"Natsu! You're finally here, yay!"

It is 9:30 in the morning. Shouto hardly slept at all last night, busy with ordeals like fighting his father.

"Traffic was bad, sorry."

Shouto stirs his cereal around, a mini wheat floating to the top after he presses it down. He tunes out of the greetings, listening for the heavy, harrowing footsteps that invade his life. His father hadn't seemed angry after they fought, but he doesn't want to talk with Endeavor right now. Nothing has changed in that prospect. Sometimes, Shouto would still like to pretend he doesn't have a father, or maybe he has a different one.

He hears them, and ducks his head down. Endeavor speaks, "Natsuo, I'm glad you-"

"Hey, Shouto!" Natsuo speeds past Endeavor with a brief scowl, before putting on the brightest of smiles. The expression is one Shouto thinks he must've learned from outside of this household. Even Fuyumi's smiles can't chock up to Natsuo's. They're always full of hesitance, as if she's waiting for everything to go wrong.

An arm wraps around his shoulders, Natsuo tugging Shouto close to his chest. "No 'hi'? Wow, and I thought we bonded the last time I saw you."

Shouto grunts out a small 'hello', and it prompts Natsuo to release him, sitting on the seat next to Shouto's. He leans into his space, though, clearing his throat and sparing glances to Fuyumi in the doorway.

"When are you leaving this hellhole?"

Shouto shrugs, "Whenever Fuyumi drives me. I think she might make me stay another night."

Natsuo sighs, "Sorry, Shouto. I'm not going to defend her but she only-"

"How can you two whisper when you're in a room full of family?"

Shouto flinches at her voice, ducking his head low again. Fuyumi makes him want to disappear, but her coldness brings him right back to the reality where she is the manipulator, and she is trying to help someone who does not want to be helped, and she is making his life a mess. It was a little shocking to hear that Endeavor doesn't like what she's doing either. But he's always been smart, Shouto's sure he sees how she's not really helping him. Hers is a plan that will 'bring the family together'. But the Todoroki's have never done well together.

Fire and ice like to extinguish and melt each other. Shouto doesn't know why everyone else in this family can't see that as he and Natsuo do.

"Are you saying you don't know what whispering is," Natsuo teases her, leaning back and patting Shouto's back, giving an unspoken confirmation that they'll talk later on. Shouto nods discreetly, giving his tacit agreement.

Shouto yawns as Natsuo goes to occupy Fuyumi. Nobody has said anything about his bruises, yet, nor their father's. Maybe it's habit to ignore them, but he sees the apprehension in Fuyumi's shoulders, and the way Natsuo is sneaking glances his way. He can't bring himself to care all that much, though.

Sleep weighs over him like a heavy syrup, dulling his senses and god does some rest sound good right now. He'd take painkillers for his headache and sleep, if not for Fuyumi's insistence that he join them at dinner. But it is too early to already excuse himself.

"Shouto!" Fuyumi calls from the living room, "Come on, so we can open presents!"

Shouto cringes at her loudness, but stands nonetheless. Passing through the hall, and into the living room, he can see Natsuo gawking over a big wrapped box with his name on it.

Shouto sits next to him, exhaling deeply to try quelling something of the pain in his head. The tension isn't as thick as it usually is, with them. Shouto hasn't sat with both of his siblings and father in a while, and he finds himself wishing that his mother were here.

He wonders what she's done for Christmas all these years.

He hopes she was happy, at least.

Fuyumi sits and folds her legs across from Shouto. Her glasses glare in the light, and Shouto finds himself looking away from the brightness. "Should dad go first? Or Shouto, since it's his first Christmas celebration?"

"Maybe I should go first," Natsuo says, smiling at the arrangement of presents. "Shouto's gotta learn from the best, right?"

Fuyumi rolls her eyes, "Fine, Natsu. Go ahead, then."

Shouto watches with intent as Natsuo rips the wrapping paper on the box off. It reveals a new television, a flatscreen just like Endeavor's. It's proof that Fuyumi chose Endeavor's TV.

And it's weird, to think that it wasn't Endeavor doing the controlling. He was Fuyumi's puppet all along.

"Shouto, did you even watch?" She eyes him, unimpressed.

