Archive of Our Own

Work Text

Shuichi was sure he must have done something in a previous life that warranted him to suffer in this one. This time it was in the form of his roommate who had decided that he was going to be his target for the night, having a bored Touya’s attention never really ended well for him. He didn't really know how he managed to do it; the man just had a charisma to get anyone to do just about anything he wanted. That didn't mean Shuichi wasn't going to try and pretend he wasn't there. He knew inevitably it wouldn't work, but he tried everytime, the definition of insanity if he wanted to dwell on it longer.“Are you seriously spending another friday night inside gaming?” Touya inquires and he knows Shuichi is ignoring him because his headset wasn’t even on and nothing was playing on the screen in front of him. Wasn’t that just irritating. It just solidified Shuichi’s inner debate on why he had ever answered that roommate ad but then he thought about the alternative of living alone and decided maybe Touya’s tendency to overstep boundaries was as it currently stood not that much of a deal breaker after all.
They had managed to make it an entire year despite their differences, “It’s work related actually.” Shuichi speaks up but he doesn’t turn around but at least he's finally acknowledging Touya leaning against the door frame.
Touya was sure he’d explained the logistics of his work at some point but the most he understood about computers was how to press the power button, and he had no interest in video games so whatever had been explained had gone out one ear as soon as it went in the other. Shoto was more interested in that stuff anyway and Touya was just happy his brother and roommate, could he say they were friends, got along.
“I’m just saying you should try to get out more,” Touya shrugs, not nearly as nonchalant about his insistence for the heteromorph to go out with him. This usually meant that none of his usual friends wanted to go or they were already busy.

“I have no desire to go out and play babysitter.” Shuichi says plainly, he rarely responded to his roommate's insistent nagging about his decision to spend most of his time in his bedroom anymore. The mutant didn't exactly see why that was a problem. He paid for his space and he should be allowed to use it as he pleased in peace. Touya Todoroki however did not have the word peace in his vocabulary. He was pretty sure this was the white haired man's way of showing that he cared because he did the same shit when Shoto was home.
“Come on just live a little, go out with me tonight just once.” Touya egged on because of course he would. Shoto was still with Fuyumi for the rest of the summer so now was the perfect opportunity for him to get out before he had to as his sister said ‘Be a good and responsible role model for his brother’ He always accused her of nagging but the fact he listened spoke enough for itself. The issue was that Shuichi had gone out with Touya once before and he's also been stuck on babysitter duty whenever one of his friends bothered to dump the man back home.
Touya had no personal issues with Shuichi, he’s a good roommate, he always paid his half of rent on time, he cooked, cleaned and did a lot more around the apartment than Touya did. He’d long since stopped trying to ask the younger man to stop, it had been embarrassing at first. Shuichi had shrugged him off. He didn't mind keeping the apartment clean, he spent more time in it than anyone, and his work didn't need him to leave often and when he wasn't doing anything work related it was a welcome distraction.
“You know people would probably like you a lot more if you weren't so…pushy “ Shuichi settles as he stares at his computer screen. He’d put it nicely for now.“I don't need people to like me,” Touya scoffs, he really doesn't care, “I’m just saying you aren't going to meet anyone cooped up inside staring at your computer all day and ordering takeout every night. Live a little.” It was hard to say if Touya was saying that out of general concern or if he really just had an issue with being alone. Shuichi didn't actually order takeout every night, and so what if he did? The only time he tried to cook regularly was when Shoto was home, because if he left Touya in charge of feeding him the boy would probably starve. The Todoroki brothers, including Natsuo, were banned from any kitchen they had ever stepped foot into. That came from Fuyumi directly after one too many kitchen fires.
Finally Shuichi just sighs and finally takes off his headset and turns away from his computer screen to look at Touya. He was already dressed to go out with piercings and tattoos on display as he wore a band tee with the sleeves cut off. He’d at one point thought the white haired man was attractive and then he opened his mouth and then he did his laundry. There wasn't really any coming back from that one, not that Touya wasn't handsome Shuichi just knew how to think realistically. There was that brief thing but that was a mutual agreement that that was never going to work, they liked to pretend it never happened.
“If I go out with you now, will you stop asking?” Shuichi asks and his roommate is grinning in victory as he pushes off the door frame and makes his way further into Shuichi's room. He's already dreading this because he knows how it’ll end. Maybe he really was too much of a push over. They've had this conversation before and it always ended the same. If Touya had no one else to go out with he would just go alone and Shuichi found that to be a worse option than him reluctantly tagging along. Touya by himself with alcohol was a disaster waiting to happen.
“I make no promises but it will be considered, you won't regret it.” Touya says it like it's a fact but Shuichi regretted it the second he took off his headset. The other man seems to pause as he studies his roommate, “You might want to change into something…not this.”
Shuichi follows his gaze and looks down at himself. He hadn't been planning on going out so of course he was dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. It was a comfortable outfit to wear while he worked. The younger man just scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Seriously man? Come on.” Of course he'd be the type to beg you to hangout with him and then complain about your attire.
“The point of going out is to meet people, you won't meet anymore looking like you rolled out of bed.” Touya states but Shuichi could write up an essay on reasons why people wouldn't want to associate with him and his choice of clothing didn't even make the first page.“I’m going out because you asked me to, not so I can meet people.” Shuichi comments but eventually he, as he often does just about every time, did what Touya wanted.
____
You know how when you agree to do something even though you know it's a bad idea and you can already predict the outcome? Yeah that's what happened as Shuichi pushed open the front door to the dark apartment the rest of the way with his foot. He stumbles but only because Touya is practically dead weight against him far too intoxicated to be anything but a hindrance. He knew how the night was going to end before he'd even left in the first place and he can only think about all the work he could have gotten done in the time he'd just spent keeping Touya from trying to leave a club with random strangers.
Shuichi drops Touya onto the couch or at least that's what he thinks he's doing. It's hard to see in the dark and Touya is no help and so the older man promptly falls into a heap on the floor right next to the couch.
“Shit.” Shuichi curses but Touya's far too intoxicated and out cold he doesn't even seem to register that anything had happened. If his chest wasn't moving he probably may have been more worried about that part. He’s not exactly hard to pick up. Touya is lanky and all limbs but he didn't actually weigh that much comparatively. The position did make it a little awkward but Shuichi does manage to pick Touya up off the floor and actually manage to get to him on the couch, that also doubled as the white haired man's bed.
The apartment only had two bedrooms, Shoto hadn't been living with Touya when Shuichi had moved in. That was only a recent development and so the teen ended up getting Touya’s room and Shuichi got to take the master bedroom with its attached bathroom. It had been a long conversation with Touya adamant that none of Shuichi’s space was going to be affected he’d been worried the younger man would want to move out. He wouldn't have been able to afford the rent if he had, but Shuichi wouldn't have cared if he had been the one put on the couch. While he’d never explicitly said it he couldn't live on his own either. Still it was something they were working on remedying but moving, especially in the city, wasn't cheap so they all made do with what they could. Even if that meant Touya having to invest in a sofa bed and sleeping in the living room for the last four months. The gecko quirked man did momentarily consider taking Touya to his brother's room. He figured he'd feel a lot better sleeping on a real bed but he honestly didn't want to carry him anymore. His generosity only went so far after the night he'd been coerced into.
Shuichi sighs as he manages to pull a blanket over Touya's sleeping form and shuffles through the darkened apartment before he makes it to the kitchen and finally flips on a light. He squinted as his eyes adjusted and he rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. He never really slept whenever Touya went out; it was a bad habit from what felt like a previous life at this point. It was something ingrained in him.
There were worse things to be done, he reminds himself and maybe that's an ingrained part of him too.Shuichi scavenges for himself in the fridge and makes himself a sandwich, something small and quick so he can leave the kitchen faster and turn off the light.
When he passes back through the living room he can make out the faint outline of Touya sitting up on the couch, “I figured you'd be out till at least this afternoon.” Shuichi says.Touya curses clearly startled by the other man’s voice, “Fucking hell, Shu.” He mutters in the dark rubbing his forehead why did it feel like someone dropped him? He gets a mumble ‘sorry’, “I guess i didn't drink as much as usual.” He thinks out loud his quirk usually burns off alcohol pretty quickly meaning he could almost out drink anyone before feeling any effects.
“I don't know you were pretty much dead weight when I carried up here.” Shuichi comments and he just kind of stands there in the dark, his sandwich half eaten. Touya seems fine, he could probably go to bed himself, “Do you feel okay?” He hears what sounds like Touya plopping down on the couch and the rustling of fabric.“My head hurts but nothing to worry about,” Touya says and he's trying not to think about the fact Shuichi just admitted to carrying him up to their apartment, considering they were four floors up and the elevator had been broken for weeks. Silence falls between them and neither seems to really know what to do, “This is going to sound really random, but can I ask you a question?” The fire user asks after a few beats, and he wished he hadn't admitted to not being as drunk as he wanted to be. He could have excused this later.
“What?”
“Do you know what it feels like to meet your soulmate?”
“No, I don't really think I have one anyway.” There’s something resigned in that statement, an acceptance that those words were true.“Everyone has a soulmate, it doesn't matter if you think you deserve it or not.” Touya answers back because he knows why Shuichi said that and as different as they were he liked his roommate,whether Shuichi felt the same way or not didn't matter he’d consider them friends.The heteromoroph was a good guy and he knew whoever got to have him would be lucky, even if he had a hard time voicing his appreciation for the people in his life Touya tried to convey those thoughts when he could. The message didn't always carry though.
“Goodnight, Touya.” Shuichi says plainly to signal the end of the conversation. He doesn't like talking about this stuff cause it usually ended with him thinking to much and that was never really a good thing. Thankfully Touya doesn't try to stop him but he still finds himself pausing in the doorway of his bedroom. The apartment is dark and he doesn't know if Touya’s still listening or if he really cares when he speaks again, “I’ve heard people say, it's like a kaleidoscope.” No response comes as he closes his bedroom door.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The belief in soulmates was, at its core, a fact of life. The issue however is that despite the many, and endless success stories it is entirely possible for some to go their entire life and never meet their supposed second half. Shuichi thought that was a cruel joke created by fate to entertain themselves, to have something like that dangled in your face and be reminded, Oh by the way you may never meet this person but if you do they could still end up hating everything about you.

