"It's your quirk! Not his!"
...
Those were the words his husband had said to him, all those years ago. Shoto stood stiffly beside the fresh laid grave, wondering whether it was anger, sadness, or simply acceptance that he was feeling.
...
All those years. Joys that would never be shared. Laughter that would never be had. The bouquet of flowers rustled with the wind, under the tight grip of Shoto's left hand.
...
All those years, with Midoriya at his side, working through the struggles they both faced. One last time. One last challenge.
...
Tears starting to trickle down Shoto's face. He thought of his mother, the purity of feeling that it was to reconnect with her. Why did his past have to be the one that he had? But he knew why.
...
All those years. The pain. The anguish. The stories people would tell about him, without knowing the truth.
...
A hand reached out to his right shoulder, giving a light, gentle squeeze. "Shoto..."
...
All those years. Shoto began heating his left hand. The flowers first wilting, then igniting. Burning slowly, the ash swirled around the headstone, until nothing was left. What would have once been a closed fist, now an open hand.
...
"It's my quirk, not yours," said the last remaining Todoroki. Walking away, hand in hand with Izuku Midoriya, the one who saved him. All those years ago, finally over. The Flame Hero had finally grew cold.
...
"Here lies Enji Todoroki. Endeavor."
Oof the feels 😭