Natsuo laughs, "Guess I have to open another one-"

"Shouto, you go next," she interrupts. Her hands are soft in this lighting, pushing a small box towards Shouto. He reads the sticker on top, and suppresses his distaste.

"Okay," he says, neutrally. He grabs one of the folded corners of the paper and tears it downward, pulling a satisfying rip from it. Everyone is watching him, as if he might do something wrong, or maybe react excitedly for his first real holiday with them. He can feel Endeavor's guilt radiating in the room, just like Fuyumi's satisfaction and Natsuo's anger.

He holds back his confusion at the item, it's a set of pens. Why would Endeavor buy him pens?

The man clears his throat, "I researched them and these had the best ratings. I thought since... well you had asked me a few years ago if you could..." he fumbles nervously around his words. "You said you wanted to draw instead of train. And Fuyumi tells me you write letters to your mother, I figured that'd be relevant to-"

"Thanks," Shouto says, mostly to shut him up. He appreciates the thought, but he hasn't been writing letters nearly as much, lately.

Come to think of it, he hasn't received any, either. His mother hasn't been sending them, maybe the holidays and weather are delaying them.

Something twists in his stomach, and he looks toward Fuyumi without his own control, eyes wide. She catches his staring, tilting her head obliviously.

"Shouto? Something wrong?"

Shouto neutralizes all emotion he's feeling. He nods. "Sorry, just thought of something."

Would Fuyumi go as far as to intercept his letters? She's the one that delivers them to the school.

But no, it has to be the weather. Mom probably knows that it delays deliveries. So she hasn't sent any.

He pushes that sick feeling down, watching Endeavor open a present from Fuyumi. And time passes all too slowly as they go around the table. He is faintly aware that he's opened three presents by the end of it, and that Natsuo is angry and leaving the table early. Nobody chases after him, and the tension has thickened.

"Sorry, dad. He's still... he's still trying."

Endeavor shakes his head, "It's my fault. I should... maybe leaving would be best."

Fuyumi shakes her head frantically, "No! You should be here to see Shouto's first Christmas!" Endeavor shrinks at her words, however good intended they were. Fuyumi looks between the both of them, "Just... stay. Look at Shouto, he's having fun! Natsuo is too, he was laughing just earlier."

Shouto clenches his fist, standing. She's too ashamed of their family to even say it. To place the blame on Endeavor. It's not like Shouto never wanted to spend Christmas inside with them, having fun and laughing with his siblings. He remembers begging Endeavor to let him spend five minutes with them. Looking back, he would've taken five seconds, even.

Endeavor calls to him on his way out, and Shouto decides he'll ignore him, again, slamming his bedroom door on its tracks. It adds on to his headache, and he decides he'll die if he doesn't take something. He shakes two pink pills out of the bottle, dry swallowing and grabbing a fistful of his own hair out of frustration.

He lays in his futon, listening to Endeavor's TV play down the hall. Everyone has left to their own rooms, then. They still have to get through dinner, though.

Maybe some sleep will have him less irritable.

A soft knock at the door sounds, waking Shouto from his sleep. The door slides open, white hair peeking in. "Hey, Shouto. Fuyumi reheated all the food she made yesterday, and it's all set out."

Shouto rubs his eyes, as he sits up. His phone is somewhere wrapped up in his blanket, he searches blindly for it, "Okay, I'll be out in a second."

Natsuo smiles, "I'll be out here, I wanna ask you something."

Shouto finds his phone, looking back to Natsuo. The door is shut, and he can see the shadow of feet in the hall.

Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair, taking out any big knots and untangling the strands. Once he's standing, he untwists his shirt, pulling the collar to sit evenly on both shoulders. The blue fabric is soft on his fingers, and it reminds him of the shirts his mother would buy him. It's a reoccurring thought, those shirts. Because they weren't training shirts, and they were the one item Shouto got to keep, that his mother brought for him.

Natsuo is still waiting for him, so Shouto is quick as he downs two little pink tablets, sipping from his water bottle and exhaling earlier's tension out.

Sliding the door open, Natsuo looks up to him, giving his best attempt at a smile. "Did you sleep, just now?" Shouto only nods, and Natsuo sighs. "Yea, you look real tired."

Shouto walks beside him, slowly through the hall. "What did you need to know?"

Natsuo spares a glance to Endeavor's doorway, there's light in the space between the frame and the door, sounds of a gunfight from his show playing.