Shuichi had done a lot of research on the topic, mostly in middle school and high school, you know when kids are the most vile and evil creatures to grace the planet. Holding onto the hope that there might actually be someone who wouldn’t look at him like he’d just crawled out of a sewer and became the new Swamp Thing or whatever, was what got him through most of his teenage years. The idea and concept of soulmates wasn’t meant to make sense because it wasn’t always a success, while some liked to refer to it as a love at first sight ordeal it wasn’t quite that way. That was just people reflecting with the feelings they currently had for their soulmate and partner respectfully. Soulmates, as he had come to understand them, really were like a kaleidoscope. Things shifted, the colors changed as the bond formed and depending on how you turned it you could create something heartstopping and beautiful or it simply just crumbles in your hands.

It wasn’t that soulmates were about being in love, they were more so about the potential to do so. It wasn’t a guarantee, and he didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what people thought when they looked at him. Over time the hope had been chipped away.
Shuichi wasn't sure when exactly the allure of it fell away completely, it was all mostly gradual, but he knew the events that had eventually led him to leave home and so he was pretty sure it was related to that. He didn't talk about his life growing up much, not that he had many people to talk to about it. He’d only divulged bits and pieces to Touya and that was usually in relation to something the other man had already said. The prejudice he’d face along with his entire immediate family, their mutation inherited from their mother and a quirkless father that turns out was a despicable human being that ran out when she couldn't have any more children. He’d been fourteen, a middle child of seven with nothing particularly spectacular about him. He'd just been born and people in a small town with closed minds liked to remind him that was his first mistake. That's where he thinks his life really began to fall apart, and his relationship with his mother got…complicated. Those were the parts he kept to himself, she hadn't been a bad mother but she also had done a lot of things that weren't okay.

Shuichi had always been helpful, he liked doing stuff for people, it made him feel important and useful. Being one of seven tended to leave him feeling forgotten, so when his father left and as a family full of mutant quirks their mother didn't have any friends or any family that wanted to associate with her so Shuichi had tried to be there for her like a good son was supposed to be. He didn't think anything was off about their relationship for a while, why would he? He didn't have friends nobody he could talk to that would have been able to tell him, ‘No that's not right’. There were reasons why he didn't like alcohol, but if she was too busy focusing on him she wouldn't focus on any of his siblings, and he liked being helpful.

Shuichi groans as he runs his hands through his hair in irritation and lets his forehead hit his desk. Some days were better than others. He hated talking about soulmates and ever since Touya had brought them up he couldn't stop thinking about it. What prompted him to even ask that in the first place? “This is hopeless.”

It didn't help that he'd been having some major creative block when trying to even attempt to come up with his next game idea, it was like every idea he had just wasn't enough to try and base an entire game around. He had more unfinished story boards in his drafts than he did any finished products. All he wanted to do was shut off his computer and curl up under his bed because that was the only place he knew would be dark enough nothing could bother him but he didn't want Touya to come looking for him when he didn't come out for dinner when he got home.

Instead as he has been for a while Shuichi shuts off his monitor and leaves his room and tries to find something to clean. Touya at least would be out for most of the day, he'd been booking steady appointments at the tattoo shop and was doing pretty good work, so he didn't have to be reminded he had vacuumed and mopped the floors everyday this week. It gave him something to do and if he was focused on wiping the glass on the balcony doors he didn't have to think about….that.

If he did find his thoughts starting to wander just a bit too much he tried to think more about his current project as he worked. It was still in its beta testing and there were still endless bugs to work through and fix but he was also trying to work on smaller projects, don't put all your eggs in one basket or however that saying goes. He'd always been fascinated by video games and not just because he didn't have friends that just left him open to playing them a lot. Alongside that was the interest in computers so eventually taking online courses in computer science and software engineering because if he wasn’t going to leave the house he might as well do something productive and he didn't have to show his face to anyone in order to accomplish it.
At this point though it was a love hate relationship because knowing how to make a game doesn't mean he knew what to make. He hated creative blocks; they were really like the hardest final boss to overcome in any game he'd ever played. He just wanted to put his head through a wall or crawl under his bed and relive every bad experience he’d ever lived through because he couldn't control his own self-loathing.
Shuichi spends time tidying up the couch where Touya slept, folding the blankets and picking up the clothes off the bathroom floor. He notes that the laundry basket is full and that's something to do as the communal laundry room is on the first floor of the building.

It doesn't take him long to gather his own clothes and make the trip downstairs, he makes sure to throw the laundry detergent and fabric softener on top of the basket before he leaves and grabs his phone and keys. There were a handful of issues with their apartment building, and a lot of it came with the building being old and a lack of upkeep on the maintenance. It was one of those older constructions where the walls were thick rock and the floors were made of creaking wood and sometimes the kitchen sink leaked and the lights flickered if too many things were turned on at once. The elevator is a modern addition but it rarely ever worked and the safest bet was to just suck it up and take the stairs. So Shuichi did and the laundry basket weighed practically nothing compared to Touya.

The laundry room is just a small room on the first floor of the building down the opposite hall of the registration office, he tries to wave at the receptionist but she doesn't ever acknowledge him as he goes by. He was used to that by now, Touya always had to be the one to come down when they had issues or even Shoto when he was home, they'd learned after a pipe burst in the bathroom one time that they didn't listen to the mutant. He doesn't let the cold shoulder bother him and he goes on his way.

There are a few washers lined along one wall and dryers on the other, and luckily for him there doesn't seem to be any loads going, meaning no one else was here or was to be expected. It wasn't that Shuichi didn't like people, in fact he liked talking to others, it's that most people generally didn't want to talk to him. Some went out of their way entirely to avoid him if they saw him so he figures it's better if the laundry room isn't currently occupied as he sets the basket down in front of a washer and prepares to start the task of separating it.
Touya had begged him not to touch his laundry in the beginning as he did with most of the chores Shuichi had picked up after moving in, it was once again coming more out of embarrassment than anything. Those hadn’t been Shuichi's intentions, it was just something to do and he figured if he was already taking the trip downstairs to do his own then he could just take his roommates too. Maybe he should have asked him the first time, but he just sort of did things and not for any particular reason or for any type of reward or recognition.

Things tend to go a little differently when you share a bed with somebody because you’re both too scared to be left alone in the dark and you end up talking about a lot when you make a pallet of blankets spread out across the living room floor. Shuichi washing his underwear wasn't so bad after those few weeks. Things may not have worked out in a romantic setting and despite their various differences Shuichi was sure if there were bonds for platonic soulmates he and Touya both would have had one by now.

He’d never had a friend before that wasn’t behind a computer screen where they couldn’t see him, and sometimes liked to think he was lucky that his first friend was Touya. Even with all of his problems, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have his own unhealthy coping mechanisms. While Shuichi thinks about the beginnings of his living arrangement he sets about separating the laundry and starting separate loads in two of the washers.

There’s no point to waste time by going all the way back to the apartment so he takes a seat at the single table crammed in the corner, there’s only one chair there had been two but it had just simply disappeared one day. He lazily scrolled on his phone as he waited. He mostly just checked in on his discord server and his social media accounts, he was completely faceless online and never used his real name for anything. It was the one place he had full autonomy to do and be whatever he wanted.

The server was mostly just full of casual fans and patreon supporters, as much as he loved making and designing games he couldn't do it without support and a steady income. Sharing works in progress and sketches for character designs, people loved character designs, they also loved early access. He had a few moderators so he didn't spend endless amounts of time in it, they did monthly gaming sessions and used voice chats and sometimes he streamed, only ever in the server, when he was test running new games but that all hadn't been for awhile. His creative block had been torturing him for weeks now, it felt like he’d finally reached a final boss and instead of raising his stats and coming up with any actual tactics he was just button mashing in the hopes of making something stick. That never ended well.

Suddenly he was being pinged.

Monstersaregod | Mod
@Spinner Hey man what a coincidence ur on i was just about to @ you!

Spinner

Yeah what for?

Monstersaregod | Mod

Some guy is streaming your game on Twitch, he's pretty popular. He's kind of an ass though.

Here

The last message is followed by the link to what he assumes is the mentioned stream. There were a few instances where streamers had played through his games, a few videos too but they were never really big, not that he cared about stuff like that. He likes knowing when people play his games it reminded him that there were people who did appreciate his work.

Spinner

I’ll have to check it out later, I’m doing laundry right now. If he's still playing when I'm done I'll hop on and watch.

Just as Shuichi sends the last message the first washer goes off signaling the end of the load. He puts his phone in his pocket as he gets up to switch it over to one of the dryers. He mentally notes to check out that streamer later but promptly forgets for the time being as he goes about completing his chore.

___
When Shuichi finally makes it back upstairs to the apartment, ignored by the receptionist and snubbed a woman with cat ears and a tail when she came into the laundry room while he was folding his clothes fresh out of the dryer he was honestly a little tired. Still he sets about separating the folded clothes, leaving Touya’s on the edge of the couch for the man to put away later, he puts his own away in his own room before taking the laundry basket back and bathroom and putting the detergent under the sink.

By that point he's a little hungry and scavenges in the fridge and comes across some left over egg fried rice and just decides to heat that up rather than worry about actually making anything.

Their apartment isn’t large and there’s nothing particularly grand about it, the living area is almost
a perfect square giving the space an almost intimate feel where due to it doubling as Touya’s bedroom every inch was utilized. Stepping through the front door directly into the living room where a futon doubles as a couch during the day and a bed at night. The furniture is all second hand, the lamp specifically found in the trash, nothing some duct tape couldn’t fix.

To the left, is the kitchen doorway, it’s small but functional, filled with mismatched appliances some that Shuichi had brought with him, it had been practically bare when he first moved in. He’d quickly learned why when Touya first tried to cook. Hopeless.

