Chapter Text
“It’s weird.”
“It really is. I’d even say disturbing.”
“Yep, yep, you’re right.”
“What are you kids doing?”
Rei sighed as she addressed her two middle children, who were currently peaking through opposite sides of the doorway to the kitchen, discussing… something that she couldn’t see. Both Fuyumi and Natsuo jumped almost a mile in the air, spinning around and even shushing her before going back to their observatory posts. That probably wasn’t good.
She placed a hand on Fuyumi’s back, warning her of her presence, before imitating her two children and peeking passed into the kitchen.
Touya was in the kitchen, Shoto sat on the counter, but that wasn’t unusual in the slightest. No, Touya was smiling wide, dancing about the kitchen and humming. Rei watched as he twirled around, performing moves she’d seen from attending recitals and performances, but that she didn’t know how to name. She didn’t really want to say it as plainly as Fuyumi and Natsuo, but…
They were right. It was disturbing.
“Ooh, what’s that one called, big brother?” Shoto asked happily, munching on some cut up, peeled apple, as he watched Touya go through the various movements.
“It’s an attitude position,” Touya answered dutifully, turning into a graceful… leap, of some kind, Rei supposed, before holding a similar pose once again. Before, Touya’s leg had been held in front of him, but he’d switched to holding it behind.
Then… Jumping?
“Those ones?” Shoto inquired once again.
“Sautés!” Touya actually laughed as he said it, pirouetting (she knew that one) on the tips of his slippers before stumbling out of his dancing.
Her eldest son stamped his foot a couple of times, fingers swiping through his hair but not pulling, and she could feel all that excess energy in the air. She was so used to it being nervous, anxious, angry, but one look at Touya’s face showed how happy he was. Not just happy, but euphoric.
“Maybe I should show you something my teacher taught me, later,” Touya suggested, “It’s called the Esmeralda Variation. It’s really difficult to do, hurts a bit, but I’m getting better at it. Doubt I’ll ever dance it in front of an audience, but I like knowing I can do it.”
“What’s that?”
From the other entrance to the kitchen, Enji emerged. Rei nearly darted out, trying to soothe the fragile cheer and peace her two boys had displayed in that moment, but something wholly unexpected happened.
“Good morning to you too,” Touya rebutted, but without the usual malice. It certainly wasn’t cheery, or as airy as before, but it was probably the closest thing to civil Touya had managed when speaking to Enji in… a long time.
Probably years.
Probably since the hospital.
“Mrs Todoroki, your son’s jaw was broken in several places, needing grafts and wires…”
“Mrs Todoroki, are you listening?”
“You guys can stop staring now,” Touya continued, turning to her and the other two floating heads at the kitchen door, “I know when I have an audience.”
The three of them did emerge, expressions ranging from bashful to embarrassed, but Touya didn’t seem to mind. He continued bustling around the kitchen, explaining how he only made something for Shoto, because he took too long on his run. He’d stopped to watch the sunrise because, oh, isn’t it such a lovely day?
As soon as he was close enough, Rei pressed a hand to his forehead. Not warm. He was a bit cold to the touch, still a little sweaty from his run, but nothing that would indicate he was ill. She looked into his eyes, into his pupils, and they were normal. So, he didn’t hit his head - or worse -
“Mom, what are you doing?” A confused Touya asked, and it seemed that was enough for Fuyumi.
“Are you sick, or have you finally lost it?” She asked, hand on hip, to which Touya responded by flipping her the bird as he elegantly twirled away once more.
No one said anything more on the subject, despite the awkward silence that only Touya seemed ignorant to. Or, perhaps, ignorant was the wrong word. Rei was pretty sure he was just pretending that it was normal so he could keep up his peculiar, high mood. It wasn’t that Touya was always grouchy and sarcastic -
… Maybe it was that. If she were truthful.
