When you learn to ignore certain things, they disappear from your daily routine.

Endeavor burns Shouto when he's six, a large handprint leftover on his stomach because Shouto fell asleep too deeply and should've heard his father. It happens twice more until Shouto learns his lesson. Shouto ignores the pain of everlasting heat, and it's easier to cope that way.

He ignores the pit in his stomach when he realizes mother isn't coming back.

And the scar, the way blinking has become more of a task the more it heals and becomes tighter. The way his sight is becoming more impaired, like the doctor predicted, like father predicted.

He ignored the emotion he would get when he used to hear Natsuo and Fuyumi crying to the maid at night. He's broken the feeling down to be either sadness or anger, according to their definitions.

Learning to ignore emotion, to numb your mind, doesn't exclude happiness. Shouto doesn't think he's felt such a thing. His body experiences small moments. His lips will turn upward at times, when someone says something reassuring, or he's done something that earns him praise. His heart stops in his chest and it's an emotion he can't decipher.

It feels like guilt does, however numb that feeling is, too.

Shouto thinks happy things happen to him. He knows his body reacts. His mind, he, does not.

"Feeling alright?"

Shouto nods to Uraraka, bending his arms for another pushup. He hasn't slowed, he's learned to ignore the sore pain of training. Uraraka is strong, she's keeping up well.

Endeavor must have not accounted for the fact that Shouto has no talent. He's been training for his entire life, and his classmates only a year and a half. They're already better than him. Quirks aside, Uraraka and Kirishima, Sato, and most of 1-A are much stronger than him. He doesn't know why, which is... frustrating. It means his pain has been for nothing, and all of the training to be the best, also for nothing.

Uraraka seems to have quit, stepping forward from her stance and panting, "You're really strong, Todoroki. It seems like you could go on forever."

Shouto follows, standing and stretching his arms out. "What now?"

Uraraka jumps into his space the way she always does, and it still catches him by surprise. It's obvious what her striking hand will do: she's going to hit the side of his head with her arm.

Shouto ducks, turning around with bent knees and jumping backward. She took his conversation as a moment of distraction. Gunhead must've taught her that.

"Woah! Nice reaction time!" She doesn't let the praise sink into his brain before she's running at him again, leg making contact with his hip. He hardly staggers, it was a foolish place for her to hit.

Uraraka is small. She doesn't let that deter her. She's still strong and quick and her evasive maneuvers are something Shouto will never be able to master. Endeavor didn't want another small child. He thought of Touya as the runt, Natsuo was just as useless, and the sexism he showed Fuyumi was unjustified. He willed Shouto to be born strong. To grow up tall and buff like himself.

Mom must've willed Shouto to be slender like her, so maybe she wouldn't have to sacrifice another child.

When Uraraka shows that she's not going to step back and let Shouto take the first hit, he takes a wide stance, stationary in his movements. She continues on, running at him full force, taking him head-on. With the trajectory she's running at, Shouto knows hitting her won't work.

He lifts his knee, swiveling his hips and striking out with his heel. He kicks hard, sending her back by her stomach. She falls back, surprise in her expression and face going pale. For a minute, she looks panicky, and Shouto knows he's knocked the wind out of her.

"Uh... sorry. I... are you okay? Just... water. You need water."

She raises a hand to stop Shouto before he can run off. "I'm fine," she pants out, and despite that, Shouto knows this feeling is guilt. He shouldn't have kicked so hard.

She jumps up as quickly as she fell, "Nice takedown. You've still got to teach me how to do that thing where you flip someone over your shoulder."

Shouto blinks. "Yea, okay. If you're alright, we should get inside."

Uraraka looks at the sun, "Right. It's probably noon, now, maybe Aizawa-Sensei will give us permission to go to the store down the street."

Shouto shrugs, "It's snowy out, so maybe not. You should try, still."

Uraraka hums, "You're right. I should just get my boots out, then. Okay," she says, that plan set in her head. "See ya, later, Todoroki. I'm gonna go talk to Mina."

Shouto raises his hand to chest level instead of waving. He stands there, in the cold courtyard, for more than a few minutes.

He feels the cold, the way it bites at his skin, the way he has to hold his quirk back from warming him because the pain of the cold in its first stages is so satisfying. Then it numbs, and it's even better.