"Did dad hurt you again?" Natsuo gestures to Shouto's jaw, then to his nose. "Looks bad."

Shouto shrugs his shoulders, "We fought this morning. In the dojo. It was more... equally matched, this time," he says, each word on thin ice. "I hurt him pretty badly, too."

Natsuo shoulders Shouto, smiling, "Serves him right. I've never seen his face all bruised like that, it's weird."

Shouto cringes, "I keep wanting to feel guilty."

"Don't, you're not a bad person for getting some anger out. He used to do it to you all the time, just this year he was beating on you," Natsuo huffs out, "The asshole could use a little more getting beat up if you ask me."

Shouto hums to acknowledge him, as they enter the dining room. Fuyumi is there, waiting at the table in front of platters upon platters of homemade food, steaming hot and luringly delicious.

"Ready to eat?" She stands, hands tucked behind her back politely. Her voice is tight, the only hint that anything had happened to her earlier, the only clue that it bothered her at all. Tighter than her voice, is her smile. "The stew is still heating on the stove, it should be done soon, though."

When neither says anything, Fuyumi's smile falls slightly, a frown trying its best to escape from her steel prison of a grin. "Where's dad?"

"In his room," Natsuo sits, folding his legs and picking up his chopsticks. "Thanks for the food, sis."

"I asked you to get him, Natsu."

Natsuo picks up his bowl of rice, picking out a fatty piece of beef from the teriyaki chicken pot. "I don't know the way to his room," he lies, stuffing his mouth. "Don't you remember? He never let us into that wing of the house."

"You found Shouto's just fine," she argues, rushing past Shouto and obviously trying not to stomp in frustration. She disappears down the hall, and Shouto stays in the dining room, sitting across from Natsuo.

"Are you okay," he questions. Natsuo opens his mouth to answer, but closes it and settles for an undecipherable hum. He must think better of it, because he doesn't make any other effort to continue the conversation.

Shouto sighs as silently as he can manage to, before spotting bright green broccoli in a stir fry of some sort. He takes the bowl and his chopsticks, shoveling them into his plate and silently offering thanks to Fuyumi, who has not returned. His headache grows at the thought that Endeavor might've hurt her, but he knows that his new and improved father wouldn't do that. Only Shouto. It's only ever been Shouto.

"Do you have any idea how much I'm providing for you? I've invested so much into your future and you sit there and do nothing all day."

Shouto turns over in his futon, "Go away."

He hears Endeavor's shock. "What did you say to me, boy?"

Now, Shouto sits up, uncovering his legs from his blanket and scowling at his father. "Go away! I don't want you to be here!"

Endeavor doesn't argue, just steps even further into his space, stomping and huffing out fiery breaths. Shouto is grabbed by his hair, a groan escaping past his lips and his hands coming up to try and alleviate some of the pain. He struggles to his feet as Endeavor drags him down the hall, muttering curse words and insults to Shouto and his 'laziness'.

Shouto is calm all the way up until he hears the sink running, and a scream is torn from his throat. It is muffled by water, and he tries sucking a breath in. Water fills his airways, and Endeavor only pushes him further into the water, until his ears are filling with it and he can't hear anything above the surface anymore. He thrashes, kicking and clawing at Endeavor, but the older has and will always be stronger.

When he is pulled up, Endeavor allows him just ten seconds of air, speaking the entire time.

"It's a pity this is the only way you'll listen to me, Shouto." And he shoves his son back underwater, until Shouto's nose touches the bottom of the sink. It is two minutes before he loses air again, and water fills his lungs.

"Thank you for the food, Fuyumi."

Shouto hardly realized he'd shown up, but there he is, sitting at the head of the table like he always does. Natsu is turned away from him, taking to just eating plain rice, in order to not reach for anything else. Shouto's stir fry is cold, now, and Fuyumi is just settling in.

"It's no problem, really! I love cooking for all of you."

Shouto picks at a noodle, putting so much pressure behind his chopsticks that the noodle splits in the middle. Fuyumi frowns.

"Do you not like the food?"

Shouto shakes his head, "It's good, thank you."

Fuyumi doesn't push, just scoops some veggies onto her plate with an angered sigh.