Squished between the kitchen and the living room is a small makeshift dining room, a small wooden table surrounded by chairs that didn’t match. They really only ever used it when Shoto was home. They at least try to give the teen some sense of normalcy. Sliding doors lead out to a narrow balcony, it’s just wide enough
for a couple of potted plants and a small table where when he’s desperate for some sun Shuichi will sit outside with a cup of coffee or tea watching the world go by. It’s not a bad view of the stars no matter how limited from the pollution of the city, it’s one thing he misses about home.

The microwave beeps and Shuichi grabs the bowl of steaming rice and a spoon and ventures back to his bedroom, his is at the end of the short hall that leads to and from the living room, it's right after Shoto's on the right and the bathroom on the left and promptly sits back in front of his computer where he had been just a few hours before. He feels the exact same and he hasn't stopped thinking like he wanted to. He takes quick bites of his rice as he hits the power button on his computer beneath his desk and the monitor screen lights up. He needs something to do, anything that will serve as a distraction if he tried to scrub the bathroom floors again he might go insane for real this time.
Shuichi had never been this much of a clean freak during the brief period he lived alone, if he wasn't playing video games or doing online classes he was curled up oncthe mattress on the floor he called his bed. He never cleaned because it was just him and really he didn't care about taking care of himself he barely managed to even brush his teeth most days and it was an embarrassing thing to admit. Except now he wasn't alone and he felt like keeping the apartment clean for the other two occupants gave him a purpose. Although it may have been less of an actual desire and more of a survival tactic he didn't want to look into too deeply or he'd just end up thinking too much.
As his monitor finally finished logging him in, the notifications popping up in the corner updated and flickered through each one he’d gotten while the computer was turned off and he's reminded by a discord notification about the streamer playing his game. That would be a good enough distraction, Shuichi thinks.

So he opens discord and finds the message where his mod had sent him the link to the stream, it had been over an hour since he'd sent it but streams could go on for hours and he didn't know how long the guy had already been playing for so he clicks on the link and waits for it to load. He doesn't recognize the username in the link but he doesn't for most people if he were being honest.

What kind of username was Eraserdust?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

At least four things happened simultaneously as the video stream loaded on his monitor, each one hitting him with the weight of unexpected realization. First, he couldn’t help but notice that no one who had ever played his game before had achieved such a high view count. It was mind-boggling; the numbers kept climbing, and the little counter in the corner of the screen was practically glowing, a testament to the unexpected popularity of what he thought was a simple mystery-solving game he’d wrapped up a year ago. He remembered pouring countless hours into that project, but he never imagined it would resonate with someone with this kind of following.

Second, the room around him was enveloped in darkness, thick and heavy, almost suffocating. The only source of illumination came from his computer screen, casting a pale blue glow that highlighted his features but left everything else in shadow. The flickering light danced off the walls, revealing nothing more than vague shapes and shadows that blended into the night. In that moment, it felt like he was trapped in a cocoon of isolation.

Then, as if in slow motion, he dropped the ceramic bowl in his hands. It felt like time suspended as the bowl slipped from his grip, shattering upon impact with the hardwood floor. The last remnants of his rice scattered like tiny white stars across the dark surface, the sound echoing loudly in the silence of the room. Their apartment didn’t have carpet, a choice made for practicality, and now the shards of ceramic glistened ominously, a reminder of his clumsiness and distraction.

And then the fourth thing happened, an overwhelming rush of emotion burst forth like a dam breaking, and a distressed clicking sound rose in his throat. It was a mixture of confusion and anxiety, a visceral reaction to the unexpected and it’s all coming from one source, rooted in vivid vermillion, and an expression filled with agitation.

“-not stopping - What the fuck?!” He’s cursing as the game over screens pops up and he's sent back to the last save point, “Is this shit broken? I’ve been on this level for an hour?!” He grumbles his voice is hoarse and scratchy and in his irritation he's scratching at his neck. A nervous tick of some kind, but Shuichi's focused on red eyes as they look into the camera to clearly address the people watching and he's pretty sure he's going insane. Red eyes framed by shaggy blue hair hanging in his face, and it's like fireworks are being set off inside him either that or he's about to throw up.

That’s not…but it really is a burst of color that's twisting and turning until finally the thought settles in the back of his mind like someone had just opened his brain and popped the knowledge somewhere inside.

Soulmate.

His soulmate is pretty and that very thought has Shuichi shooting up out of his chair unphased by the pain as his knees knock into the underside of his desk and now he really is freaking out as claw-tipped fingers grip his hair and he's willing that thought to go away but all he really does is pull out strands of light purple hair.

What was the probability of that? What kind of wack ass fanfiction did he just wake up in that warranted this? He didn’t even know this could happen, recognizing your soulmate through a computer screen wasn’t very fairytale-like at all especially because there was no way he could see Shuichi at all and god the thought of being seen these feelings would be gone as soon as they appeared and that makes the distressed clicking sound just gets worse. He wants to, he needs to hide but his quirk instincts are taking over they always do when he gets overwhelmed. When he was younger he used to hide in corners on the ceiling, it was hard to explain how being higher than everyone else made him feel safer he could see everything happening below him but eventually people expected him to be there and it was to easily accessible in a house full of reptilian quirks he wasn't the only one who could do it.

Despite what his instincts wanted, he learned to hide under things because if he couldn't see them they couldn’t see him either. Of course it was easier when he was younger, he'd been smaller, but it's surprisingly easy to squeeze under his bed even now. At the moment it probably looks ridiculous but he has his bed pushed up against the wall meaning he can easily just curl himself up in the corner with his tail wrapped tightly around himself and he's able to hide from the world and get lost in his own head.

His computer is still on and he's not listening but he can still hear

him

talking.

___

Touya had given up the hope of ever being a hero a long time ago, the thought however still enters his mind because right now he fucking hates his job. It's not even the job itself he hates, he loves his craft and his clients, even the random walk-ins he’ll never see again after their session but it's the ones who keep coming back that mean the most. He’d almost been free from being under someone’s thumb, and had almost saved enough to start up his own shop. Then Shoto happened.

It wasn’t something he regretted and he certainly didn’t make it his little brother's problem but the court fees had eaten up a majority of his savings and then there was the expenses of taking care of a minor that took up the rest of it. Whatever kept his brother from being taken by the government or their father. The white haired man however can’t help but think how much better it would have been if things had happened just slightly differently.

“You can’t just do that! You don’t do this shit to Kagome or Hiroshi.” Touya argues as he looks at the owner of the tattoo shop he currently rents space out at. Kenji, is and always has been an asshole.

That’s not really true, he’s just pissed off at the moment.

She meant well, when she wanted to. The issue currently? She wanted to up his rental fees, something she didn’t do to the other two artists that made up the small team at The Emporium.

“They’re actually on contracts, I’m doing a lot by letting you work here in the first place.” Kenji says plainly, already sounding bored of the conversation. Touya couldn't even argue because she was right, he’d become notorious in the small community of other artists in the city, he’d been banned from at least half the shops around and anyone else just simply wouldn't let him rent out space. So he’d been a little irresponsible those first few years after his dad kicked him out, he deserved a little credit for even making it through all of that.

“But that's not fair, Shoto comes home next week. I still have to buy his new uniforms for school.” Touya explains but he might as well be talking to a wall. UA uniforms weren't cheap and without Enji paying for them this year he'd been piling on appointments to make up the extra cash. Shoto had already outgrown his uniforms halfway through his first year. At the very least he should be done growing. Touya still hated that both of his

younger

brothers were taller than him.

“I feel for you Touya, I really do but I'm risking a lot having you here, the least you could do is pitch in a little bit more. You've got a steady stream of clients now, you'll be fine, another 50,000 yen is nothing for the price of your work.” Kenji says and she doesn't leave room for him to argue as she walks away. There really isn't any real way for him to argue if she wants more money he’d have to pay or get kicked to the curb.

Touya really fucking hates his job, and sometimes, sometimes he really can't help but think what life would be like if he'd been born stronger. His accident certainly never would have happened, three years in a coma and waking up to find absolutely nothing had changed and his father still wouldn't look at him. He hadn't even been there when he woke up, it had been their nanny that had been hired by Enji after their mother had been taken to the hospital.

Fuyumi had made a cake, her and Natsuo waiting up late for him when he was finally able to come home. Shoto wasn’t allowed to talk to them.

Now it was a daily pill that kept his quirk under control, and scars hidden behind swirls of ink.

Touya ends up packing early when his last scheduled session ends for the day, he doesn't want to sit around the shop for four more hours lest Kenji come back in and try to talk to him. It's not like he can really blame her, he'd given her plenty of reasons to get rid of him and she still took him back.

‘You have potential Touya, it's a shame you let others win.’

She’d told him that once, almost a year ago when he came groveling back after she'd kicked him out of the shop for the third time. Kenji is the tough love type, he'd have the money for her next week for as long as she wants it. He’ll figure out how to balance that with the cost of Shoto's new uniforms. He waves goodbye to Jun at the front counter, before he pushes his way outside to the humid heat of late July.

Touya doesn't have a car, they don't really need it while living in the city. It was more of a hassle owning one than it was convenient, there’s a subway station just less than a block away and it's certainly not the best part of town. It's an off hour too so the platforms are comparably empty to the early morning rushes. He texts Shuichi that he's on his way home early when he gets on the train.

Touya

Hey I got off early

Was thinking of getting dinner while I'm out

Want anything?

He doesn't get an answer so he assumes he's probably wrapped up in a game. Shuichi is usually a quick responder. Still he’d get him something regardless he still owed him something for the other night anyway. A nice meal might not make up for having to lug him up four flights of stairs but it's a start. The train ride is uneventful and he scrolls through his phone but there isn’t really anything to update on, Fuyumi hadn’t messaged him for a few days and typically no news means good news so he didn’t stress about it but it leaves him with nothing else focus on and now he’s thinking about money. He’ll have no choice but to pay Kenji what she wants, it's her building, he'll take a few more appointments and stay longer at the shop to get more walk-ins. Touya's would probably tattoo someone's ass if it really came down to it, it's not like it’d be the first time one couldn't exactly be picky when they were desperate for extra cash.

