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English
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Published:
2018-06-20
Words:
2,176
Chapters:
1/1
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24
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991
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Summary:

“I’m a villain now. I won’t deny that. But some people are the worst types of villains. They’re the ones who hide behind the word ‘hero’. I don’t need to be the hero.”

The words send a shiver down Shouto’s spine.

Alternatively: Dabi sort of rescues Shouto. Shouto wants to ask Dabi why he left him. It seems like he asks every question but.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Shouto wakes up naturally, a few amber sunbeams filtering through the dull blue curtains and running up and over his legs. Chickens clucked sleepily outside of his window, but there isn’t much sound apart from that. The birds haven’t yet awoken, but the fact that the sun is already up is what truly shakes him. He can only remember ever waking up to an alarm clock or to his father; never on his own. And while it was still quite early, Shouto was meant to be up and moving at dawn every morning without fault.

He just sits still for a few moments after pulling himself into a reclined position, not sure what to do. The room is pretty bare, like the person staying here either wasn't quite moved in or simply never came home. The ragged comforter over his lower half had tiny sunflowers stitched into them with scorch marks here and there. Shouto wonders if he did it in his sleep.

The tranquility of having no task at hand soon shatters into bloodcurdling panic when the bedroom door opens.

It was him.

So much about him was different. Scarlet hair was now deep strands of black, and smooth skin was scarred purple, stapled back into place and beyond healing. But his eyes, those blue jewel eyes, were unchanged.

Shouto reaches out his right hand but a pang of pain makes it falter. His ice quirk, something he’d mastered before he could read, felt foreign beneath his skin.

“I don’t recommend doing that.” His brother, his big brother, Dabi, said evenly, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re pretty messed up right now.”

It was weird. The entire situation was surreal. And was Dabi filtering himself?

“Wh-where am I? Why am I here?” Shouto demands, narrowing his eyes. He makes to stand and hates himself for the soft yelp that escapes his lips when something shifts near his ribcage.

“Hey, knock it off. Didn't you hear me? You’re covered in injuries.”

“Go. Or I’ll make you.” Shouto lifts his left hand this time, which felt much easier on the broken ribs located on the right side of his body.

Dabi’s eyes scan him, summing him up. His arms are still crossed, and his lazy posture and voice suggest his usual unbothered attitude hadn’t changed despite Shouto’s threat.

“It was him, huh? You had to go home for break or something, am I right? What pissed him off so badly that he’d do this to his masterpiece?”

Shouto bites his bottom lip, brow furrowing. They both knew Shouto wouldn't use his flames. Not when he was hurt and had such little control. He hated his brother’s tone. He hated how easy he was to talk to.

He…

He was a villain.

“Fine, don’t talk. But you’re going to calm down and take it easy for one goddamn second of your life.” He then let an amused smirk curl his bottom lip. “Don’t look so angry, little brother. We both know you won’t go to a hospital. They’d ask questions, and you’re still protecting the old bastard, aren’t you?”

“That’s not it at all!” Shouto can’t help but say, fingers curling into fists despite how utterly weak and useless his body felt.

“That so?” Dabi muses boredly, pulling away from the doorframe to come closer to the bed. “Huh. Heard you chose him as your intern guide. He your new hero or somethin’?”

Shouto grinds his teeth, looking down resolutely. All Might and Midoryia were still the bravest people he'd ever met, no matter how many people Endeavor had saved. “You have it wrong.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to take you out.”

Shouto tightened his fists even more, jaw setting itself firmly while he sat up even more despite the pain. “That’s what you’ve been doing!” he shouts angrily. He’s furious and Dabi doesn’t even react. Doesn’t even look bothered.

“Everything I do that is considered wrong has a purpose.”

“What? You- you’re a kidnapper and a murderer! You’re the bad guy!”

Dabi holds his gaze for a moment. “That really what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“You think I’m worse than him, don’t you?” Dabi takes a small step forward. It doesn’t scare Shouto as much as it should. The room is empty and the sounds outside seem muted. It's just the two of them, opening up for once. “Just because he hides behind the title 'hero'... that doesn’t make him any better than me.”

“You kidnapped my friend.”

“And Endeavor beat you. Beat your mother. Beat me. Why aren’t you trying to stop him?”

Shouto glares away, jaw set firmly.

“You don’t even know, do you? That’s sad, little brother.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“I’m not your brother but that monster is still your father?” Dabi laughs dryly. “I thought all those private tutoring sessions you got as a kid would make you smarter.”

“He’s a scumbag. I’m not confused. I’m just saying fighting…” Shouto cuts himself off. Fire with fire was a little too literal for this conversation. “I’m saying you’re not any better.”

Dabi strides forward slowly, pulling the covers from Shouto. He reaches out a scarred hand, lifting Shouto’s t-shirt to reveal a large, black and purple bruise around his stomach.

“Some people are allowed to use violence. You know what they get? Fame. Fortune. Flattery. Other people… they get thrown out to rot. Doesn’t sound like justice to me.”

Shouto didn’t know what to say. Midoryia had once quoted All Might. Mentioned something about bad guys saying whatever seemed logical so you can sympathize, or something.

Dabi sits down on the bed, and the two boys just look at each other every so often.

“You can relax a little. I’m not going to hurt you. I had plenty of chances to do that when I carried you here.”

Carried him here, huh? Where had he passed out after his ten hour sparring session yesterday? He can't even remember. Despite himself, Shouto allows his body to loosen, if only a little bit.

Dabi runs a hand over the scraggly comforter. Every so often a loose thread would catch on one of the staples. He looked like a monster fresh out of a fairytale. One that heroic Endeavor would slay to save the day. Strangely, despite his crimes, Shouto wasn’t anywhere near as afraid of Dabi as he was of his own father.

