't die in the next ten minutes.
Shouto runs back to the chasm to seal it with more ice, but it's already gone. He throws up a wall of ice between its former location and Midoriya's resting spot, for good measure. Shiro is still standing at attention where they left her. He leads her over to Midoriya, then fetches a healing potion from his bag.
Midoriya's eyes widen when he sees the vial of bright green fluid. He shakes his head, but Shouto uncorks the vial and hands it to him. "Just take it."
After a pause, Midoriya sends him a grateful smile, then tips the healing potion to his lips. Shouto watches to make sure he drinks the whole vial, then goes to fetch Midoriya's sword. By the time he returns, Midoriya's wounds have already visibly repaired themselves. It'll still take at least a day for him to fully heal, but the potion should drastically cut down the recovery time.
Midoriya passes over his open notebook. Your quirk's incredible! Half ice and half fire, right? Shouto nods and hands the notebook back. But last night, you lit the campfire with a firesteel. Why is that?
Once again, Midoriya catches him off guard. Shouto looks down at his still-warm hand. "I try to avoid using my left side. I've got a better handle on it than when I was younger, but I'm still... afraid of losing control."
Wouldn't more practice give you better control?
"I shouldn't use it. It's not worth using, unless I have no other choice. Fire is... dangerous. It's dangerous, and destructive, and unsightly-"
Shouto clamps his mouth shut, before he says too much. His right hand twitches, reflexively moving to chill his left side.
Midoriya gives him a confused look. Fire is unsightly? Where did you get that idea from?
He'd rather not divulge his entire life story to an almost-stranger, even if they're apparently friends. "My mother had very good reason to be afraid of fire- and to despise it."
Midoriya's pencil hovers over the page for a beat, eyes wide. Shouto changes the subject. "Anyway. Not that I would know, but isn't it unusual that two separate groups of orcs ambushed us in less than two hours? And the orcs seemed very interested in you. Is it because of your curse?"
Midoriya's hand stutters a few times, struggling to get out his answer. His mouth twists as he finally writes, It is related to my current condition.
Yet another reason not to travel with Midoriya. If the orcs are targeting him, Shouto would be better off on his own. And it can't be a coincidence that an orc with a water manipulation quirk appeared in response to his ice. If the Orcmaker is behind these attacks, then he must be tracking them somehow, and any orc encounters they run into will only get more challenging.
Even so, he can't bring himself to leave Midoriya behind. Shouto tells himself that whoever cast the curse might know of his mother's whereabouts, and that's why they should stick together. But curiosity has now gotten the better of him- the foolish, selfish, honest part of Shouto's heart really wants to hear Midoriya speak.
He must have a beautiful voice, if a powerful mage had the gall to steal it.