He can manage, he knows he can but there's also the possibility he has to talk to Shuichi and that hurts his pride a little bit. He certainly couldn't shoulder his sister with this. She'd have fair share of things to say and while Fuyumi meant well she'd have that sad look in her eyes he hated. The issue is he knows he’ll help if he asks, and in other ways when he doesn't even ask it’s just how the man was. Had been since he'd moved in.

Touya had thought Shuichi was a little…odd when he first moved in but he hadn't exactly been very thorough in the initial interview; he'd been the first one to respond to the roommate ad he'd posted online and he was desperate for anyone to help shoulder any portion of the bills while he was in and out of the courts with his father. Endeavor’s name had been dragged through the mud but only a few months out of the public eye and all of Enji Todoroki’s problems were swept away. Touya didn't talk to him outside of court mandated hearings but it wasn't as if his father was actively reaching out in the first place.

Touya didn't think he was an inherently bad person, but he was pretty sure something fundamentally changed within him after his accident at Seketo Peak. Even more so when he woke up in the hospital to only a stranger's face because Fuyumi and Natsuo were at school at the time. Touya had come home…

different

, and that's all Natsuo had summed it up to be after one of their particularly nasty fights when he was seventeen. He knows for certain at least Natsuo was the first one to give up the hope of their father actually caring about them, like really genuinely care, as a father is supposed to.

So maybe Shuichi wasn’t entirely that odd, and really he learned that not long after he’d moved in, because Touya had his own hookups. He’s sure his roommate could write a mile long list of all the weird shit he did that definitely stemmed from some unconscious trauma response he refused to look too far into lest he actually have to think about it. He ended up having to divulge most of it when Shoto adamantly stuck to his decision that he wanted to live with Touya, and so one night he’d ended up considerably drunk where Shuichi found him crying on the kitchen floor.

It wasn’t his proudest moment and he remembered most of it despite the excessive amounts of alcohol in his system, and once he’d started talking he didn’t stop telling him about his father, his accident. How it’s his fault his mother was in the hospital because if he’d just been stronger then no one in his family would have had to suffer. Shuichi had confessed his own struggles in a way that let Touya know he understood complicated families and that he wasn't alone the lines between roommate and not-quiet boyfriends sort of blurred together. It was complicated to explain but they knew they weren't soulmates because they would have known that the moment Touya had opened the door for the first time. They came to a mutual understanding just before Shoto moved in officially but if somehow Touya still ends up in Shuichi’s bed because the shadows in the living room are a little too suffocating that's between them. Still, if he does have a soulmate he hopes they’re good, and that he doesn't ruin them too.

___

The apartment is enveloped in a calm stillness when Touya finally arrives home, nudging the door open with his foot as he balances a couple bags of takeout in his arms. The familiar scent of greasy fried food wafts up to greet him, easily filling the air, a mix of spices and something unmistakably comforting. He’d stopped at the usual place on his walk back from the station, it’s less than a block from their building so its a staple for them on nights Shuichi wasn’t cooking. It’s cheap and the neon lights on the storefront promises hearty meals. No reason to bother asking if it's really good for you.

He takes a moment to survey the small space, noting the way the late afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the worn furniture. The couch had been straightened up and a stack of neatly folded laundry is sitting on the edge, the smell of windex mixes in with the food. Shuichi was always cleaning.

“Shu! I'm home I brought food!” Touya calls out making a mental note to put his clothes away later while slipping his shoes off at the entrance and changing into his slippers before carrying everything into the kitchen. There's no other sound within the apartment but he knows Shuichi is home, his shoes were at the door. If not also for the fact he knows he rarely leaves the apartment, he's usually the one who forces him to go out. Touya just rolls his eyes amused, he again just assumes his roommate was either caught up in playing a game or working on whatever project he was planning out. Touya, to the best of his ability, understood that Shuichi designed video games, programmed them and worked on them seemingly endlessly. Despite the heteromorph’s attempts at really breaking things down and even demonstrating parts of the process but due Touya’s technology illiteracy it all just made his head spin.

Touya busies himself with sifting through the bags as he sets them on the counter, methodically setting everything down. He peeks into containers of steaming stir-fried vegetables, fresh rice, and crispy dumplings. The kitchen is filled with the smell of food. He can’t help but smile a bit as he hopes this is enough to make it up to Shuichi for the other night. Except as he rechecks the bags one last time, ensuring he didn’t forget anything, extra soy sauce, napkins, the stupid fortune cookies that always came with takeout despite it being a western thing, a sense of unease begins to creep in.

He glances towards the doorway. He still hadn’t heard a door open and there’s no sign of Shuichi emerging from his bedroom. His brow furrows in confusion. It’s again, not uncommon for his roommate to get lost in his work or hobbies, especially when he’s engrossed in something creative but the longer he stands there alone in the kitchen something feels different.

Touya leans against the counter and tries to convince himself that he’s just paranoid, Shuichi was probably just caught up in a challenging part of his project or maybe he’d simply just fallen asleep? His thoughts begin to grow heavy though and the food is just going to get cold the longer he waits. Finally Touya pushes himself up and ventures out of the kitchen and down the hall, “Hey, Shu, I don’t know if you heard me but I brought home dinner, it’s gonna get cold if you don't hurry up!”

He waits, but there’s no response. Just silence.

Touya stands outside Shuichi’s door, and hesitates for a moment. He doesn’t know why he feels anxious all of a sudden and he questions if he should knock or just open the door. His hand hovers over the doorknob when he hears a familiar sound from behind the door. It’s barely audible, distant from where he stands; it had taken a while for Touya to fully grasp the full extent of Shuichi’s quirk outside of what was just visible. He’d never judged him for it, but living a mostly sheltered life there were things he hadn’t understood. Touya recognizes a sound of distress when he hears it, he doesn’t hesitate to open the door without knocking.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Shuichi isn't entirely positive how long he's under his bed spiraling; all he knows is he doesn't dare move. At some point within that time the stream ends and his monitor screen turns off due to inactivity, the idle screen casting a faint blue glow throughout his dark bedroom; he can see it on the floor. Just like he can still see the shattered bowl and spilled rice on the floor. His chest has felt constricted as if he couldn't breathe properly and despite trying to dig his claws into his skin it didn't help anything. Soulmates were a complicated thing, nothing about them was straightforward no matter what movies made them out to be, even less so for an abomination like him. Maybe he'd been under here too long; he was certainly regressing into a mindset he hadn't found himself in in a long time. He hadn't thought like this since meeting Touya, the first person outside of his family that made it feel like Shuichi was worth being seen. That he had a right to be here just as much as anyone else does.

Now he's thinking of the face that had appeared on his computer screen illuminated by the game he was playing, his game. Albeit he'd looked highly irritated while playing it when he thought about it but he’s okay thinking about what it all means. Soulmates were complicated. If it were a simple first look and everyone gets to ride off into the sunset Shuichi would have been a lot calmer but it wasn't that easy. Shuichi's claws are digging, digging, he hears a familiar ring tone, his phone, he ignores it. He’d have to leave his spot to check it and he likes it under his bed. It's dark and quiet and nobody would ever think to look for him here.

He curls up tighter, smaller, he just wants to disappear. It's too much to think about too many feelings swirling inside him and he's panicking over a stranger because he knows, but he doesn't even know his name. What kind of username was Eraserdust? That told him absolutely nothing but maybe it's better that way? They hadn't really met, only Shuichi knew but even he knew it wasn't that easy. Fate had already made their choice; he couldn't escape the heartache that was going to come now that he knew there was no getting around it.

Who could ever see the potential in loving him?

Shuichi remembers the first time he’d tried, it had been in middle school. There was a girl in his class who was always nice to him even when the other kids whispered cruel jokes and snickered behind her back. It had all really just been a cruel joke on him of course. He’d had it all planned out when he’d approached her in the courtyard just after school had ended she’d been chatting with her friends. But when he spoke the words that had felt so heavy on his chest, he was met not with a smile, but with a look of sheer disgust. Her expression had twisted in a way that made him feel small and unworthy, as if he were something repulsive.
"I can't believe you would think that," She’d said, her voice sharp as glass. Shuichi felt his heart shatter in that moment, an echo of rejection that resonated painfully within him. He’d stood there, bewildered, grappling with the sharp sting of her words that cut deep into scaled skin. Confusion and shame washed over him, and as he turned away, he felt the weight of a thousand gazes on his back, the cruel laughter of her friends ringing in his ears.

That day, he’d returned home with tears streaming down his cheeks, each sob a mix of heartbreak and self-doubt. His mother, sensing something was terribly wrong, enveloped him in her arms as he fell into her embrace, and he’d clumsily explained everything that had happened that day. “Don’t cry my precious Shuichi, you’ll always be my special boy, as your mother I’ll always be here for you, they'll never love you like I do.”
If he'd been aware of his mother's manipulation sooner maybe he would have realized what she’d done was wrong too. Who tells their child no one else would ever love them? Despite knowing the deceit of her words they still haunt him and he still believes them because no one has ever proven otherwise. Deep down, his mother’s words had rooted themselves into his own self-image that he couldn’t ever shake the feeling that maybe he just wasn’t meant to be loved. He’s disgusting, a freak, a mutant who can't even bring himself to truly ever leave his own apartment. He hid behind false names in the hopes no one could ever identify him, no one knew who he was, he could disappear tomorrow and no one would be none the wiser. What kind of impact did Shuichi Iguchi have on the world? Forced to watch from the sidelines of affection while everyone else around him seemingly danced freely within the warmth of connection.

“Shu! I'm home I brought food!” The sound of the front door opening and a voice calling draws Shuichi out of his endless pit of self-loathing. Touya. Touya would know if Shuichi disappeared.

A distressed sound just filters from his throat because he still can't leave his spot curled up in the furthest corner he could squeeze himself into. This spot is safe, and his brain is stuck on that just like it's also stuck in the image of vivid red hidden behind pale blue. Why did he have to open that link? Why did he have to choose to play his game? It wasn't even what he considered his best one, he’d put a lot of time and effort into it sure but it wasn’t a project he’d really poured his heart into. By the end of it he was just grateful for it to finally be done.

