Prompt:

When Shoto was a child,

There was a shadow.

—————

Her touch was cold, freezing. Delicate fingertips threading through his hair, leaving frostbite wherever she brushed.

Shoto still held on though.

(He wondered;

'When had his mother's warm embraces turn so blistering?')

———

He was fiery. Hot tempered. The complete opposite of his wife. Reckless and driven.

His fire burned, etching scars into his skin. He still sees the palm-shaped burn scar on his back.

He still bore with it. To get stronger.

(It hurt at night, a time where he allowed himself to feel.

It aches.)

————

Shoto sat in their garden, weeds and flowers decaying, souring his mood further. He was about ten now, Private elementary school polo untucked in a haphazard manner. His fists curled on his lap, trembling in a barely hidden fire of rage.

(Father left a lot of bruises on him again.)

He sniffled- once, twice- tears flowing and snotty nose running. He was weak. So, so weak. The feeling ate his insides up, clawing at his stomach and forcing it's way out his throat in the form of bile. It burned.

He hated this. He hated his father, whose fire burned so hot- scorching him.

He hated his mother- her touch going cold, and the only memory was of her, wild and deranged, clasping her freezing hands around his throat, a boiling kettle of water in the other.

He hated his sister Fuyumi, for she always watched in the shadows. So meek and obeying. She doesn't know how to fight back.

He hated Natsuo, for abandoning him. He always comforted him as a child, but once he grew, he took his backpack and walked out his home. He had never looked back, that day.

A sob slipped past his lips.

He hated himself. So imperfect. Covered in scars, and an ugly one over his left eye.

He continued to cry, cry and cry, weeping for himself.

(He didn't see the green, glowing eyes from a gnarled, wizened tree, thoughtful and searching.)

————

He visited the garden again, and the feeling of being watched made goosebumps trail up his arms. Not in a bad way though.

It felt.. Curious. Welcoming. Maybe even like a mother's watchful gaze, full of love and calm.

Shoto nervously trotted to the dried fountain, sitting on it's crackled surface with a bento in hand. He decided to eat here earlier, because no one was here to nag him.

(The bruise on his jaw and stomach hurt. But it was deserved.)

"Shoto Todoroki, Enji's son."

Suddenly, his quirk activated. It was by instinct.

A wave of ice shot to his right, zigzagging into the trees and making the dried roots tear out the ground. His heart beating wildly in his chest, he got into a fighting stance, but grimaced at the darkening bruise on his stomach.

Someone was here. It made him shiver. Oh god, who was it? A villain?

He almost combusted in a ball of fear before a light, tinkling laugh made his body go involuntarily lax. "No need to be so aggressive, Shocchan," the soft voice teased. "I don't bite."

A teen- years older than him, maybe in high school stepped out from the trees, seemingly unaffected by the ice wall right beside him. He was wearing a green kimono, flowing silks pooling at his feet. Green eyes peered at him with affection. His features were soft just like his eyes, skin an unnatural shade of porcelain, making him look like a living doll.

"My name is Midoriya Izuku, and I'm the spirit of this garden."

Shoto trembled.

A spirit?

Maybe.. A Yokai? Was this one of the tales that Fuyumi told him about? The spirits that pull you into the other world, eating you, tearing your flesh again and again?-

But.. He didn't look like the ones in the stories. He didn't have large, sharp teeth, red skin with gnarled horns sprouting from his head. He didn't have six eyes and goat hooves, nor gills and a threatening glower!

But he looked like a boy, a porcelain doll, with plump pink lips and soft curves. He..

He was pretty.

The spirit shuffled forward, silk trailing behind him, smiling widely when Shoto visibly lowered his guard.

He didn't realize that he was already right in front of him- and Shoto tensed until a finger, with a feather light touch, brushed against his cheekbone.

"Poor boy," the spirit cooed, sympathetic. "You're hurt. I'll heal it up for you."

Before he could ask what he meant by that, the spirit- Izuku's palm glowed a soft, lime green, and the bruise of his cheek disappeared along with the pain.
His head felt stuffy, like someone had shoved cotton balls inside his ears, and the welcoming scent of honey thickened around him, especially when he collapsed and fell into the spirit's welcoming embrace.

He wanted to sleep.

"Rest now, little boy," Shoto pressed his face against the unbelievably smooth silk. "And I will see you again. I know it."

————

"Izuku-Chan," Shoto's voice called out, setting two boxes of bentos down. He dusted off his U.A. uniform, taking a look at the now blooming garden with a healthy glow. He smiled.

"Oh, Shoto! I'm so glad!" Todoroki's smile subtly widened when he heard scurrying, like leaves being pushed around and twigs being stepped on, before Izuku popped out of the thick flower beds.

Out hurried Izuku, the same from years ago, with a big smile on his face. He seemed to have.. Improved with the garden. With hours and hours of Shoto tending to it, he had finally restored the sanctuary into something much more beautiful. And it seemed like Izuku...

He had turned into something much more beautiful.

His skin was milky tan, with a permanent blush on his face. His hair was softer, and his touch was warm. So warm and comforting. Even his mood had improved. He hadn't aged.

Izuku wrapped his arms around him, head pressed into his chest, since Todoroki had grown a few feet taller than him.

Shoto felt his cheeks darken when Izuku jumped and playfully kissed his jaw, nimble fingers brushing against his cheek. Izuku's lips were.. So soft. "I'm.. Glad." Izuku's smile turned wobbly. "You're in U.A. now. I'm so happy.."

"I know," Shoto said. "I'm about to be a hero."

"Hyyaaaahh! I wish I could become a hero with you, Shoucchan!" Izuku whined, letting go of Todoroki much to the latter's disappointment, and his words registered into Shoto's brain, who carefully took his hands into his calloused ones.

Izuku's blush darkened, averting his eyes as he shifted, flustered and stuttering. Shoto kisses his forehead, eyes serious, as the memories of him healing and supporting Shoto every since he was a kid- of being a safe place for him whenever his father lashes out?

"Izuku," Shoto breathed, and Izuku's heart thumped wildly.

"You already are a hero." He smiled, and Izuku melted, breath caught in his throat.

"My hero."