Toya's Truth: A Todoroki Fanfic

Shoto woke up before dawn, his body instinctively rising at this hour, as it had for the past few weeks. The first thing he felt was the weight of the other day's training pressing down on him. He swung his legs off the bed, the cool floor beneath his feet grounding him as he quickly dressed in his training gear. His room was quiet, save for the hum of the heater, and the soft light of the early morning barely filtered through the blinds. His gaze flicked over to the bed beside him, where Izuka was still sprawled across the mattress, snoring lightly.

Izuka groaned, curling into himself as the sunlight reached his face. "Shoto... what time is it?" His voice was thick with sleep.

"Early. I need to get moving," Shoto replied, his tone matter-of-fact as he pulled on his jacket and zipped it up with practiced ease.

Izuka groaned in frustration, throwing his arm over his eyes. "You seriously can't let me sleep in just a little bit longer?" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Shoto let out a small, quiet sigh, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled his gloves on. "I'm not the one who wanted to become a hero." He moved to grab his bag from the corner of the room, not waiting for a response.

"Yeah, well, not all of us were born with a burning need to push ourselves to the brink of death every day," Izuka grumbled, half-heartedly swatting at the air as he rolled back over, burying his face into the warmth of the sheets. "You go train, I'm going back to sleep."

Shoto paused in the doorway, looking back at Izuka for a moment. His expression softened slightly, though he didn't say anything more. "Don't forget to eat," he said quietly, then disappeared into the hallway.

Izuka muttered something under his breath, his irritation fading as he settled back into the comfort of the blankets. "What was I thinking, dating someone like you..." he sighed to himself, even as his eyelids grew heavy with sleep once more.

By the time Shoto reached his father's training facility, the sun had barely risen, casting a cool blue light over the expansive grounds. The bitter chill in the air cut through his clothes, but Shoto welcomed the sensation—it kept him alert. He moved with purpose, his focus honed like a blade as he prepared for another grueling day of training. This time, he pushed himself harder than ever, flames flaring with each swing, ice forming around his feet as he relentlessly drilled through every movement.

Every muscle in his body burned, but Shoto didn't care. He couldn't afford to care. His mind was locked on the goal—being ready for the Sports Festival. He had no room to stop.

Hours passed, and the sun was climbing higher in the sky. By noon, Shoto's stomach growled audibly, reminding him that he had skipped breakfast in the rush of getting to the training grounds. He paused for a moment, wiping sweat from his brow, realizing with annoyance that he had forgotten lunch. With a glance at his phone, he quickly sent a message to Izuka.

Hey, I forgot lunch. Can you bring me something?

A few moments later, Izuka responded with a quick, Sure, be there soon. Shoto breathed a small sigh of relief before returning to his training, though his focus now wavered slightly, his body needing the fuel to keep going.

When Izuka arrived, he didn't hesitate to bring Shoto the food. He sat next to him as Shoto ate, watching him carefully. It wasn't long before Izuka spoke, concern evident in his tone. "You really need to ease up a little, Shoto. You're pushing yourself way too hard."

Shoto didn't look up from his food as he chewed, his focus entirely on eating. "I can't afford to slow down. Not now."

Izuka, now finishing his sandwich, crossed his arms and leaned back against the fence, staring at Shoto with a quiet frown. It was clear to him that something deeper was driving Shoto's need to train this way. But as usual, Shoto wasn't offering any answers. Instead, he kept pushing himself, and Izuka kept watching, knowing the strain wasn't just physical—it was emotional. Shoto wouldn't say it, but Izuka could see the way he wore his burdens.

Izuka bit his lip, but said nothing more. It wasn't the first time Shoto had ignored his concerns.

Meanwhile, Dabi sat in his makeshift "home," the dim, flickering light from an old, stolen television casting long shadows across the room. His apartment was a stark contrast to the polished, pristine spaces Shoto lived in. The room felt like a reflection of Dabi's life—dark, worn, and decaying. The bed, a king-sized mattress on the floor, was buried under black sheets that hung messily over the edges. There were no bed frames, no proper furniture—everything was either broken, discarded, or stolen. The red pillows were mismatched, taken from places he could barely remember.

The room was cold and damp, the air thick with the scent of mildew and the stale remnants of smoke. The wallpaper peeled in jagged strips from the walls, revealing the underlying cracks. The floorboards, weathered and cracked, creaked with every movement, some of them loose and nearly falling through the rotting wood. There was a small desk tucked in the corner, its surface cluttered with things—papers, an old notebook, and a cracked television set, which flickered with static. A cheap nightstand sat beside the bed, its wood chipped and dented from years of neglect, with a few personal items scattered across it—items Dabi had either stolen or scavenged from the trash.

Dabi sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees as he stared up at the ceiling. His thoughts were lost in the quiet as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke from his cigarette. The apartment was his sanctuary, his self-imposed isolation from the world.

His eyes flicked toward the television as the newscaster's voice pierced the silence.

"UA is hosting their 50th annual sporting events! Tune in to see these promising young heroes! Starring All Might's favorite student Izuku Midoriya! And Endeavor's son Shoto Todoroki! From the tech department, we have promising students as well! Give it up for Izuka Tensai and Mei Hatsume!"

Dabi's eyes narrowed, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt...proud. Shoto. His brother, though the name didn't shake him the way it might have once done. He couldn't help but have a small gnawing feeling of pride knowing that his brother was making a name for himself, even if it's in their father's shadow.

He leaned back against the wall, cigarette dangling from his lips as his gaze lingered on the screen, watching as Shoto's name was mentioned. His brother. The one he had saved, the one who had been so much like him when they were younger. That little boy, so full of potential, now standing in the shadow of their father's legacy.

Dabi chuckled bitterly under his breath, his grip tightening around the cigarette. "So your really turning into dads puppet huh?" He shook his head, muttering to himself. "What's it to me, though? You're out there playing hero... I'm just... here."

He could see Shoto on the screen, his strong, quiet figure standing tall alongside other promising students, but Dabi didn't feel anger. Instead, there was an emptiness, a strange detachment, and a really odd feeling of love a small flicker that never left.

The TV flickered again, and Dabi let out a slow breath, casting one last glance at the screen before he stood up and walked over to the window, staring out into the cold, dim sky. His eyes narrowed as he took one last drag from his cigarette, then threw it out into the night.

"Keep doing what you're doing, Shoto," Dabi muttered to the void. "Maybe one day, you'll understand why things are the way they are."

He turned away from the window, the shadows swallowing him up again, as he returned to his dark world. The name "Shoto Todoroki" had become just another thing to keep track of, something he could never fully let go of, no matter how far he tried to run from it.