Monoma’s mouth hangs ajar as he walks into the main hall, his heels echoing loudly across the gloriously golden space around him. The sight is absolutely overwhelming, eliciting a childlike wonder as he marvels at the ballroom around him. His grandfather had really, really outdone himself.
Being put in charge of this year’s gala had to be one of the greatest honors his family had been allowed in his lifetime, and though he’s only done so much to help, pride swells up in his chest. Everything is perfect. Chandeliers garnish the ceiling, filling the space in a warm and welcoming light. Everything seems to shine and sparkle, gold trimming decorating every surface, the walls intricate, the floor below them glossy and new. It almost seems a whole country could fit between the halls, where an otherwordly feast was set up and steaming, and the dining room itself, an area where rows and rows of tables covered in delicate cloth could be found. Somewhere far off, there’s a stage, and, like magic, a small orchestra begins to play a soft, serene harmony as he acknowledges them.
It’s wonderful.
He’s still staring up at the ceiling when he feels a hand on his shoulder and turns, beaming as his grandfather appears at his side. The man returns his smile and slides a tall, bubbling glass of champagne into his hand, holding up his own with relish. “Long ways coming, this one,” Naito murmurs with a sharp grin.
Monoma can only nod, happiness overflowing as the most elegantly dressed of men and women started to file into the room around them. Chuckling at a joke only he seems to know, Naito starts to steer his grandson towards the door.
He hadn’t quite realized how demanding being a party host would be, even though he wasn’t even really the person in charge. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him; everyone had some sort of compliment to give or a conversation to have or an urgent matter that they absolutely needed to include him into. It was only so much fun, and even that was quickly starting to deplete. He needed a break.
Fleeing from the group he’d been stuck catering to for the last half hour, Monoma searches the crowd for some reprieve. The gala is mostly made up of adults, their children practically chained to their sides as sparkling ornaments, existing only to brag about how well they were able to raise them and what accomplishments they could collect through them. He recognizes so little of them as he sifts through the families, and nearly misses his chance to actually connect to someone, only just managing to catch sight of that familiar looking scar--
“Kirishima-kun...?” he gasps out as he touches his shoulder. “Well! Isn’t this a surprise...”
It doesn't matter that he's halfway through a conversation with one of their guests. All of a sudden there are fingers coiling around his shoulder and suddenly he's being pushed in a new direction, feet threatening to skid under him as he's lead across the room. Monoma glances up to see his grandfather staring ahead, expression determined, a satisfied sneer curling his lip, before he follows his gaze and- oh.
Oh no.
The two land in front of the Todorokis, father and son, Naito's hand immediately parting from Monoma's shoulder to outstretch towards the towering pair.
“Todoroki Enji,” he purrs out grandly. “What a pleasure. I can't tell you how happy I am that you're here.”
The two Todorokis aren't doing much. Shouto stands a bit behind Enji, almost out of his line of sight and observing the room, expressionless and bored looking. Enji, on the other hand, is looking around as if he's actually looking for something. As the Monomas approach he lifts his chin, eyes scanning Naito's hand before he took it in a polite handshake. Only polite.
“Monoma.” The acknowledgement is gruff, “It's not like I had much of a choice.”
Enji sounds less than impressed with Naito. Not like he was impressed by much of anything.
Shouto makes brief eye contact with Monoma but stays silent. This, albeit expected, was not something he wanted.
There's no telltale sign of it. Of course there isn't. Naito's eyes just crinkle at the sides as he politely smiles, and that's how Monoma knows. That's when he starts counting the seconds off as his grandfather surely uses his quirk on the Number One hero in front of him as their hands meet. Panic blooms in his stomach as the two seperate, Naito only nodding to himself, giving away nothing. He wants to know what he knows. He wants to know.
Biting his lip as he watches Shouto, Monoma shifts a little towards him, desperately casual in the way he leans into his grandfather, hiding a little against him, the gesture seemingly nervous, clingy, rather than ripe with the invasive curiosity starting to build up in his bones. He fights the urge to take his quirk, losing within seconds as his grandfather's power takes hold of him, as familiar as always.
“Still,” Naito insists, pretending not to notice. “It feels great to know you've made the effort. You look fantastic, Todoroki-san.” Naito turns his eyes down to Shouto, lips curling all the more as he extends his hand to him as well. “And you... Shouto.” He smiles.” I've seen and heard so much.”
Enji fights the urge to scoff. He’s always hated this. Naito was so fake. Everything he did was fake. He wanted to tear off the mask, but he was sure that there was nothing under it. Whoever the man had been before he had descended into this false business personality was gone, and now all that was left was a greedy shell. The mask would be pulled off to reveal a black hole.
He would ignore how he shouldn't be passing judgement on others for being shells of a human being. Why shouldn't he.
He hardly pays any mind to the compliment side from a grunt, but as Naito turns his attention to Shouto he narrows his eyes. Of course he'd turn to his son. Always looking for more people to use. At least he was working in their favour.
Shouto looks up at the mention of his given name. That was odd. What was he supposed to do? Correct him? Leave it? He shifted his feet uncomfortably before shaking Naitos hand. He didn't like that at all.
It's-” He stops. He wasn't sure if he wanted to say that. He had already started. “...Todoroki, please.” Was that the right choice? Did he do that right? He looked up to Enji, and he looked ... indifferent. He moved on.
“Heard?” He glances at Monoma. “Not much to hear. Maybe give that a couple years.”
