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dream-girl-stuff · 6 months

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Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part XIV

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 14 - Finale: (3,3k words)

It’s the same judge as last time, looking down at him with strangely empathic eyes.

“You’ve done well for yourself.” He says. “How do you plan to keep up? How do you see yourself in the next few years?”

Not for the first time Touya’s glad that his case has so much attention on it that it’s handled behind closed doors.

Behind him sit only his rehabilitation officer and his lawyer, two people he’s always had a professional relationship with. There are no other people here to listen to him speak and it helps him to be as honest as he can be.

Still his voice shakes as he starts to speak.

“I know I’ve done a lot of bad… bad things, in the past. It feels like a different life but to others, it isn’t. It’s still me, who did these things, who gets to live while others don’t and I get-”

He’s running out of breath and the judge, the name tag reads Morisaki, offers him a rare smile.

“Breathe, son. You have nothing to fear in here.”

There are tears pricking his eyes and he doesn’t want to cry, wants to stay strong until the end, but he’s wiping his nose with his hand now, fully aware that that won’t look good in any way.

“I don’t think I deserve it,” he starts anew, “But if I could, I’d want to keep doing what I’m doing. It’s not much, but taking care of plants, caring for something that’s not myself, feels like something that I have to do. Like I was meant to do it as if my quirk was assigned wrong at birth. I know that the business has grown and I’m not mad about that, that more and more people enjoy plants and are learning how to care for them. I like showing others how to care. I wasn’t ready when Mari came but I’d want to try again, to help someone make a change, to help someone find their place in the world.”

“What about your quirks?”

Touya looks down at the table in front of him and thinks of you.

“I’d love to explore my ice quirk. If I really have one, if I could use it without hurting myself. But the fire-” He almost chokes on the word and has to try again. “The fire quirk… I don’t… I know it would be useful, at least if I still was fireproof, in case of a fire. And I’d love to be able to help but I… I don’t want to use it. I have hurt too many people with it and if you have to take it away, I will accept that. Gladly.”

“Your therapist has mentioned the possibility of lasting trauma. You could regret that decision once you’ve overcome it.”

He looks up at the man, into those strange eyes and swallows thickly before he speaks.

“I would not regret it. I’m not allowed to regret it.”

Silence fills the room. No one speaks for a while and there’s only the digital clock hanging on the wall above the judge that reminds Touya that time hasn’t frozen.

“Son,” Judge Morisaki starts and the word pierces his heart, has him bleeding out even before he hears the rest.

“I think you’re doing just fine. I want you to keep doing what you’ve been doing, but I have some restrictions for you, which you must have anticipated. You may not leave Japan. At least for the next five years. In case of a medical emergency or the like, you’d have to file for an exception, but I have to tell you that there’s not much leeway there. I want you to keep going to therapy and if your therapist thinks you’re ready for it, you will receive training in using your ice quirk. I don’t like taking away quirks and I don’t think you should give yours away freely. And I want to see you again in a year. Just because I like listening to your story.”

Touya looks up at him, at his wrinkly face and freckled hands, and wonders how he’s ever been able to question the good in this world.

It’s still here, hidden in the faces of people around him, lurking in their words and actions, their decisions.

When he steps out of the room, he’s not surprised to have no one waiting for him.

He’d told everyone to stay back, that he did not need anyone there to support him.

It had been his decisions that led him here and it would be his decisions that would lead him away again.

He rounds the corner to the foyer only to recognize the bright red hair and the massive build.

“Dad?” His father looks up from his phone and pockets it, rising to his height.

“Why aren’t you a work?” Touya asks but Enji shrugs.

“I couldn’t stay away. I know you didn’t want anyone to be here, but-”

Touya steps forward and hugs him, face pressed into that broad chest that only recently has started feeling like home.

A part of him feels four years old again, proud that he’s like his dad, a fire quirk user.

A part of him feels six years old again, hurt from training, desperation burning in him. He needs to be better than Allmight. Better than everyone before him.

But there’s his dad, holding him like everything’s going to be okay.

A part of him feels thirteen, ready to kill Touya so Dabi will live, but there are his father’s arms around him, holding him, grounding him, reminding him that he is, after all, himself.

A part of him feels twenty-six years old, a little bit lost and a little bit found, knowing not much but at least that… His father will always be there to catch him.

“You’re not coming?” Touya asks when the car stops.

