Chapter Text
Shouto wakes up in pain and it's surprising how unsurprising that experience is to him.
The ceiling is grey and damp, an industrial space by the looks of it and when he tries to lift himself up, he finds that both his hands are cuffed together to a pillar.
He doesn't even have to try to know that his quirks are suppressed but he does, just to be obvious and his powers flare up and fizzle into nothing.
There is a low chuckle from the corner of the dark space. Shouto freezes for a moment before he rests his head against the pillar and sighs.
“Dabi.” He says flatly, meeting the dark blue eyes shining at him.
Touya uncrosses his legs and grins wildly. “Come on Sho, you screamed so desperately for me at the end there, I felt obligated to bring you back with me, so I know you know my name.”
Shouto huffs. It's..the situation is oddly amusing to him in a very macabre way. He has been built like that, years of isolation and abuse gives anyone a dark sense of humor and away from the battlefield, in this stereotypical location, it just hits him. His dead older brother comes to life to kill his father and avenge his treatment at the man's hands. Really, what was his life? A Telenovela whose primary audience was the old age home?
“Touya-nii.” He corrects and watches with the same dark amusement as Touya almost falls down from where he's standing against the wall, ruining his cool pose and dark vibes.
“What.” He chokes. “Wait. No, Nope. Dabi is fine.”
Shouto tries to get into a more comfortable position and brings his legs under him and shifts closer to the pillar, huddling up. He's dressed in some warm sweatshirt and too long pants, but it's clearly night-time and it's fucking cold.
“Touya nii-san.” He tries out, feeling the words in his mouth, heavy and clumsy but not unwelcome. Surprisingly even less unwelcome than it had been to call Natsuo that or even at times.. admittedly Fuyumi.
Something about their more or less willing distance from him, and the different experiences they had in the same home, made Shouto feel less like their sibling and more like a dirty dish rag than he felt like admitting.
This, unfamiliar, person who clearly had almost fucking died and then become a villain, who had suffered the same abuse Shouto had..Well, half of him was doing it because as Katsuki liked to say, Todoroki Shouto was a hidden brat, but the other half was because it felt way more natural to him.
Seemingly his nii-san did not share the thought.
“No.” Touya said, pointing a finger at him, voice snappy but in a bewildered way. “No. Stop that.” His eyes were round but without the manic energy he had on the battlefield. Just taken aback. “What the fuck dude, I tried to kill you like two days ago.” Touya said, sounding even more bewildered that he had to be the one that pointed it out.
Shouto blinked lazily at him. “The hug was nice.” He offered.
Touya gaped for a second, before suddenly pushing off the wall and striding towards Shouto, who didn't even feel like putting in the effort to flinch back as the older man dropped down close to him, weight on his ankles.
“Shit, Little Shouto.” Touya whispered in wonder. “You're fucked up, aren't you?”
Shouto suppressed a half smile too late, and Touya fell down on his butt in further shock.
“Why are you surprised?” Shouto fired back.
“Huh.” Touya echoed dumbly.
“I was under the same man's abuse for even longer than you, is it a surprise to you that I'm quote, ‘fucked up’?” His tone of voice was what Katsuki further labelled as ‘huffy ice princess’ but Shouto called a dignified disgruntled.
“Er.”
And now Shouto was on a roll.
“And on that topic, why the fuck do you want to kill me anyway?” His lips pressed together in frustration.
Touya leaned close, fascinated.
“Are you fucking pouting at me right now?” He whispered.
Shouto ignored him with ease, he was long used to ignoring whatever he didn't want to hear, Izuku had in one of his odd ramblings theorized that he'd be perfect for Katsuki and nearly got himself blown up.
“Really, what makes you think I was delighted to be beaten into the ground by our father for more than eleven years every single day?” He drolled on.
Touya raised an eyebrow, “When did I say that?”
Shouto hissed, uncharacteristically.
“You want to kill me because I'm his masterpiece and got all the attention that Fuyumi, Natsuo and then you, failed to get?”
