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There existed a certain point when compassion became cruelty.
The line was thin, easy to step upon and mangle underfoot.
Maybe that’s what happened here. Some sort of latent desire to save, to keep. To protect.
But it only looked like punishment to Shouto. Like good wishes warped into something cruel.
If anyone bothered to ask him later about his actions, he might blame it on his rarely mentioned but deeply valued sanctuary. After all, he didn’t have much growing up in his house. A frown, a flaming fist aimed at him, the promise of fresh gauze and burn cream and shouting. Isolation and pain were his only companions.
That and Touya’s shrine.
Standing tall in the deserted bedroom, a place even his raging bull of a father hesitated to enter, there it was. A bit pathetic maybe. Lacking in photos or trinkets, let alone any evidence that the dead boy once knew joy, once managed to steal it from Endeavor’s bruising fingers before he burned to death.
The shrine room was… solemn. And quiet.
It felt like a place where eyes watched him. And yet no voices screamed at him while he sat beside his brother’s shrine. No sad eyes followed his limping steps. He was alone and yet not.
Shouto used to think maybe his brother’s spirit sat beside him, silently waving a hand to deter anyone who tried to approach. Maybe he caused those cold gusts that occasionally ripped through the halls of their home and raised awful goosebumps.
Maybe Touya tried to give him a sanctuary.
And he had truly believed that for years, clinging to one strange bit of mysticism. A kernel of hope in a hopeless place. He may not pray to any other god but Shouto was happy to sit before the shrine of one dead boy and believe someone was watching out for him, if only a little. He didn’t believe in gods but he believed in Touya.
And so it was difficult, seeing Touya like this now.
Burnt up, confined to a tube. His mortality strung up and on display, no more than a butterfly pinned to a board, still alive.
“Can’t he be moved to a room with windows?”
“His skin is very delicate. Glass can’t completely block UV radiation, so it wouldn’t be beneficial for him. And his eyes would likely be bothered as well.”
Aren’t there thin screens to press to glass that make it UV resistant? If not a real window, perhaps a television with the nature channel playing? A nice painting? Or any music at all?
The questions bubbled in his mouth, popping and trying to slide past his closed lips. They tasted of ash and iron.
But Shouto knew better than to ask. Because the room was cold and quiet, the only noises from medical equipment. The gusty in-out of a respirator, the wet clicks of multiple IV lines. Occasional buzzing or piercing beeps as something faltered or needed refilling.
No music, nothing hung on the bare white walls. No chitchat from any of the medical professionals, no making eye contact with the man in the tube at all.
It was clinical here, to a harsh degree.
This was a jail cell pretending to be something more virtuous. No more than solitary confinement. Wasn’t that labeled as cruel and unusual, even before quirks emerged?
Shouto turned his head to look at the doctor. The man was well groomed, purple hair slicked back without a single strand astray. His smile was meant to be comforting, surely.
But his eyes were uncaring. His left hand twitched and Shouto knew he was resisting the urge to look at his watch. Too uneasy with the power imbalance to deny a relative of Endeavor a few extra minutes for pointless questions.
Uncaring. Deeply so.
It didn’t matter, the medical team had no one to answer to except Endeavor. Maybe if this was prison, if it was tax dollars keeping Touya alive… maybe then people could protest. They could speak up about how wrong this was. But the situation didn’t allow that. This whole room was just Todoroki Enji’s misplaced energy, his mountain of cash thrown around as hurtfully as his fists had once been.
Two toned eyes swept over the room once again. So cold and white. Clinical and heartless. No one brought flowers. No one brought pictures to hang. No gifts or personal items.
Maybe Touya wouldn’t let them.
But why should he? Why would he want to pretty up this coffin of a jail cell? Of course the stubborn man wouldn’t allow them to legitimize it.
His brother… his dead but not dead brother. Touya or Dabi or just the unsmiling boy in the picture atop the shrine. He wanted to die, wanted to burn. He’d done his best to follow through, right there on the battlefield. He tried to finish what Sekoto had started.