Enji shakes his head with a knowing smile.

“I don’t think you want customers right now.”

“I don’t even know if she wants to see me.”

“I think she will. Just be honest.”

“Yeah.” He sighs and gets out of the car. “Hug Mom from me.”

“I will.”

He watches the car drive off and turns to look.

The flower shop is small, crammed into the space between a coffee shop and a drugstore, a brand new canopy to protect the display outside from the rain. Wooden chairs and tables are lined right outside the big windows, but devoid of plants.

He tries the door, surprised to find it open.

A bell chimes as Touya opens the door and he can’t help but smile at the interior.

It feels like stepping into a tiny jungle, barely contained by the four walls of the building.

Cut flowers of all colors, sizes, and kinds are creatively dispersed between plants that grow up the walls or droop from the ceilings. There’s Bob Junior, the Pancake Plant. A fresh cutting of his Holiday Cactus is on sale. A Peony Bush that will be planted this week.

The smell is intoxicating and he takes a deep breath and feels himself coming home.

“Hello?” He calls out when he can’t spot the owner. “Anyone home?”

Somewhere in the back, he hears a squeak and the sound of quick steps.

“Touya!” Your smile is there but he can tell that you’re holding yourself back, cautious like a shy bird.

There’s so much he wants to say, so much feeling he wants to portray.

“Did I miss the opening?” He freezes when he hears himself speak, the words not what he had intended to say.

“No.” You shake your head. “I was just getting everything ready.”

“Why’s the door open then?” He asks, realizing he’s clinging to a safer topic.

The light in your eyes shifts. “I told you. The door’s always open for you.”

There’s a moment of silence, just you and him, one breathing out, the other breathing in.

“Can we close the door then?” He asks, stumbling over his words, “I don’t… I want to talk to you. Alone. Without a customer coming in.”

“Yeah sure.” You nod stiffly and he turns to lock the door.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help with moving.”

“Rico helped.”

“Yeah but it was supposed to be my job.” There it is again. Or maybe it never left. That tense silence that seems to slip inside his lungs and keep them from expanding, into his stomach that is clenched.

“What did they say?” You ask, voice soft like velvet or flower petals.

His hand is still clutched around the doorknob.

“I can’t leave the country for the next years. Still have to go to therapy. If my therapist thinks I’m ready I can start retraining my quirk.”

“That’s good, right?”

He turns, looks for your eyes. Holds out his hand.

It hangs there, pale in the dim light, scarred and shaking. For a moment he fears you might not take it but then you’re there, your grasp firm.

Maybe you aimed to shake it, like a business deal, but he folds his hand around yours.

“I love you.” The words don’t stumble from his mouth, they don’t slip. There’s nothing accidental about the way they leave him, not like a confession but something that has always been there. An universal truth.

“I know.” You say.

“And I don’t know how I could possibly deserve you, but I… I want you. All of you. Tiny apartment upstairs and cheese sandwich for dinner. With dirt under our fingernails and leafs everywhere. If you still want me-”

You cut him off in the best possible way, one step forward, your lips pressed against his.

When you move back, it’s only the shortest distance.

Your breath washes over his face, your nose is almost touching his and there’s a fire in your eyes he could never be scared of.

“I don’t deserve you.” He doesn’t really know why he says it again. Maybe he wants you to tell him he does, even if he could never believe it. But that’s not you.

You, who always seems to know what to say. You, who cradles his face in her hands as if he’s a flower in bloom.

“This isn’t a gift exchange,” you tell him softly. “This is love.”

Your breath washes over his face and he’s getting lost in your eyes.

His thumb moves across your cheekbone and your lashes kiss his knuckles as you blink.

Time’s frozen, right here in the flower shop, right here with you so close.

“Kiss me,” your eyes whisper. So he does.

🌺.

Passing Peonies,

on my walk,

I catch my breath.

There is something

so endearing

about the way

they hold themselves

so tightly in a fist.

I don’t think they know

their loveliness

or perhaps they do.

I wonder, do they fear

their brief opening?

(Passing Peonies, Cindy Smith)

🌺.

Summer is turning into fall again, the days turning shorter and the nights colder.

Someone left the window cracked during the night and Touya shudders under the cold breeze, drawing further under the blankets, further into you.

You don’t seem too happy about his warmth though, because your knee digs into his back until he groans and slips out from under the covers to close the window.

