Archive of Our Own ^beta

A white haired boy enters the brightly lit café.

It is a warm, spring day. Light filters through the windows liberally, illuminating his bright gray eyes.

He makes his way to a booth at the back of the shop. It’s reserved, just as it is every other week.

“Sorry I’m late!” the boy exclaims jovially, sitting down.

A waitress is there not a moment later, and the boy smiles at her. It is a bright, kind thing.

“You’ll have your usual?” She asks.

“Yup! And my brother will have his usual too— coffee as black as his soul.”

The waitress smiles, a little strained at the edges. The boy doesn’t notice.

“We’ll have that ready for you shortly,” she says, before leaving.

“Maybe I should try something new next time,” he muses. “But it’s been a long week and I like consistency. How have you been? Before you ask, mom is doing fine, and so is Yumi and Sho. It was a little hard, since he was making the news cycle for that collapsed bridge in Shibuya. Mom was a little shaken but at least she has us. Don’t look at me like that, she’s trying her best. And so am I! I wanted to let you know that today marks the eighth year since I’ve been out of the hospital…”

His conversation goes on like that for another hour, as it usually does.

He pays the bill, leaving a generous cash tip. The boy waves the waitress goodbye with a grin as he leaves the café. She smiles and waves back, a small reserved gesture.

He misses the way her smile drops once he leaves. He does not see the look she exchanges with her coworker, as they collect one empty cup and one full one.

---

Rei has a lot of regrets.

She regrets not putting up more of a fight when her parents arranged her marriage with Enji. She regrets naively thinking that Enji would come to love her, would come to love their family. Regrets believing that she could have loved him, and maybe at one point she did, but—

It never would have worked out, because above all, Enji cared most about power. Even if that power was forged in pain and bruises, it was his ultimate goal. He took his frustrations out on Rei with stern words, on his other kids with blatant neglect, on Touya with harsh training.

And now she’ll never get Touya back.

As cold as Enji seemed, something broke in him that day. For his many faults, she still thinks that Enji loved their firstborn in his own twisted way.

She regrets hoping that Touya would be the end of it all. That Enji would see the error of his ways.

No, because Enji had set his sights on poor, sweet Natsuo next. Natsuo, who had been neglected by his father for most of his life, was suddenly curious by the attention Enji poured onto him. Still, Natsuo wasn’t like Touya, who had lived like a sunflower craving the light of Enji’s attention and worshiped the very ground he stepped on.

Natsuo was intrigued by the training. He had been grieving Touya deeper than any of them, and the training was a good distraction from the death of his older brother.

That’s what Rei had told herself to sleep at night.

Enji was not suited to training someone with a pure ice quirk and no drive to fight. Natsuo didn’t care for being a hero, didn’t care for being the best; he had simply wanted to spend time with his father. It would all turn to rot, as their training sessions grew longer and Natsuo grew quieter and quieter. Her beautiful boy, once the most boisterous out of her children, was slowly becoming a shell of himself.

She had begged Enji to consider stopping, to think of Touya. That had resulted in a loud argument, yelled words, and slammed shut doors.

And then Enji pushed too far, as he always does.

Natsuo broke.

Rei had the kettle on, talking quietly to her mother, as Shoto approached her slowly. Shoto had always been a quiet child, and preferred to stick by his mother’s side. Rei loved him, but as the stress mounted day by day, she couldn’t help but notice the similarities between his fire and Enji’s. Still, Shoto and Fuyumi were her only kids not yet tainted by Enji’s violence.

With those thoughts raging in her head, she was suddenly startled by the appearance of Natsuo. There were bags under his eyes, and tears running down his face. A purple bruise covered most of his face, and traveled down, down, under his shirt.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Natsuo mumbled. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“Natsuo? Sweetie?” She put down the phone and reached out, heart in her throat at the sight of the dark bruise staining her child’s face. It had never gotten this bad before, had it? Rei would have noticed, right?

The whistle of the kettle gets louder.

“I want Touya,” Natsuo says, eyes unfocused, before he looks to Rei. “I want Touya! I can’t do this anymore, I never wanted this, I hate it, I hate it—”

His voice is increasing to a scream, and Rei pushes down the instinct to hush him, because she doesn’t want to catch Enji’s attention. Instead, she tries to reach out for his face, activating her frost to soothe the wound. She couldn’t let this go on anymore; seeing her bright happy Natsuo reduced to this was a sign. Rei couldn’t fail another child.

“I hate him!” Natsuo wails, and Shoto flinches from the volume. He tucks himself behind Rei’s skirt, peeking out with a single, blue eye.

Natsuo catches sight of the movement, and stares at Shoto for one long, silent second.

“Mom,” he warbles, “mom, when I’m dead like Touya, promise me you’ll keep Shoto away from him.”

The words land like a slap. Rei chokes on it, on the resignation in Natsuo’s voice.

When I’m dead, like Touya.

The whistling gets louder, more angry.

“No,” Rei breathes, “Natsuo, don’t say that.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” Natsuo seethes, eyes wild. “Once I’m six feet under, it won’t be enough. He’ll go after Shoto next, or Yumi. He won’t stop until we’re all dead. He’s already killed one of us, after all. Why can’t you see it, mom?”

He was bawling now, in hysterics, grabbing onto Rei’s sweater with his hands, hands that look slightly burned when Rei gets a closer look at them. Natsuo shakes her, and it startles Rei. She takes a sharp step back—

Her elbow knocks into the kettle.

The whistling stops.

And then the screams start.

She whips around, eyes widening in horror at the sight before her. Shoto is clawing at the newly inflamed skin around his eye, high pitched voice screeching and breaking. He’s on the floor, next to the fallen kettle.

“No,” Natsuo breathes behind her, “no, no, Shoto, no.”

Rei feels it before she sees it, the burst of frost behind her. In an instant, half of the kitchen is covered in heavy frost, the bulk of it centered around Natsuo. Rei lunges forward, scooping up Shoto with her arms and is about to caress Shoto with her frost covered hands. Before she can, an ice-covered hand grasps his wrist.

“Don’t,” Natsuo says. His eyes are wide, so wide she can see the whites clearly. He looks like a puppet with his strings cut, all the fight and despair gone, left with nothingness. “Not ice. Ice will make it worse. Use water.”

He holds out a water drenched towel.

She doesn’t question how he knew that, simply takes the towel and presses it to her youngest child’s wound. The screaming tapers off into raspy whimpers, his small body still weakly writhing in her arms. Natsuo watches them with dull, dull eyes.

Enji had burst into the room then, taking in the scene before him. His flames had already begun melting the ice that Natsuo had produced unwittingly, and his gaze locked on to Shoto.

It was chaos after that, a rush of getting Shoto to the hospital and keeping an eye on Natsuo, who had gone near catatonic.

The doctors had said it was good that they hadn’t applied ice to the burns, that Natsuo’s cold towels had helped minimize the effects of the burn. That there would still be a permanent scar, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

The words seemed to go right through Natsuo. The next few days had been the worst.

Natsuo wouldn’t respond to Fuyumi or Rei’s cajoling, and Enji could barely look at him, no doubt seeing a different son when he did. He wouldn’t sleep or eat for days, would mumble nonsense about Touya waiting for him, words that scared Rei.

Rei couldn't handle losing another one of her babies.

So she went to Enji. He had been sitting in his training room, head in his hands, face devoid of his signature flames. Maybe he finally realized how close he was to losing another one of his children. Maybe he actually felt remorse for it. The thought had given her courage for what she had been about to say next.

“I’m leaving. I’m taking the kids.”

The words ring out, not quite echoing among the tatami room, but piercing the quiet all the same.

Enji finally looks up, his blue (Touya’s blue blue blue) eyes pained. Without his iconic flamed beard and mustache, he looks smaller.

Rei half expects Enji’s guilt to turn into anger, for him to burst into flames and scream at her. But it seems the guilt has seeped into his very bones, as he just stares at her with that haunted look. Is the weight of one dead son, and another barely lucid finally hitting him?

Maybe Rei should feel bad for bringing this up now, when Enji was clearly feeling awful. But he knew better than anyone that you should strike when the iron is hot, so Rei steeled herself to continue.

“I won’t let another one of our children die from abuse.”

She doesn’t tell him about the photos she has documented of every single bruise that Natsuo brought back from training, about the contingency plans she tried and failed to make, about the ways she’s been scraping and searching for any sort of leverage to use against him. She’s not sure if any of it would do a thing if Enji truly, truly wanted to bury it all.

But blessedly, Enji stays silent.

He doesn’t try to fight, doesn’t try to shy from the word. Abuse.

He dips his head, defeated.

Maybe Enji was a monster. But what did that make Rei?

Rei tried not to think about it too hard. She moved out into a house Enji had provided for her and the kids, another fact she didn’t like to dwell on.

Afterwards, she threw herself into scraping and salvaging what was left of her kids.

Shoto was quieter now, and shied away from mirrors and adults alike. Fuyumi seemed to overcompensate for the void left by her brothers, with forced cheeriness and asking almost obsessively if she could do anything to help Rei out.

Rei had Natsuo put into a hospital, Enji paying for the stays as a part of their agreement. She knew she was using his guilt, but she couldn’t care less. Some days when she visited, Natsuo seemed to gain more color to his cheeks, but other days he seemed more of a husk than a boy. It had taken time, money, and patience, but slowly Natsuo had gained back some of that brightness that he had been born with.

And by the time his stay had ended, Natsuo had come out on the other side happy, cheerful— and forever seeing his older brother everywhere.

Rei had learned that her heart could break in new, crueler ways, even after everything Enji had put her through.

Everytime Natsuo came back from that coffee shop he frequents and says with a grin that Touya is doing alright, Rei does her best to hide her despair. She wonders sometimes if this is her penance for failing Touya. She will bear it all with a smile, hugging Natsuo every time he comes back home. Because at least, he can still come home.