And yet, here he was, clawed from the ashes of his own pyre. Molded back together with donated blood and saline and a cocktail of medications dozens of names long.
Shouto felt cold. Was Touya cold? Every time he stepped foot in this room, he swore his bones ached from it but his brother had never complained. Or maybe he had and nothing changed anyway.
This damn room. This damn place.
What had they done to his brother? How was this humane? Who okayed any of this?
Didn’t anyone see how wrong this was?
Distantly, Shouto heard the doctor finally excuse himself, scurrying from the room with crisp clicks of his leather shoes. He didn’t care, didn’t respond to the man at all.
Inside the tube, one blue eye met his own. The other eye stayed closed. The nerve damage must be acting up today, half of Touya’s body still and unresponsive. Ideally he wouldn’t be in pain, but Shouto knew nerve damage often went hand in hand with immense discomfort.
That one open eye looked tired.
And this hospital room didn’t feel a thing like the shrine room. Not a hidden space carved from harsh stone, a rare safe spot. Misty protection and vague assurances that at least right here, pain wouldn’t find them anymore.
No, this room was just cold and bright and sharp, filling his mouth with the tang of blood and bleach and sorrow. This was just another endless punishment for a dead boy.
Shouto looked away from his brother, towards the wall. Lots of machines. They probably needed lots of electricity… So many different machines and medications, all used in just the right way at the right dosage at the right time… It was insanely complicated to keep someone alive to this degree. A dance on a tightrope, with a long deadly drop if any step faltered.
He glanced back at his brother, noting that both eyes were shut now. Hopefully he was asleep, finding some temporary solace.
That was fine. Shouto needed to leave now anyway. He had a lot to think about.
The body in his arms was lighter than he ever could’ve imagined. All burnt away, an already skinny man made immaterial by the force of his own flames. More spirit than flesh.
Behind them, alarms shrieked. Doctors and nurses and patients flooded the halls, evacuating as neatly as they could. It helped to have a hero present, even if he was currently carrying a dying man in his arms. His mere presence reassured people.
More importantly, no one dared to stop and question him.
Shouto wasn’t worried. He’d been careful, his research was methodical and all inclusive. He swore Midoriya to secrecy and asked his friend to look over his notes. He’d even asked Kaminari for help, for a couple pointers when understanding of the science eluded him.
Inside Touya’s hospital room, a small electrical fire was spreading through the wall. It started because all those damn machines were plugged into the same outlet. That outlet was faulty, bound to catch fire eventually. No one had noticed. Such a strange oversight for a renowned hospital. A careless mistake to make in a place of healing.
Shouto ensured it looked as such. Just an accident, losing this hand of cards to chance. No foul play to be found.
He was so careful. Maybe he should’ve hesitated more or experienced some kind of moral crisis. But he didn’t, not even once.
It didn’t matter. Not when Shouto was willing to do what he had to for Touya. For his big brother, the boy he had been and the man he was now.
Electric fire. Spreading. Pull the alarm.
Open the tube and disconnect everything and lift out Touya, like some mockery of birth.
Dash through the halls confident in the knowledge that the fire was too slow to harm any other patient or do serious damage, it would be controlled in moments once the firefighters arrived. And their sirens sounded very close.
He didn’t need more than a few minutes anyway.
With his head leaning against Shouto’s chest, two blazing eyes stared up at him. He’d been awake, watching Shouto work. Something in his dull gaze sharpened and brightened as the boy finished, a spark long missing reigniting as Shouto removed him from that damn cell.
He knew. He knew exactly what had been done. And… Shouto liked that.
Touya didn’t believe in heroes. But this wasn’t something a hero would do. So maybe for the first time, Touya could be happy and proud of his actions. Brother to brother.
They passed through the open doors, weaving around slower moving people. He felt the body in his arms still as sunshine hit his skin. But he didn’t recoil, not like the doctors had promised. Touya relaxed, melting into the soft heat, the warm light so different from the clinical white of his cell.