Your snoring doesn’t stop and he snickers to himself, leans down to place a kiss on the back of your head, and moves toward the bathroom.

He started jogging soon after the flower shop reopened in its original home. It was recommended to him by his therapist and it does clear his head - he just wishes he could convince you to join him.

The air is cool around him as he runs, past the coffee shop and through the park. He can see the peony bush you planted back then, now almost ready for his winterly slumber.

About halfway through, his phone rings and he picks up, glad he remembered to take his headphones with him.

“You’re awake already?” He asks when Hawks groans into the phone instead of a greeting.

“More like still awake. I’m running errands for Rumi. Why do pregnant people always have these crazy food cravings?”

“Isn’t that just outward signs of what the baby wants?”

“I hope not. I can’t have a child that wants to eat one specific kind of gummy bears at fivein the morning. I bet she’s going to be asleep anyway when I come back.”

“So why do you buy them then?” He asks, rounding the corner.

Hawks sighs and there’s a forlorn sound to it Touya knows all too well.

“I don’t know. I just love her, I guess. It’s the way she looks when I hand her the food, it just… you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“How did the quirk training go yesterday? I meant to ask you right after but we got kind of busy, you know how it is.”

“I’m still afraid of using the wrong quirk even though it looks like I won’t be able to use fire anyway. But I managed to make an ice rose yesterday, so that was cool.”

“Awesome. Did you gift it to the lady?”

“Not yet. Wednesdays are for Toga. Besides, I just fell into bed and was out like a light.”

He’s just turned the hot water on when the shower curtain is pulled to the side and you stumble into him, naked and still mostly asleep.

“Mornin’” You mumble and let yourself fall into him, trusting that he’ll catch you.

“Morning.” He kisses your wet forehead. “Slept well?”

“Mhm.” He can feel you going slack in his arms and snickers.

“If you want to sleep longer, you should stay in bed. I can’t have you drowning in here.”

“Bed’s empty.” You mumble, fighting against sleep as he washes your hair.

You cling to him like every morning, barely awake but too stubborn to stay in bed longer now that he’s up.

He lifts you out of the shower and wraps you in a towel, asks you about last night to keep you from falling asleep as he dries your hair.

“We need to buy more roses.” You tell him. And: “Toga mentioned she’s thinking about getting a cat.”

“What kind of coffee syrup do you want today.” He asks in between. And: “What do you want to eat for breakfast?”

By the time you’re ready to go downstairs, you resemble a human being, or at least the person he’s grown to know.

After six months of waking up to you at least once a week he’s still not gotten over learning, over knowing you. There is no sweeter thing than finding out something new about you.

Touya turns the key and enters the flower shop, taking a deep breath to inhale the aroma he’s grown so fond of. This is home, he thinks, where it smells like earth and flowers, like silk ribbons and dirty hands.

He turns on the lights and preps everything for the day ahead before stepping back into the backroom where you’re staring at the coffee dripping into your cup.

“Another coffee?.” He asks and leans forward to kiss you.

“It’s too early.” You groan, sinking back into his chest, and closing your eyes.

“I’ve been telling you to go to bed earlier.”

“Mhm.” You mumble. “I don’t remember.”

“Sure you do.” He kisses the crown of your head. “You can take a nap if you want. I can handle the shop until ten.”

“I might take you up on that offer.” You hum. “Tell me about the day.”

“We’re almost out of pre-made bouquets so I’ll be teaching that today and making a few on the side. That Deku kid usually comes in around eleven to have a chat and buy a dozen pink roses, so we gotta make sure there are still some left by that time. There’s that guy with purple hair that’s friends with him, Brainwash or something like that, who buys catnip every two weeks, he should be in today too.”

“You remember all of their orders?” You ask, pulling the full cup from the coffee machine and handing it to him for the extras. He snorts and pulls away to prepare your coffee while you wait.

“Only the ones who are predictable.” He defends himself. You giggle.

The bell chimes and he calls out. “We’re in the back.”

“You better not be making out.” He hears the voice of their newest employee and rolls his eyes in your direction.

“Be nice Touya,” you say when the door opens and Toga steps through, immediately scrunching her nose at the smell of coffee.

“I brought second breakfast.” She proudly presents a bag of puff pastry. “Can I have a hot chocolate?”

“Make it yourself.” She sticks her tongue out at him and you cluck your tongue.