And to Rei’s relief, Fuyumi and Shoto had been accepting of this new facet of Natsuo. When Shoto had passed the U.A. entrance exam with flying colors, having refused a recommendation from Enji, Rei decided to make soba— Shoto’s favorite— that night to celebrate. As the four sat together, Shoto had pulled up an extra cushion, leaving it vacant.

“For Touya-nii,” Shoto said quietly.

Natsuo’s eyes had widened and he bowled Shoto over in a bear hug, one that her youngest did not flinch from.

“I’m proud of you, Sho,” Natsuo said, voice tight, “I love you, baby bro.”

Shoto had blushed at that. After everything had gone down with Enji and the breakdown and the hospital visits, Natsuo had been the most open out of all of them to say the words they had seldom said before: I love you. It had taken some getting used to, but Rei didn’t miss the pleased way Shoto would smile afterwards, and the surprised oh Fuyumi would make each time.

There were cracks in each and every one of them. Shoto still shied away from authority figures and had a near emotionless demeanor. Fuyumi hid her sorrows behind her placid smiles, something she had inherited from Rei.

Together, they made a family— a little broken, but a family nonetheless.

---

Natsuo’s walking back home from class when he sees him.

He joined university a little late, but he’s a fast learner. In fact, he’s set to graduate in an accelerated three years instead of four, all while volunteering in his spare time as an EMT. It’s been his goal to become a paramedic. He was never able to patch himself up back when he ended up with burns or bruises, and Natsuo figured that the next best thing is helping others who couldn’t help themselves.

It’s late when he comes off his shift, and he takes a shortcut through a dimly lit alley to get home. It’s probably not the safest route to take in the evening, but Natsuo’s never run into any trouble before.

Which is why he doesn’t expect to see Touya, standing in the alley with a… friend? Natsuo can’t help the grin that overtakes his face. He never sees Touya with friends. He loves his brother, but Touya is pretty silent these days.

The cherry on top, however, is the dyed black hair, on top of the piercings and… purple tattoos?

“Touya!”

The dark-haired figure turns towards him slowly, along with his companion. His companion has piercing red eyes and wispy, light blue hair. Touya stiffens at the sight of him, while his friend just stares.

“New look, huh? Kinda suits you, I guess. I always knew you were an edgelord.”

Touya would often crawl into his room at night and complain his heart out to Natsuo, and rightfully so. Natsuo would listen to him as long as Touya wanted him to, though that didn’t mean Natsuo couldn’t tease him for it.

Touya shares a look with his friend, whose fingers twitch.

“You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

His voice is deep, rough. Natsuo blinks. And then he snorts.

“Oh, shut up. I’d know you anywhere, even under that stupid disguise,” Natsuo waves him off. “Hey, did you want to go to that ramen place again?”

“...Again?”

“Did you fry your brain cells when you dyed your hair? Yeah, the hole in the wall place with the spicy ramen. It’ll make you steam out your ears,” Natsuo says with a smirk. “You can bring your friend too! I’ve never met any of your friends before.”

He smiles and sticks out his hand to the man next to Touya.

The man startles at the gesture. After a heavy pause, he reaches out, shaking Natsuo’s hand once with only his thumb and index finger. Touya follows the interaction sharply with his intense glare. Maybe he’s a little possessive over his friends? Natsuo got along with pretty much everyone though, so he could definitely get along with this guy.

“I like your Persona hoodie! Though, I’m more of a Super Smash Bros kinda guy, since I can just button mash my way through that one,” he laughs.

The other guy seems to falter and settle further into his hoodie, mumbling a low “thanks”.

Natsuo peers a little closer at Touya’s friend. His lips are chapped and there seems to be a small cut on his face.

“Hey, do you want me to patch you up? I’m learning about this sort of thing,” he reaches tentatively out to touch the other man’s face, to wipe away the blood, but a hand clasps around his wrist firmly.

He flinches involuntarily, looking away from wide red eyes into blue ones. Shadows of Enji’s rough grip around his prepubescent wrists still somehow pervade everything, even now.

Touya lets go like Natsuo had burned him.

Natsuo decides that it’s about time for him to take his leave.

He smiles what he hopes is a reassuring grin.

“Help your friend, then, okay?”

Touya nods, just imperceptibly.

Natsuo beams, before pulling Touya in for a hug. His older brother is warm and stiff in his arms, and the hug isn’t returned, but Natsuo doesn’t expect anything less. Touya never was a big hugger, so Natsuo would have to be enough for the both of them.

As he leaves, he turns back to Touya with a grin.

“I’ll see you this weekend!”

---

Between exams, EMT shifts, and visiting Shoto and Fuyumi in his freetime, the weekend rolls around pretty quickly.

Natsuo sits at a quiet corner of the ramen joint. It’s small, intimate, and dimly lit. He vaguely remembers meeting Touya here before, though the memory eludes him. It doesn’t concern him too much, especially not as he sees Touya walk in.

He’s wearing sunglasses and a black medical mask, along with a thick black coat. Natsuo smiles at that. He’s really embracing the whole edgelord image, huh?

“You found it here okay?” Natsuo asks as Touya sits down. Touya just nods, before taking his sunglasses off. The hood stayed on, but Natsuo didn’t question it.

“Good,” Natsuo says, “I’ve been meaning to try the spicy ramen here. And—”

“Natsu,” Touya interrupts. “Cut the shit. How’d you recognize me?”

Natsuo blinks. Did Touya really think his emo goth look would deter him from recognizing the blues of his eyes? The soft spikiness of their shared hair type, and his lankiness?

“I guess it’s kind of obvious? Call it a brother’s intuition, if you’d like.”

Touya stares, unimpressed. Natsuo does not squirm.

“It helps that you’ve been visiting every week, since you left and I got out of the hospital.”

His eyes narrow. “The hospital?”

“You know I don’t like talking about that,” Natsuo waves his hand, “it’s old news, Touya.”

“Right,” Touya says, his face still shuttered off. “I don’t remember much after I… left. Can you remind me what happened?”

Something feels off-kilter to Natsuo. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but it has him a little uneasy. It’s an innocent enough question, however, so Natsuo shrugs off the feeling.

“Well, dad— Enji focused his training on me and then both Shoto and I for a bit. But that didn’t work out so well.”

“Didn’t work out?”

Natsuo scratches his head.

“I— well, they said I had some sort of mental breakdown. I accidentally hurt Shoto, too, I think. I don’t remember very well. You know how much of an asshole Enji is. I’d rather forget all that.”

The furrow of Touya’s brow has Natsuo reaching to reassure him. “I feel fine though? Better than ever, even. After that whole thing, you started visiting, so that was good.”

Touya just nods.

Natsuo grins then. “You never talked this much before, though. Maybe that friend is doing you some good after all! I should thank him.”

That gets a grimace from Touya.

“You should stay away from him,” he mutters, making Natsuo’s grin widen.

They eat their ramen in a relatively easy silence, Natsuo prodding with some questions and Touya responding mostly with noncommittal noises and the occasional nod or shake of the head.

When their bowls are empty and the bill is placed in front of them, Natsuo pulls out a wad of cash.

“You’re paying?” Touya asks.

“I always pay, bro. Don’t worry too hard about it,” Natsuo grins, “one day you’ll be the older brother that I leech off of. Until then, you can rely on me.”

He means to say it as a joke, but Touya just stares, expression unreadable.

Natsuo’s grin fades into a small smile.

“I mean it, y’know. You can always rely on me.”

Touya adjusts his mask and sunglasses, before giving Natsuo a curt nod.

As they leave and Touya disappears into the night, Natsuo doesn’t know how to define the icy blizzard of emotions coursing through the pit of his stomach that night.

---

Natsuo’s helping Fuyumi with the groceries as Rei sits at the kotatsu with a book in hand. She’s always been interested in law, and more recently Natsuo sees her with newspaper snippets or educational books in tow.

“I got ramen with Touya the other day,” Natsuo says conversationally. “His look is totally different now. He dyed his hair black and looks like he’s trying out for a goth punk band or something.”

Fuyumi looks away as she puts the vegetables into the fridge, a slump to her shoulders. Natsuo wonders if teaching rambunctious kids is taking a toll on her; he’d remember to buy her some self-care products later.

“That’s great, honey,” Rei says, not looking up from her book. She’s staring intensely at the same page.

“You saw Touya-nii?” Shoto says, entering the room then.

There’s a bright bruise underneath his right eye, and a scratch just below his chin.

A young Shoto crying after a training session, Natsuo begging Enji to train him more if only just to avoid Shoto’s pale skin blossoming with bruises, purple on every expanse of skin like paint on a canvas—

“What happened?” Natsuo gasps.

Shoto blinks, as if not registering that there was anything wrong with him.

“We had a run in with some villains.”

Natsuo thins his lips as he grabs the first aid kit. He couldn’t understand for the life of him why villains would be targeting high school children. And wasn’t Shoto supposed to be protected at that fancy hero school of his? The supposedly greatest hero school in all of Japan? Natsuo never put too much stock into any of that anyways. How can you start training kids to be heroes at the age of fifteen? Even the police force and the military didn’t accept cadets at that age.

He swallowed down his thoughts and grabbed an icepack and antiseptic spray. He sits Shoto down at the kotatsu and cups his face in his hands, tending to his wounds while Shoto sits patiently.

“Shoto, you don’t feel pressured to be a hero, right? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We’ll support you if you do, and I’ll love you no matter what, but I want you to know that you aren’t obligated to do this at all.”

Natsuo’s thumb just barely brushes the edge of Shoto’s angry pale red scar. There’s a sort of vast cavern in the pit of Natsuo’s stomach, one dedicated to his endless guilt at the scar. Shoto’s never blamed Natsuo for anything, never once flinched away from him. Natsuo thinks that Shoto is the best of people, and everyday he’s blessed to know him.

