An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fuyumi looks at Shouto with his mothers eyes, the ones that shone in mania and fear and hatred. They used to be so calm, the both of them, but Fuyumi holds herself with his mothers broken psyche and Endeavors all powering anger.
It's almost not noticeable, that anger, until she strikes and screams with the flames of someone so familiar.
Natsuo holds his anger like a second skin, but it's cold like their family's shared ice. His words are detached and full of resentment, it twists and snaps until you're struck with a glacier of pain, of sorrow and Vengeance.
His brother is tormented by the past, by the grief and the what ifs. Natsuo could never let go of Touya Todoroki, of the eldest brother, of the boy burned alive by the all consuming notion, the burden, of being the prototype, of being the first.
And Shouto is the masterpiece, the chosen one, the replacement. The facade both Fuyumi and Natsuo granted him has long since run its course.