He can hear Touya moving about the apartment, and he’s hyper aware of it, even more so when footsteps come down the hall. Realistically he knows it's Touya and he knows he's not going to do anything but still he finds himself shrinking further even though it is impossible to make himself any smaller.

“Hey, Shu, I don’t know if you heard me but I brought home dinner, it’s gonna get cold if you don't hurry up!” The footsteps keep coming, Touya’s voice carrying through the thin door. His heart is beating erratically, each thump echoes the apprehension that tightens inside his stomach. Even though the words are friendly and lighthearted and he can logic his way through the fact there’s never any malice in Touya’s tone his current state refuses to let him fully grasp that thought. Because that’s precisely what worries him now, because he’s thinking about soulmates, and Yumi, a passing crush who’d crushed whatever part of him that had still believed that maybe he deserved to be loved too. It’s always the anticipation of the unexpected, the way good intentions can always spiral into hidden intentions.

He knows when Touya is standing outside his door, the footsteps stopping but he can hear the shuffling of movement. He was probably hesitating had he picked up on something being wrong? He wonders if he’s wearing that easy smile that always makes Shuichi feel less alone, but it’s not enough to push him from his current spot. Maybe if he’s quiet he’ll just think he’s asleep. He’s spiraling further.

Touya had been there, had never once looked at him with judgment in his eyes maybe, just maybe he could trust him. Like all the others before? How many people would he trust before he finally just gave up? How long until Touya turned on him too? He was thinking in circles, Touya wouldn't do that but the What if keeps inserting itself everywhere once he’d started, he couldn't stop it. Just getting a glimpse of his soulmate was enough to set off a torrent of self-hatred in his mind. The familiar sting of inadequacy and despair flooded his thoughts, overwhelming him until he let out a low, distressed click of frustration. He didn’t have any control over it. He's tormenting himself and he’s so aware of it that it hurts. The sound must have been audible from out in the hall because Touya isn’t hesitating anymore as seconds later the door is being pushed open and his familiar house shoes are shuffling inside the room.

“Shuichi?” Touya’s voice was laced with concern, not the joyful tone he usually wore like a shield. He doesn’t venture far into the room, likely assessing the scene: the shattered bowl lying abandoned on the floor, illuminated only by the faint glow of the computer screen. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words and heavy silence. Shuichi watches but he doesn’t move.

This wasn’t the first time Touya had discovered him in such a state. The sight of his roommate in distress was all too familiar, and it tugged at something deep within him, a mix of sympathy and frustration.

Shuichi remained hidden under the bed, curled into himself as if that small space could provide some solace from the world outside. He could sense Touya’s presence, the way he knelt on the floor, close yet not intruding, giving him the space he needed while simultaneously offering support. “I’m assuming you’ve been under there for a while,” Touya said, his voice steady but tinged with empathy.

Shuichi didn’t respond; he never did in these moments. But Touya persisted, “Nobody’s going to hurt you if you want to come out.” His words were a lifeline, a gentle invitation wrapped in understanding. Touya knew he wouldn’t get an answer, yet he kept talking, filling the silence with reassurance. Finally he asks, “Can I come in?”
Sometimes you find yourself in odd positions when you’re trying to help someone you care about. So when Shuichi shuffles around under the bed and Touya gets a barely audible, “Yes.” He doesn’t find it entirely odd to lay on his stomach on the floor and face him. He smiles warmly when his eyes meet Shuichi’s, the glow of the computer makes something swirl in the vibrant blue, something comforting, a familiarity.

“Hey.” Touya greets, his voice barely breaks the stillness of the room, no louder than the gentle hum of the computer under Shuichi’s desk. He’s lying on the cold wooden floor which feels unforgiving against his cheek, but he doesn’t get up. The faint light spilling in from the hall helps illuminate the dimness but it hardly penetrates the shadows lurking beneath the bed, but it's enough for him to see Shuichi. It’s a space he doesn’t fully understand, but one he’s come to know too well. For some reason, Shuichi’s first instinct is to retreat here, maybe it feels less overwhelming, hidden from view unknown to the world. Touya never really questioned it, figuring it’s not his place to pry. All he truly knows is that whatever pulls Shuichi to this spot usually stems from something unpleasant.

“Hey.” Shuichi manages to croak out the word, his voice thick with uncertainty. Reminding himself, Touya’s good, but even as he does he can’t quite muster even the semblance of a smile. The weight of his own detestation is far too great against him and it hangs heavily in the air between them.

“Can you tell me how long you’ve been under there?” Touya asks gently, curiosity mixed with concern. He wants to meet Shuichi wherever he’s at, to let him know he’s not alone.

“A while,” Shuichi replies, the simple greeting had opened him to speaking even if it’s not much he finds himself wanting to articulate. If he’d had a way to track the time, maybe he’d have a clearer answer. But in the expanse of time he’d spent in the quiet of the room it’d all seemed to stretch and contract in unsettling ways.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Touya offers, tone soft but earnest. He of all people knows how difficult it is to voice those thoughts that swirl around in the dark, but he’s here, just like Shuichi is there for him. Carrying him up four flights of stairs absolutely plastered, always makes sure he’s covered up on the couch, water and pain killers waiting for when he wakes up. It felt almost unfair that all Touya has to offer him now is an ear to listen.

___
The furthest they get is sitting on their knees on the floor, Shuichi looks ready to run back under the bed at the slightest wrong move purple hair hanging in his face as he stares at his lap. He’d messed up his arm, the blood staining through the fabric of his gray sweatshirt through the holes that undoubtedly had been made by claws digging in too harshly. Touya’s watching him, he knows he is and he knows he’ll have to tell him, but his hands look wrong green scales with those damn claws that only ever hurt people. Everything about him is wrong. That fact is only solidified by Touya sitting in front of him, Touya who at least looked normal enough even if his piercings and tattoos left him an outcast most people usually looked past that when the man opened his mouth. He's charismatic in every way Shuichi wishes he could be.

Touya laughs in the face of prejudice and carries his abnormalities like a badge of honor. Shuichi hides behind baggy clothes and pseudonyms.

“You know what you asked me, a few nights ago, about what it's like to meet your soulmate?” Shuichi asks, fidgeting with his hands there's a possibility he has no idea what he's talking about Touya had been out of it enough to warrant that, “I know now.”
Surprise crosses Touya's face, and he's sort of happy Shuichi won't look at him and it gets misinterpreted. In that moment he quickly restores his expression, “You mean…” The pyromancer doesn't need to finish as Shuichi nods.
“It’s unmistakable, unfortunately,” Shuichi says hunched on himself, “But only I saw him- if- I don't understand.”

Touya and Shuichi had never talked in detail about soulmates only ever in passing to know their opinions on the matter were similar. Also when they came to the understanding whatever had happened between them had been born from the depths of their depression and desperation to be seen, something they were capable of giving each other just as friends and roommates. Shuichi however had been the one to break it off, Touya hadn't wanted to.

“Did he reject you?” Touya asks slowly, Shuichi shakes his head and he looks up now the apprehension clear in dark red eyes covered by a curtain of purple hair.

“No uh…he didn't see me.” Shuichi admits, “Someone was streaming one of my games, and I saw him.”

“Oh I see, you saw him but he couldn't see you. I didn't know that could happen, but I'm sure it has before, so that's what made you panic?” Touya asks, paraphrasing Shuichi’s words back to him before asking him the question.

“Part of it was…I started thinking about my mom.” Shuichi says his claws try to grip his already injured arm again but smaller hands the backs covered by swirls of intricate ink are grabbing his before he can do that. He'd never gone into great detail about the depths of his mother's manipulation; a part of him blames himself more than he blames her. She was struggling, forced to raise seven mutant quirked children while being one herself; the odds were stacked against her from the beginning. That however wasn't an excuse, a reason but not an excuse and from what Touya said it wasn't his responsibility to forgive her for it.

“You have a soulmate whether you think you deserve it or not, no matter what you or anyone else tells you,” Touya states firmly, his voice steady and unwavering. He takes a breath as he squeezes Shuichi’s hands, “Look, I don’t believe in much, but if you truly feel that this person is your soulmate, then it’s not something you can simply ignore or hope will vanish.”

Shuichi’s gaze drops, his eyes now fixated on where Touya’s hands enveloped his own. The contrast between them is stark, a visual reminder of everything he feels he lacks. The warmth of Touya’s grip feels like a cruel irony. “That’s easy for you to say…” he mutters, insecurity creeping into his tone. “He’ll get one look at me and I’ll end up right back where I started, alone and unwanted.” Touya was everything Shuichi wished he could be.
Touya’s expression softens. “But you don’t know that,” he insists, a note of encouragement in his voice.
“But what if he does?” Shuichi counters, his voice barely above a whisper, fear creeping in. He looks ready to dart back under the bed, to hide in the dark and pray for something, anything to just swallow him whole so he doesn't have to think anymore. “What if he takes one look at me and decides I’m not worth his time? What if the very look of me repulses him?” It’s happened with so many people, why would this time be any different?

Touya leans in slightly, his gaze unwavering. “But what if he doesn’t? What if he sees something in you that you can’t see in yourself? Hm? I can’t believe that fate would be so cruel as to match you with someone only to let it slip away because of some self-imposed limitations.”
Shuichi shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he pulls away from Touya and he really feels like he might start crying. “Fate has done crueler things than you know.” Just look at me. The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, an unspoken truth that echoes his deepest insecurities. He feels trapped in a cycle of doubt, convinced that the very essence of who he is will repel anyone who happens to look too closely, no one ever made it past the surface.

Touya looks at him sadly, “If you saw the you that I did you wouldn't think that, come on Shu, you're an amazing guy. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their soulmate, I know I would. If you just let yourself believe for a moment.”

