Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/12704514. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Category: M/M Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア_|_Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia Relationship: Midoriya_Izuku/Todoroki_Shouto Character: Midoriya_Izuku, Todoroki_Shouto, Todoroki_Enji_|_Endeavor, Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa_Shouta_|_Eraserhead Additional Tags: Alternate_Universe, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Todoroki_has_a different_quirk, Hurt/Comfort, memories_of_abuse, Todoroki_hurts_in_a different_way, Izuku_wants_to_save_him, Slow_Burn Stats: Published: 2017-11-12 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2933 ****** Recycled ****** by gay_doormat_(regionofattraction) Summary Todoroki Shouto's quirk isn't like his parents'. Mostly. But his father has helped him use it... to be a hero? Is that what he's becoming? His classmates drag it out of him on the first day at U.A., which was to be expected. After all, he's the only one without a physical quirk. What Shouto didn't expect is for one boy in his class to make him question all his training, and the memories of pain that have been burned into him on the path to heroism. Notes Tags are mostly for stuff that will happen in Shouto's memories. Eventually going to have some Tododeku in it, but this first chapter is all buildup. Also, things will be really bad for Shouto. Really, really bad. The boys will probably do some dirty, teenage things eventually, but it's going to take Shouto a while for that to be OK. We'll see how many chapters it takes. Comments appreciated as are ideas for how you'd like to see this go : ) I've got a plan but would love to hear others' thoughts! Fingers crossed that I don't have to write any more fight scenes (ugh, my weakness.) See the end of the work for more notes Only two members of class 1-A got in on recommendations. At the start, Izuku barely noticed. That first day, those bright, star-struck eyes gave his thoughts away more than the mumbling. I made it. I'm here. He was at U.A., yes. And he even knew some people here - could they be... friends? That girl he helped during the exam. That boy with the jets. And... Kacchan. A small sigh escaped amidst Izuku's excitement as he entered the classroom, observing the class settling in to the new desks, the new homeroom, their new life. Izuku's attention had broken away from himself, having noticed his old childhood friend (was that true?) in the same class again. But what about the others? His mind revved back up, racing again, but now in a different direction. Izuku had noticed some people during the exam, despite his mind set on his own precarious goals that day. My notebooks! New heroes! OhmygoshI'msoexcitedtoseethemallmynewclassmates. His smile must have brightened - or else, the others saw his freshly-healed body - and the class' attention began to split between all their unknown peers. "...that's the boy who took out the zero-pointer..." "...but what's with that other girl? I didn't see her yesterday..." "...and the weird-hair kid! Was he that 'recommendation'? Their excitement seemed contagious... except, possibly, for the quiet boy and quiet girl, with their silent knowledge that they were the topic of the class' discussion. --------------------------------------------------- Shouto knew that entering the hero course was going to be... a challenge. Despite his training, despite his deep knowledge of his quirk, despite his power. Walking out to the field for their new teacher's first-day exercises, his thin, pursed lips and lifeless eyes covered up the disgust for Endeavor's recommendation. These children... they all had physical quirks. Shouto had been smart enough to watch the test, and had been standing by as the results came in. Was this another memory he could use? His eyes glazed over even more, body slipping into its unconscious reactivity, as the cataloguing overtook him. Disgust? Yes, there was that. Was it strong enough? Maybe not. Embarrassment? Shame? Maybe those would come in handy. Those could be amplified. Shouto was familiar, by now, with all his tricks of memory. They had been learned, the hard way, through practice and shouting and tears. It was necessary for his quirk to be... able to fight. Fighting. Yes, that was what he could do. But a hero without a physical quirk needed to work twice as hard to fight. Well, he's been working me three times as hard, after all. The words filled Shouto's mind as his father (no, Endeavor) filled his vision. This was a stronger memory than the exam. He'd know that one would be useful. Not for now, though. Shouto's classmates were pulling out every trick for their physical exam, as he watched, emotions rising and falling