That doesn’t stop him from wanting to curl up around Shoto and shield him as much as he can from harm’s way.

Shoto smiles at Natsuo’s words.

“I know, Natsu-nii.” He closes his eyes and leans into Natsuo’s cool touch. “Tell me more about your ramen date with Touya-nii?”

Natsuo obliges.

---

“Natsuo, how have you been feeling these days?”

“Good. Really good. I mean, things are going great with university and just, things are starting to look up.”

“Are you still seeing your brother?”

“Yeah. Touya’s… different now. He’s more alive.”

“Alive?”

“I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Does he talk to you?”

“Yeah! He talks way more than he did before.”

She writes something down in her notepad at that.

“He also has friends now. Well, a friend. And they seem to be doing him good, I think. He was even a little put off by me paying for his food! Maybe he’s finally decided to step up as a big brother, huh?”

The notebook closes.

“I think I’ve heard enough for today, Natsuo.”

---

They’re at a park the next time. Natsuo grabs the steaming hot yakitori skewers and hands one to Touya.

“Not to sound like one of those fanatic purists, but I sometimes wonder what life would have been like in the pre-quirk era. I mean, honestly! Why do those villains get off on attacking high school students?” Natsuo says, waving around the skewer as he speaks.

Touya’s dressed in the same hoodie and sunglasses, even though it’s night time. Natsuo’s gotta hand it to him, he really knows how to stick to a theme.

“You aren’t a fan of villains, huh?”

Natsuo sighs, before shaking his head.

“Obviously not. I can understand how some people become villains, but I can’t condone hurting kids. Especially high school kids! They need the time to grow and figure out who they’re going to be. They just need to be safe. It’s important to feel safe at that age.”

“They’re hero students.”

Natsuo raises an eyebrow. “So? I know our old man was a piece of shit, but that doesn’t mean every hero is that way. I mean, just look at All Might.”

Touya hums noncommittally.

“I’m tired of seeing Shoto come home with bruises,” Natsuo says quieter. It’s something he’d never tell his little brother; he loves that Shoto is pursuing a future carved by his own hands, but it didn’t stop him from worrying.

Touya scoffs. “Endeavor’s perfect child doesn’t need you to mother hen over him. He has a perfect quirk. He can take care of himself.”

Natsuo stares at him for a moment, before poking his arm with the sharp end of his skewer. He gets a yelp and a glare in return, before the skewer burns to a crisp.

“He’s got a name, you know. He’s not just an experiment— Shoto is our brother.”

“You’ve always had a bleeding heart. Some people were born with power served to them on a silver platter.”

A sneer on Touya’s face, staples pulling at the edges of his mouth.

“Stop being such an edgelord,” Natsuo tries to jab him again with a second skewer, but Touya incinerates that one before he can. “Just because someone has a powerful quirk doesn’t mean they deserve a better or worse start in life. And just because our sperm donor believed that your quirk equated to your worth doesn’t mean we need to believe that.”

“You really love the little brat, don’t you?”

Natsuo rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah? I love you too, y’know.”

Touya coughs, pulling the collar of his hoodie up. A slight pink blush crawls onto the visible part of his cheek.

“You know, maybe you just need to visit home more often. Get to know Shoto and see Fuyumi again. It’s been too long!”

When was the last time Touya visited home? Had Natsuo already suggested this before? He can’t remember doing so, but it sounds like a great idea to him now.

Touya grunts, before tearing into another skewer.

As they finish their late-night snack, Natsuo notices the extra take-out box next to Touya. A rather large order of fried chicken.

Oh?

A sly smile crawls onto Natsuo’s face.

“Who’s that for? A significant other?”

Touya grins, a sharp thing, but his eyes are soft. “A significant bother maybe. Nah, just a little bird I know.”

Another friend? Or maybe, someone more than a friend? Natsuo feels a sense of pride welling up within himself for his brother.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to give someone a shovel talk! So introduce me to this ‘little bird’ sometime!”

Touya rolls his eyes. “If I’m lucky, that’ll never happen.”

Natsuo watches Touya leave with a lazy wave, a light feeling in his chest.

When he reaches for his wallet and realizes that Touya paid for their food, he laughs.

---

“Tell me about the changes.”

“Well, things definitely feel different. But in a good way.”

“Can you explain what you mean?”

“It’s like… I’m on the cusp of something. Not to get too poetic, but it’s like I’m standing at the edge of some sort of precipice.”

“The edge of a realization.”

“Yeah, exactly. I feel like things are changing, but maybe it’s a good change.”

“Natsuo…”

“Oh boy, not the concerning name call.”

“It’s important for you to acknowledge the past as you move on with your future. You need to address what happened years ago. What you’re describing to me seems to be a coping mechanism—”

“Listen, I know what you believe. But he paid for our dinner the other day! He’s just— we’re not talking about this, okay? This is ridiculous.”

She writes something down again in her stupid notepad, and for a moment, Natsuo wishes he had a fire quirk so he could incinerate it.

---

Maybe it’s Natsuo’s fault for walking in poorly lit areas in sketchy parts of town after his night classes.

Or maybe he’s just a magnet for Touya, since this is their second time coincidentally meeting in the dark in a rather shady area. He makes a note for himself to ask Touya why he always seems to find himself in these places. At least Natsuo has a somewhat legitimate reason, depending on who you ask. He shoves those thoughts aside as he takes in the scene before him.

There are two others with Touya; he recognizes one of them as Touya’s friend from the other night. The latter is a girl with blonde hair who looks like she could be one of Shoto’s classmates. His eyes zero in on the fact that she’s bleeding from her abdomen, dark stains oozing through to her sweater. Touya and the other man are hunched over her, trying to press a rag to her while attempting to prop her up.

“Hey!” Natsuo says, and three heads whip towards him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Touya growls in a voice that Natsuo’s never heard. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say there was a note of fear there, but he didn’t have the time to dwell on it. He began taking some supplies from his backpack— they were lucky he always made sure to carry first aid on him— and makes eye contact with the girl. He ignores the daggers Touya is glaring into the side of his face and instead couches down. He slips into his EMT persona smoothly, smiling at her.

“I’m training to be a paramedic, and I’m a certified emergency medical technician. Is it okay if I help you out?”

He waits for her tiny nod before moving to touch her. She doesn’t seem scared; if anything, she seems surprised. Natsuo guesses that’s a valid response; after all, not many medical school students take the same routes he does after class. As he begins to inspect the wound— a jagged cut, but nothing life-threatening— a raspy voice behind him speaks.

“Alright, who is this?”

He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Touya’s friend is the one asking. It stings a little, though, that Touya never mentioned him after that first encounter.

“You never introduced me to your best friend?” He exclaims indignantly, while gently bandaging the blonde girl’s wound.

“Best friend?!”

“Well, if you’re his only friend, then you’re his best friend. Actually, I’m his best friend, but I don’t count apparently, because I’m his brother. True story, he told me that when I was like five.”

The girl snickers, even though she must be in pain. “I’m Dabi’s friend too!”

Since when is Touya friends with high schoolers? Also, Dabi?

“Dabi? Cool nickname, edgelord,” Natsuo grins.

A combat boot lightly kicks his back. “Shut the fuck up. Toga, we’re not friends. I’m no one’s friend. At best, I tolerate all of you.”

“Us peasants are grateful for your tolerance,” Natsuo quips. He thinks he hears Touya’s other friend huff under his breath.

“So why are you helping me?” The girl, Toga, asks.

Natsuo smiles. “Any friend of Dabi’s is a friend of mine.”

He ignores Touya’s muttered “not my friend”. After all, he saw the concerned stance Touya had taken over this girl. But, how did she get hurt in the first place?

“Who did this to you, Toga?”

“Oh, this old scratch? I just got into a teeny little fight.”

A small fight left her with a wound that looks like it was created by a blade or a sharpening quirk of some sort?

Natsuo lowers his voice. “Are you being bullied at school?”

Toga blinks, before bursting into giggles.

“You’re so sweet! I can take care of myself, thank you though, doctor-san. You’re the best fixer-upper I’ve had so far! You’re so gentle.”

Natsuo pulls her shirt back down over the bandage, patting it gently before leaning back.

“That’s quite the high praise! I’ve always been drawn to medicine, and I’m used to patching people up. I think I used to do this kind of stuff for myself, and maybe my siblings at one point.”

“You think you did?” Touya’s friend asks, all sharp curiosity.

Natsuo just shrugs, standing up and holding out a hand to Toga. She takes it, and they walk towards Touya and his friend.

“Ever since my mom left our dad and took us with her, trying to remember things is like trying to grab a slippery bar of soap in the shower.”

It’s true. He doesn’t think much of it, even if his therapist harps on him about it. Why would he want to remember his awful past? The bits and snippets, the feelings and nightmares he gets paint enough of an image for him. Natsuo would rather look towards the future than be stuck in the past.

“I’ll kill him.” Touya says, voice laced with venom.

Toga leans on him as they turn towards Touya and his blue-haired friend.

“But then you’d go to jail, and where would I be? Though I guess you could argue that you’d be doing the world a public service,” Natsuo muses.

Touya snorts. His friend narrows his eyes, looking between both of them.

“Who’s your dad?”

Touya’s face contorts into a grimace. “Shut the hell up, crusty.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m asking—”

His voice trails off as he gestures towards Natsuo.

Natsuo knows it’s not nice having a high profile father, especially one that most people fawn over. He gets why Touya is so tightlipped about everything, even going as far as to adopt a unique nickname in front of his new friends. Natsuo will respect that.

So all he says is, “he was supposed to be a hero.”

“A hero?” Toga pipes up.

“Yeah. A lot of heroes are good, but not all of them are. I guess you could say the same thing about villains. A lot are bad but not all of them.” He says seriously, before smiling. “Not that I know any!”

Toga snickers at that while Touya and his friend both stiffen.