Shuichi is scared. Terrified. He was fine with the way his life was now, he’d convinced himself he was, and that's why he busied himself with cleaning as a distraction because if he sits still too long he might actually be forced to think of everything he lacks. Taking care of the apartment gave him purpose, making sure he planned out meals to make sure Shoto got plenty to eat when he was home made him feel needed. He doesn't go out unless it's with Touya because nobody says anything to him when he's with the imposing figure that is Touya Todoroki.

“I don't want to talk about it anymore.” Shuichi says plainly with a sense of finality, as he finally stands up his joints are stuff from being under the bed for so long and then kneeling on the floor. His feet are tingling with the familiar numbness as blood flow is properly restored to them. It's the end of the conversation and Shuichi leaves Touya still kneeling on the floor and disappears into the bathroom. He doesn't turn the lights on, the last thing he wants to see is his own reflection afraid he’d only see her looking back at him.

‘They’ll never love you like I do’
He didn't want anyone to love him like his mother had, but maybe that's all he would ever have.

___
When Shuichi comes out of the bathroom sometime later and into the kitchen, following the sound of Touya and remembering his earlier announcement of bringing home food, he was no longer wearing his hoodie and there were bandages around his arm where he'dug his claws into it. The sight of jagged and dipped in scales just a few shades paler than the rest made Touya’s heart break just a little more, evidence of past injuries.

Still he doesn't say anything, he knows where the scars are from, had been there for a few of them, had kissed them in the same way Shuichi had his own. Touya cuts off the thoughts as quickly as they came, he didn't need to remember that right now. “I stopped by the usual place, got your favorites, they might need to be heated up now though,” He says taking a rather large bite of a steamed dumpling as he speaks leaning against the counter.

“Thanks.” The mutant says quietly as he grabs the containers Touya motions towards, as he does he sees the shattered bowl in the trash as he passes it. Touya had cleaned up his mess, “You didn't have to do that, I could have gotten it.”
Touya’s eyes follow Shuichi’s to the trash can, and shrugs, “It’s no big deal, I'm capable of using a broom, it's the least I can do around here.” He tries to play it off, a grin on his face. He doesn't want to ignore what had happened and he really hates the way Shuichi is shutting him out. He doesn't want him to deal with this alone or think that he has too, but he also can't force the issue. He’s the last person who should be trying that tactic on anyone because it certainly never worked on him.
Silence falls between them as they eat right there in the kitchen, neither bothering to go and sit down at the table. As they do, Touya thinks about soulmates, he used to think about them alot but after seeing his parents…after a while he’d just stopped believing in them. No matter how tempting Fuyumi’s stories were. There were speculations and those who didn't believe after all it was hard to believe in something that wasn't tangible. Simply having to trust in someone else's word that yes, there is someone out there for you, and when you meet them you’ll just know. It sounded like a fairy tale and Touya still remembered the first time he saw his father hit his mother. Whatever potential had been there he’d slowly watched leave his mother's eyes.

Shuichi was the one who made him think that maybe, just maybe soulmates were a reality he could live in. He couldn't help but wonder what type of person fate had decided was a good enough match for the heteromorph.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Shuichi busies himself with deep cleaning the entire apartment in the days that follow, using it as a form of distraction from the whirlwind of emotions that have consumed him. He meticulously goes through every room, pulling out furniture to vacuum underneath, scrubbing surfaces until they gleam, and sorting through his room and the random crap he’d accumulated in his closet. Each task becomes a way to channel his restless energy, a method to avoid confronting the thoughts swirling in his mind.

Touya doesn’t try to stop him; instead, he quietly observes, recognizing that this is Shuichi’s way of coping. He understands that sometimes it’s easier to focus on tangible tasks rather than delve into difficult conversations. As Shuichi loses himself in the rhythm of cleaning, he finds a strange comfort in the order he’s creating, even as his heart remains in turmoil.

In his determination to avoid distractions, Shuichi consciously steers clear of his computer and his phone. Even when he hears the familiar ping of incoming messages most notably just his discord server being active, but he brushes it off, his mods can deal with any of it while he forces himself to stay in the moment. He eventually succumbs to the temptation to finally just turn his phone off entirely, an act that feels both liberating and isolating. Without the constant notifications, he hopes to gain some clarity, even if it means shutting out the outside world. Not that there was much of an outside world for him to begin with; he wasn't of any great importance online or off; he was nothing but a faceless pseudonym.

With no deadlines looming and no obligations calling him away, the apartment becomes his entire universe. The only person who might need to reach him is Touya, but seeing as their roommates and it’s impossible to avoid each other entirely somehow they manage to some extent to do just that. He finds solace in the four walls surrounding him, creating a barrier against the outside chaos. Each room he cleans feels like a small victory, yet he can’t shake the weight of his unresolved feelings.

As the days blend together, Shuichi immerses himself deeper into his cleaning ritual. He tackles the kitchen first, scrubbing every corner and throwing out expired food. The rhythmic sound of his scrubbing brush becomes a mantra, drowning out the noise of his racing thoughts. When he moves to the living room, he rearranges furniture, trying to create a space that feels fresh and new—yet every change only highlights the emptiness he feels inside.

Occasionally, he catches glimpses of Touya from the corner of his eye. The other man moves about the apartment quietly, respecting Shuichi’s need for space. There’s a palpable tension in the air, an unspoken understanding that something needs to be addressed, yet neither seems ready to breach the silence. The emotional distance grows even as they share the same space, each lost in their own world. Shuichi is mindful when he enters Shoto’s room to make sure everything’s where it should be, he’s never gone for long but he’d promised to spend the summer with Fuyumi so he hadn't been home for a few weeks.

He prepares the apartment, knowing that Shoto will be home early next week, making sure everything is in order. He understands that he can’t ignore it forever; fate has a way of forcing one’s hand, and it’s only a matter of time before he’ll have to confront the reality of it all. Now that it’s happened, even if he’s the only one aware, seeing

him

again is inevitable—even if it’s just through a computer screen.

Shuichi wouldn’t mind that, he thinks. It would be so much easier if he remained unaware. After all, Shuichi still didn’t know his name, but he’s certain it’s somewhere out there if he just took the time to look. He’s still lost in this phase of avoidance, despite everything Touya had said and the truth he’d known long before it was spoken aloud. He couldn’t avoid it forever but he was surely going to try.

It’s late when Shuichi stops cleaning for the night, he’d even distracted himself with making dinner which gave him dishes that kept him busy for just a little while longer. Touya says nothing when he comes for his plate but he doesn’t immediately leave the kitchen. The silence is heavy as Shuichi places the last dish up to dry, he hasn’t eaten. He’ll have to wash their plates later.

“I know what you’re doing,” Touya says, his voice steady yet laced with concern as he watches the taller man hesitate, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his features. He’s only halfway turned for Touya to see him.

“So?” Shuichi replies, crossing his arms defensively, a frown deepening on his brow.

Touya takes a breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle between them. “You already know how this will go. You’re making assumptions about someone you don’t truly know.” This was the most they’d spoken to each other in days, he’d held off talking about Kenji’s demand for more money but once Shoto came home it’d be a topic of discussion.

“Everyone else does it,” Shuichi shoots back, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. “Why should I be any different?” The frustration in his voice is palpable, a mix of resentment and self-doubt.

Touya regards him carefully, aware that beneath Shuichi’s bravado lies a vulnerability they both grapple with. “Because this is different,” he replies, his tone softening. “You’re setting yourself up to be hurt, and you don’t even know what might happen. By pushing him away before he’s had a chance to really see you, you’re not just closing the door on him—you’re closing it on yourself, too. You’ve been given an opportunity here, something you’ve longed for, and you’re letting it slip through your fingers by wallowing in self-pity.” How many nights had Shuichi spent throughout highschool thinking about soulmates, when he was supposed to be asleep and unaware. Those daydreams were easily shattered.

Shuichi scoffs lightly, but it lacks its usual edge. “That’s rich, coming from you, you know,” he says, the challenge in his voice faltering as quickly as it came,
guilt washing over him. He pauses, running a hand through his hair, and sighs deeply as he turns to face Touya fully. “Sorry, that was rude. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll figure it out…. I just want some time.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, and in that moment, both men understand the truth of the situation: the struggle against their own fears and the necessity of taking a leap into the unknown. As they stand in the quiet, each lost in thought, the connection between them feels both fragile and vital, a reminder that they’re not alone in this journey.

“You said he streams, why don’t you tune into another?” Touya suggests and he isn’t going to hold his friends' comment against him. It was true. So he moves on. “He won’t know you’re there and it lets you figure out your feelings about the situation without feeling pressured.”

Shuichi looks thoughtful for a moment as if he hadn’t genuinely thought about that being an option. For someone Touya had watched take apart a computer and put it back together again Shuichi wasn’t very bright sometimes, “I guess so, I still don't know his name.”

Touya just rolls his eyes, “For someone who forces me to talk about my feelings you sure do suck at this.”

Shuichi glares but it lacks any real bite, “I’ve never had anyone genuinely care–I’ll think about tuning into one of his streams sometime.” He says, but doesn't promise.
It

would

be easier to simply watch him through a computer screen but Shuichi finds he’ll just be setting himself up to get hurt, “In the meantime, I’ve already made a list of things Shoto might need when he comes home next week we should all go to the store when he does.”

Touya makes a face but keeps whatever he's thinking to himself, but there’s something about Shuichi’s statement that bothers him.

“Okay,” And he leaves Shuichi alone in the kitchen again.

___

Shuichi doesn’t get the time he wishes for when he finally turns his computer back on later that night. The chaos of his day still lingers in the back of his mind, but parts of his earlier conversation with Touya have managed to carve out a small pocket of clarity amid the turmoil. It feels like a fragile thread, one he fears might snap at any moment.

As he logs in, he notices a flurry of notifications waiting for him on Discord, one of which is marked as new and came through less than an hour ago. A knot tightens in his stomach as he contemplates the implications of that notification. Deep down, he knows he might be jumping to conclusions; his instincts scream that the worst is likely, a defense mechanism honed by years of disappointment. Hope feels like a double-edged sword to him—each time he allows himself to feel even a flicker of it, he only ends up more deeply hurt when reality inevitably crashes down.