This was years of resentment, boiling down in Shouto, which he'd never been able to express in front of his other siblings, because he always felt like he would be a shitty person if he told them that he'd take their neglect at their Father's hand over Endeavor's attention anyday.
Everyday where he broken ribs, broken bones, bad burns, aching limbs, watching the clock in their dojo, watching it tick and tick and just waiting for it to end—
He would have taken not being seen by Endeavour over his father's hard assessing eyes casually seeing how much damage was dealt and how much more he could take.
But in front of his oldest brother, he felt no compulsion to hold back.
And it felt alright to be bitter in front of someone already so bitter.
“They didn't but you know what that attention entails, what makes you think I asked, desired or in any way wanted that—”
Touya had mentioned that he had seen his father get physical with Shouto as well, but he didn't know the extent. He was gone before Shouto truly started blooming and Endeavour, a hurricane of growing greed began pushing to limits like never before, because Shouto was his masterpiece, and he could take way more damage than anyone else.
“Do you know—” He pulled at his wrists, “He snapped my right wrist, clean off because he wanted to discourage me using my ice and so I fought for three hours with a bone sticking out of my skin when I was nine? And that wasn't even the worst of it? You're the only one who understands,” He heaved, eyes stinging.
“So what did I do to deserve to be killed by you, nii-san?”
Touya stared and stared for a minute until Shouto got almost embarrassed. He didn't do emotional meltdowns. Sometimes he divulged information about his past with a straight face that made others stare in horror but he didn't do this, so after another quiet awkward minute, he fidgeted a little bit.
“Sorry.” He looked down as he said that. “I didn't mean—
“Fuck.” His older brother whispered, cranking his neck up to stare at the ceiling, “Fuck.” He said again.
Touya dragged fingers over his scarred face, and looked at him in frustration. “Fuck you, Sho. I— Fuuuuuuucccck .” He said collapsing forward, head in his hands.
Touya heaved his head up after some deep breaths and looked towards the side, eyebrows drawn together.
“You know you're asking for reasoning from a villain right?” He questioned.
Shouto nodded slowly.
“I—I figured there would be nothing that would hurt our dear old father more than his failure killing his masterpiece in front of him.” Touya confessed. “It's not really about you.”
Shouto internalised that for a still moment and then laughed dryly.
“What?” Touya asked with a frown.
“Touya-nii.” Shouto began with a dark amusement curling up in his heart, pushing out the pain.
“Don—
“You're really not that different from Father.” His tone was just his dull ‘this is analytical information’, one that he often used in battles, devoid of any emotion.
“Really now?” Touya grinned in his odd combination of sharp and lazy.
“Yes. Father only ever saw me as a tool to beat All-Might with and you only see me as a tool to beat him with.”
Shouto explained, and now his intense desire to know seemed more childish than anything. He should have known what his primary purpose of existence was.
His brother had an unreadable look on his face when Shouto met his stare again.
“Our father only began to try after he already realised his goals,” He further added, because that was true wasn't it? If All-Might wasn't forced to retire, Enji Todoroki would have continued to be the same man, abuse and all, with no further thought. Only after his greed and goals were satisfied and then felt unsatisfactory, did he deign to introspect. A self serving man to the end. So maybe after Touya's seemingly lifelong dream came true..
“Maybe after you kill me, you can try to become a better person too, oniisan.”
He joked and hoped and didn't know which side his statement leaned on more.
There was a rush of air and then Shouto was pressed against the pillar, Touya's hand on his throat, and his face right by Shouto's ear.
“Shut the fuck up, ototo .” Shouto's breath hitched.
What.
And then Touya fucking collapsed, as if the strings holding him up were cut together in one go, burying his head into Shouto's neck.
The.
And there was now definitely a drop of water sliding down his neck, which definitely also wasn't sweat because it was freezing.
Fuck.
Shouto didn't move for what seemed like eternity. But then..er. This was really awkward. He wiggled in place and felt Touya stiffening. Shouto wanted to protest. It wasn't as if he wanted to disturb whatever was going on but..
“Touya…..Nii…?” Shouto whispered, wiggling again.