“Touya’s going to show you how to do Bouquets today.” You tell her and she gleams with pleasure.

“Really?”

“Yeah. But stay off the pink roses. Deku’s coming in and you know how he’s about them.”

“Yeah, yeah. All pink roses are reserved for Ochako, I know. And the Daisies are reserved for Shouto.”

He furrows his brow, even more so when he sees you shush Toga, a finger pressed to your lips.

“What? What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing, baby.” You try to calm him unconvincingly.

“He’s in looooove!” Toga sings instead. “He just doesn’t know it yet. Buys flowers for someone at his agency each weak when you’re not looking.”

“No!” Touya blinks. “Really? Did he say something about them?”

“Touya.” You chide him again but he’s too invested now.

“Well, he said they really like cheese and asked if I knew where to get some. I didn’t know but Boss knew this great restaurant.”

“Oh, I wonder which restaurant you recommended.” He says and you shrug, but don’t bother hiding your smile.

The day is long, as it always is.

Deku and Ochako take Toga out for lunch and Touya’s not mad about having you all for himself even if he has to share your attention with a few random customers coming in.

“How long did Toga stay last night?” He asks when you’re alone again, handing you a ribbon to tie around his newest bouquet. He’s still struggling with those fuckers.

“I took her home around midnight.”

“She comes over too often. We should get her a kitten.”

“She’s lonely. But it’s not a bad idea. Also…” Your voice drops a little lower as you whisper the next part. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this but I think Rico’s falling for her.”

“He better.” He starts prepping a new Bouquet. “Because she’s definitely interested in him too.”

“Huh. She didn’t tell me that.”

He grins. “Didn’t need to. I just know her like that.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask when you place your sandwiches on the little table.

“Just admiring the view.” He tells you and you snort, climbing into his lap instead of taking a seat at the table.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He kisses you softly.

For a moment, time freezes.

There’s only you and him. A million plants to care for, sandwiches and miso soup that are going to get cold. Just life how it’s supposed to be.

In a minute, he’ll show you the ice flower he made yesterday. He might ask you if you’d mind him moving in completely or if you prefer having one night per week for yourself - he knows you don’t. You always complain about missing him.

You might watch a movie on the TV set that Shouto bought you or read that poetry collection about flowers together he found last month.

But right now, that’s not important. All of that can wait.

Life is good, because he’s with you.

taglist: @misfit-megumi @shoulmate @pixiesavvy @the2ndl @neko-my-cat @chelseaquake @tiredslepz @frozen-phoenix17 @spltbtch @touyasprettydoll @dream-girl-stuff

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dream-girl-stuff · 7 months

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Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part XIII

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 13: (2,2k words)

When he wakes up, he needs a moment to orient himself.

He’s gasping for air, the smell of smoke in his nose and the feeling of flames licking his skin so clear in his mind that his eyes cannot grasp how he can be enveloped in darkness.

It was a dream, he realizes belatedly, cold sweat running down his back as he tries to calm down. A really bad dream.

But it keeps haunting him and he closes his eyes, hands dug into his sheets to ground himself, as he tries to reconstruct his dream.

He’d been in a building, younger, much younger than he is now, because the doorways looked taller, as if he’d shrunk a good bit.

The building had been cold and quiet, empty of noise and people. No one to see him, no one to judge him.

He’d let fire form in his right hand first, throwing it down a long hallway like he was playing ball with himself.

And as if a floodgate had opened, fire had poured from his hands until the hallway was burning, the doorways now holes in a pit of fire.

He’d taken a breath, felt relieved and anxious, angry and overwhelmed, all of the emotions his body was capable of, all at the same time.

Until he heard the scream.

After that, the dream had been a jumble of thoughts and pictures.

Had he gone up the stairs or down? Every hallway looked the same but there was another scream, choking sobs of someone who was there with him, in the fire.

He was supposed to be alone!

And then, hidden in the corner of a room, an open window feeding the flames with oxygen, was a girl, curling into herself.

Her shirt had caught fire when he reached her, so completely unprepared to save someone from a fire. All he knew was how to start one.

Touya’s eyes fling open again, bile crawling up his throat. He barely makes it to the trash can before he has to throw up, heaving uncontrollably.

Is this still a dream or does he remember correctly? Is his mind playing tricks on him? It must be like that.