The morning progressed as normal, the family sat around the table eating their various breakfasts. Touya with his usual box of meal prep - Rei peeked as she started on Enji’s high protein meal, spying scrambled egg whites with what looked like a mountain of spinach - and Shoto with miso soup and a side of cut up, raw carrots. Natsuo and Fuyumi had grabbed whatever breakfast cereal she’d picked up during her last shopping trip, she didn’t really remember what, and she’d usually just pick on bits and pieces that were left over, too busy with everything to sit down for a full meal. She wasn’t particularly hungry in the mornings, anyway.
Recently, she was thinking about meal prepping like Touya did, so she could sit down and eat a full meal. Lead by example.
“Please make sure Shoto finishes his homework when you both get in this afternoon, Touya,” Enji requested, tone forcibly neutral.
In fact, his tone was as close to soft as Enji could ever get, as if he was trying to emulate something he’d seen on TV or read in one of the many “How to Repair Family Relationships!” self-help books he’d invested in over the past year.
“Oh, I’m not going to be home when Shoto gets in,” Touya shrugged, “I have a date.”
There was a moment of silence, where the words didn’t quite process due to how casually Touya had said them. A date? Her boy had a date? Perhaps that was why he’d been staying so late at school, rather than studying or working himself down to the bone for ballet. Maybe it was something good and healthy, and Rei didn’t have to keep having those awful nightmares -
“What poor girl said yes to a date with you?” Natsuo asked, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, face the picture of innocence despite the objectively rude question - teasing or not, “Does she have an emo fringe? Does she write dark poetry on the horrors of being a teenage girl? Does she have angel fangs?!”
“Mistake on every front, little brother,” Touya grinned, eyes wide in that eerie way he held them when excited, “Star player of the hockey team, one of the admired students of our illustrious institution, and very much a guy.”
“... Congratulations for trusting me with this part of yourself, Touya, I am very pleased that you could come to me with this information,” Enji nodded, his voice monotone, and Rei just knew he was reciting a cookie-cutter response he’d gotten from one of those stupid books. He was even rubbing his hand along the lapel of his suit jacket, a tick he had when he was particularly happy or - in this case - pleased with himself.
“Did you memorise that?” Touya asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Between you and Shoto, it was only a matter of time,” Enji admitted, poking at his own egg white omelette when Rei put it in front of him, “But there is an issue. Who’s going to look after Shoto if you’re not going to be home?”
“Fuyumi can do it, can’t she? She’s not that much younger than me.”
“I have debate club practise tonight!” Fuyumi cut in, “You could’ve asked me, Touya!”
“You guys never ask if I can babysit Shoto, everyone always assumes I don’t have a life of my own,” Touya huffed, arms crossed in front of his chest.
“Until now, I didn’t think you did -!”
“Fuyumi, stop,” Rei cut in, both teenagers shutting up at that, “You’ve had debate club practise nearly every day for the past couple of weeks, I’m sure you’re fine to skip a day or two. If Itoshiki–kun can’t handle that, then he doesn’t deserve to be team captain.”
A few grumbles from the two siblings, but Rei had at least dissolved the argument of the hour between them. Ever since that night, ever since Enji decided to put in more effort and change his behaviour, those two had been butting heads. Rei would never have said Touya and Fuyumi were close, not since Touya was a toddler trying to poke at the weird lump that was his baby sister, but it had gotten markedly worse over the past year and a half.
Part of her wanted to talk to them, another part wanted to bring her children to an actual therapist, but with so much going on… She didn’t know if she could.
“Sorry…” Shoto apologised, quiet as a whisper yet loud as a bomb in the silence of the kitchen.
Her youngest’s head was down, leaving them all to stare at his auburn-and-white hair. He rocked himself slightly in his chair, small and abortive, and Rei looked at her children for a second. Fuyumi looked guilty, at least, any lingering upset melting away. She did love Shoto, even if it wasn’t the affection that the eldest and youngest had. Rei knew that she didn’t mean the objection in the way Shoto would’ve taken it, but it had still hurt the young boy.
