#it’s just an endless cycle of ‘be the hero get gravely injured pass on the flame’

[a-literal-toaster-wtf]

anyone ever think about how collectively the aces ultimate goal is to die because . boy do i

[proclaimersofheroes]

The Cracks In Our Family

 For @gentrychild​, and their lovely nonnies. Feast, vampires and loyalists!  https://archiveofourown.org/works/24644959 For those who prefer ao3 He didn't want to go back. 

Crawling back to that house, after all that man had done to him? No.

He'd found the family grave, his name washed of the red that had declared him still alive. What ashes had they used? What bones? 

It took a lot of effort and a crowbar to get into the storage underneath the Todoroki family grave. But, after living so long on the street it hadn't made him that much more grimy.

Urns lined the space neatly. Blue eyes fell on the newest looking one, and his hands hovered over it.

He was sweating, his throat felt tight. The hammering of his heart in his chest should prove beyond all doubt that he was alive.

Right?

 A small breeze ruffled matted white hair. Patchy skin itched and sagged, dirty clothes and skin threatening infection along burns that were prepared to split open. The earlier birdsong was drowned out by the memory of hearing his father read out an obituary for him. 

"Todoroki Touya was a determined young man, and a budding hero. Even with the control he was taught, his flames were too powerful for his body. Had he only better restraint and better health, my eldest son would not have been taken from us so soon."

A bitter laugh bubbled from singed lips. Todoroki Enji, the 'hero' Endeavor, didn't know the meaning of the word restraint. Not when it came to catching villains, not when it came to chasing All Might's back. Not when it came to hiding his distaste of people. Not when it came to breeding and abusing Touya's mom.

 Not when it came to beating and burning Touya, little Shoto.

 He couldn't laugh any more, bile bubbling up from an empty, roiling stomach instead. The smell of burning flesh, of intense pain so great before it turned cold and numb. Visits to doctors with medical quirks who were passed fistfulls of money to keep quiet. Little baby Shoto, not even fully reading and writing hiragana or katakana, covered in massive bruises and sobbing on the floor.

Todoroki Enji had control over everything from his fire to his family to his words, but he never bothered with restraint. Always more, always faster, always hotter.

 Always Touya taking his ire, to try and spare Shoto and his mom. 

If he thought Touya was dead, who would protect his mom and siblings?

 He knew he had to go back.

 He couldn't. 

Go home.

Run away. 

Go home. 

Run away. 

Something wet dripped on Touya. It startled him out of his endless turmoil, the cycle of indecision. Blue eyes blinked, and when Touya touched his face his fingers came away bloody. "Shit," another drop landed on him, and Touya wondered where else he was bleeding from now.

But no, while Touya had been trapped in his own head clouds had moved in. The sun was lower in the sky, painting orange across the distant horizon while dripping clouds puffed up all purple and blue. He had to get under shelter. 

But first, Touya braced himself for what he had come here to check. Lifting the lid of 'his' urn, the young man peered inside. 

Well. It seemed even in death he had been replaced.

___

It seemed that scars made you look untrustworthy, even these days. 

Normal people avoided him, at the first glimpse of his charred flesh and grungy appearance. He was covered in filth from living outdoors, begging and dumpster diving for scraps. His previously white shirt was yellow, grey and brown with mostly unknown stains, grey shorts tattered as he'd scavenged and had to tear strips for bandages. 

Criminals and lowlifes seemed split between whether his scars meant that he was dangerous, or that he was weak and easy pickings. His fire had scared them off easily enough, but there were a few who had caught him off guard.

Of course, there were nice people on the streets too. Homeless, those down on their luck or kicked out due to their quirks. Or lack of, in quite a few cases. A foreigner named Jane had shared her meager meal with him last week, after he'd scared off some black-tongued addicts trying to steal from her. 

It was hard to keep hold of any morals out here. But he wouldn't be like his father, who didn't care which villains died in his arrests. No, 'Dabi' as he went by now would not be a murderer. 

Of course, Dabi would be dead soon if he didn't do something. The teen hissed as he pressed at the tattered edge of his scars. The bubble under dead flesh moved slowly, until he was able to extract the pus from the infected area. 

The shelters were overcrowded, the hospitals would ask questions he couldn't answer. 

But, there was one place he knew of that was always stocked with medical supplies. A hot shower. Washing machines. Food.

Pushing off the wall of the alley, Dabi looked towards the sky. It would be late by the time he reached his old home. That was just fine for him, everyone would be asleep. 