As they moved further from the crowds and the building, voices and alarms were replaced with distant car sounds and bird calls. The road was largely empty, framed by lush trees on either side. Little finches and fat sparrows flitted from branch to branch, a dove sang its lonely coo. Touya watched it all with wide blue eyes, like a reflection of the very sky above.
Shouto kept running.
He felt eyes on him again. Touya, watching and observing and waiting. Still so suspicious but choosing to trust his little brother in this critical moment.
They didn’t have any time to spare but it wasn’t a problem. He wasn’t tired. An entire life of training and pain and this moment here felt like the reason it might be worth it.
He pushed himself to run a bit faster.
About a mile from the hospital, down the access road, there was a small park. Nothing more than a murky pond surrounded by untamed willows and wildflowers, an anemic walking trail meandering around the edges of both. Not popular by any means, but a place Shouto thought was undeniably beautiful.
Shouto ducked low, thin willow branches brushing against his hair. A leaf touched Touya’s arm and those bright blue eyes widened. It brought a smile to both their faces. Soft, unexpected touch. The warmth of nature. An organic miracle. Something Touya had been denied the moment that glass tube door shut.
In that moment, their roles flipped.
It used to be Touya who shadowed him in safety, Touya who distracted their father when he could. It was Touya who snuck into his secluded bedroom during the quiet hours of night after Endeavor wouldn’t be distracted from training his ‘masterpiece.’ It was Touya who silently bandaged his burns and rubbed arnica cream onto the developing bruises. Doing what he could in a house where help would never come and the pain was both undeserved and unending. And Shouto watched helplessly as his brother got skinnier, the hands that reached out to him shakier. Dark circles formed under his bright eyes and badly tended burns littered more and more of his skin.
And then one night, Touya didn’t come back to him. It took a month before he finally learned that his brother had burned, alone.
Shouto had smelled the smoke as the mountain burned. That night, waiting in his dark room for his brother, smoke snuck through the crack in his window and Shouto had noticed. He thought it smelled better than his father’s smoke, the natural tang of wood and grass burning was downright pleasant in comparison.
He hadn’t known any better. He hadn’t known who was suffering in the blaze.
Maybe this was one long apology letter to Touya. For being too young to save him, for needing help from a boy already struggling. For being born at all. For smelling the evidence of his death and thinking it better than the burnt hair and flesh smell of Endeavor.
A hesitant brush against his face jolted him back to the present moment. The tree trunk against his spine was rough and cool, shaded by the low hanging branches. It caught and tugged at his shirt where he leaned against it. The dirt he sat on was soft and moist, probably leaving terrible stains on his pants.
He didn’t care.
Touya was touching his face, a bony purple-skinned hand raised up to trace thin fingers over the curve of his cheek. Only one brush, one stolen moment before it was too strenuous and the arm fell limp.
But he used to do that, Shouto remembered suddenly. Poke and pinch his chubby cheeks, a wide playful grin on his face. He used to call him a squishy baby and laugh when Shouto pouted or complained. He was a teasing older brother in that moment, a split second of stolen normality in their hellish home. No one else did that to him, not once in the years since Touya died. No one was brave enough to reach for his face with anything kinder than a fist.
Not until now.
His eyes burned and Shouto tried hard to push back the pain flooding his chest. He wouldn’t ruin this for his brother, not when each moment was so precious.
Touya’s breathing stuttered as he tried to force out the air to speak through his ruined throat. Shouto shook his head, not wanting his brother to hurt himself further. Not for him, not right now.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I… I know you like to look at the stars but I came as soon as I could. Maybe I should’ve waited for nightfall.” He tightened his grip, feeling every brittle bone of Touya’s ribcage under his hands. “I’m sorry. I— I’m sorry Touya.”
His breathing hitched, throat aching and his face hot. They were well hidden in the fringes of the willow tree, invisible and safe, only hearing the sound of birds above and in the water. Wind through the leaves. Too far for the sirens and the screaming to reach them here.