Before she could reach out to Shoto, there was his big brother to make everything better. Like always.
“Hey, come on, you know I can’t wait to hang out with you tomorrow, Sho,” He smiled, scooping the small eight year old out of his chair, “Good job on eating your breakfast, you did great! Let’s go get dressed.”
Rei looked over at the box Touya left behind as the two boys left.
Touya might’ve congratulated Shoto on eating all his breakfast, but Touya’s was only half eaten.
*-*-*
“You know I told you about my special friend? Keigo?” Touya asked, laying out Shoto’s uniform as the other boy brushed his teeth in the tiny en-suite, receiving a sud-filled hum in return, “He’s my boyfriend now. Sorry I didn’t tell you first, squirt.”
A very wet spit, and there was the little gremlin once more.
“That’s really cool, Touya-nii!” He enthused, bouncing on the tips of his toes, “So my special friend can be my boyfriend, too?!”
“I thought you and Izuku-kun had already planned your wedding?” Touya teased, “I saw you doodling your invitations the other day.”
“That was our joint tombstone,” Shoto corrected, looking at his brother like it should have been extremely obvious. Touya couldn’t help but snicker at that. However much he hated their flaming idiot of a father, he could see why he had memorised that stupid “what to do if your kid comes out” template.
Touya went through a couple of stretches as Shoto got dressed, just in case Shoto needed any help with his uniform. It didn’t take long, of course, but the practice he’d missed that morning was playing on his mind. Stopping to watch the sunrise wasn’t part of his routine, after all, and everything was measured to the second! It was just that he was… happy, so happy. Happier than he’d been in a long while.
“How dare you, Touya! Come back here!”
Chest brushing the floor, hands clasped around his ankles so tightly that he could feel faint bruises blossoming, he swallowed down a derisive, bitter laugh. Actually happy, and his family ask if he’s sick or crazy instead of being glad he’s not in his usual depressive haze.
Fucking sick, if you ask him.
Then, there was Fuyumi. One night was all he asked for, one night where he didn’t have to pick up his parents’ slack, but no. That’s not okay with Fuyumi! Because she has some stupid club. She’d never really cared so much about school clubs before, so why now? If she was such a good big sister, then she should be leaping at the chance to spend time with her youngest brother.
Who wouldn’t want to spend time with Shoto? He’s great!
“Done, big brother!” Shoto cheered, and Touya got off the floor.
Whatever, today would be amazing. He’d make sure of it.
***
“Hey, Touya, can’t wait to – Are you okay?!”
Okay might’ve been a stretch.
Touya just breathed deeper, readjusted the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder, and gave what was probably the shakiest smile known to mankind while mentally thanking his past self for shoving a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash in there this morning. He was probably pale as shit, which would make the scars beneath his jaw redder by comparison, but he was fine.
He didn’t finish his breakfast, nor his pre-school practise, and had thrown up seven times from nerves over the course of the day but… y’know. Fine.
His ballet teacher hadn’t screamed at him this lesson, he’d gotten through the full routine, and he was ready for his date! A win is a win!
“I’m cool,” He waved off, “Probably just need some more water after practise. But, I’m here and looking forward to going to the fairground with you… darling.”
Yep, that did not feel very natural.
“Come on, let’s sit down for a moment,” Keigo prompted, leading Touya to the nearest bench, “You really got worked up, didn’t you?”
Forsaking all dignity and poise, he collapsed straight onto it, head between his knees, trying not to make seven puking fits eight. He really had been trying. He wanted an amazing date with his best friend (his boyfriend!) but he’d fallen down a million mental rabbit holes until the picture was so screwed up that he couldn’t see straight.
Hence, the puking.
“I just…” Touya began, before cutting himself off. His lip was raw from biting it all day, tearing off the chunks of chapped skin that he’d developed recently, but he still sank his teeth into the reddened flesh yet again. The sting grounded him, if just a little.