But there it is, the notification, glaring at him like a beacon of impending doom. He can’t help but wonder if fate is playing some cruel trick on him. Twenty-four years of existence and all he asks for is a little more time to process, to understand, to simply exist without the weight of uncertainty bearing down on him. It feels almost like a cosmic joke, the universe chuckling as it dangles the possibility of connection just out of reach.

He knows he has options; he could easily ignore the notification and let it fade into the digital ether. He could convince himself that moving on is the right path, but the reality is that he can’t escape his responsibilities. His online presence is not just a hobby—it’s a vital part of his life that helps pay the bills, the one lifeline he clings to in the face of uncertainty.

With a heavy sigh, he grapples with the decision. Should he dive into the fray, risking further emotional turmoil, or retreat into the safety of indifference? Each option weighs heavily on him, and he finds himself staring at the screen, caught in a standoff between dread and curiosity, wondering if this time might be different.

Shuichi inevitably finds himself clicking the link attached to the message from his mod, and he waits for the page to load at least this time he’s prepared as the stream takes up his screen. It’s not as nerve wracking this time he’s expecting the sparks that are like embers on a fire inside his chest. Something warm flutters a contrast from the burst he’d felt the first time. If fate is going to taunt him there’s no reason to drag it out further than he needs too. He reminds himself he’s safe behind his computer.

“I’m telling you, I’ve tried that already it’s not working- fuck.” He’s agitated, playing the same game as he’d been earlier this week. If it was really giving him that much trouble why didn’t he just give it up already? Shuichi’s trying to decide if this is easier or not but he’s able to take in more now that he’s calmer, “This shit is so lame.” He doesn’t try to let the comment bother him, he didn’t particularly have much attachment to this game in the first place.

D1ckmeister22_
:

Then just give up dude this shit is probably broken

There’s a pause before the next game as he seems to read over the messages coming in and he scoffs, he’s holding his controller precariously pinkies extended from the device in a fashion he wasn’t sure was entirely productive, That couldn’t be comfortable could it?

“I’m not a quitter, I always win.” He says it with a confidence that Shuichi almost believes him but as he watches him play he notices that if someone is going to say that and mean it they should actually be paying attention to the story. Whatever anxiety he’d felt is melting away as he gets irritated, he’s typing before he can stop himself.

Spinner:

you’re playing it wrong, that’s why you keep dying in the same spot

Spinner
:

If you’re gonna diss it at least do it right in the first place

Red eyes narrow as he glances at a screen he assumes is beside him to show off the incoming messages, a few other viewers don't seem to like his comments as they go in on him but Shuichi doesn’t really care at this point. Sure he wasn't the most proud of this particular game, it's basic in nature but the point of it was that it was a mystery nothing was meant to be as straightforward as it came out to be.

“Oh and what do you know, Mr. Know it all. You calling me stupid or something?” He asks annoyed and Shuichi can see the birthmark on his chin as he pushes his hair out of his face. Technically he’s not calling him stupid.

Spinner: It’s my game, you didn’t keep the silver chalice you got from the merchant on level one did you?
It’s the point of the mystery, everything connects eventually nothing is as invaluable as you may deem it to be. The most insignificant piece would always turn out to be the most vital. He really seems to pause at that as he stares at the screen with
a scowl. His response must have been specific enough he wasn’t immediately denying his claim.

Spinner:

You were specifically told to keep it

He’s staking a hand off of his controller and scratches at his neck and he’s glaring, “How annoying, I’ll have to restart.”

Spinner
:

You don’t have to keep playing, the games really not that great.

The anxiety is back and he’s freaking out, he hadn’t actually intended to interact. He’d just had a visceral reaction to the accusation that the game itself sucked because someone wasn’t paying attention, there weren’t multiple endings to this one, just a set path and he’s sure there were things he could have done better within it but there was meaning behind the pieces significant to the story line. He’d thought he’d made it clear to players that the silver chalice specifically shouldn’t be discarded without giving away as to why.

Shuichi thought he was now just being annoying, nobody likes a know it all, game maker or not.

“Hmm, no I like it. I already said I'm not a loser, I’ll finish.

Then

I’ll have some opinions to share with you

Spinner

.” His smirk is crooked as he looks into the camera this time, and it accentuates the scar on his lip and Shuichi is so glad he’s safe behind his computer screen. He’d never live down the sound that came out of him, “So just hangout for a little while.”

He’s definitely screwed.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Touya somehow manages to pay Kenji the money she wants and still has enough to at least pay off at least one new set of uniforms for Shoto for school, he’d save more to get him another. He may have just ended up spending more time at the parlor in a way to avoid Shuichi, he told himself it was to give the man space but ever since the soulmate revelation had been made Touya’s been feeling

off.

He’s happy for his roommate, he deserves it, and he really wants the other man to see that but there’s a deeper part of him that feels almost like jealousy of who exactly he wasn’t entirely sure as of yet. Shuichi or his soulmate he knew nothing about. He tries not to think about it but actively telling himself to stop just makes him do it more.

He knows he likes Shuichi and maybe he’d become too dependent on him. This was going to happen sooner or later. He thinks. The world had been unfair to his roommate since birth, Touya truly does believe that Shuichi deserves this, and he’ll continue to convince the heteromorph of the same thing. Even if he’s dealing with his own conflicting emotions about it. He’ll live, he always does.

Touya distracts himself in the lull between clients, he’s hiding in the back because he really doesn’t want to deal with Kenji and both Kagome and Hiroshi are up front today, and he really can’t deal with their bickering at the moment either. He spends the time sketching mindlessly in his sketchbook that doubles as a journal, because apparently writing out his thoughts was beneficial. Not that he really used it for that purpose very often, he hadn't actively listened to any of his therapists' suggestions since he’d stopped going a few months ago.

He doesn't dwell on it, he didn't think the talking it out thing really worked for him anyway, he likes his art better. Helps him focus, lets him get his feelings out in a way he thinks really matters even if few people would agree with that belief. If Shuichi had his games, then Touya had his ink. He’s thinking about Shuichi again. He realizes it too late and he’s slamming his journal closed on scaled hands and pointed claws as someone knocks on the open doorway of the room.

Vibrant purple hair and tanned skin swirls into view as Kagome doesn't wait for an answer as she appears beside him. She's smirking like she’d just caught
Touya doing something wrong but she really hadn't, “Hey,” The younger girl greets brushing her hair behind her hair and if she tries to pull her shirt down further in an attempt to get his attention he doesn't comment as he just stares up at her face. He knows she has a

thing

for him, had the entire time she’d first signed her contract with Kenji to work out of the shop after her apprenticeship with Hiro. If the others were aware of it they never said anything to him about it.

He thinks she's a nice girl, but not his type and being six years her senior just made him feel uncomfortable with himself. He doesn't want to hurt her feelings though so he tries to be cordial at least. The last thing he needs to do is make her hate him and she goes back to Kenji or anyone else about it. He’d be on the curb before he’d ever get a chance to defend himself.

“Hey, what's up?” Touya attempts to come off as nonchalant despite the tension that had been visible in his posture when she'd first appeared. He set down his pencil on top of his now shut sketchbook.

“Your sister’s here.” Kagome says simply and that at least really catches his attention because why would Fuyumi be here? He’s given her the tattoo parlor’s address for emergencies, this wasn't exactly a safe part of town he’d never want her wandering around these streets by herself.

Today is Friday. Shoto comes home today.

Toyota suddenly remembers, but his phone hasn't made any noise all afternoon. He’s pretty sure Shuichi had mentioned it offhandedly this morning before he’d left for work but that still didn't explain why Fuyumi had come out all this way.

“Okay, thanks for telling me.” Touya thanks the younger artists as he stands up, “Guess I should go see what’s up.”

Fuyumi is standing uncomfortably by the front desk her hands wringing around the strap of her purse as a familiar figure is leaning over it trying to speak with her.

“Hey, back off from my sister, perv.” Touya barks out as he walks up behind Hiro and smacks the back of his head. Hiroshi is a notorious flirt and would sleep with just about anyone that gave him the time of day. Fuyumi looks visibly relieved at her brother's appearance and Touya's definitely giving his idiot coworker a lecture later.

“Do you always have to be so gross?” Kagome asks, having followed Touya back out to the front, she plops back down in what he assumes had been her previous seat beside Hiro behind the desk. She pulls out her phone clearly not dealing with Hiroshi’s usual shenanigans.

“Hey I wasn't doing nothing, is it wrong to point out beauty when I see it?” Hiro asks, looking wounded as he rubs the back of his head. Kenji isn't anywhere to be seen so Touya's guesses she must be back in her office.

“I doubt that's all you were doing, did he do anything ‘Yumi?”
Touya asks as he looks at his sister, and he notes she looks tired. Her slate gray eyes are lined with circles and her hair looks haphazardly pulled back out of her face with one of her claw clips. She shakes her head.

“No, he just asked if they were real.” Fuyumi states simply, she already looks over it, and Hiro visibly shrinks back as he tries to sneak away. Touya doesn't need a full explanation on what exactly the man had been alluding to and his palms are growing hot to the touch as he grows angry.

“I outta kill you old man!” Touya growls as he goes to grab the older man, “That’s my sister you creep!” Hiro yelps in shock as Touya’s too hot hand grips onto the back of his neck before he can run away.

Kagome doesn't even bother looking up from her phone now, except to glance boredly up at a concerned looking Fuyumi, “Don’t worry they'll stop in three…two…”

She doesn't even get to one before a voice is booming, “What the hell are you two doing?” Kenji asks furious as she appears in the doorway of her office, arms crossed staring down at the floor where Hiroshi and Touya lay tangled in a heap.

“He tried to hit on my sister!”

“And so what? You ain't her keeper,” Hiro argues.

“She’s more than half your age, pervert!”

The two keep bickering before Kenji just sighs heavily pushing up her glasses to pinch her nose, “That's enough both of you, Touya I think it's best if you just head out for the day.”