“You’re kind of funny, doctor-san,” she giggles. Natsuo tilts his head at that. He didn’t think he said anything that was funny just then, but then again, he didn’t fully understand the humor of high school kids anyways.

“You can just call me Natsuo. Doctor-san works, but I’m not really a doctor. Just a student,” Natsuo says, and Toga coos.

“Natsuo is a pretty name!”

Natsuo smiles at that.

He then notices that Touya’s friend has a cut on his face. It seems quite dry and susceptible to skin breakage, the skin there. Natsuo pulls out a bandage from a pocket in his backpack, and gestures towards the blue-haired man.

“Can I?”

The man looks bewildered that Natsuo is gesturing towards him, and so Natsuo leans in and places a cartoon bandage on the cut on his cheek.

He then shows him an unopened bandage.

“They’re Persona themed. I saw them at the drugstore and thought of you and your hoodie,” he says.

The other man rears back, a red tinge coming to his cheeks. Natsuo hopes he didn’t go too far; he knew he could be a mother hen sometimes, but he wouldn’t have to be if the people around him would just take better care of themselves!

Touya’s grimace widens as he looks between Natsuo and his friend.

“Don’t look at my brother like that,” Touya hisses.

“So you admit, he’s your brother?” the other man snaps back.

They’re like two alley cats, arguing and yowling at each other. Natsuo laughs at the picture they make.

“I like your laugh,” Toga says, a bright smile on her face.

“Thanks!”

---

Natsuo’s on-call when a D-rank villain destroys some buildings downtown. Heroes had already subdued and detained the villain, but there were some wounded civilians in the aftermath.

When he arrives on site, it’s to two familiar faces.

“Shoto!” Natsuo waves his baby brother over from the ambulance. He had just taken care of a sprained ankle a young woman had gotten from trying to escape the wreckage. It irritated him to no end how villains and heroes alike can have little to no respect for their surroundings when engaging in combat.

Seeing his little brother safe and sound was like a balm to his anger.

His brother was supporting the weight of a green-haired kid, someone that Natsuo recognized from the U.A. Sports Festival.

“Ah, you’re the bonebreaking kid!” Natsuo says before he can think twice. Said kid winces, eyes going wide. It’s kind of cute, if not for the cuts and scratches along his arms— and was that a broken finger? Natsuo started getting out the gauze, already preparing to tend to his injuries.

“Natsu-nii, this is Midoriya,” Shoto said. “Though he does tend to break a lot of bones.”

“I see. Hold out your arms for me?” Natsuo says, and the kid obliges, still wide-eyed in a deer-in-headlights kind of way. He starts to treat the scratches with antiseptic, before going to wrap his finger in quirk-enhanced gauze.

“You’re Todoroki’s older brother?”

Natsuo nods. “The one and the only! I bet he talks about me all the time, huh?”

Shoto looks away, and Midoriya begins to stutter out an unintelligible response.

Natsuo laughs, deciding to put him out of his misery. “It’s alright! I know that Shoto here isn’t the most talkative. It’s good to see he has friends, but you guys should really take care of yourselves. I know you’re trying to prove yourselves on your brand new internships, but you only have one body— don’t tax it too hard.”

“Ah, thank you Todoroki-san,” Midoriya says sincerely, a flush on his face.

Natsuo takes an ice pack and freezes it with his quirk, before handing it to Midoriya. His green pupils widen dramatically.

“You have an ice quirk? How does it work? Is it just like your brother’s quirk too, or is it more of a controlled range quirk, and is it—”

It’s as if the floodgates have broken, because the previously shy boy is suddenly asking him questions at a rapid pace. He’s bemused by it; he’s no stranger to having people interested in him for his quirk, especially after they learn that his father is the number two hero. Usually the conversation doesn’t go past that point, if Natsuo can help it.

“Wow! That’s a lot of questions,” Natsuo laughs.

“He’s like this with everyone,” Shoto says helpfully. Midoriya’s blush deepens.

“It’s just like Shoto’s,” Natsuo answers before the boy can stutter out an apology, “just your basic ice quirk. Not too sure about the range and power and all that. I don’t use it too often these days, if I’m being honest. Sorry if those answers aren’t satisfying!”

He turns to Shoto and places a bandaid on a cut below his cheek, smoothing it out with his thumb.

“Are those villains still giving you trouble? The ones that attacked your school before?”

Midoriya perks up at this. “The League of Villains?”

Natsuo snorts. “League of Villains? LOV? That sounds like some kind of emo rock band, not a terrorist organization.”

Shoto rolls his eyes while Midoriya lets out a surprised laugh.

“Actually, I feel like they’ve been targeting U.A. less often these days. Compared to how much we saw of them at the beginning of the school year, it feels like they’ve almost gone quiet. It makes me wonder what they’re up to. Maybe they’re just lying in wait, ready to strike when the time is right.” Midoriya frowns.

Shoto just shrugs, as if a league of criminals didn’t bother him in the least. Natsuo snorts, ruffling Shoto’s hair as the other boy ducks out of his grip.

“Well, you’d better tell them to stay away if you see them again! Or you can send them my way and I’ll turn them into popsicles!”

Midoriya laughs, leaning into Shoto who looks supremely unimpressed at Natsuo’s silly jokes. Shoto doesn’t move away from Midoriya.

Huh. Shoto has never been a big fan of human contact, other than with his family. Natsuo grins.

“Say, Midoriya! You’re one of the first friends I’ve met of Shoto’s. Tell me, what exactly do you like about him?”

Shoto’s eyes widen as he begins to glare at Natsuo, while Midoriya’s familiar blush comes back at full force.

“I! Uh, well, there’s a lot to like about Todoroki!”

Shoto turns to him. “A lot?”

Midoriya is looking everywhere but him. “Yeah! I mean, you— you’re great company, and you listen to me talk, and—”

The kid rattles off more and more. Natsuo notices steam coming from Shoto’s left side, and he considers it a job well done.

---

“Let’s start with something else today.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s have a conversation about your father. How do you feel about your relationship with him?”

“There is no relationship. He almost pushed Touya and me to death with his training. He fucked with me mentally and physically, and now he pays for my visits with you because he supposedly feels guilty about it all. I personally think he just hopes that we don’t all decide to expose him one day. As pathetic as it is, we’re the last family he has.”

“Do you get anything out of your relationship with him?”

“I get to see how much money he thinks I’m worth and how much he pours into this bullshit before he decides to inevitably ignore me again.”

“You believe it’s inevitable that your father will ignore you one day?”

“I don’t really care whether or not that happens. Hell, I’d welcome it.”

“On that note, do you believe that therapy is ‘bullshit’?”

“No, of course not. I know therapy is valuable. But you seem to have some kind of vendetta against my relationship with Touya.”

“We are talking about your relationship with Enji—”

“There is no relationship there. End of story.”

“Right. Can you at least admit that something has changed then? Something in your relationship with Touya, then?”

Natsuo pauses.

“Yeah, something has changed. I told you this before. I know that… something is different now.”

“Do you feel that this ‘something’ is a change for the better?”

The minute hand strikes twelve. Natsuo looks over to the time, and so does she. She sighs, closing her notebook. It’s a dismissal and a sign of disappointment all at once.

Natsuo is used to that.

---

He’s at the mall on his day off when he recognizes the familiar Persona hoodie.

Natsuo enters the arcade and taps the guy by the shoulder, smile at the ready. The blue haired man jolts and turns around, hand shooting out before awkwardly stopping in front of Natsuo’s face. His red eyes are wide.

“Hey, funny running into you here!”

The other man blinks, slowly, as if slowly registering Natsuo’s entire existence.

“You know I never got your name.”

His eyes shutter. “You can call me Tenko.”

“Okay, Tenko! In that case, you can call me Natsuo.”

Tenko scratches at his neck, over his thick hoodie. “I remember.”

“Hey, how’s Tou— Dabi doing?”

Tenko stares at him for a beat longer than normal, before answering. “He’s fine.”

A man of few words. Not that Natsuo wasn’t used to that— after all, Touya was the same.

“So, I gotta know,” Natsuo says, “who’s the bird?”

“The… bird?”

“Yeah! The person who Dabi’s seeing? He calls him a ‘little bird’, so I’m thinking they have some sort of avian quirk.”

Tenko snorts at that. “Yeah, he’s definitely distracted by the chicken.”

A sense of glee courses through Natsuo.

“So he is seeing someone! You gotta tell me more, Tenko.”

“Why?”

“Well, ‘cause I’m his brother. I wanna know all about his dating life. Y’know, so I can give him a hard time about it later,” he says with a wink. Tenko doesn’t react, but his hand lowers from his neck and is shoved into his pocket.

Natsuo looks around the arcade they’re in. He’s never actually stepped foot in here before, despite having been to this mall quite a few times. He had walked in here without thinking much about it, after having seen Tenko’s familiar outfit. It made sense, since Tenko seemed to like video games.

“Wanna play that?” Natsuo points at a game with two joysticks and blinking pixelated frogs. “If I beat you, you gotta spill some details about my brother’s love life.”

Tenko narrows his eyes. Bingo. If he was anything like Touya, he must hate to lose. As for Natsuo, he had no experience with these kinds of things, not that there was any fun in admitting that now.

“You’re on,” Tenko finally mutters.

They take their positions at each joystick, and Natsuo slots some coins into the machine. It seems to be some kind of platform game; whoever can jump to the highest platform and collect the most coins without falling off would win. That’s a simple enough maneuver. Natsuo thinks he stands a pretty good chance.

He was proven wrong as the flashing “YOU LOSE” text stared back at him not a minute later.

Tenko looked at him, face neutral. Yet, somehow, Natsuo could tell there was smugness radiating behind the stoic expression.

“You’re really good at this, aren’t you! Let’s try another one?” Natsuo had time to kill, and was pleasantly surprised when Tenko moved to choose the next game.

The next game they tried was one with turtles, and they seemed to be on the same team this time.