with his peers' long jumps and baseball throws. Even the other new girl had to give away some of her secrets. "So that's why she got in." "She can pull... whatever that is... out of her body?" "This is going to get good." Shouto had no such advantage. He wouldn't be showing his quirk today. He would be showing, however, Endeavor's training. His body was as good, or better, by itself than any of these others. Pride? Maybe. ------------------------------------------------------ Izuku's analytical mind tracked all these new heroes. Soon-to-be-heroes! And... maybe me too. His grin wavered. And barely visible to his side... Kacchan growled, and frowned deeper. "New kid! Fucking NEW KID! What's your deal?" "Kacchan... we're all new here..." Izuku whispered, reaching out slightly. But his old friend(?) was gone, already, striding up to the one who had just finished his exam. Sweating, breathing hard, while still keeping his face flat and unreadable, Shouto's eyes flicked towards the oncoming distraction. As expected. Someone would be calling me out. This is the start. I know what to do here. "You're one of those recommended shits, yah? The fuck was that about, then? What you got, freak? You must have some helluva quirk to get in without the test! Stop fucking insulting us and use it already!" Bakugou's finger would have been in Shouto's face, if the targeted boy hadn't already started a smooth move to the side. Barely noticeable, it seemed to the others, while the brown and blue eyes kept tally of all the blond kid's movements. I won't need to hurt him. He's too predictable. "What's your quirk, huh? Spill your guts or I'll spill them for you!" The finger had suddenly become an open palm, rotated in the direction of Shouto's movement. The boy was now moving even further away, but not under his own control this time, pushed away with the small explosion. "None of your business, kid. Maybe you focus on your own guts today." Bakugou wasted no time coming after Shouto, escalating quickly into a full-on fight. The boy's explosive hands seem to mesh with his personality. How appropriate. Though Aizawa's warnings were plenty loud enough, both boys had their pride. Bakugou was going to be the best. Shouto was going to make up for his physical defecits, and do so in the... kindest?... way possible. I can do it differently. It doesn't need to be like Endeavor says. Heroes don't hurt people. Shouto couldn't seem to get close, he was dodging each step, no solid footing. After a tumble and a short roll, something had to change. No. Maybe they would all have to know today. It would be happening soon, anyway. The band-aid would be ripped off. The other boy was still after him, and hmmm, that little ball of explosions was relentless wasn't he. "I'LL BLOW IT OUT OF YOU IF IT HAVE TO, FUCKFAyyye..." It was the kindest of the distracting memories. The deafening white noise he'd been trained to call into his mind. The pitch blackness of the blindfold at the same time. Sending it to his attacker was reasonable, was considerate, was enough to let him get in close. The explosions weren't directed at him, for just a step in their dance, as Bakugou's pupils dilated and his eyes looked beyond the field. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? I HAVEN'T PASSED OUT SINCE I WAS A KI... "HURGH," was the sound that came out, with Shouto's fist quickly finding itself just below his ribcage before retracting. Not too hard, but just hard enough. Shouto jumped back, not yet releasing his quirk, with the other boy stumbling under the weight of his punch. Waiting just a moment, to drive the message home. His feelings flashed to Endeavor, and the pall of his doubts almost put a stop to the memory he'd focused on. Shouto would be better than his father wanted... decided... that he would be. A quick change, the next memory contrite. "My apologies," flashed through Bakugou's mind. Shouto had practiced many key phrases to himself. Though words couldn't be created at will, memories could be pulled up. An obvious exercise, then, had been to spend hours in the mirror, reciting to himself. They're always put off seeing my reflection while hearing the words, we'll see if this boy is different. Noticeable only to himself, and still very noticeable to himself, the tips of Shouto's lips turned up into the slightest smirk. Then, the memory of the short apology had ended, and Bakugou was free, stumbling forward slightly. Izuku's watchful gaze sensed something was different during the last moment. Kacchan doesn't move like that. Body control? Slowness? Maybe he can change... something? in the others... "THE HELL WAS THAT, FUCKFACE? YOUR UGLY FACE IN A FUCKING MIRROR? YOU MADE ME SEE SOMETHI..! MMMMPPHHH!" Aizawa's scarves were around both boys, eyes and face and arms. "You will both stop. Now." Shouto had proven his point, obeyed the command, and was rewarded with the scarves slackening around his face and body. He was able to see the other boy struggling for a few more moments, calming down (was that calm?) into a stiff shake, posture suggesting a lack of defeat, with resignation that the words came from a teacher, and there was no choice in this matter. What was this kid's name, again? Doesn't matter, really.  "This is tiring. You're making me tired. That's not good for either of you. I never said that the physical exam was the only way that new students would be leaving by the final bell." Shouto stepped aside, not trusting the other to put any distance between them. Under the bloodshot eyes of their teacher, the rest of the students finished their exams. As expected, they all had something special that their body could do. Shouto took particular notice of the green-haired boy with the broken finger. He'd not noticed anything particular about this kid earlier. That ball through was interesting, though. Especially because Aizawa was reprimanding him so harshly. The teacher was walking away from the other students, clumped together on the side, which left them unattended... and sure as shit, that little ball of explosions beelined right towards him. With a strong grab of Shouto's collar in one hand, and the other in Shouto's face, on his face, "You're going to explain this, word for motherfucking word, or that little granny ain't gonna be able to heal the new scar I'll be leaving. It'll be a nice complement to the one you've already got over that fucked up eyeba..." and Bakugou gasped stiffly, drawing a breath through his teeth, as his grip loosened. The boy started to bend down under the newly-found activity in his mind, and the intensity of feeling that came with it. Shouto knew what had to be done here. This needed to be stopped, now. There was no room for a boy like this in his life, making problems every day. It did mean showing his quirk to everyone. It meant inflicting some pain. But maybe that was OK here. It would feel good, certainly. It felt good whenever Endeavor made me practice on him with my left side. Hurting him sure felt nice sometimes. The smile on Shouto's face reached up his cheeks, but his eyes stayed cold, as the boy stepped back from Bakugou and released the full memory onto the other boy. Is this me? Is this how I am now? Is this what you've turned me into? "You asked and now you'll receive. This other scar isn't going away, you're right. It stays with me. You know what else stays with me?" Shouto's hands, in his pockets, started to flex around his legs. Body bent at his hips, slightly on his heels, with his face tilting towards the other's as Bakugou's knees hit the ground, and the gasps continued. Over the boy's shoulder, whispered into one ear... "You can see it if you'd like." Backugou gasped loudly, and clutched at his face. The cold sweat throughout the boy's body reached between his fingertips, and mixed with that which he'd conjured up with the intent to use in a fight.   "Mother, I can't continue to raise him. Every day, he seems to do more and more of what that man wants from him. Sometimes, I feel the anger from his left side. I know he can't control its direction yet, but that makes him even more of a... monster. Please help, mother...." Bakugou felt the fear, and saw her eyes, just before the pain came again, this time in its full force. His skin blistered under the boiling water. He reached up to his face and felt slick, ruptured flesh. His hand slid across trying to wipe away whatever this was. But by then, blood had already come through the blisters, and smeared across his vision.   Shouto was familiar with the memories coming on repeat, and knew by now how to control the pain that flowed through his left side, the hot side, the blinding side, so that each repeat conveyed more of the memory and cycled back to its full force. Bakugou couldn't tell, was barely conscious. That was good, since Shouto felt the same memory as it was replayed. He'd tried to find a way to send these things through without conscious re-experience of the event himself, but it never had worked before, and certainly wasn't working now. Shouto's toothy grin lessened slightly, as his own face broke out in sweat. He knew how this would go down. He'd sent this one before. But, he hadn't amplified it before. This little boy needs a lesson. Was it Shouto's thought, or Endeavor's own words set in Shouto's voice? His right side started to glow, faintly, turning his skin from pale to pink to a dull red. Bakugou cried out in pain. Shouto smiled. Sweat dripped from both their chins - one onto the green, fresh grass, one onto the other's track suit.  --------------------------------------------- Izuku had never heard Kacchan make that noise before. Even from a distance away, still being lectured by Aizawa, in the periphery of his hearing. Kacchan always keeps fighting. It must be the other guy with the red and white hard. What was this boy? What could make his childhood friend bend into those demeaning motions, let these sounds out? The moment these thoughts ended, as Izuku had focused his full attention on the duo, their show seemed to be over. The hold - whatever it was - had been released, and Kacchan gasped again. Izuku could see his eyes come back into focus. That other boy - the one with the odd hair - stood up and stepped back. Was his side glowing red? Izuku blinked, and the boy was just as he'd been that morning, quiet and disinterested. He was already running towards the larger group. Something was wrong. Yet again, Izuku had moved, barely thinking, to help his friend. But from the edges of his green eyes, he could tell that the rest of the class was seeing the same sight, and was preparing to provide that same help. Partially crowded around the pair, centering their attention. Some - the redhead with the rock thing? - were tense, ready to fight, or step in. His taller classmate seemed to notice also, the boy's two different-colored eyes sweeping around. They saw him sigh, and his eyes close. By this time, Izuku was close enough to hear the sigh... Izuku felt, more than saw. A mother's comfort. My sister, picking me up, in the late afternoon, with the sun filtering through the trees' rapidly-thinning branches and dancing through her hair. My sister? A hand, reaching up to pull me off a mat. Determination. A strong voice: "This will let you be a hero one day." The encouragement and the safety. "You all wanted to know, didn't you? Here's your answer." The tall boy's mouth twitched, as if it wanted to form some unknown shape, but its owner was forcing it back down. "Hopefully no one else felt what this one did." The gesture to Bakugou would have been unkind in any other circumstance, but here, with the mix of emotions coursing through all of them, was unreadable. "If so, I apologize. I can send more of what you just received. That helps, sometimes." Shouto turned, walking slowly away from his classmates. Not that any of this mattered. His teacher had only begun to comprehend the commotion. He'd been sure to only cast out a certain radius, and Aizawa was outside of it. Was this another memory that could be recycled? No, it had not hurt. This wasn't hurt, this was... Shame. Shame that he was becoming that man. Shame that he'd turned to his left side. Shame that this was all he could do to become a hero. -------------------------------------------- That evening, in his own room after Endeavor's training, Shouto's thoughts drifted towards all the types of memories he'll need to... recycle... at will. What else would be able to put fear into his opponents? The strongest memories come from his own past, and the strongest memories are built from the strongest emotions. The cold pale fear from his right side, the hot bright pain from his left. Some memories had both - Endeavor had made sure of it. Between the 'training' under his father's supervision, and the... experiences... that Endeavor had farmed out to his lackeys, Shouto had enough to work with. What he never asked himself - how could his father find someone to do those things? That night, the strongest of them came again in his dreams. Waking him up, leaving him clawing at the extra sweatshirt and two pairs of pants he wore to bed, rasping out, "don't touch me, not there, not there, stop, no, stop..." He'd never send that one to any other person, ever, no matter how evil they could be. -------------------------------------------- Across the city, in a different bedroom, in a different family, Izuku's thoughts floated around that first day of their new careers. He couldn't sleep. So. Exciting. He gripped his pillow to his face as if it was a birthday present, full of promise, wide smile across his sleepy face with closed eyes. And I get more tomorrow. But... His face fell as his memory flashed to Kacchan's cries, and that boy who caused them. Todoroki... san? Todoroki-kun, maybe? That was his name. The only one without a physical quirk. He'd been powerful enough to make Kacchan do that. Heroes help other people. Todoroki-kun... With the excitement now stabilized against hesitation and worry, Izuku had calmed down enough to really, truly rest. His pillow flattened out, away from his face, as he slowly released it on his way to a half-night's sleep. End Notes Shouto's going to have to talk about it, eventually. And the words are going to hurt on the way out. Maybe, just maybe, Izuku can help. Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!