He feels the cold, but he doesn't feel it. He doesn't shiver, his body is too regulated for that. He doesn't chatter his teeth or rub his arms. He feels goosebumps, becomes paler, as do all people. The cold, for him, is comfortable. A reality in which he is in a natural state, where half of him belongs and the other half can be subdued for a while.

He's forced to leave when he notices someone in the window, Midoriya of all people, and it sets in on him that he's covered in snow. He's not sure when it started to snow. He could've been standing here for hours or minutes.

When he enters, he prepares for the inevitable interrogation that is Izuku Midoriya.

"Todoroki, do you need help getting to your room?"

Shouto enjoys Midoriya's company, he really, truly does. Even looks forward to it, most of the time. He has a way of filling the unbearable silence in Shouto's head, and he will forever be appreciative of that.

"No."

Midoriya speeds up, "You're covered in snow. Aren't you cold?"

"No," Shouto says, and Midoriya pouts.

"Uh... you know, Todoroki, Kachaan says he saw you leave to the teacher's dorms the other night. So I was... I was wondering if you went and talked to Sensei about the stuff you told me at the sports festival?"

Shouto sighs when he sees the elevator is in use, "No, I didn't. I just needed help with homework."

"Oh...okay," he says, clearly not believing of Shouto's lie. "You can always ask me for help, you know. For anything."

"That's nice, Midoriya, thank you."

"For anything, Todoroki. Not just homework."

Shouto finally, finally stops at his room door, "Are you implying I need help?"

Midoriya shakes his head furiously, nerves a pile of glass being crushed by Shouto's nerves of steel. "Just... if you do need help, you can always ask. Any of us would want to help you, not just me. So... yea. Have a nice... shower, Todoroki."

Shouto nods, "Thank you, Midoriya."

Even after his door is shut, Midoriya lingers out in the hall for a few moments, before sighing loud enough for Shouto to hear and pouting on his way back down to his own room.

Shouto releases tension from his body he hardly felt had collected. Midoriya is nice, he has to remind himself. He's not trying to spy, or tell Endeavor anything. He's not going to turn on Shouto because there is no alliance between them, and there is no alliance between Endeavor and Midoriya.

"Fuyumi, you won't lie to me." Endeavor snaps his neck to stare at his second eldest. "Who's dishes are these? Are they yours?"

Shouto can see the rice leftover in the bowl on the counter, the way it's soaked up the sauce Natsuo added to his beef.

Fuyumi stands stiffly, nervous and scared for her life, despite knowing that Momma's here, so Endeavor won't hurt her.

They make eye contact, Fuyumi and Shouto. Shouto's eyes are pleading and begging her not to lie again.

"Fuyumi," he snaps, looking back to the dishes. "Tell me who used these and decided not to clean them."

Fuyumi swallows thickly, "They... they were..."

Shouto ducks his head down in prayer, that Fuyumi won't lie and Endeavor won't hurt him again.

"...Shouto did. He ate earlier with Natsuo," she points to the dish rack, where another set of clean dishes-her own- are sitting and drying. "Those are Natsu's dishes, I helped him clean them. The dirty ones are Shouto's."

Shouto isn't sure why he thought things would change now.

Endeavor scowls at his youngest, "You ate," he steps forward, voice low, "Outside of your diet regimen. And you decided to leave my house a mess."

Shouto crawls backward, hands fumbling on the sliding door. The tatami is soft but it will still hurt to be thrown against. He knows it.

Fuyumi stands behind father, shaking and covering her mouth as she watches the scene. She knows Shouto didn't eat out of those dishes. She knows he hasn't eaten since his breakfast with Endeavor, and she lied. He doesn't know why she hates him.

"You're going to gain weight like this, Shouto. Disgusting child."

Shouto shakes his head, slamming the door on its track and making to stand up and run.

Endeavor grabs him, throwing him over his shoulder and

warm water hits his back as the shower starts, dousing his hair in comfortable liquid. He runs his hands through and over red and white strands, before stepping out of the stream and lathering shampoo over his scalp.

Endeavor, is the most dangerous person to ever enter Shouto's mind. He's got the power to turn Shouto's brain to ashes and he leaves and enters as he pleases. He can turn everything foggy and blurry, or crystal clear to the point Shouto wants to rip his eyes out.