“You keep trying to shoot me,” Tenko mutters. Natsuo laughs at that.

“I can’t help it! All the characters look the same, even the bad guys. Indiscriminate violence is the only solution here.” He pauses. “Wow, as a medical student, it’s kind of scary that I just said that, huh?”

Tenko huffs under his breath, before demolishing the enemy, definitely doing the most work between the two of them.

They try some sort of street racer game after that, with a real steering wheel and everything. Natsuo had gotten his license not too long ago, so he thought he stood some sort of chance at this one.

“Why are you— you’re driving off road.”

“No I’m not! There’s some kind of… invisible wall here!”

“Yeah, it’s the boundary box. Because you’re trying to drive off-road.”

“Boundary box? Invisible walls? They don’t have those in real life!”

“They… also don’t have bananas or turtle shells in real life.”

“Okay, fair, fair. Oh, hey, I see you!”

“I know. Because you’re crashing into me.”

“Hmm. That’s not ideal. Oh, I think I’m going backwards now.”

Tenko side-eyed him, the corner of his lips tugged upwards. “Didn’t you say you have your license?”

Natsuo nods. “Yeah, but the driver’s test never included mechanics like these. Seriously, why is there a mode where my car gets a parachute?”

“Hmm.”

The one thing Natsuo ends up being good at is Street Fighter.

“How are you doing that,” Tenko hisses after Natsuo’s fifth win in a row.

Natsuo laughs. “It’s kind of like Super Smash Bros! I can get by with just button mashing. I like it!”

“Button mashing,” Tenko echoes like it’s a heinous crime. His fingers twitch around the joystick in his peculiar four-fingered grip. “Your techniques are rudimentary, yet effective.”

“Thanks! Do you want me to beat you for a sixth time in a row with my ‘rudimentary’ techniques?” Natsuo teases.

Tenko grimaces at that, which makes Natsuo laugh more.

Before he knows it, he’s spent a few hours at that arcade with Touya’s friend and tried out almost every machine there, including a claw machine filled with cute plushies. Natsuo can’t remember the last time he’d hung out with someone other than Touya or his university study groups for this long. He can’t remember the last time he’d hung out with someone outside his family solely for the pursuit of relaxing.

“Thanks for spending time with me! I had lots of fun, Tenko!” Natsuo says sincerely. “And thank you for being friends with my older brother. I’m really glad he has someone like you by his side.”

Tenko’s expression is unreadable. If Natsuo didn’t know any better, he’d say the other man looked almost frustrated.

Before Natsuo can turn around and leave, Tenko speaks.

“You’re a good person, aren’t you?”

It’s a question, but there’s no denying the annoyance lanced through Tenko’s voice.

Natsuo tilts his head. “Well, I have it on good authority that I’m a veritable Street Fighter champion. By definition, I’m probably one of the goodest people around. Hey, can I see your phone?”

Tenko blinks, nonplussed, adjusting the Pokémon fox plushie he’d won at the claw machine before handing his phone. The screen is cracked and the case is well worn. Natsuo taps his number into the contacts list and hands it back to him.

“Anytime you feel like getting your ass kicked in exactly one game, feel free to drop me a text!” Natsuo says cheerily.

Tenko flushes red.

Natsuo blinks.

“Tenko, are you feeling okay?” He reaches out, placing a palm on Tenko’s forehead. When the other man isn’t slouching, Natsuo thinks that he’d be as tall as himself; maybe even taller.

Before Natsuo can get a good read on Tenko’s temperature, the man shoves him away.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

Natsuo is about to apologize for overstepping, when Tenko all but throws the fox plushie at him. Natsuo fumbles with it before gripping it tight. When he looks up, Tenko is already rushing out of the store. Natsuo waves goodbye at him anyways, hugging the fox to his chest.

---

Emergency. Bring your supplies. ASAP.

The text from Touya, followed by another text denoting his location, has Natsuo’s blood pumping. He throws together his bag of medical supplies and ditches his plans to attend his afternoon classes, shooting Touya a quick omw making his way to the train station.

In twenty minutes, he’s standing in front of an abandoned warehouse at the edge of town, dilapidated and haunting. He takes a deep breath, imagining the worst— Touya overheating from overtraining, Touya getting into trouble with a bad crowd, Touya getting mugged, Touya hurt— before entering.

Nothing could have prepared him for the scene before him.

A man with red wings spread out over the ground, while Touya kneeled over him, hands occupied with pressing a cloth to his abdomen.

Even though Natsuo doesn’t pay much attention to the news these days, Natsuo recognizes the Number Three hero. He had always thought Hawks was cool, the kind of hero who seemed genuine. His whole ideology about wanting to create a world where heroes can relax— it had been such a huge contrast to the hellish upbringing that Enji had put them through, where relaxation was the last thing on their minds.

And now he was on the ground, bleeding through his compression suit, while Touya’s hands were matted with blood as he tried to stymie the bleeding. Steam was escaping the seams of his mouth like an angered dragon, something that Natsuo had seen Enji do more than once.

“What happened?” Natsuo gasps, already rushing over. He notices Hawks’ wings flutter weakly and sharpen at his voice but they lie still after Touya places a reassuring, bloodied hand on his cheek.

“Bullet wound,” Touya rasps, “Natsu, please help him.”

Natsuo would comment on the fact that it was the first time Touya had ever asked him anything with a please, but he was too busy pulling out a thick roll of gauze and some specialized medical quirk healing serum.

“Shot in the abdomen,” Natsuo mutters, “it looks like a graze, but he’s lost a lot of blood. Did the bullet enter him?”

Hawks’ eyes were half-lidded, and he was staring at Natsuo.

“You look familiar,” Hawks murmurs. His hand twitches and Touya holds it in response immediately.

“It didn’t,” Touya answers Natsuo, and Natsuo hums. He can use the quirk-enhanced serum, but it would be better to confirm if there were no shrapnel in the wound before administering it. He motions for Touya to move the cloth and inspects the graze; it looked to have been heavily bleeding, but Touya had stemmed the flow sufficiently enough.

After cleaning the wound, Natsuo pulls out a syringe and sanitizes it, before drawing from the serum he had brought.

“Hawks-san,” Natsuo addresses him, as hazy golden eyes track him warily, “I’m going to administer a basic quirk-enhanced healing serum. It might pinch a bit, but then you should feel fatigue along with lessened pain. Your wound will heal at an accelerated pace.”

Hawks doesn’t respond, but his wings tense up again as Natsuo approaches him with the syringe.

“Dabi,” he warbles pitifully. Touya gently props Hawks up, looping the bird hero’s tired arms around Touya’s neck and allowing him to lean on Touya.

“It’s okay, little bird. I trust him. He’s here to help,” Touya murmurs almost inaudibly. Hawks buries his face into Touya’s throat, tightening his grip.

Touya makes eye contact with Natsuo, and Natsuo nods.

He swiftly administers the serum to Hawks, watching carefully for any signs of an adverse reaction.

There’s a moment of tension, before Hawks relaxes completely, sighing.

The bleeding has stemmed and the wound has already begun to stitch itself up. It would eventually leave behind a pink scar, but it would still take a few days before the wound was fully healed.

“Feels good,” Hawks says, “barely a scratch.” His words are slurred and groggy.

The tension seems to leave Touya’s shoulders as Hawks melts into his hold.

“I’m glad I could help. It’s a good thing Dabi called me when he did,” Natsuo tells the hero.

Hawks hmms, eyes closing. The serum draws upon the patient’s energy to heal them, so it relieved Natsuo to see Hawks beginning to doze off. He needed all the rest he could get.

“Thanks Dabs,” Hawks mumbles into Dabi’s neck.

His hand slips from around Touya’s shoulder, but the fire-user grabs it before it can hit the floor, gently lowering it.

A moment of silence, a respite from Touya’s previously frantic energy.

“Thanks Natsu,” Touya says. His voice is raspy and his eyes are bloodshot.

Natsuo waves him off. “I would say don’t worry about it, but I’ve gotta know— what are you doing with Pro Hero Hawks? He’s your little bird boyfriend?”

“We’re not boyfriends.”

Natsuo gives him a look as he puts his supplies away. “Right. So how did he get hurt? And what are you doing here?”

Touya’s eyes grow soft, despite the scowl on his face. “The idiot took a bullet for me.”

Natsuo stares. “Holy fuck. Did you guys run into a villain or something?”

“Something like that,” Touya said, not bothering to explain. He was holding his dozing not-boyfriend, propping him up so that his wings weren't bending at an awkward angle as he lay practically on top of Touya.

Despite Touya’s denials and half answers, Natsuo knew that there was something more going on between these two. And he was surprised that out of all people, Touya would choose to hang out with a hero, especially given their shared views on Endeavor. Natsuo had been somewhat jokingly looking forward to giving the mysterious ‘little bird’ shovel talk, but then the mystery man had turned out to be Hawks.

And Hawks had taken a bullet for his brother.

Natsuo decides he doesn’t need to give anyone who would take a literal bullet for Touya a hard time.

“I approve,” Natsuo says.

“What?” Touya looks up.

“You and your bird boyfriend. You guys are a good match!”

Natsuo would have to grill him on all the details of how exactly they met up, but seeing Touya hunched protectively over Hawks’ unconscious body, Natsuo thought it could probably wait.

Touya blinks before huffing. “Thanks.”

Touya doesn’t look too shaken, but his hands never leave Hawks, whether it’s to brush the hair from his sleeping face or to stroke his relaxed wings. Natsuo doesn’t even know if Touya is aware of his caring administrations or if they’re subconscious gestures.

As Natsuo gets up from his position on the floor, Touya’s gaze follows him.

He clears his throat.

“You’re a good person Natsuo. Thank you for coming when I— when he needed it.”

Touya is awkward with his gratitude, all stuttered sentences and quiet words. But Natsuo smiles nonetheless.

