"Todoroki – watch out!"

"Shit" Shoto cursed under his breath, throwing up a jagged ice wall just in time to block another barrage of daggers flying his way.

This fight had been going on for much too long. Parts of Shoto's hero costume were torn and blood seeped into the fabric from the daggers he hadn't been able to block or dodge. His breath came out in ragged pants as he weaved and dodged through the abandoned warehouse they forced the villain in to. It had taken hours to chase the villain here and he had been locked in combat with her for the better part of the last hour. This villain was cunning and agile. With a quirk that was serious trouble if the pro hero got too close.

Shoto had ordered the supporting heroes to back off once they entered the warehouse. Only a small recon crew remained to watch through the windows and call out warnings over their coms. He needed to be able to unleash his fire and ice without worrying about harming anyone. His control had gotten better over the years but the longer the fight went on the more he began to feel like a caged animal backed into a corner. Control was slipping through his burned and frostbitten fingers.

Endeavor agency had been after this villain – Reality Check – and her crew for months. Every time she was just within their reach, she would unleash her quirk to escape. Enji tried to keep his irritation in check knowing what Shoto saw the first time he got close to the villain, but the fire and ice hero could see the way his father gritted his teeth every time they discussed the case. He felt the heat of Endeavor's flames burn hotter as he clenched his fist and visibly swallowed back down the insults Shoto knew he wanted to hurl at his son.

Taking cover behind a support column Shoto's chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he struggled to regulate his temperature, something that was still difficult when he was tired or emotional, especially with his fire side. His mind raced through different strategies to find one he hadn't tried yet but for the first time the hero came up blank. As much as he hated to admit it his attacks were too slow to catch her from a distance and he didn't want to get close enough to let her use her quirk on him.

He wasn't sure if he could stand to see that again.

"Awww does poor little pro hero Shoto need a break" Reality Check's tease echoed off the empty warehouse walls. Only the slightest hint of strain present in her voice.

Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping back Shoto focused instead of taking deep breaths in and out. Sizzling as little whisps of steam floated off his skin while he lowered his temperature. He couldn't afford to get worked up now.

"I must admit I'm flattered they sent the number three hero to take me down. I did expect more of a fight though."

Shoto ground his teeth together as flickers of flames danced over his scar. Small indents formed in his palms as nails dug into skin numb with cold on one side and blistered raw from flames on the other. It was true this case started out as small-time villains involved in quirk suppressing drug trafficking, but it quickly escalated all the way to his desk when they realized they weren't dealing with small-time quirks. Had his father not been consumed with his work hunting down rogue Nomu he would have probably been brought in already. That thought only fueled the fans of Shoto's rage.

Feelings of inferiority were as much a part of him as his quirk thanks to his father. There were times back at UA he was able to push those feelings aside, replaced with pride in himself. He still felt he owed most of that to the wonderful friends and classmates who had surrounded him. Pulling him out of his shell and overwhelming him with support and encouragement until he finally believed them. One of them stood out more than the rest. One who was there through every break down and every panic attack whispering encouragement. One who had pushed him past his limits through competition rather than pain, displaying rare moments of pride for someone besides himself every time Shoto won. Someone whose burning passion drew Shoto in from the beginning. Someone he was proud to call his hero.

But he wasn't here anymore.

The fire and ice hero shook the thought from his head. It would be dangerous to dwell on those thoughts in the middle of a battle. He would need to be enough on his own.

"What's wrong little hero, cat got your tongue?" the shrill voice of Reality Check cut through the silence.

He needed an opening to try something he had been working on to take this villain down. Trying to avoid an endless supply of daggers, likely thanks to one of her accomplices' quirks, had given him an idea. The technique was far from perfected, but he was running out of options. Tensing his muscles as he crouched in a ready position, he waited for her next monologue. A trait most villains seemed to share was something the hero hoped to take advantage of.

"How long before the number one hero sacks you from the case, hmm?" She taunted as she started moving towards his end of the warehouse. Sharp clicks from the soles of her shoes reverberating through the open space. Coming closer. And Closer. Shoto's heart hammered against his chest, he had to do this before she got too close. "How long before Daddy decides you aren't good – "

Shoto didn't need to hear the end of that sentence. He had already thought the same thing. Blood pounded in his ears as he sprung out from behind the pillar and sent a volley of small icicle daggers in the direction of her voice. They were sharp but he couldn't put enough force behind them to pierce skin yet. The hero just hoped they would provide enough of a distraction for the next part of his plan.