Most of the dinner is silent, Fuyumi tries to start a few discussions, but in one way or another, they are ended as quickly as they came to be. Endeavor only grunts in response to some of her questions. Natsuo ignores her completely. She is too scared to say anything to Shouto. Maybe she finally feels the rightful guilt that she should.

Shouto pushes a boiled carrot around on his plate, watching it pick up remnants of broccoli and seasoning. He ate a small amount of stir fry, didn't bother putting anything else on his plate. He isn't sure how any of them are managing to eat in such a tense setting. The food looks good, it smells good, too. But he can't bring it up to his mouth without wanting to gag, which would be taken as disrespectful, and then he'd make Fuyumi cry.

Maybe she deserves to cry, for once.

He shakes the thought out of his head, sliding the carrot through sauce and watching it be dirtied even further.

Chopsticks slam against the table, then a ceramic bowl. It shakes the furniture, and startles all three men in the room.

"What is it, Shouto? Do you hate my cooking, now? Is it not good enough for you? What is wrong?" She says, glasses reflecting the light just perfectly so he cannot see her eyes.

Shouto keeps his face neutral. "Nothing."

"Then eat!" She stands, plucking a bowl from the table and dumping the contents into Shouto's plate. She sets the bowl down, grabbing a different one and repeating the same thing. She stops when food starts to fall off Shouto's plate, a mountain of beef and chicken and noodles crumbling away slowly. When she sits, she slams her butt into the ground and huffs out. "There, now you have all the food. Happy?"

Shouto clenches his jaw, "I'm not hungry."

She groans in a scream-like manner. "What do you want?!"

Shouto pushes his plate further onto the table. "Nothing. I said I wasn't hungry."

"Why do you always need all this attention?! It's like you can't survive unless everyone's always worried about you," she yells, and Shouto sees the shock on both Natsuo's and Endeavor's faces.

He cringes at her loudness, "Fuyumi, not everything is a personal attack against you."

"Oh yea, I forgot," she says, mockingly, "Because if it's any of us, it's not important, right? But if it's you, then everyone else has to stop what they're doing to be there for it. And it's the worst thing in the world."

Shouto stands, scooting the table out, "What are you even talking about?!"

Fuyumi, despite her shortness, stands tall and intimidatingly. Her stance is one of frustration, and exhaustion. "Everything! All of this," she gestures madly to the table, where Shouto's plate is spilling more food onto the wood of the table and Natsuo and Endeavor have frozen in shock, watching her shout. "I'm doing all of this for the family and you just had to make it about yourself. First, you fight to show up here at all, then you attack dad because you're angry all of the time and can't ever control yourself. And now you won't eat, because there just wasn't enough attention, still."

Shouto scoffs, "I need all of the attention? Really? Aren't you the one who called us all here? And even though we all can't stand each other, we still came," he points to her sharply. "Because we wanted to make you happy. You can't justify your arguments, even. I never wanted to be here. I never asked for anyone to worry about me."

Fuyumi clenches both fists, looking like an angry toddler as she yells out. "You're doing it again! You've always done this, all the time!" She puts out her fingers, tapping them as she lists off. "Back when mom was here you'd cling to her for attention. And as soon as you turned three, you stole all of dad's attention, too. Now Natsuo won't even look me in the eye, because you two are all buddy-buddy, when we were together through it all."

He eyes her in disbelief. "I never wanted their attention! Dad took interest in me when I was three because he was beating me in the dojo every day! You think I liked that?!"

"Oh, whatever!" She yells, rolling her eyes. "You got hit a few times, nobody cares, Shouto. That was years ago, anyways. You always bring that up!"

"He tried to drown me!"

"Seriously? Lying just to get some pity? Just stop!"

Shouto pushes back tears, "You wouldn't even know! You never tried to help me! Nobody did! If I wanted attention I would've called the police on Endeavor and then on you for not telling anyone!"

"You always stretch the truth just a little bit," she taunts, wiping stray tears from her eyes. "Dad hitting you a few times isn't abuse, Shouto. Mom was abused, all because of you!"

It rolls all too easily off of her tongue, acidic and painful.

Like a knife to his heart.

She hardly hesitates to continue, "Mom was sent away from us because of you! Because you had to bother her and make her hurt you!"

His stomach twists into a knot, his chest tightening and constricting. "You don't mean that."