“You’re my brother, Touya. You can always talk to me, no matter when it is or what it’s about. I will help you as much as I can, because I love you.” Natsuo says.

Touya’s breath hitches and his eyes widen. Natsuo doesn’t expect him to say it back, but the devastating expression on his face says volumes. Natsuo changes the subject.

“Hey, let’s get out of here. No wonder you guys ran into a villain, this warehouse looks like a crime scene waiting to happen!”

---

Natsuo wakes up, heart racing and eyes wide open.

He breathes until the air expanding his lungs feels like it’s enough, until the hairs on his skin stop standing and the beating in his chest no longer feels so erratic.

A nightmare. He definitely had a nightmare last night, but he couldn’t remember exactly what it was. All he knows is he saw red.

Natsuo shelves the thought away as he slowly gets ready for the day, but the dreariness of the nightmare seems to bleed into his waking steps.

He starts his day with iced matcha, summoning ice cubes using his quirk— he’s gotten good at that. Precise quirk control used just for creating tiny dense cubes. He could probably be a barista if the whole medical training thing didn’t pan out.

The earthy drink soothes his nerves a bit.

He checks his phone. He didn’t get a response yet from Touya about meeting up for dinner tonight. He had messaged him days ago; usually Touya would at least have responded with a terse “fine” by now.

Tenko hadn’t texted him either since their chance meeting weeks ago. That’s definitely a rejection, isn’t it?

Natsuo tries to bury that line of thinking. It’s a Friday. Natsuo should be out doing something fun. What do college students usually do on Fridays? If they’re not studying, they’re out with their friends, partying or hanging out.

Fuyumi is out teaching, and Rei is running errands. Shoto was out on some hero school trip which would bleed into the weekend, and Natsuo didn’t have classes on Fridays.

Natsuo is alone.

He used to not mind it so much, being alone. Alone used to mean peace and quiet, especially in a house with three other siblings in it. But now, being alone seems suffocating, like the quiet is choking him.

Maybe he’ll go out for a run in the park, or go to the library. Anywhere with people, where he could just exist. He sips the last bit of his matcha as he contemplates how to spend the day.

A knock distracts him from his thoughts.

He ignores the slight jolt his heart gives. He’s already way too keyed up today. As far as he knew, they weren’t expecting anyone to come to their house. Maybe Rei just forgot something?

He goes to open the door.

“Natsuo.”

Ice forms at Natsuo’s fingertips at hearing the voice, and he cranes his neck upwards to make contact with familiar blue eyes.

Enji.

Natsuo inhales harshly, not caring that Enji was carefully observing his reaction. At least the large man was not trying to barge his way into the house. Small miracles.

“What are you doing here?”

Enji holds out his hand, a manila folder in it. Natsuo just barely hides a flinch at the gesture. Enji’s brow furrows with each passing second, and Natsuo snatches the folder out of Enji’s hands.

“What is this?” He snaps.

“Legal documents. Your mother wanted them.”

Fuck. Did mom mention something about that? Natsuo doesn’t remember.

“Mom doesn’t like it when you come here while she’s out.”

“Your mother doesn’t like it when I come when she’s here either.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Natsuo mutters. Enji doesn’t rear back at that, but he doesn’t deny it either. His mouth downturns, like an overgrown kicked puppy.

“Fine,” Natsuo says, “I’ll give this to mom. Is there anything else?”

Enji stares at Natsuo for a moment, as if hesitating. His father’s gaze on him causes his skin to crawl, and he has to actively suppress his quirk activating as an anxiety-induced reaction.

“I’m… proud of you Natsuo.”

What.

“Your role as a medical technician is very honorable. I heard that you had helped hero students who had gotten hurt during their internships.”

He’s proud of me now? No. he wouldn’t be proud, not unless I was anything less than perfect. Unless I was doing something to properly uphold the Todoroki name. How would he be proud of me for just being a field medic? He’s lying. He’s patronizing me.

“Sure. Okay.”

Enji’s fist clenched and unclenched at his side. He seems to be hesitating.

“How have your visits with Aoi-san been going?”

Natsuo feels the blood drain from his face. Technically, Enji has a right to ask about what’s going on with Natsuo’s therapist, since it’s all on his dime. Even so, Natsuo would rather give himself frostbite than talk about his mental wellness with Enji. He would rather be doing a lot of things than talking to Enji.

“Fine.” It’s a little forceful.

As always, Enji pushes.

“Are you still seeing Touya?”

“Of course I’m still seeing Touya.”

Enji frowns. The familiar disappointment grates on Natsuo. He itches to slam the door shut, just to create some sort of physical boundary between himself and his father.

“Natsuo. I thought you’d gotten past this.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Touya is dead. You need to face reality—”

“Just because he’s dead to you doesn’t mean he’s dead to me!”

Frost sparks from his fingertips and Enji finally takes a step back. The disappointment is still lingering on his face.

“Be reasonable, Natsuo,” Enji says, and Natsuo hates that Enji is the calm one in this situation, “you need to stop pretending.”

“You almost killed him! You don’t get to talk! Everyone thinks you’re a hero, but you’re the real villain in our lives.”

That finally gets a reaction out of Enji. His flame beard bursts to life, and Natsuo flinches. Enji seems to notice his son’s reaction as he takes another step back, putting some well-needed distance between them.

“Natsuo—”

“Just leave us alone!”

He slams the door shut with a frustrated yell. He slumps to the ground, burying his face in his hands.

All he can hear is the blood rushing through his ears and the sound of Enji knocking insistently on the door. His heart seems to pump with every knock of the door.

The noise finally dies down and the pounding fades.

He pulls out his phone and manages to send a message to his family with shaking fingers.

Me: Enji was here

Fuyumi: Oh no.

Rei: I’m on my way home.

Natsuo barely registers the words, shakily getting to his feet and stumbling to the living room.

He all but collapses onto the sofa, curling up pitifully.

Be reasonable, Natsuo.

A sharp pain in his shoulder. His nails are digging into the skin there.

He drags his hand away, instead using it to wrap a blanket around himself. Natsuo shudders as the pain brings him a small semblance of clarity. A slight reprieve from the memory of Enji’s voice, piercing his mind.

The quiet of the house suddenly becomes too much. He turns the TV on, desperate for some white noise, for something to fill his brain other than his father’s booming voice.

He flips through channels, going from drama to kids’ cartoon to finally settling on the news.

“—remains at large along with the rest of the League of Villains. He had previously targeted U.A. students in an unspecified field trip, and has further targeted certain hero establishments which—”

The static in his head grows louder and louder with every word. Natsuo’s eyes begin to water as he stares despairingly at the television.

Touya is dead.

“The fire user, known as Dabi, has been spotted increasingly often, and is an A-rank villain. If seen, be sure to immediately call officials and do not engage—”

You need to face reality.

Touya isn’t dead. Touya is alive.

You need to stop pretending.

Purple scars. Black hair. Blue eyes stare back at him from the screen.

Natsuo shatters.

---

He’s numb. He barely hears the words tumbling out of his own lips.

“Touya wasn’t real, was he?”

A pause. A concerned voice. “What do you mean, Natsuo?”

“All those other times with all those other Touya’s… the ones I thought I was seeing. They just weren’t real. I don’t know how I didn’t notice. Or maybe I didn’t let myself notice.”

“Natsuo—”

“I think it’s different now, though. Before, it was just my mind making me less lonely. Making me believe in something that I needed to believe in. My mind is good at that kind of thing. And it was because I love him. I love him so much, and I missed him. But now I think I know who he really is.”

“Natsuo, let’s start from the beginning. You must be feeling intense grief. It’s been years since the death of your brother, Touya. Even years after, grief has a way of making itself known. Can we talk about your feelings towards Touya?”

Touya. Touya. Touya.

Everything came back to him, didn’t it?

“Natsuo?”

Natsuo laughs, and it is a hollow, broken thing.

---

Touya never followed up with a text in the end.

Natsuo isn’t the brightest, but he’s not an idiot. Touya was a villain, and Tenko was most likely a villain too, one who knew Touya by his villain name— Dabi.

Cremation. Is that how he got the scars? When they all thought he— left, at Sekoto Peak, is that when he burned himself? The details around him leaving are fuzzy to Natsuo, even now. Fuyumi and Rei would get sad if he asked, and he didn’t want that. He could never ask Enji— Enji would insist that Natsuo was avoiding the truth.

Natsuo doesn’t tell anyone about Dabi. He doesn’t want to expend any energy thinking about it.

He feels numb more often than not these days, but it’s better than feeling the sharp acute pain in his chest whenever he gets a semblance of clarity.

It’s a godsend that Natsuo has a set schedule between university and his EMT work. He’s taken on more shifts so that he’s barely home. It’s not like he has a social life to attend to anyways; it’s a sad realization, but the most he had ever gotten out of the house was either for work, errands, or spending time with Touya. Natsuo was effectively alone again.

It didn’t matter to him. He would just fill his schedule with more responsibilities, so that he never had a free moment to think about the loneliness too hard. So that no one can scrutinize him too quickly and ask him questions that he doesn’t want to answer.

At home, Rei gives him worried looks and gentle offers to talk about it. She assumes that she’s shaken up by Enji’s visit, which is a half truth. She doesn’t know the full extent of it and neither does Fuyumi or Shoto. Natsuo intends to keep it that way. Even if he’s starting to hear Touya’s voice whisper to him when he’s exhausted, late at night, he decides it doesn’t matter.

No, telling the truth about any of this is not an option.

Natsuo can’t even begin to think about telling Shoto the truth. How would his baby brother react to knowing that his own oldest brother, the one that Natsuo has been sharing fond stories of, was the very same villain that had tried over and over again to hurt his classmates?

An aching icepick stabbed Natsuo’s chest at the very thought. He buried it under the haze of numbness he’s become accustomed to. There’s no point in worrying about this. He’s not going to tell anyone.