Touya looks ready to argue when Fuyumi speaks up this time, “That would be good, there are some things I need to talk with you about.” She says softly. Kenji makes a

‘You see’

face and Touya huffs as he pushes himself off of Hiroshi. He didn't exactly succeed in hurting the man at all besides a faint red mark from where he'd grabbed him but it wouldn't leave any serious marks. It’s not worth the argument and he’s certainly going to hear it from Fuyumi as soon as they left.

“I’ll go grab my stuff.” Touya grumbles as he disappears briefly to the back room he'd been in previously. He grabs his things, slipping on his jacket before shoving his journal turned sketchbook into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder.

“I really do apologize I didn't mean to cause any problems.” Fuyumi’s apologizing to Kenji when Touya comes back up front.

“Oh don’t worry about it, sweetie you aren't responsible for them two, I'll deal with them as needed. You just take care of yourself okay.” Kenji smiles warmly at the girl who just blushes in embarrassment before she just nods.

“Yes, thank you.” She says politely before she glances over Touya, and whatever sweetness was there melted away as she fixed him with a glare, the overbearing sisterly kind that told him he was in trouble. “We should get going then.”

__

They walk in silence for at least a block and a half, their destination to the station clear but unspoken. The air between them feels heavy with unaddressed tension. Touya’s keenly aware that Fuyumi is upset; he can sense it in the stiff set of her shoulders and the way her jaw is clenched. Still, he thinks he can sidestep her disappointment if he just plays it right. He opens his mouth, ready to ask her what’s on his mind. He’d been wondering about it since Kagome had told him she was at the shop.

“So what—”

“Touya, what the hell?!” Before he can finish, her voice cuts through the air, sharp and piercing. He doesn’t get the chance to ask her what brought her all the way out to this side of the city before he feels the familiar heat of her anger rising. She turns to him, practically hissing the question, and he can see it in her eyes—fury mixed with frustration. She’s rightfully upset, and he knows it. After all, he’s been acting like an idiot. “You can’t just pick fights with your coworkers!”

“But—”

“I’m a woman, Touya! You think I haven't heard worse? I can handle it myself.” Her tone leaves no room for argument; it’s clear she doesn’t want to hear whatever flimsy excuse he might have in mind. This isn’t just about him being protective; there’s a lot on the line here, and she knows it. They both know it. He was being stupid. “After everything I’ve been dealing with, the last thing I need is for you to show up jobless because you think you have to answer everything with violence. How do you think the courts would handle that?”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. He can see the weight of her experiences etched on her face. She’s been fighting her own battles and helping him take care of Shoto, and now she has to contend with his reckless choices too. He knows she’s right; her job, her stability, everything is on the line, and yet the instinct to defend her, to shield her from any kind of harm, burns within him. But as he opens his mouth again, the resolve in her eyes silences him.

At least now, Touya had the decency to look guilty as he stared at his sister. It was hard to miss the toll that stress had taken on her; she looked so much older than he remembered. The lines of worry etched into her forehead and the slight droop of her shoulders spoke volumes about the weight she carried. She always seemed to prioritize everyone else's needs before her own, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was his fault she had to grow up so fast, forced into a caretaker role that was never meant for her.

Fuyumi took a deep breath, attempting to gather her thoughts and calm the storm brewing inside her. “Look, that’s not what I came out here to talk about,” she began, her voice steadier now. “It’s actually about Shoto. He’s fine, I promise—sort of.” The way she said it made Touya’s heart race with concern. “I explained a bit to Shuichi when I dropped him off at the apartment. I just wanted to talk without a chance of Shoto overhearing,” she added quickly, a hint of urgency in her tone.

Fuyumi sighed heavily, the weight of her responsibilities evident in the way she carried herself. “Why don’t we go out for lunch? My treat, and we’ll talk.” The offer hung in the air, a lifeline thrown amidst the tension. He could see the slight hope in her eyes, and despite everything, he felt a rush of gratitude. They needed this—time together, away from the chaos that seemed to envelop their lives.

Touya really doesn't like the sound of ‘sort of’ but if Shoto is already safe at home he’d let himself try to relax. So he nods, “Okay, but we’ll get on the train first. I don't like you being on this side of town, next time I don't want you coming out here alone.” Touya states firmly.

“You’re doing the thing again.” Fuyumi says, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. The thing where he tries to be the overprotective older brother, a bad habit, an ingrained part of him that would never truly go away. He’d spent a lot of time convincing himself he didn't care, he never wanted to do that again, “But I understand, I’ll call next time.” His sister relented because in this regard she agreed with him.

As they began to walk again, he mulled over her words, already feeling the heaviness in his chest ease just a little. Perhaps this lunch could be a moment of reprieve, a chance for both of them to share their burdens without the usual distractions and misunderstandings. Fuyumi deserved that much, and so did he. He’s worried about Shoto the entire time as they make it to the station, they don’t have to wait long for the train that will take them uptown.

He reminds himself though Fuyumi’s not actively freaking out so that must mean that everything’s okay but that ‘

sort of

’ lingers in his mind as he watches Fuyumi her gaze focused on the world outside the train window.

___

It isn’t until they find themselves nestled in a cozy little cafe in a better part of town, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting around them, that Fuyumi finally breaks the silence. The warm sunlight filters through the large windows, casting a soft glow on the tables adorned with small potted plants. She takes a deep breath, swirling the steam rising from her cup, and looks up at her Touya. “Dad showed up at my apartment while I was out,” she finally says, her voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of emotion. The words hang in the air, weighted with unspoken memories and unresolved feelings. His hands tighten around his drink, and he knows it isn’t just because of the cup in his hands the cause for his hands growing warmer, “I don’t know if he knew I wasn’t home or if it was just a coincidence.”

“And Shoto?” Touya asks, jaw set as he tries to keep himself under control, but with his meds the most he could really do was produce an almost useless spark. Uncontrollable, that’s what he was.

Fuyumi looks back down at her cup, “Was home alone.” She tells him, “I don’t know what he said Shoto won’t tell me, but I don’t know I just got so

mad.

He hadn’t gone against any of the court orders this entire time. I don't understand what he was trying to accomplish by cornering him like that. I yelled at him.” She says softly and her emotions are clear on her face as she quickly tries to wipe her eyes dry. Touya’s heart aches, Fuyumi is always the one who thinks she has to keep it together for everyone else. While she’d stopped trying to force her hopes on everyone there was still that part of her that still just wanted her father’s love, a desire for a normal happy family. That’s all anyone truly wanted.

“Yumi– Why didn’t you call me?” Touya asks and he wants to reach for her hand in a sign of comfort, but he’s got to control the rage boiling up inside him lest his too hot hands burn.

“Because I know you, I handled it.” Fuyumi states and isn’t that just the trademarked Todoroki stubbornness. Touya wasn’t the only one trying to keep it all together on his own, “But Shoto, I had to schedule an emergency session with his therapist. He’s been having nightmares…” She trails off as if she’s unsure if she wants to continue glancing at Touya, distracting herself by sipping her coffee in an attempt to make it take longer.

“What else, Yumi? I know there’s more to this. You’re a terrible liar, so just tell me,” Touya presses, his voice firm yet edged with concern.

Fuyumi hesitates for a moment, her gaze dropping to the table as she fiddles with the edge of her cup. Finally, she takes a deep breath and says, “He wants to visit Mom.” The words hang in the air, and Touya’s brow furrows in confusion. Shoto has been visiting their mother regularly since last year, often bringing Fuyumi and Natsuo along for support. This wasn’t exactly a new development, so why did it feel so significant now?

“So? I don’t see why you would be so hesitant to tell me that,” Touya responds, his confusion deepening.

Fuyumi looks up, her eyes reflecting a mixture of worry and urgency. “He said he’ll only go if you go with him.” The gravity of her statement sinks in, and Touya’s grip on the table tightens, his knuckles turning white against the polished wood. It feels as if a wave of tension rolls through him, as if the very air around them has thickened.

“Touya!” Fuyumi exclaims, her voice rising louder than she intended, startling a few nearby patrons. The smell of burnt wood fills the air, mixing strangely with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and for a moment, the world outside the cafe fades into the background as they sit in their own bubble of tension.

“Yumi, you know what that means,” he says, his voice low and strained. “I can’t just… go with him.” The implications of their brother’s request swirl in his mind like a storm, and he feels the weight of years of unresolved conflict pressing down on him, suffocating in its intensity. Rei Todoroki had been sick for a long time, and in all that time, Touya had never found the strength to visit her. The thought alone felt like a betrayal. He couldn’t bear the idea that she would want to see him; how could she? If he’d been born better, if he hadn’t made the choices he had, then she wouldn’t be stuck in that hospital bed in the first place. It all felt impossibly unfair.

“She asks about you, you know. Every time I visit,” Fuyumi says, her tone both gentle and insistent. Touya’s heart twists at her words, but he pushes the emotion away. He never asked about his siblings’ visits with their mother; it was easier that way. When Shoto started mentioning his plans to visit last year, it was Fuyumi who had agreed to take him along, not him. No one had asked for his presence, and he hadn’t volunteered. They’d all simply moved on, creating a fragile routine without him. But now, Fuyumi’s admission felt like a crack in that routine.

“What?” he replies, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“She understands why you don’t come, but she still asks me how you’re doing,” Fuyumi continues, her eyes softening with compassion. “She doesn’t hate you, Tou. She never has.” Her words cut through his defenses, creating a swell of emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. Guilt, sorrow, and a flicker of hope battled inside him, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Think it over, okay?” Fuyumi adds, her voice steady yet urging. “I really think all three of you need this. But I can’t force you.” She reaches across the table, placing her hand over his in a gesture of support, a lifeline amidst the tumult of his thoughts.

Touya looks down at their hands, her touch cold against his heated skin the natural difference between them. He realizes that this isn’t just about visiting their mother; it’s about confronting the pain and regret that had long been festering in the shadows of his heart. “I just… I don’t know if I can face her,” he admits quietly, the words tasting bitter as they leave his mouth. “I don’t deserve her forgiveness.”

“A mother’s love is unconditional.”