Izuku wakes bleary. The moon is shining across the cracks on his glass window. The sill is glowing an off brown, like mud-stained yellow or overcooked beans.

He wonders if he can slit his wrists on the sharp edges.

(Go away, Kacchan.)

_

After one particularly harsh session with Endeavor, Shouto cannot feel his self-control (he doesn't want it to slip, he doesn't want to be like the monster with fire on his fingers and a chill in his eyes). He is angry.

He is angry at Endeavor, he is angry at himself and he is angry at his feelings. But he doesn't know what to do, so he goes to his brother―his last one―because Natsuo has the most experience with rage.

Natsuo has the most hate and he's also been hurt. He sneaks into Natsuo's room only to find him gone. Then Shouto sees Natsuo's bulky figure walking away in tattered clothes. At that moment, Shouto decides to do something he's only ever dreamed of. He sneaks out the window, too, and follows after his runaway brother.

The moon shines, like a beacon of hope.

Years and years of treading on air have taught him how to be silent. He still has to be careful, the Todoroki children have all learned how to pick up footsteps, however light they may be.

For once he's glad he picked his father's agency.

Natsuo goes on a train, after the bus, and Shouto is in the cart beside him. He watches and waits. Then his brother gets off at a stop Shouto has never seen. Natsuo is still walking, but his shoulders are less tense as if he knows what he's doing (and maybe he does). 

Shouto pulls up his hood―these were the only things he could grab in time. 

His brother stops in front of a metal door and knocks three times.

"Member number three of the IPS."

"Password?" A scratchy voice says.

"There is no password you idiot.. It's an emergency. A twenty-two."

"Fine."

The door opens and Shouto watches from behind the corner as a man with ratty white-blue hair opens the door. Sharp red eyes, like fire and heat, and the scar across his left side. He flinches away, and then his bi-colored hue's meet the crimson of the man from before. 

"Dabi, bring him in."

Then there is a weight on his shoulder, and he's forced foreword. He still doesn't regret sneaking out, it beats sleeping in the same house as Endeavor.

He doesn't stumble, walking in.

_

"Shouto? What the hell are you doing here!?"

"You know him, Natsu?" Tomura peeks from his GameBoy. He's sat down, a cracked smile on his lips (yellow teeth and bleeding lips).

"I mean, yeah, he's my brother!"

"Your brothers with the kid who won second place in the Sports Festival!?"

"Natsuo, are you part of a gang?" Shouto points.

His voice is dull-sharp and nonchalant. They don't usually mix, and the sound of Tomura cackling in the background sends Natsuo into a fit of his own. The person that brought him here starts laughing too. Brash and deep. Almost like it hurts.

"Oh my God, Shouto. You are hilarious. This? A gang?" Natsuo would slap his knee if it wasn't bruised.

"You snuck out in the middle of the night in dark clothes, you stopped at what appears to be a secret base. So I'll ask you again: are you in a gang?"

"Shouto, Shouto. The IPS is a group of people I hang out with, a friend from school got me here. You can come to if you want, I just think our dear old dad would be pissed about it." Natsuo brushes off absentmindedly.

Dabi cuts in, picking on his nails and burnt skin. His blue eyes glow with the purple under them. He'd always hated purple, maybe that was the irony of it all. The color was marred to his skin, and it stung and itched and embers lived underneath his icy flesh.

"Natsu? D'ya really think your old bastard would mind if your little brother went missing every once in a while? He could drink apple juice with Tomura."

"Fuck you," Tomura says on instict. "Dabi. Unlike you, I'm still a minor, and Izuku says that underaged drinking fucks up your brain." Tomura rolls his eyes and drinks his aforementioned apple juice. His pinkie finger stuck out. He really didn't want to get the sticky liquid on his shirt. It was a pain to clean out and he usually turned it to ash regardless.

"But our precious angel-child isn't here. Apparently, his mother finally got back from work and he wants to spend some time with her before she's gone in the morning."

Shouto takes a deep breath and repeats: "Is this a gang, Natsuo?"

"No, Shouto, this isn't a gang! It's the Izuku Protection Squad!"

"I'm telling 'yumi to tell Mom.."

"Fine! You can join." Natsuo yields.

And for the first time that Natsuo has ever seen, Shouto smiles. The slightest tilt of lips and the curve of his bi-colored eyes―

Suddenly, all the fear and anger and the gate that bubbles to happiness that he knows is completely temporary.

"Thanks, Natsuo."

"Call me Natsu, Sho."

Tomura chokes on his juice when his phone starts ringing. He lets the button click and he bites his lips. His Gameboy lays abandoned on the couch they bought with Endeavors' credit-card.

Shouto doesn't blink like a normal person.

"Shit, Ochako.. what happened? Are you okay? What do you mean―I'm not a vigilante! I know that but- fuck, really?" Tomura stops talking for a minute. ".. I'm bringing Kurogiri with me and if anyone asks, I wasn't there. Got it?"

A burst of jumble peaks through the crappy speaker. ".. good, I'm on my way."

Then he turns and slams his phone on the table. He tells Kurogiri an exact location and to follow him.

Tomura left his gloves on the table. Natsuo knows shit is about to go down. Tomura never leaves his gloves. Ever.