He skulked down the streets and alleys, doing his best to act natural, act like he wasn't planning on breaking and entering a 'hero's' home. The sun cast a long shadow, eventually taking most light with it. 

In blues and greys, Dabi traveled, staying out of the illumination of street lamps. The night turned cool, causing shivers along what nerves hadn't been burnt out. By now, Dabi was used to moving in the dark. For some reason, he suspected that his eyesight was better at night than it was before his untimely and mysterious 'death.'

Even having left the place two months ago, Dabi would never forget it. Large imposing gates, locked and barred for the night, before a traditional japanese mansion. 

But it wasn't his first time sneaking into the place, remembering nighttime escapades with Natsuo whenever he wasn't too injured. The hole was right where it had always been, hiding behind hydrangeas. His malnutrition made it even easier to squeeze through. 

As ridiculous as it was, the spare key was where it had always been too, under a false rock by the empty koi pond. 

Silently delighting in dirtying Enji's immaculate home, bare toes rubbed on the waxed floorboards as Dabi tried to decide what he wanted to do first.

___

Shoto needed to pee. 

That was the first and only thought, that led him to carefully crawl out of bed. Rubbing at his eyes, the little boy carefully looked either way down the hall. No one was around, which meant Shoto was free to leave his room. 

All the lights were off, his family sound asleep. Oh so quietly, delicately, Shoto tiptoed with the wall to guide him. He couldn't remember who it was who taught him that the floorboards nearest the wall were quietest, but it was good to remember when he didn't want to catch his father's attention. 

The bathroom was found without incident, and Shoto silently closed the door behind him before turning on the light. It felt damp in the room, for some reason. Little brows furrowed in confusion, but nature's call was too pressing. 

When he stepped onto the stool to wash his hands, Shoto frowned at having to wipe the mirror. Water droplets clung to the smooth surface, and now his hand. Was the mirror sweating? 

When he left the bathroom, Shoto left the door open behind him. Maybe the extra air would cool off the mirror. 

There was a faint rattle from below, followed by a word he didn't know, and the little boy froze. Was someone awake after all? 

His parent's door was closed and dark, so it wasn't his father at least. Peering down, a faint light was visible from the kitchen. 

Juggling between just going to bed and investigating, Shoto's curiosity won in the end. Being as quiet as he could, Shoto snuck down the hallway and then carefully felt out the stairs one by one so he wouldn't trip. 

Reaching the ground floor, he continued his silent quest. His siblings' rooms were dark and quiet too, but he could hear a quiet rumbling as he passed the laundry room. 

No one was supposed to do laundry at nighttime, and Shoto grew worried for whoever it was.

There was something moving around in the kitchen, something big. He could hear the heavy breathing, the crunch of food being bitten into. Was it a villain? 

No, villains attacked people. Focusing, Shoto held out his left hand and called up some fire. It burst to life, traveling up his arm and into his hair. 

His pajamas were fireproof, but the boy didn't even focus on that. No, instead of that he saw blue eyes flash in the light, heard the clatter of the plate and utensils as whatever was in the kitchen flailed and disappeared.

Again he heard that call. "Fuck!" quiet, fast, and Shoto wasn't even sure if it was a word. Slowly, he circled around to get a better look. 

"Hello?" he called in a whisper, and got a response.

"Shh! Shh, shh, shh." Illuminated in his light was a poof of white, retreating away from him backwards. Reflective blue eyes framed by black circles, a large mouth opened with the remains of a sandwich in it swallowed by black. 

In his surprise, Shoto lost control and the fire went out. The boy was left blinking in rapid confusion as he tried to adjust to the sudden darkness. "Hello?" Shoto tried again, and got no response. 

He didn't dare try his fire again, instead fumbling around in the dark for a bit. Whatever small thing had been making a sandwich in the kitchen must be gone. Shoulders slumping in disappointment, Shoto carefully made his way back to bed. 

In the morning, it was a surprise to get some time with his remaining brother. When he mentioned his encounter, the bigger boy frowned. "Are you sure it wasn't a dream?" 

"There was a mess in the kitchen." he pointed out. "Bits of bread and lettuce and meat." Natsuo at least seemed to consider this seriously. 

"Touya used to say we had racoons and tanuki come in sometimes." His tone held sorrow, and Shoto tucked himself more into his brother's side. Ever since Touya had died four months back, the hole in their family hadn't closed up. "Maybe they're back. What did it look like again?" 

Shoto thought back, through the haze of having woken up in the middle of the night. "It was scared of my fire. And was big, had reflective eyes. Lots of black and white, with circles around its eyes."

"Yep, sounds like a raccoon to me."