“I know why you haven’t done anything about the old man. You’re protecting them. You’re protecting everyone. Or at least, you're trying to.” Dabi mutters. “That's how we're different, you and I. You try to help people and I show them the truth. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. Why he was still out and about. You don’t want to deprive the world of the number two hero. But more than that, you think you owe it to our siblings to let them have a father, no matter how disgusting.” Dabi’s hand flexes, the staples at his wrist glimmering in the filtered sunlight. He was always composed, but the thought of Endeavor seemed to get under his skin. “You don’t owe it to them. You don’t owe anyone shit.”

Shouto shifts and he’s more uncomfortable with the conversation than with his injured body. His older brother always could read him when nobody else could. They both were known to keep the emotions off of their faces and out of their voices until they reached a breaking point.

“You’re the youngest and they haven’t done shit to protect you. Too jealous of their baby brother’s dual-quirk to rescue him. They acted like you were living a privileged life. You got all of dad’s attention. A private tutor. The most training. Only a fool would mistake that for privilege. You’ve been punished for being born since the day that asshole saw the color of your eyes."

“They’re nicer now.”

Dabi ignores the pathetic contribution to the conversation. Shouto doesn’t blame him.

“Hell, I was a little jealous at first. Mom was terrified of me. My hair, my eyes, my quirk. You all had your ice and white hair, but I was just a clone of the man that had enslaved her. And I knew he was going to treat you the same as her, maybe even worse.” Dabi’s lip tugs into a painful smile. “You were so scared of fire. Remember that?”

Of course Shouto remembered that. Hell, he was still scared of fire from time to time. He had nightmares of Endeavor's painful punishments, Dabi's blue flames, and his own power consuming him.

“I wasn’t always afraid.” he mumbled. “Because you had a fire quirk.” The rest of his thought is implied. His brother- rather, Dabi, always protected him to the best of his ability. Even if that was showing him that fearsome flames could be pretty if you just controlled them.

“I’m a villain now. I won’t deny that. But some people are the worst types of villains. They’re the ones who hide behind the word ‘hero’.”

Shouto outright shudders at that.

Dabi stands and leaves the room. Despite the pain in his abdomen, Shouto follows.

They’re in a very small house. One bedroom, it seemed. The kitchen was only a little bigger than that of a hotel room. Shouto shuffles to a small, fold-up table with two mismatched chairs. He sits down, trying not to let the air wheeze out of his lungs.

“What are you doing?” he asks. Dabi had two mugs that he was placing on the yellowed plate of a boxy microwave.

“Making tea.” He glances at Shouto from his peripherals. “The thought of using a kettle doesn’t exactly keep me soothed.”

Shouto lifts a hand to his left eye, running over the texture of the burn.

 

There’s something that feels inherently wrong about having a cup of tea with the guy who kidnapped Katsuki. But there’s also something comforting about having a cup of tea with his favorite sibling.

“You’re overthinking something.”

“You’re a bad guy.”

“Yep. Now finish the tea before it gets cold. Suppose you could just use your quirk.”

Dabi lazily ignites a blue flame on his palm. No way he could use his to warm a drink. The hell flame would boil the contents and shatter the mug in a split-second.

There were lots of questions Shouto wanted to ask. Did Dabi really believe in Shigaraki’s motives? Did he own this house? How did he find him? Why does he have chickens?

Why did he leave me?

Shouto lifted his cracked, red mug to his lips but faltered. It fell from his fingers, hitting the floor loudly and rolled away as the warm tea spilled out onto the stained linoleum. Dabi glanced over as the younger boy brings a hand to his ribs in pain, gasping and nearly falling to the floor.

“I should probably return you to that old lady. The nurse at your school.”

Shouto gritted his teeth but didn’t reply. Dabi just sort of hovers over him, not offering help but surely too uncomfortable watching Shouto’s pain to ignore it. Like it was instinctual for Dabi to care about his wellbeing. Finally, he can’t take it anymore.

“You could’ve been a hero.” Shouto mutters through his pain. “Your fire is stronger than mine. Maybe stronger than Dad’s. You could’ve gone to school and become a hero that you’re proud to be.”

“He wouldn’t let me apply to U.A.”

“It didn’t have to be U.A.!”

“I don’t need to be the hero.” The words send a shiver down Shouto’s spine. “I follow Stain’s ideology because I believe in it. The qualities that I think of when I imagine a hero- a true hero; that’s the lifestyle I follow. And if I have to call myself a villain to follow what I believe in, well. That’s fine by me.”

Shouto feels tears sting the backs of his eyes, but he won’t cry. Not here, not now, hopefully not ever. He wrenches his gaze from his pained side to look up into those summer blue eyes to ask his final question.

“What if Stain put me on his kill list?”

“He didn’t. You're supposed to be the hero. You have heroic qualities, little brother-”

"What if he had.”

The silence is thick and uncomfortable, memories of a redhaired boy carrying a crying toddler, cheering him up with little blue flames at his fingertips, secret meetings in bedrooms when the thunder was too loud. When the screaming was too loud. When the sobbing was too loud. The memory of a calm voice murmuring, “You don’t need to be afraid, Shouto.” was interlaced with a sneering, “Poor little Shouto Todoroki.”

And that’s when it hits him all at once.

This young man may resemble his brother. He still sounds like his brother and, to an extent, he even looks like his brother.

But the big brother who desperately shielded him from premature pressure and pain, terror that coursed through their family like a disease...

He was gone.

Notes:

i thought of this whole thing when i was half-conscious. this was supposed to be a nice story about Dabi and Shouto seeing eye-to-eye, but clearly i love to project at midnight. i'll regret not getting a proof-reader tomorrow.

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