Placing a palm to the floor he forced the sub arctic cold from his right side into the ground creating a thin layer of ice across the floor of the building. Frost hung in the air around the hero who could now see each of his sharp exhales. His arm was layered with a thick coating of ice that burned his skin, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Remembering the tactic from his first UA sports festival he forced his body to drop to an even lower temperature, shattering the windows and causing his support team to jump back from the building. They shouted at Shoto over the coms but were met with nothing but static. The cold destroyed his earpiece leaving them all in the dark.

Desperately hoping someone on his team would move the others away from the building once they figured out what he was about to do he switched his focus from cold to heat, bringing a roaring fire to life in his left side. Opening the cage of the rage he kept locked deep inside and allowing it to fan his flames hotter. Letting it rear its ugly head to be useful for once instead of debilitating. His left side sizzled against the frost in the air. The deep orange glow of his palm faded to bright white twinged with blue as he rose his palm in front of himself. Ignoring the smell of burning flesh and blinding pain that accompanied it.

As he started to push the fire outwards from his palm to the space in front of him, he braced the muscles in his legs for the explosion that would follow. He knew it was a risky move, but it might be the only way they could catch the villain. But just as it reached past his fingertips the heat was extinguished when a dagger sank into his palm up to the hilt. With wide eyes he stared at the tip shining through the back of his hand. A steady drip of blood spilling on to the ice below.

This moment of hesitation was all the villain needed.

She was behind Shoto in an instant and before he could utter a sound everything went black around him. His mind raced as his heart jumped erratically in his chest, speeding up and slowing down with each ragged breath. There was no way to avoid seeing what came next no matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut.

He saw through the wide eyes of his four-year old self his quirk manifesting around him for the first time. Staring in awe at the warm flames that licked his left side while smooth ice crept up the arm of his right side. There was a moment of euphoria before he looked up at his father. Before he felt the terror in his younger self when he couldn't understand the emotion in those cold, blue eyes. He didn't understand then, but he knew perfectly well what it was now. Greed. This was the first time his father saw him as a possession instead of a person. As his "masterpiece".

Lurched forward by some invisible tether he was now on raw, scraped knees holding his stomach. Bile burned his throat and through his teary eyes he saw the contents of his stomach on the floor in front of him. His father's boots just at the edge of his vision. Fat, wet tears streaked down his cheeks as his father's voice cut through his sobs with words his younger-self didn't yet know he would hear so many more times in his life. Weak. Pathetic. Worthless. His mother's meek footsteps stopped just behind him and Shoto's mind screamed at his five-year-old self to turn around and tell her to leave. To run. But he could only watch as his father's hand met her cheek with a ringing slap before she fell to the ground.

Another lurch had Shoto's head spinning as he was stumbling behind his father. Being dragged forward by his bruised wrist. Legs screaming at him to stop and rest before they gave out. He turned his head to look to the yard feeling his six-year-old self's heart breaking as he watched his brothers and sister smile so easily as they basked in the warm sunlight. Kicking a ball back and forth their laughter rang through the air. The sweetest sound he had ever heard. But when he pleaded with his father to let him play with them, he was yanked forcefully forward before hearing words he didn't understand then. Words he only truly came to understand when he realized how little he knew about life outside of harsh training and a broken family. "You're in a different world from them Shoto."

Another lurch and his knees slammed against the floor. Pain prickled his scalp in places where he ripped out a few strands of hair as he tugged at it. Fighting to decern if the pain was real or just another memory, he let out an agonizing scream before his left side went up in a blaze that rivaled any wildfire. Ready to consume him and anyone unfortunate enough to be caught too close.

His head felt fuzzy, and the ground swayed below him. Attempts to brace himself upright with his arms were futile and his head slammed to the cold floor. Through the murky haze he thought he heard giggling and the clack of something on concrete.

Wait who was there?

Where was he?

Was something burning?

The clacking suddenly stopped a short distance from him as someone mumbled something he couldn't understand before retreating. Each clack softer than the first until Shoto couldn't hear anything but the blood pounding against his ears. Feeling came back slowly, the first being something cold and metallic against his wrists. A soft rush of air brushing against his hot skin felt like heaven. The room spun around him as he forced heavy eyelids open to look towards the thud of boots he could hear coming closer. Still too blurry to make anything out he only saw the hazy shape of yellow and red.