“I don’t want to fuck it up,” He surmised, shrugging in an effort to keep casual, despite the whole interaction thus far, “We’re great friends, and I don’t want to…”
I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to ruin you.
He didn’t say that, however. He didn’t say more, just pressed his palm to his mouth as the nausea increased. The empty churning of his guts was just too tumultuous, and he probably shouldn’t speak much more, anyway. He didn’t want to spew such negativity over Keigo. He shouldn’t, because what sort of first date was that? He was supposed to be elated! Like he was when he got home the night before, like he was that morning!
“Are you sick, or have you finally lost it?”
Screw them.
“Well, I’m nervous too,” Keigo admitted, snapping Touya’s internal tirade, turning the Kandi bracelet he’d given him around and around, “But, I don’t think we’re doing anything too different than usual. I mean, it’s a date now, not just hanging out, but... but we haven’t changed into different people. I’m not asking you to turn into some Hollywood love interest or anything.”
“... Huh…” Touya responded, eloquently, but he did sit up. He hadn’t really thought of it like that, if he was honest.
“You’re more of a BookTok guy, anyway.”
“Hey!”
They looked at each other, bursting into laughter. Really, it wasn’t that funny, but with the tension abated, they couldn’t help themselves. Keigo’s were high pitched, nearly squeaking, and Touya snorted as he laughed, but that wasn’t important.
They didn’t have to change. Touya remembered that.
***
The carnival was in full swing when they arrived. The smell of fried foods and sugar pervaded in a thick cloud, both of their breaths visible in the cold, winter air. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but it wasn’t far off, and so all the booths and the various rides were lit up against the blue-hued backdrop. It was romantic, Touya supposed.
He and Keigo were just wandering around, taking stock of what the event had to offer before they formulated a game plan. Should they do rides, then booths? There weren't many, but it could definitely take up some time. A ferris wheel, a Waltzer, bumper cars, a ghost train, something only referred to as “The Caterpillar”, and a very rickety roller coaster.
Actually, you couldn’t pay him to get on that roller coaster, the whole thing looked like a giant health and safety violation, and that wasn’t how he wanted to die.
“Let’s get some food, fuel up before we start properly,” Keigo proposed, with that heart melting smile, and Touya just nodded.
Finding something that fit his diet plan was going to be hell.
Of course, Keigo beelined for the fried chicken stall, grinning like a madman as he pulled Touya along by the hand (when had they started holding hands?). Despite the yank to his shoulder, Touya couldn’t help but think how cute Keigo’s enthusiasm was.
When was the last time he was enthusiastic about food?
Nope. He shook the thought from his mind, scanning over the menu at the back of the booth, to the abundance of metal baskets and the sizzling of hot oil. A side salad. Veggie burger with no bun. Vegetable skewers. There had to be something!
But, all he could see was deep fried, battered and salted to hell and back. Fuck.
“... Touya, aren’t you going to order?” Keigo asked, head tilted to the side, “Do you want to go to a different stall?”
Do NOT fuck this up.
“No, this is fine,” He waved it off. He didn’t particularly feel the finality in his voice, but that didn’t matter, he turned to the stall worker, “I’ll have…”
What would he have? If he weren’t a ballerino? What looked good? What sounded like something Natsu would get with his friends after football practice?
“The three piece box with a small portion of fries, thanks.”
… Really went all out, didn’t he?
It really looked paltry next to what Keigo ordered, but it was something. It was food that was acceptable to eat in the circumstances, and he wouldn’t be the pain in the ass that dragged his date around a million food stalls before deciding nothing matched his diet – because nothing would – and forwent eating. Cosplaying someone who didn’t have to worry about a diet, for one night only, would have no marked difference either way.
Keigo tucked into the food as soon as it was handed to him, sharp teeth digging straight into batter that was still steaming. Touya was more hesitant, focussing on getting out of the way of the slew of people waiting to order their own food, but held the small box close to his chest anyway. The heat was nice, chasing away the chill in his bones, just hot enough to be on the cusp of burning his fingers through the cardboard.