He’s shaking by the time he crawls back into bed, trying to reconstruct his days as Dabi. Back when he was hungry and alone, debating on what to do next.

He’d been so cold back then - but no, that wasn’t what he wanted to think about.

He doesn’t go to work that day.

His mother buys into his story about having an upset stomach - the trash can is proof enough. You text him something encouraging and a silly picture of a cartoon cat caring for a sick cartoon mouse.

He feels like that. Like the mouse that’s going to be eaten soon.

His past is at his neck now, fangs bared.

“Hey.” Shouto knocks at his door, “Do you wanna have dinner with us?”

“No, thank you.”

The door opens and he groans, buried under his blankets. “Just leave me alone.”

Shouto doesn’t listen but takes a place on the bed instead.

“Are you nervous about the hearing next week?”

“No. If we get lucky they’ll just lock me up.” The words slip out of him, as bitter as the bile he’d choked up that morning.

“Why would that make us lucky?”

“Oh, I don’t know? Because I’m a danger to society and deserve to be locked up.”

“Did you do something bad those last days?”

“Don’t have to. Already did enough for a lifetime.”

Shouto hums thoughtfully.

“What do you think your boss is going to say about you? At the hearing, I mean?”

Tears prick at his eyes and coat his voice.

“I don’t know. Just… I hope she says that I’m awful.”

A heavy weight drops onto him. Shouto curls around him like an oversized cat.

“What are you doing?” Touya chokes out as his younger brother tries to half-hug him.

“Most people like being touched when they’re sad. You seem sad.”

“God, you’re such an idiot.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No…” The word comes out quietly but Shouto must have heard it because he stays.

“Good morning.” You’re all smiles and sugar-sweet voice and he’s glad he hasn’t had breakfast yet, because the sight of you might have him vomiting again.

He closes the door of the greenhouse slowly, trying to forget how the apartment house next door looks finished already.

He’s never going to see the new shop. Never going to see you stand behind the new counter, or tend to your plants upstairs in your new apartment.

In an hour or so you’ll have to go for the official meeting with the judge, his rehabilitation officer, and all the other official people that will decide what to do with him.

Even if it feels impossible, he can’t let you close the shop for that, not when he’s still employed.

Also, you deserve to make an informed decision. To speak on his behalf knowing all of the truth, not just half.

“I need to tell you something.” Touya says, his voice wobbly. “About that fire you were in.”

“Are you sure you’re fine already?” You ask, stepping closer. “You’re really pale. I asked Rico if he could come and cover your shift while I was out. You should go back to bed and rest-”

“I set the fire.” He interrupts you, stepping back when you’re just about to touch him, probably to feel his temperature.

“What?” You ask, confusion visible on your face.

“I set the fire. At that school in Jinbocho.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I set that fire. I was in there and set the fire and I thought I was alone but I heard you scream and I couldn’t- I didn’t know how to save you properly.” He’s breathing hard now, panic already crawling up his gut. He’s going to vomit again, knows it even before the bile starts creeping up his throat.

The sweet tingle of a bell pulls him out of his frenzy and he turns to see Rico standing in the door, almost too broad to fit through.

“Oh, you’re fit again?”

“Can you take care of the shop for a second?” You ask before Touya can get a word in. “Touya and I need a minute.”

“Oh, sure.” Rico steps aside, a concerned look on his face as he takes in Touya’s face.

“You should rest, man. You don’t look too good.”

Your hand is curled around his hand - he doesn’t know when that happened - and you’re pulling him out of the greenhouse, down the street to the park.

He’s trying very hard to breathe, shivers racking through his body as he keeps moving without really thinking about it, just walking after you until you reach the blissfully empty park, the tracks muddy from last night's rain.

There’s a little building, just a roof, and three walls, but you direct him there, pulling him into the safety of it.

“Touya.” You say. “Talk to me.”

That pulls him out of his stupor and he pulls away from you and your too-soft touch.

“I think I told you everything you need to know.”

“Did you really?” You ask and he blinks.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“I did. But I’m wondering why you told me.”

“Because you need to know, obviously. Your opinion of me has a major impact on the hearing.”

“The hearing…” You pinch your brows and he stares at them, dread filling his chest at the thought that this might be the last time he sees you do that.

“Touya, can I touch you?” You ask, your voice calm and quiet, barely a whisper.

“Why would you?” He asks and you cock your head to keep eye contact.