Slowly losing his fight to the darkness creeping in he closed his eyes. Pressure under his back and legs and something light as feathers tickled against his skin were all he could feel as his stomach sank. He felt weightless, was he leaving his body behind?

A single sentence was whispered before they took flight. One Shoto couldn't grasp as he lost consciousness.

"I'm so sorry little hero, you don't deserve this."

---

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Shoto rapidly blinked his eyes a few times before scrunching them shut to block out the blinding white light. He wiggled his fingers and toes, letting out a relieved sigh when he could feel each responding. The room's sterile smell and the soft beeps of the monitors around him were all he needed to know where he was. The hospital.

Slowly opening one eye at a time he adjusted to the light and looked around. A standard hero hospital room. Aside from his bed there was a small, uncomfortable chair in the corner and a sink for staff and visitors to wash in. A few cards and flowers sat on the windowsill near his bed, along with one large red and white balloon that had his face on each side. He scoffed knowing exactly who that came from. Of course, Izuku would send him a balloon with his own face on it.

He carefully sat up in the bed, hearing each pop of his joints as his body protested but nothing seemed to be broken. His arms were both wrapped in bandages that likely hid some new scars. The more he experimented with his range of temperatures the more new scars he earned. If not for the situation he had just been in he would have been proud of himself for what had to be a new record on both sides.

The door to his room slid open and shut with a soft latch as a cheery blond stepped in. Several red feathers falling as his magnificent wings stretched out behind him.

"Hawks?" Shoto mused.

"Hey there little hero" Hawks replied smoothly.

The two had grown close after what happened with Dabi years ago. Shoto's family refused to talk with him about their older brother, but Hawks had taken pity on him and decided to share a few of the nicer stories he had about Toya. Not realizing how badly he needed to talk to someone about it, it had become therapy for both heroes and Hawks soon found a deep desire to take Shoto under his wing. He may not be his brother by blood, but he would be by choice. It was normal now to see the two of them teaming up on missions or hanging out outside of their hero work. Rumors even circulated that the two were dating. Which they both found hilarious.

Shoto opened up to Hawks almost instantly, which he found confusing but comforting, about everything. His childhood, his time at UA, his struggles with his father, his feelings for a certain hero. At this point he was pretty sure Hawks knew him better than anyone.

"You know I'm taller than you" Shoto smirked at the nickname he couldn't get the winged hero to change.

"Still younger though"

Shoto hissed in pain when he tried to laugh, holding his side as he waited for the pain to pass. He may not have broken anything but there were definitely going to be bruises.

"So, what's the latest" Shoto questioned to take his mind off the pain.

Hawks gave him a brief recount of the mission, being sure to keep things strictly factual. Shoto didn't need to know Enji set his car on fire when he heard the mission failed. He was sure to highlight the young hero's successes where he could. No deaths or serious injuries aside from his own. And those were mostly caused by his own quirk. They managed to capture a couple of the villains in the gang too. They weren't talking yet but it did put a small smile on Shoto's face when Hawks recounted his call to the police where he offered to tickle a confession out of them with his feathers.

"So what next" Shoto asked timidly. Worry crept in when Hawk's cheery smile fell into a small frown. No longer meeting the younger hero's eyes, Hawks let his eyes wander over the cards and flowers on the windowsill.

"You've got quite a few admirers eh?"

"Keigo, what is it."

The winged hero sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Shoto using his actual name meant he was serious. Knowing the younger hero would drag himself out of that hospital bed to pull the words out of his mouth by force, he braced himself. Dread pooled in Hawk's stomach as he met Shoto's eyes with a sad smile.

"He's calling in someone to help you."

"Oh" Shoto was surprised Hawks was reluctant to tell him that. He had worked with plenty of other pros over the last few years and it never bothered him. "Who is it?"

Shifting back and forth on his feet, Hawks rubbed the back of his neck. Not meeting Shoto's eyes again the younger hero started to worry.

"Keigo, who?"

A few more seconds of tense silence passed between the two before a name slid over the winged hero's lips in barely more than a whisper.

"Dynamite."

"Oh."