He could do this all night. Holding something warm to his chest; watching Keigo’s bright, almost golden eyes just light up as he chewed, the canine teeth that were sharper than many people realised, one a little crooked. But, eventually, he had to start on his own food.
The chicken shredded apart in his mouth like wet, rotting wood; fibrous and entirely off-putting. The bone clinked awkwardly against his teeth, sending a small pang through his nerves that almost made him jump. Oil leaked from the batter and formed a film in the back of his throat, cloying and unable to be pushed down by the saturated meat. The salt dried his mouth out, so strong it physically stung him, crystals grinding into tender flesh.
Something he’d fantasised about only a couple of days ago, turning out to be so completely rancid. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he choked down another bite, not making a single sound despite the discomfort.
Face placidly neutral, the sort that comes from practised ease, done over and over again in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors of the dance studio. No pain or discomfort should show on his face, especially not tonight.
“There’s something about fair food,” Keigo hummed happily as he licked the grease from his fingers, Touya tracking the movement with lingering gaze on his slicked lips. The hockey player prattled on about it for a moment, but the actual words seemed to phase out whenever Touya tried to grasp them, trying to force down a too-dense mouthful of masticated potato.
Thankfully, the food did, eventually, come to an end. Sitting in his gut like a stone, making Touya feel like everyone in their vicinity would just look at him and see. Look at him and know that he was a ballerino who strayed from his diet plan and ate something so salty and greasy that anyone with half a brain would stay away from it.
And Touya didn’t even fucking enjoy it.
Maybe, when he entered the studio tomorrow, the Russian bitch would be able to see the lard leak from every pore, see the salt bloat up his face. That would give her a field day. The only thing you could never accuse Touya of was a lack of commitment and dedication to his craft, but a slip off his diet plan could be a slippery slope.
To be a premier danseur, he needed the skills of a premier danseur. To have the skills of a premier danseur, he needed the body of a premier danseur. To have the body of a premier danseur, he had to nourish his body like a premier danseur. And, to nourish his body like a premier danseur, he had to stick to his diet plan.
This had been a mistake.
Touya’s chest tightened with the thought.
You’re getting off-track. Distracted.
No. No, he’s allowed this. He can have this and his goals, he can have both.
What happens when he leaves you in a month? After you go off your diet plan for dates and lose your dancer’s figure to “relationship weight”, because someone like Keigo will never understand what a danseur like you has to put himself through for his craft.
Stop it.
Alone, dreams crushed, and nothing to show for it -
“Want to go on the ferris wheel?”
Touya fell out of the spiral, feeling like he was in a car that was suddenly brake-checked, neck twinging with whiplash despite being physically still. He just blinked for a moment, getting his bearings, staring at Keigo’s sweet smile and crooked tooth and the faded freckles across his nose that were the last vestige of the summer months he spent outside.
“… Yeah…” He nodded, coughing the single word out through the vomit in the back of his throat, taking Keigo’s callused hand in his own, “Let’s go.”
*-*-*
After assessing the ferris wheel, shrugging, and deciding that it was at least a little more stable than the roller coaster, Touya and Keigo made their way to the start of the line and were buckled into the two-seater carriage. The hinges squeaked a little as they both clambered on, but Keigo seemed utterly unbothered by the noise their weights created, and so Touya trampled down the small amount of heat that threatened to blossom across his face.
The metal was painted a bright blue, at least the parts that weren’t bubbling and peeling away and showing off orange rust. It might have been pretty, once upon a time, before time took it’s course and it all began to rot away. Still, as they began their stop-start trek to the top of the large-ish wheel, Touya remembered that the ride itself wasn’t really the pretty bit.