“Can I?”

He shrugs and your hands are on his now, unfolding them gently. There are red marks, half-moon shaped, from his fingernails digging into the skin.

“I already knew that you did it.” You say. “Or at least I had a hunch. Your father would have been too big but you’re my age. I knew it had to be you, even if you didn’t remember it.”

His mouth is dry as he speaks. The words come out croaked, oddly misshapen.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He asks. You shrug.

“All I ever wanted was to know if my life measured up to what my savior wanted for me. If I had made myself worth saving. I guess… I guess I realized that that didn’t matter. That I wasn’t saved for a reason. I was just saved.”

Something wet is running down his face and he touches it, surprised to see the clear liquid on his hands.

“You’re crying.” You tell him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Didn’t know I could do that.” He rasps and chokes out a laugh, the sound so wrong at this moment. It breaks whatever shelter you created around him and he pulls away again, taking one step and then another.

“You will tell them at the hearing, okay?” He says, trying to get the words out before they fail him again. “That I did that. And I won’t bother you again.”

He turns to leave but stops in his tracks.

Directly in front of him grows a bush of peonies, the buds not open yet.

“I thought you loved me.” You say, exhaustion lacing your voice. “Why are you leaving now?”

“I set that fire!” He repeats, louder now, turning back to you again. “I set that fire! Don’t you understand?”

“I understand. I think you’re the one not understanding.” You raise your hands as if asking him to hold them.

“When you got accepted into the rehabilitation program, there was nothing left to forgive you. That’s what the judge is for. To decide if you deserve a new start. Who am I to declare them wrong?”

“But I did that to you!”

You grab his hands, hold them tight, and look straight into his eyes.

“Touya.” You say, your voice firm. “You did not go in there to burn me. But when you realized what you did, you saved me. Yes, you did a lot of bad things, but when you realized what you did, you did your best to save us all. That has to count for something. I forgive you. The system has forgiven you. What you need to do, is to forgive yourself.”

“But I-” He starts, unable to speak. Words are so hard to come by, and he doesn’t know the ones that would help him explain how he feels.

“Touya.” Your grip is firm. “You cannot undo what you were or what you did. You will be reminded of that all your life. But you’ve got another chance because you are able to change. Think about that.”

He’s quiet for a long time, trying to swallow what’s clogging his throat.

Your phone plays a little alarm tone and you sigh heavily.

“I have to go now. Touya, I usually don’t tell what I’m going to say, but I’ll tell you. I will say that you have proven yourself. Not because of your talent or your inability to hide your feelings. But you’ve shown that you care. You care for me and the plants, but also for our customers, your family, for Toga. You feel guilty for what you did and that guilt will follow you your whole life, but if you manage to let it settle, to live with it, you will live a life worth living.

He stays quiet and you get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his forehead.

“The door stays open.” You whisper before you leave.

He doesn’t come in the day after. Or the day after that.

He knows his family is worried, tiptoeing around his room and leaving food by his bed.

He’s refusing to speak and only Shouto is brave enough to climb into his bed in the evening, to curl around him like a cat.

But Shouto doesn’t speak either, so that’s okay.

On Friday he manages to get out of bed by four, to shower and comb haphazardly through his hair, knowing that his clothes look more like pajamas than anything else. He might have missed half a week of work but he won’t miss therapy. Even though he still doesn’t know what he’s going to tell his therapist.

Shouto’s at the door when he slips his shoes on, wordlessly grabbing the keys.

Touya avoids everyone’s eyes but there’s a heavy hand on his shoulder that can only belong to his father, pressing the sore muscle there, helping him into his jacket.

Natsuo presses his gloves into his hands, and takes them back without a word when Touya refuses to accept them. They were a gift from you and he can’t bear wearing them now.

Fuyumi is quick to hand him hers and he hates the glint of their piercings burning his eyes. No matter how much he rubs them, the tears won’t stop.

His mother’s there too, closing the buttons of his jacket for him as if he’s four years old again.

He hates his family for being there, being quiet when he can’t stand the sound of words, and accepting him even in his most broken state.

He wants to break apart and cry, right here in the entranceway, but Shouto’s hand is firm around his wrist, nodding toward the door.

Yeah. He still has therapy to get through first.

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Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part I

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 1: (1,9k)

Questioning his own sanity isn’t something he likes doing but standing in front of the tiny flower shop, Touya Todoroki can’t help but do so.