A tiny stolen paradise. All it cost was a measly hospital fire.
“I think that was my first arson,” he mused aloud, shaky with leftover adrenaline. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought.”
Like sunrise over the hills, a joyful smile spread slowly over Touya’s burnt face. A spark of humor entered those familiar eyes and a tiny huff of laughter left the man.
“Yeah,” Shouto croaked out. “Yeah I did that. Heh. Shit. I actually did that. Am I a criminal now or is it only if they catch me?”
Another huff of laughter from Touya. A genuine grin on his face, eyes glittering and pleased.
Shouto wondered if his brother had ever been happier than this moment, learning someone had started a hospital fire to steal him away. To give him long due mercy.
Choosing Touya for the first time.
No one had acted in Touya’s best interest for a long time. Maybe never.
Well, not anymore. He would have to be the first and last person to choose Touya. He didn’t care about their past, about their fights or their opposing sides. It didn’t matter right now. It never would matter again after today.
Shouto hugged Touya closer, tucking his burnt face into his neck and nuzzling into snowy white hair. It was so soft now that it wasn’t dyed constantly. As if roaring hellfire had never scorched it. What a useless body part to be fireproof. How terribly cruel of fate. The universe had a sick sense of humor.
“It’s nice here, right?” He whispered, something small and innocent creaking in his chest. The boy he once was, crawling back into the daylight and reaching for his big brother once again. “I like to come here after visiting you. I used to feed the ducks but then they started chasing me when they saw me. They’re really aggressive.”
More gentle shaking from laughter, but the breathing that accompanied it was rough. A smokers rasp.
A death rattle.
“It’s pretty, right Touya? It’s not the stars but it’s still pretty.”
The face in his neck pressed closer for a moment, a wordless confirmation. Comfort from someone he missed for more years than they’d ever spent together.
“Thanks,” he choked out and reached forward, snapping a thin branch free. He brought it to Touya’s hand, helping curl those damaged fingers around it. His brother held the branch reverently, slowly lifting his other hand to stroke along the silvery green leaves. Long and thin, just like his fingers. No fire here, nothing eating away at the plant life. Just destructive hands holding something delicate as if it were precious, as if it mattered.
Shouto hugged him closer, wondering briefly if his grip was too tight. But Touya hadn’t tried to wiggle free.
Sunshine leaked through the branches above in strips of golden warmth. It brushed against them pleasantly, feeling syrupy and gentle. The dappled pattern of sun and shadow on the ground was maybe the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The chirping of birds was the only noise they could hear, no one else in the park to break up the peace they’d stolen.
Back and forth, a withered purple finger stroked along the willow leaf.
Shouto watched a dove land above them, a twig held in its beak that would soon be woven into a nest. A place to rest, to raise babies. He hoped they all hatched and grew strong and flew free in the sky. The dove looked down at them, tilting its grey head. When its wings rustled, a small feather loosened and floated slowly to the ground near Shouto’s thigh.
He picked that up and handed it to Touya as well. The hand that stroked the feather shook more than before.
He didn’t know if Touya could still feel the softness of the feather or the waxy top of the leaves or the rough grain of the branch. He didn’t know if those damaged eyes could still see much around them. But he hoped that for just this moment, everything was as clear and vivid for his brother as it was for him. Beautiful and safe and still. Even for just a short time. Just let him give this. A taste of the love and safety Touya once gave to him.
The birds chirped and the wind blew. Leaves rustled. Sometimes a car drove past. Life slowed.
In his arms, the delicate lattice of ribs stopped moving. The rattling breath disappeared.
A willow branch and a feather fell to the ground, free from a limp hand.
Shouto buried his face deeper into Touya’s hair, trying to memorize the feeling of soft strands and the warmth from his skin. It wouldn’t last long. This was just one last mercy, one last reminder of life that had since left.
“It’s nice, right Touya? I thought you’d like it here… thank you for letting me bring you.”
The dove flew away.