Endeavor, is a provider.

Shouto wouldn't be anywhere without him. He wouldn't be born without Endeavor and his stupid, unattainable goals. He would not be at UA and he would not have any friends.

Endeavor gives Shouto life, while making it so difficult to live.

He pays for the school. He pays for the clothes. Mom's hospital bills, Fuyumi's rent, Natsuo's med school tuition.

Endeavor, runs Shouto's life, whether he's trying to or not.

And he controls every aspect of it, which is why Shouto can only think of one way out.

Well, Endeavor can't control a life that doesn't exist anymore, can he?

He thinks about it a lot. Dying. He thinks about how, if Endeavor didn't want his masterpiece to die, he wouldn't have put him in the hero course at a school that gets attacked trimonthly. It was almost like a mystery he set up for Shouto.

Question: What's the one way you can escape me?

And Endeavor put him in a school of competitive students. A school that handles villains. In a profession that handles villains. And threats. And danger nobody else on earth has to deal with.

And he gave him a quirk, powerful and deadly.

And he took.

Mom.

Touya.

And he ruined.

Shouto.

Burned.

Shouto.

Beat.

Shouto.

Scarred.

Shouto.

...

Answer: Die.

Metal feels cold, unless heated by another factor. The sun, fire, skin, blood.

As Shouto's blade slides across his thigh, he thinks it might feel better if the blade was cold.

But he doesn't do this because he doesn't want the pain. He does. He savors it, craves the way such a small piece of metal can cause so much damage.

He lifts it from his skin, before finding a patch of skin that hasn't been covered in slices and blood, and pressing back down. The way his skin parts to let blood through is mesmerizing. This scene has been burned into his brain, alongside the images of fire, terrified eyes distorted through hot water and steam.

Shouto re-enacts this scene several times a week. Whether he's panicking and needs to be grounded more than what burns can do for him, or if he sees the razor and simply feels like cutting. He pulls down his pants, pulls the hem of his boxers high up, and makes a cut which starts the series of several, progressively worse cuts.

He bleeds.

His blood is red. Surprising, since it feels like lava in his body, pooling in the trails of torn skin on his thighs. It creates a painting on pale skin, one that is painful and red and beautiful and soothing. Soothing in that Shouto really is alive in these moments. It's the one thing Father could never control, the one thing Fuyumi never knew about enough to tell on him about.

Shouto's been here for twenty minutes, painting. It's days like today that Shouto hates himself more than ever and needs to contribute something to that fact.

"Todoroki?!"

Shouto drops the blade, heart catching in his throat. As he leans down to grab it, he remembers he should answer, "Yes?"

There are footsteps around his door and then it's Ashido's voice coming all muffled through the door. "Get your snow clothes on, we're going to the store!"

Wow, so Uraraka really was able to convince Aizawa.

Shouto's brain struggles to answer around the days-long headache he's been anchoring. He wills himself not to stutter, that's way too out of character for him. "Yes, I'll be out soon."

"Hurry," Ashido says, giggling afterward as she walks off with Uraraka.

That's not good.

Shouto's covered in blood. His legs are still dripping with the stuff, deep gashes pouring his life source out onto his discarded pants.

Actually, he may have gone a bit far.

He would normally burn them closed but he's in a hurry and probably should let himself smell too much like burnt flesh while out with friends.

He walks carefully over to his first aid, dragging his pants over and soaking up as much blood as possible with them. When the pants can't take anymore, he bandages his legs with gauze, before throwing on thick, fleecy sweatpants.

When he's got a jacket and his wallet with him, he exits the room, hurrying to the bathroom to wash his red stained hands.

When he meets up with the girls, Ashido is on her back in a new layer of snow, arms and legs waving to create a dip in the snow, looking like a woman in a dress.

"Okay," Uraraka calls out, she's joined by a smiley Kirishima and a scowling Bakugo. Ashido stands and joins the group. "Sensei says we have thirty minutes upon departure to get there, get what we need, and get back. So we walk quickly and shop even quicker."

Bakugo, ever the optimist, groans, "Not everything has to be a big deal, let's just go."