---

So, of course it’s by some act of cosmic unluckiness that Natsuo finds himself in a very familiar situation.

He’s taking a detour back home, right off his EMT shift, in uniform and everything.

In the alley he decides to cut through, he runs into a familiar lanky figure.

The figure was using a dumpster as a crutch, leaning on it while his other hand was clasped to his side.

Their eyes meet.

Natsuo can think of a million things to say to Touya, and for a moment, his brain is filled with incessant static.

“You’re bleeding.” He ends up saying.

His eyes trace the blood sluicing down Touya’s shoulder, his jacket ripped open. It looked to be the result of a small scuffle. Perhaps a fight with another villain? Natsuo shoves the thought down, and automatically begins reaching for Touya’s wound.

Touya jerks away from him.

The icepick scrapes at his chest again.

Natsuo lets his hand drop uselessly to his side. The silence between them is uncomfortable.

“You never responded to my texts,” Natsuo tries.

“I was busy. Can’t you take a hint?” Touya intones.

Natsuo laughs under his breath, an empty sound.

“Oh, I got the hint. It took me a while, maybe because my brain’s all fucked up. You’re a villain, aren’t you Dabi?”

Natsuo’s voice drips with venom, but if Dabi feels any remorse, he doesn’t show it. He just shrugs. But Natsuo knows Dabi— Touya well enough. When Touya is bothered, he never shows it. He endured, endured it all for their family, hid everything away until one day he disappeared. Dabi is the same. And that hurts.

“I’ve been telling our family about you, about our visits! I told them you were doing fine, and now I find out that you’re— you’re—” Natsuo trails off as his emotions rise.

Touya’s blue eyes flash. “Who told you to talk to your family about me?”

“They’re your family too, Touya.”

“It’s Dabi, now. Haven’t you heard? I don’t know you, and I don’t know your precious family. What you tell them has nothing to do with me.”

Natsuo feels nauseous.

“What about Shoto then?” He asks shakily.

Touya looks indifferent. “Endeavor’s little pet?”

“That’s not fair. He avoids Enji just as much as the rest of us.”

A scoff. “He was his obedient little intern, wasn’t he?”

“That doesn’t mean you can hurt him. Or any of those kids! He’s our baby brother. You know better than anyone what Enji put him through. And you know what— putting him aside, what about me?”

Blue, apathetic eyes stare at him. “What about you?”

“You know what I mean, Touya.”

“We are nothing to each other.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You don’t know me. As far as I know, you’re just some misguided civilian who grew an unhealthy attachment to a villain—”

“Stop that,” Natsuo breathed.

“—and you clearly have abandonment issues, whining as soon as I ghost you. Is your real family not treating you well enough? So much so that you’re craving the company of a dead man? Touya is dead—”

“Touya, stop!”

“Don’t call me that!” Blue embers erupt from Touya’s arms.

Natsuo flinches violently, stumbling backwards, before stilling. For a moment, he sees red hair and blue eyes, pinched in disappointment and anger.

He doesn’t dare move a muscle, clamping his jaw shut. His head is starting to hurt, and he wishes he was anywhere but there. Was Natsuo really still this weak, to be cowed by a few flames and a raised voice? Red hot shame coursed through his body, as he grew more and more nauseous.

“Shit,” Touya mutters under his breath, extinguishing the blue flames. He doesn’t step forward, maintaining his distance.

“Listen,” he says, voice strained, “I’m not your brother, okay? Just leave me alone. It’ll be better for the both of us.”

Natsuo feels like he’s ripping apart at the seams. If Touya leaves now, Natsuo doesn’t know if he’ll ever be whole again, if he’ll just be broken for the rest of his life. So instead of letting Touya turn around and walk out of his life, he calls out softly.

“Touya, please don’t go.”

Touya’s face twists into a snarl.

“I’m not him! I’m not your fucking brother! Touya is dead! How many times do I have to tell you until it gets through your thick fucking skull?”

The yells get louder and louder as Touya— Dabi— pours his frustration out at Natsuo.

He starts to feel dizzy, lightheaded, like there’s not enough air to breathe. Noise is distorted around him, he’s underwater and far away from any loud sounds trying to penetrate through the depths.

There’s a tingling going through his skin right down to his fingertips, and it feels like his soul is trying to eject itself from his very own body, like Natsuo doesn’t want to exist right then.

Natsuo knew he had been running away his entire life. From everyone who tried to tell him that Touya was gone, that his older brother was dead. He turned away from Fuyumi and Rei, who looked at him with sad eyes and shared looks they thought he didn’t see. He refused to talk about it with his therapist. He resented Enji for bringing it up. And now, Touya himself was telling him that he was dead.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” A young voice to the left, belonging to a scarless, white-haired little boy.

Natsuo stares at the boy. Is this the same person he’s been seeing all his life? Meeting every week or so to catch up, to talk with? The same boy who never really responded— did he ever respond? Was he ever talkative? He never yelled at Natsuo before, he knows that. But he had also never felt so real before now either.

“It’s pathetic. How you can’t live without me. It’s no wonder Enji threw you away. Broken, little ice boy, forever alone.”

The specter who wears Touya’s body speaks to him, but his mouth doesn’t quite move. Natsuo blinks rapidly.

“You couldn’t even save me.”

The white-haired boy’s skin starts to bubble and burst, melting into ghastly purple-scars and dead, vengeful eyes. And then even that is burnt, burnt to a crisp until there’s just a pile of ashes left. Natsuo gasps, taking a few shaky steps back.

His throat squeezes, and he wonders if Enji has come for him again, to grab him by the neck and haul him off to training. Maybe Natsuo would finally die, then. Maybe he’d finally get to join his brother in hell.

“Touya is dead. You need to face reality.”

He scratches weakly at his throat, scrabbling to remove the iron grip around it. He thinks someone is calling his name, but it drowns under the weight of Enji’s disappointment.

“Be reasonable. You need to stop pretending.”

He gasps for air as his throat is finally freed. The voice calling his name is more frantic now, but Natsuo is drowning on dry land and far too gone.

“My precious boy. Isn’t it time to let go?”

Natsuo breaks at Rei’s voice.

He covers his ears with frost covered hands, trying to tune out everything.

“No, no, shut up,” he mumbles, backing up until his back hits a brick wall. His fingers dig into the skin above his ears, latching onto some hairs and holding on tight.

Was this real? Was he really seeing Touya? Even Touya was telling him that he was dead all along. Does that mean Enji was right? He was right to force him to go to therapy, to stick him in a hospital for those few years.

Natsuo really was crazy, wasn’t he? He’s a fucking lunatic, raving after his long dead brother, his dead brother who doesn’t even want to see him.

An aching part of him knows that he had been waiting so, so long to find his brother again. And if his brother didn’t want him, even after he endured all that waiting, then what was the point of Natsuo still existing?

There was no one for him.

“Hey. Hey! Stop that, Natsuo!”

Warm hands suddenly grab his wrists, snapping him out of it. Natsuo blinks, looking sluggishly at the source of heat. Purple and pale hands wrapped around his wrists, warming him up slightly. The moisture of melted ice drips steadily down their arms as Natsuo settles back into his body.

Small pinpricks of pain blossom across his temples.

He had been frosting his fingers, digging his nails so hard into the side of his head that he had started bleeding.

Touya’s ghost was staring at him, concern laced in his blue eyes. Warmth filled Natsuo; was Touya worried about him? He was grateful for it.

And then Touya’s eyes widened, looking somewhere behind Natsuo.

Natsuo turned around, and the nightmare continued.

Enji stood there, in full Endeavor costume. Pure shock was written all over his face, morphing into anger.

Natsuo had seen that anger before. Enji had already hurt Touya once, whether he meant to or not. Natsuo couldn’t bear to see it again.

Taking advantage of Touya’s momentary surprise, Natsuo grabbed him by the waist and tossed him over his shoulder. Touya was surprisingly bulky for a lithe guy, but Natsuo was wired on adrenaline and pure fear coursing through his veins.

And then Natsuo ran.

Endeavor’s furious roar behind him only spurred him to run faster through this living hell, until he made it to the end of the alley. They’re in the middle of the street when Touya shoves Natsuo away from him. His eyes are lit up in a manic glint, nothing like the soft concern Natsuo had seen mere seconds ago.

“You have to go!” Natsuo pleads, “He’ll kill you again!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Touya seethes, hands already lighting up with blue, blue flames. “This is my opportunity.”

Endeavor is at the lip of the alley now, emerging from the shadows like a fairy tale monster. Natsuo’s entire body tenses up at the sight of his father, flames in full force.

“Natsuo, step away from the villain.” Enji booms. The order strikes Natsuo and it’s all he can do not to follow it blindly.

“Don’t hurt him,” Natsuo begs. He moves to grab Touya’s arm, to drag him away, but Touya steps forward with a feral grin.

“I said shut up, Natsu,” Touya says gleefully, “our old man is right, though. You should probably get away. Things are about to get ugly between him and I.”

Despair is an endless cavern, and Natsuo finds himself sinking deeper and deeper with every moment, with every word gone unheard by either member of his family.

“Unhand my son, villain Dabi!”

“Fucking take him,” Dabi spits, shoving Natsuo to the side.

Natsuo stumbles on to the ground. He turns around just in time to see Endeavor lunging forward, launching a barrage of fire blasts at Touya. Touya dodges it with a gleeful yell, only to lobby back with blue, hotter fire. His flames are beginning to eat at his arms again, and Natsuo can smell the acrid scent of flesh burning.

Why won’t they listen to him? Is it not enough that he had to live through Touya being gone once? Did Enji want to finish the job once and for all?

Touya’s overheating, he’s going too fast, too hard, and Natsuo knows it. Endeavor seems to know too, because he’s closing in and Natsuo wonders who will collapse first under the pressure of Touya’s brilliant heat.