“What.”
Shouto looked towards the other side of the building and closed his eyes, really fucking embarassed.
“I have to pee.”
There was a moment of absolute silence where Touya was completely still against Shouto.
Then…
There was an odd hacking sound,
Which he realised was Touya Todoroki fucking laughing.
The man finally separated himself from what Shouto only on pain of being burnt, wasn't outright calling a hug, and continued cackling.
“Now that is a sibling interaction ten years too late.”
Shouto glared.
**
“Disgusting.” Shouto commented flatly once he was done with his business and washing his hands which was kind of difficult to do properly when they were cuffed together, as he saw the state of the bathroom. There was definitely some creature growing in the mold there. The front should recruit it for their agenda.
“Ah?" Touya grumbled, “Are you a fucking princess or what?”
“If you hadn't literally kidnapped him, you would get along so well with Katsuki.”
Touya met his eyes in the peeling mirror and smirked.
“Katsuki?”
Shouto tilted his head. “Yes?”
He didn't understand why everyone said that in a particular tone.
Touya snorted. “Airhead.”
“What?” Shouto said, greatly affronted. “I'm consistently in the top five in academics, I—
“Clueless airhead.” Touya interrupted in the most incredibly annoying tone that Shouto had heard, before pulling Shouto into his side with a hand across his shoulders. “And short too.” He added, admiring the difference with an unbearably smug look.
Shouto scowled. “I'm not short, you're tall. And I'm still growing.”
“That's what people destined to be short say,” Touya leaned onto his shoulder to probably emphasize his height and lazily drawled.
Shouto turned around in a flash, and then wiped his wet hands all over Touya's shirt before waddling out.
(Because his legs had been cuffed together too after he refused to pee in a bottle, the disgrace)
“Short, petty, clueless airhead.” Touya yelled.
**
“I'm hungry.” Shouto declared midway to the pillar.
Touya, walking in front of him, turned around with a raised eyebrow, as if asking 'so?'
“I don't think starvation is quite the way you plan to kil—
“Fuck, fine.” Touya rounded and began walking in a different direction and Shouto followed obediently.
“Wow, this place has a kitchen.”
But there really wasn't much emotion in Shouto's voice when he remarked that because Touya was just pointing at it.
“What?”
“Make yourself something.”
“...”
“I don't know how to cook.” He mentioned delicately.
“You. You what?” Touya questioned incredulously. “You are sixteen, what do you mean you don't know how to cook!”
Shouto pursed his lips and looked away. He just never really had to. There was a chef at the estate and a mess at the dorms. Though they did have a kitchen too, that was mostly Katsuki's empire. When Shouto had expressed the same sentiment to him, Katsuki had sneered and called him—
“Spoiled brat.” Touya said under his breath.
That .
“You really would get along well with him..” Shouto mumbled.
“Yeah, maybe I'll have weekly sessions with the live grenade to despair about people who don't know basic life skills.” Touya snapped back, walking over to open the fridge.
“Hmm.” Shouto replied. “What are you making?”
“Why, you got a fucking wish?” Touya snarked.
“Yes.” Shouto monotoned. “Cold Soba.”
He stilled. “Ah.”
“What?" Shouto demanded.
“You're still obsessed with cold soba?” There was a weird wistful look on his brother's face so Shouto didn't say, ‘you remember?’ like he originally wanted to. Even he could sometimes read social cues.
“Yes. I want it.” He insisted.
Touya spluttered, “I am not making fucking soba .”
“Katsuki can.” Shouto said, primly.
Touya pinched his nose and exhaled, “Okay, you want soba. I'll fucking make you some soba. The best soba you'll ever see. Firecracker will cry if he eats my soba.” He murmured darkly, opening and shutting various cupboards.
Shouto observed from his place and hid his smile in his hands.
And suddenly he was overwhelmed with what his life could have been with Touya still in it. Natsuo and him had made some overturns but—
There was something truly warm in his tummy as he realised this is what having Touya as his older brother would be like.
Minus of course all the kidnapping and the murderous intentions ofcourse.