One year might have passed since the war, a year filled with intense therapy both on his body and mind, but still only a year and not a lifetime.

“Do you want to skip it?” Shouto asks behind him, eyes trailing over the display of flowers outside the shop, the amount of it almost blocking the sidewalk.

Had it been Fuyumi or Natsuo with him today, they’d already marched right inside, the two of them more annoyed with the lack of positive responses than he was.

But it’s Shouto who asked to accompany him today and Shouto like to ask for his opinion on every single thing first, whether it was which seat he preferred to sit in the car - the back seat - or how he liked his morning coffee - black, two pieces of sugar.

The flower shop is tiny, crammed into the small space between a coffee shop and a drugstore, with wooden chairs and tables covered in plants right outside the too-small windows.

He imagines the owner to be a little old lady, back arched under years of hard work. She’d throw him out the moment she realizes who he is. Or maybe it’s some uptight dick of a man, who thinks selling flowers is the hip thing to do. Which would end in a similar scenario, just maybe with more obscenities.

He’d been cleared to start work in the rehabilitation program, given a list of employers who offered a part-time job for ex-criminals for a small amount of financial assistance. But even if they offer part-time jobs, he still has to apply for them and pass. So far he’s only collected rejections.

A bell chimes as Touya opens the door and he can’t help but snort at the interior.

It feels like stepping into a tiny jungle, barely contained by the four walls of the building.

Cut flowers of all colors, sizes, and kinds are creatively dispersed between plants that grow up the walls or droop from the ceilings.

The smell is intoxicating and he can hear Shouto take a deep breath behind him.

“Hello?” He calls out when he can’t spot the owner. “I’m here for the interview?”

“Oh, of course.” A sweet, almost timid voice, calls out from the back, “Touya Todoroki, was it?”

He can hear the clicking of heels, a plant is pulled back and a smiling face appears.

That’s the first sign. This is his sixth interview this week and none of the others have been smiling at his sight.

The smile does not leave your lips when you step closer and he wonders for a second if you are visually impaired, until you offer him your hand to shake. Telling him your name, your eyes lock onto him and for only a heartbeat, he forgets to breathe.

That’s the second sign.

There is no anger in your eyes, no thinly veiled hatred for what he has done. But there is a kind of recognition in them that he knows well.

He shakes your hand as gently as he can, too aware of how small your hand feels in his.

“I brought my brother with me.” He stumbles over the words, stepping to the side as well as he can in the cramped space.

That’s the third sign. Your eyes widen at the sight of Shouto, and he spots a little shiver that you try to hide as you offer Shouto your hand as well.

Oh, well. You are cute, sure, but if you are into his brother, he won’t stand in the way.

Two hours later he steps out of the flower shop with a folder and a brand new job, starting tomorrow.

“Do you want to go for Soba?” Shouta asks next to him, seemingly unaffected by the news but phone already in hand, typing away.

Touya’s sure the family group chat is getting all the important information right now.

He looks down at the folder, his name on the official document.

He’s got a job.

Is this how it feels to be normal? To lead a normal life?

It feels a little weird.

“Sure.” He says instead. “Soba sounds good.”

🌺.

You’re humming a tune when he arrives, smiling when the bell signals his arrival.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s second-hand.” You tell him, holding out a bundle of green fabric. “But good aprons aren’t cheap and this one’s your size. If you feel uncomfortable with it, I will order a new one.”

“It’s fine.” He slips it on, fighting with the strings in the back.

“Can I help?” You ask and he nods, teeth clamped together against the uncomfortable feeling of being useless.

“I’ll go over everything again. If you remember something, feel free to chip in. I know it’s a lot of stuff to remember, especially when you’ve never worked in this field before, so we’ll go over it every morning until you feel comfortable with it.”

The days pass like this.

You’re here before him, helping him tie that stupid little knot at the back so his apron stays on, leading him through the shop to go over the flowers.

On Friday he can name almost all of them, only mixing up the gerbera and Coneflower Daisy. He helps you carry out the flowers you choose for the display that day and mans the till the rest of the day where you teach him how to tie ribbons and how to cut stems so that they last longer.

The shop doesn’t get many customers, a few old ladies that are too blind or too polite to recognize him, always choosing the cheapest flowers for the bouquets, cooing when you add a surprise flower without charging for it.