If Enji gets too close to Touya, he might just die. If Touya lets up for a single moment, he might just die.

Natsuo can’t witness that. He can’t.

And so, when Touya’s flames stutter for one crucial second, and when Enji’s hand raises in preparation to lob a lethal fire blast, Natsuo leaps forward before he even knows his body is moving.

Right into the fire.

Intense heat, a burning he can feel himself crumbling under. Then, there is one huge burst of energy, one that he feels is impaling him through his very heart.

The world goes black. He knows no more.

---

Dabi knew that when he finally had his showdown with Endeavor, that one or both of them would die. He had banked on being able to take down the flame hero, even if he died in the process.

He had not, however, accounted for his little brother to enter the fray.

Natsuo, who had been slowly wheedling his way back into Dabi’s life, trying to make room for himself when Dabi didn’t think he had room for anyone else anymore. Natsuo, who had made Dabi smile more than he had ever since that night in Sekoto Peak.

Natsuo, who had been broken up more by his absence than he ever thought anyone would have been.

He had thought that no one had cared. That Enji had simply moved on to his perfect prodigy and that the rest of them had forgotten about Dabi.

Dabi couldn’t let himself get distracted by Natsuo. He had let it go on for too long. He stopped responding to the texts, stopped letting himself feel hope— he needed the anger. He needed it to fuel his flames, to power the ultimate weapon he had nearly died for: his quirk which was slowly killing him. He needed to take Enji out before he died; he had bet his entire life on it.

But as Dabi’s weak body begins to overheat, his flames stutter for a mere instant and Enji lets loose a fire blast that would at the very least knock him out if not add to the scars already covering most of his body.

He braces himself for the pain, willing himself to not pass out at the impending fire. He needs to stay awake, he knows he can kill Enji, his flames are hotter, he just needs to—

Dabi’s mind blanks as Natsuo flings himself in the line of fire.

For a split second, his baby brother is engulfed by flames.

Then, a huge iceberg bursts out in the middle of the street, blasting back both Endeavor and Dabi with a rush of cold air. The air feels pleasant on Dabi’s skin, but does nothing to soothe the horror coursing through his body.

Natsuo was encased in the middle of the huge iceberg taking up most of the street, the same one that had neutralized both Endeavor and Dabi’s flames. Ice cold enough to extinguish fire in a split second.

Had Natsuo always been that powerful? Was he always able to do that?

… Could he even breathe in there?

Dabi isn’t stupid. He knows that he needs to make a decision. Continue fighting Endeavor or make a tactical retreat and recuperate for a future murder attempt.

And yet, looking at Natsuo’s calm, suspended body, he found that he couldn’t move. His brother was stuck in there, and there was the possibility that he was suffocating to death as Dabi hesitated.

There was no choice, then.

He immediately lunged forward, ignoring his screaming scars, as he burst into flames once more, trying to burn through the ice. Dabi was a sitting duck as he worked to melt the ice— it was exceptionally thick. It helped that Dabi was practically ice-proof, but as a result, he couldn’t tell exactly how cold Natsuo had made it.

“Fuck, Natsuo!” Dabi yelled in frustration as the ice melted slower than he had hoped.

A movement from his peripheral vision told him that Endeavor was standing near by, too close for comfort. Yet, he didn’t move to attack him. Had he heard him call Natsuo’s name? Was he surprised that Dabi was trying to save the Number Two hero’s son?

A quick glance told him that Enji was staring at him with wide eyes. Like he was seeing a ghost.

A stone dropped in Dabi’s stomach, but he snarled through the fear.

“Fucking help him, you useless fucking hero! Can Natsuo even breathe in there? You shitty excuse for a father—” Dabi’s rants are punctuated with bursts of his flames.

Endeavor doesn’t bother responding. He just turns to the iceberg and begins to melt it as well, albeit at a slightly slower pace than Dabi, his flames are steadier.

It takes ages, it takes forever, but finally Natsuo slips out of the ice and into Dabi’s arms. He’s drenched, barely breathing, and his lips are blue. Frost is covering his eyelashes and brows. His face is calm, no sign of the pure distress Dabi had seen him in earlier when they had got into it in the alley. He feels a pang of regret at that. His shaky hand moves to cover Natsuo cheek, and he warms it, trying to get some blood circulation going in his younger brother—

A large hand closes over his shoulder. It’s too gentle, and Dabi doesn’t know what to do with it, with the knowledge behind the touch.

A myriad of emotions flow through Dabi. He exhales heavily, before closing his eyes.

---

He feels like his entire body is under a weighted blanket, as he slowly comes back to himself with every breath. He’s disoriented; he can’t tell left from right.

For a moment, Natsuo wonders if he’s dead. If this is his slow descent into the afterlife, if his soul is finally allowed to rest. He kind of feels at peace with that.

But as he settles more into his body, the ache begins to make itself known. It’s all encompassing, like his entire body was a single bruise. It chilled him to the bone, a feeling he’s not familiar with; he’s used to fire and burns. Being dead probably wouldn’t hurt this much, would it?

As he flutters his eyes open, Natsuo wonders if he’s in a dream. If everything had just been a dream, or a nightmare. He didn’t know.

He feels a presence at his side, and slowly, painstakingly turns his head.

Touya.

A huff of cracked laughter escapes him, high pitched and barely audible. He sees Touya sitting right there, beside him. But that’s not possible, because Touya was a villain, and a villain wouldn’t be sitting in his room, at his bedside. Maybe Natsuo would have believed it once, but now he knew better.

Enji was right. Aoi-san was right. Natsuo never really knew how to face reality, did he?

A pressure begins to build in Natsuo’s forehead, a never ending headache that he longed to escape.

Did it matter if he gave into the illusion? It was a comforting one, at the very least.

He reaches out, trying to touch Touya’s face. His arm doesn’t want to cooperate; instead, he ends up landing somewhere around Touya’s knee.

Still, Touya’s head whips up from where it was cradled in his hands and blue eyes widen. As if he’s seen a ghost.

The thought makes Natsuo smile. The irony of it all is not lost on him.

“Shit— Natsuo— how are you feeling?”

Like I’ve been torn apart and put back together. Like I’ve been shoved into an existence that doesn’t belong to me. Like none of this is even real.

“You took a piece of my heart when you died, you know.” Natsuo croaks. His voice is shot and barely has any strength behind it.

Touya inhales sharply. He places a shaky hand over Natsuo’s.

“I’m sorry, Natsu.”

Natsuo closes his eyes for a long moment before opening them again. “Don’t. I gave it to you willingly, and I think I’d do it again and again if I had to.”

A choking noise. Natsuo looks over at Touya. Gone is the calculated expressionless facade. There’s a stream of blood from his eyes, spilling over like tears in a macabre nightmare. Natsuo wishes he could fix it for him. If only he could get up.

“Touya-nii,” Natsuo whispers. “Are you real?”

The hand holding his squeezes harder.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I’m here, Natsuo.”

“I don’t know if I believe you. I think you are. But all those other times, you were real to me too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The headache is getting worse. Would Natsuo ever get a moment of peace?

“I’m tired, Touya-nii,” he says, closing his eyes again. He doesn’t have the energy to open them once more, to see the specter of his older brother looking at him with worried eyes. “I’m so tired. I just want it all to be over.”

A tear escapes the corner of his eye and trails down his cheek. It’s wiped away by a warm hand, which softly strokes his face. It’s heated, not hot, and gentle. The promise of no pain. It pulls him back to the comfort of darkness and sleep, and Natsuo knows no more.

---

When he wakes up, his head is much clearer. His throat is dry and his stomach is empty, but he no longer feels like he lost a fistfight with a monster truck.

Natsuo slowly gets up, feeling a dizzy headrush. He needs to drink some water.

He slides the door of his room open, slowly making his way to the living room.

He stops.

Fuyumi, Rei, Shoto, and Touya. All sitting together at the dining table.

Fuyumi was teary-eyed and splotchy cheeked, while Rei was surprisingly calm. Shoto looked awkward, like he didn’t know how to handle the situation, and it was endearingly teenage-boy-core of him.

A flicker of hope ignited in Natsuo.

Touya’s hair was white again, some grayish-black patches here and there, as if the color had been forcefully washed away but not thoroughly enough.

Natsuo sits down at the empty seat in between Touya and Fuyumi, across from Shoto.

“You see him now, right?” Natsuo asks.

Rei inhales, and it is a shaky thing. “I do.” Her eyes have not left her first son, not even after Natsuo had entered the room.

Fuyumi adds, “We’ve been doing a lot of talking, Natsuo. You really found him.”

Natsuo smiles. “Good. That’s good.”

Touya looks at Natsuo, something between heartbreak and disbelief in his eyes.

“You really never stopped believing in me, Natsu.”

It’s not a question, but Natsuo responds all the same. “You know I love you, right, Touya-nii? Even when you say you’re not my brother, even when you’re being a villain, even when you’re hurting. Especially when you’re hurting. I will always love you, because you’re you.”

Natsuo isn’t embarrassed by his words, even as Shoto flushes and Rei smiles. It’s a truth, one that he’s known ever since he was old enough to remember being dragged around by his older brother, since the days he was able to walk on two wobbly legs. It’s a truth engraved in his heart, and he won’t deny it.

Touya is crying then, and so is Fuyumi.

“I’m sorry, Natsuo,” Touya gasps.

Natsuo leans over and drags him into a bear hug, not minding the wet patch that begins to grow on his shoulder.

“Don’t be. You came back and that’s all that matters.”

It is. It’s all Natsuo’s ever wanted. Everything else was just extra to him.

As they break apart, as they talk more, about Natsuo’s health, about lunch plans, about Touya’s next visit, Natsuo smiles.

A light feeling settles in his stomach, something he hasn’t felt in a while.

Natsuo is happy.

And if it’s all a dream, if one day he finds out that all of this isn’t real, well— it’s a beautiful dream.