With a damper on her plans, Uraraka rolls her eyes and nods to everyone else, and they start the trek to the corner store.

Shouto likes the sting of his freshly cut thighs. Each movement stretches the skin, scabs trying to form only to be torn before they dry. The fleece of his sweatpants would be chafing against them, if not for the bandages stealing this job.

They don't slow him, Shouto's able to walk at the same pace as Kirishima and Bakugo, just behind Ashido and Uraraka. Kirishima's babbling on about something that Shouto would say he lost interest in, but he never really had an interest in. Something about his mom.

When there's a lull in the one sided conversation, Bakugo points to Shouto's sweatpants. "Why the hell are you wearing pajamas out in the snow?"

Shouto keeps his hands in his pockets, "They're not pajamas."

"Ugh, are you guys seriously gonna start bickering? I should've brought headphones," Ashido whines, covering her ears.

Kirishima pats her shoulder, "Awww, Bakugo's just trying to start conversation."

"Yea," she starts, rolling her eyes. "And then Todoroki's gonna be all deadpan and Bakugo's gonna get all angry and then Todoroki's gonna egg him on-"

"You wanna see angry," Bakugo threatens, speeding up his walking. "If you losers keep walking so slowly, Sensei's gonna have all of our asses."

Kirishima looks to his watch, a matte red on his wrist, "He's right, we've only got fifteen minutes to shop."

"That's fine, it's just a gas station, not much to do here anyway," Ashido holds the door open for their group, everyone entering and wiping their shoes on a rubber mat up front. The clerk welcomes them, and Shouto forgets why he came here in the first place.

He doesn't really need anything. Maybe one of those instant yakisoba trays. Do they have dish soap at the dorms?

His head throbs, and the lighting in the building is seriously messing him up.

Painkillers.

He waits for everyone to disperse before making for the medication aisle. It's a small section of a shelf, with chapsticks and creams and motion sickness medicine. His eyes land on a white bottle of ibuprofen, he grabs it and pivots on his heel to pay before anyone can ask him about it.

He runs straight into a head of blonde hair.

"Oh, sorry, Bakugo-"

"Watch where you're going," he snaps, eyes immediately landing on the bottle in Shouto's hand. "What are those for?"

Shouto holds them up, feigning a lack of shame for needing painkillers. "Ibuprofen. I've had a bad headache recently."

Bakugo scoffs, reaching for a bottle on the shelf, "That's cause you don't sleep enough."

Shouto quirks his eyebrow, "I sleep fine."

"You sleep like you're dead for about two hours of the night. I can hear your dumbass walking around and fucking shaking your leg when you do homework."

Shouto rolls his eyes, eying the shelf Bakugo got his pills off of. "Quirk suppressants?"

Bakugo shrugs, "Shut up. Tell anyone and you're dead."

"Why are you suppressing your quirk," Shouto questions, and he's pushed away by a single finger.

"Bad dreams, asshole. I'm considerate enough to not explode the entire dorm building." He looks back to the bottles, "You should grab some, too. We all smell the smoke when you're sleeping."

Shouto looks between the bottles and Bakugo, "I need... to suppress my quirk?"

"You don't have to, but it's better than burning alive."

Shouto heavily doubts that.

Still, he reaches for a bottle. Taking in the fact that he may be a danger to his friends and not even know it.

Bakugo pays before him, the cashier gives them both odd looks but they're soon out of the store, standing next to each other as they wait for their classmates.

Bakugo stuffs his nose into his jacket, "So you do have bad dreams, right?" His voices comes muffled.

Shouto nods, "I do. I didn't know my quirk broke out, though. Sorry for-"

"Shut up. It's not like you personally hurt me or something. It's just precautionary stuff," he states, comfort in his voice that Shouto isn't sure he can decipher. "Anyways, at least you're open to preventing that. If you burnt any of us alive I'd lock you up in Tartarus myself."

Shouto breathes out a warm breath, filling his lungs with his quirk's heat and expelling it outward. "They don't send people to Tartarus for one murder. There are still prisons for people less powerful than a big-time villain."

"I don't remember asking for a hero lesson, IcyHot," Bakugo growls, a shiver wracking his body. He looks into the store through the glass doors, "Are those bastards finished yet? Why the hell do I keep getting stuck with you?"