A few students pass by who buy single-cut flowers or look at the prizes of the bigger plants and skiddle out awkwardly.

And of course, there are some guys who come in, obviously in the quest of flirting with you, but you’re either too oblivious to get the hints or too polite to act on it. Whatever the case, he throws them menacing looks until they leave.

So far, no one has made a fuss about him being there and he wonders if his new skin grafts are really that good or if people have gotten more polite since he went into therapy.

🌺.

Right now you’re walking up and down the shop, looking over the cut flowers and mumbling to yourself.

He guesses that whatever you’re coming up with at the end of your mumbling session will involve more learning for him so he leaves you to it and enjoys the chance of getting to look at you.

You don’t dress overly cutesy, not like Toga who loved making herself look younger than she was. The white shirt you’re wearing under your own green apron accentuates your curves even more than the outfit you’d worn on Monday. If only Shouto would come by like he had asked him to, even offering to buy him lunch, but his younger brother’s swamped with work.

You turn to look at him, catching him in the act of wondering how you managed to make your ponytail look so fluffy.

“Are you with your family this weekend, Toya-kun?”

“Uh… yes.” Where’s this going?

“That’s great. How many members does your family have? Including you?”

“Uh, five. My parents, my three siblings, and me.”

“Five? That’s perfect.”

“How so?”

“Oh. There’s something about uneven numbers that feels more comfortable to the human eye. There’s something about unevenness and imperfection that’s comforting.”

Something heavy settles in his gut, but not like the negative feelings he knows. This one feels new and yet familiar, like when you’ve finished a bowl of your favorite food.

“What would you have done if we’d been six people?”

“That’s a lecture for another day.” You tell him, beckoning him over to the cut flowers.

“I allow all my employees to make one free bouquet per week. This will be your first. Pick one flower for each of your family members. Don’t think too much about if they’ll match or not, just go with your gut.”

He huffs and looks at the buckets of flowers.

There are white lilies and flowers as red as his father’s hair. There are roses and tulips that are a wild mix of red and white. But wouldn’t that be too easy?

He looks again and his eye catches on a deep purple China Aster. Purple used to be the color of royalty, he remembers, and his mother had always felt regal to him.

“This one for my mother.” He says quietly and you take the flower from him.

Next is a bright yellow Gerbera for his father, just because of the dichotomy of it. The flower had always felt passive-aggressive to him, but also cheerful, like someone trying to overcome past aggression by being extra positive.

A blue silk flower for Fuyumi because blue is her favorite color no matter how much she likes to deny that and lavender for Natsuo because it’s the only medicinal plant he recognizes. Finally, he hands a light pink tulip over, the flower always reminding him of innocence and naivety, something he still connects to his youngest brother.

“You’re missing one flower.” You remind him softly.

“Oh.” He looks down at them in your hands and laughs awkwardly. “I guess I forgot myself.”

But when he takes in all the flowers, none of them speak to him and he feels himself becoming increasingly frustrated.

“Alright. I’ll allow it this time.” You say softly next to him and he turns, a little confused by your words.

“Hold out your hand, Toya-kun.” He does and you hold your own hand above it, not touching him but the space between is so small he can feel your presence.

Something heavy drops into his hand and he pulls it down to reveal a thick green bulb with a stem rapidly growing from its end.

“What’s that?”

“A peony. Sadly they’re not in season right now and this little one doesn’t want to show its face yet. You might have better luck in a day or two.” You hand him the other flowers and point at the greenery to the side.

“Now we need all the side characters to complete the picture.” You pull out different things, like Aspidistra and Bear Grass and some Israeli Ruscus Green, calling them the house they lived in, the rooms that housed them, the beds that carried them.

He’s still a little stunned by you showing your quirk like that when you hand him the greenery and point to the table next to the till.

“Now, make your first Bouquet. You know how to do it but I’ll be there to help if you need me.”

🌺.

“Oh, what a lovely bouquet.” His mother claps a hand to her mouth at the sight of the flowers. “Did you make that yourself?”

“I did, actually.” He feels immensely proud of it and just a little bit awkward about the words that follow, repeating them after you.

“Every flower resembles one of you but you have to guess who’s who.”

Rei studies the bouquet that so obviously lacks white or red and blinks in confusion.

Toya can feel a satisfied smirk growing. You were right. This is kinda fun.

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