The sunset had truly given way to evening now; a quarter moon, waning, the sky inky dark and a smattering of the brightest stars able to be seen through the light pollution. Better than a massive city, but more than what Touya was used to at the old estate, way back when shit was still being smattered all over his life by the fan, but before you could really refer to it all in the past tense. The lights on the roller-coaster reminded him of the string lights in Shoto’s room, the stalls bathing everything in a golden-warm glow, but far enough away from the smell of grease that he could truly appreciate it without getting nauseous. The bodies below seemed so tiny, like the stereotypical “ants”, watching parents and children, other couples, groups of friends milling about and getting to be normal.
“Whoa,” Keigo gasped beside him, starting to lean on the bar across their laps for a better view, but stilling and thinking better of it when the contraption tilted forwards with an ominous screech. Still, something nebulous about it caused them both to huff on stifled giggles when they locked eyes, like little kids being naughty.
Touya had never felt like this as a little kid.
“These things are actually worth the hype, I guess,” Touya began, “It’s… really beautiful.”
“It is,” Keigo nodded, staring straight at Touya’s face and smiling in a way that made Touya think that he might – might – not be talking about the view, “You never been on one before?”
“No, of course not,” Touya shrugged, “There were… Other things. I didn’t have much time to be a kid, between ballet and photo ops for Enji, not to mention…”
Not to mention getting my ass beat, his brain completes. Maybe one day, Touya will make that joke – one that’s not particularly a joke – and Keigo and he will snicker a bit and lick their wounds over being two kids that weren’t completely wanted by their parents, and Enji Todoroki will be far away from them both. Maybe they’ll be in Russia, Touya proud Premier Dansuer in the Bolshoi, thousands of miles from Japan. Maybe they’ll be in Tokyo, and Touya either manages to lock the man out of his life for good, or the old man dies. Somewhere where saying something like that can mean very little, but not nothing.
Truly past tense.
Diplomatically, because Touya can be diplomatic when he wants to be, he finishes instead by summing all the strife that’s happened over the past decade up as: “Home.”
Because being a nanny, tutor, seamstress and cook for three other children can be hard in itself, without his own goals to accomplish. Even if Shoto makes it easy as breathing, and Natsu will typically try not to get in the way, and Fuyumi does her damnedest to finish jobs before he can even start them.
“Being the deputy Prime Minister’s son sounds hard, hot stuff,” Keigo lilts. It could be a tease, only he’s frustratingly genuine in both his tone and his face. Touya thinks about how Keigo grew up – alone, unloved and constantly dirty – and feels a strange kinship. The Todoroki family has more money than Keigo’s parents would ever see in their lifetimes yet, besides hygiene, Touya will allow the thought that he wasn’t much better off as a child.
“Ah, he was only part of the cabinet then,” He says instead, poking the conversation into a more humorous tone, even if it makes him a little bit sicker to do so.
“Oh, of course, so lowly,” Keigo affects something that might be an attempt at a posh accent, but fails miserably. The thing is so garbled, and flavoured by the small lilt of Hakata-Ben his voice has religiously held on, but it starts them off into peels of laughter again. It feels like the whole fairground can hear and see them, and it feels fantastic.
The wheel starts up again, and Touya leans forward, swallowing Keigo’s chuckles into his lips and hoping he can keep them inside his chest for the rest of their lives. He brings his hand up to Keigo’s neck, baby hairs between his fingers as soft and feather-like – especially with how fly-away they are in the cold breeze, but the nape of the other boy’s neck warms Touya’s half-frozen hands perfectly.
He doesn’t really know if he’s doing it right, sliding his lips through instinct rather than genuine thought, but Keigo’s roaming hands and little noises push him forward. Perhaps it’s a little stilted and unpractised, and a little too wet, but it’s so right when nothing else has been for so long that Touya can’t help but chase every little spark.
Eventually, the ride operator coughs, and they both shoot apart as they realise that they’ve been stopped for a moment or two and didn’t notice.
They scamper off into the fairground with apologies and bows that, being perfectly honest, neither of them could bring themselves to mean at all.