Monoma immediately looks away, staring hard at the floor as he feels Todoroki's eyes land on him. His cheeks flush furiously. It isn't his fault, he thinks insistently. If he'd come up in conversation and a few details slipped out, it wasn't his fault. He didn't want to be blamed for this. He didn't want to be here. He has half a mind to just leave, and more than just a little urge to suddenly just run away, when Naito's hand lands on his shoulder again, firm and digging in slightly like he could read his mind.
“My mistake, Todoroki-kun,” Naito purrs with the shortest of bows, eyes crinkling once more at the sight of his discomfort. His eyes flickered here and there, noting his discomfort, following his gaze as he looks up to his father for approval on how to act. Adorable. And far too easy. “But please, don't sell yourself short! We all saw you in the festival. How impressive of a handle you have on your quirk. Your father must be proud of that.”
Monoma winces, feeling sick. His grandfather's fingers relax and dig in again and he starts counting the seconds down once again, losing count and starting over, resetting and resetting, the power settling inside him building in a continuous and urgent stream. Something was being expected of him, wasn't there? This was far too deliberate...
“Imagine, though. What the two of you will learn in a couple of years! This is only the beginning, after all. Isn't that exciting? Just imagining what a good teacher or two can bring to the table, especially lately. I'm sure they'll be stepping it up at UA pretty damn soon, don't you think? To keep up with it all?” Naito hums thoughtfully to himself. “Full disclosure; I absolutely think what's happening lately will only give you two a leg-up on the competition. Experience goes a long, long way, not to mention the level of publicity... What do you think, Todoroki-san?” He smiles up at him.” Are you worried about your boy?”
“Oh. Of course... Thank you.”
Shouto listens to Naito, nodding along. He agrees. He has a good teacher, he's already learned a lot, it's been amazing so far. But of course... stepping up... to keep up with it all. Was he talking about the lockdown? Shouto was tense. Experience goes a long way. Why did that sit so wrong with him?
...
Because almost being killed in his own bed didn't teach him anything. That's why. Because that wasn't anything close to experience that would help. What was there to be learned? Be alert at all times, especially while your sleeping? He already was-and look how far that fucking got him. Obviously it did a lot of good, because he was standing here without a quirk and feeling sick and starting to get lightheaded from thinking about what had happened, how that could that not be great for him as a growing hero?
“I'm not worried for him at all.”
Enji speaks up. He doesn't know anything about what's running through Shouto’s head right now. No one does, he looks just as bored as he did before. Monoma might be able to guess. It still feels disgusting.
“He's strong. I made sure of that. I think that the recent events have been... a small setback. Not one that will affect him in the long run. He's impressive. With the right training he'll be stronger than me before he graduates.” He looks proud. Shouto's success is his favourite thing to brag about.
I made sure of that.
Something in Monoma's chest seems to untether in an instant, unfurling like a piece of rope violently coming apart. Suddenly, he's all too aware of Enji's presence in the room. What he's done. What he's bragging about. He wants to puke. He wants to throw himself at him and hit him and steal from him and force every bit of his own flames into his body until he was nothing but a pile on the ground. He clenches his jaw, a tremor building up inside him.
“Oh, I have no doubt of that,” Naito was saying over his strife, finger tapping against his shoulder with every few words. “It's refreshing to hear you have such confidence in the future. It sets a good example; I can't tell you how many parents are besides themselves with fear of what's to come. I keep asking, why even become a hero if you aren't ready for such dangers in the first place? It's not like your children will be strolling in the park for a living.” He smiles again, head tilting just so. “We can all learn so much from you, Todoroki-san.”
... So that's it. Monoma suddenly and simultaneously understands everything and nothing about this situation he'd been dragged into. Naito's motives are obvious enough. They're always the same, after all. He wants and he wants more and he takes everything he can get his glittering fingers on, and of course he expects Monoma to always do the same. He starts to inch himself towards Enji when he's stopped by his grandfather's grip, yet another tap bouncing off his shoulder as Naito turns his attention to Shouto once more.
“Would you agree, Todoroki-kun?” he asks, and Monoma shifts so that he's shuffling closer to the boy in front of him, eyes on the floor as he reaches out and pinches just a little of Todoroki's tuxedo sleeve in his grip. “It's alright if you feel differently. After all, we adults can talk and talk, but it's you two who have actually gone through the thick of it. If I'm speaking out my ass, please, feel free to tell me so.”
Whenever Shouto is mentioned again it feels like he's pulled right back into reality from some far off place. Something shoves him back into his body and he has to collect himself before he can do whatever's expected of him, and he can only hope that he's gotten good enough at doing absolutely nothing that he doesn't look like a deer in the headlights, as much as he so often feels like one, and for the second time in the conversation he's stuck in that position. He's been listening, but he hadn't expected to be addressed again. Usually people would ignore him almost completely in favour of asking Endeavor whatever they could before he waved them off. Usually the only people asking questions were paparazzi, and the Monoma family was far from that.
Well.
Were they?
He glances down at the hand on his sleeve, and up to Monoma, a quick movement that most wouldn't even notice, all under a guise of thoughtfulness, and the instant Naito gives him the chance to speak he doesn't wait another moment to actually think.
“You are.”
Enji gives him a sharp look. Shouto looks up at him. It isn't the same search for approval. It's directly opposing that, looking him right in the eyes and saying 'fuck you, I know what I said.' By the look on Enji’s face he might as well have said that out loud and then spit in his face as well.
“Without getting into the gory details of what happened, I can tell you that it's nothing like a simulation that would be set up in order to teach students how to deal with a situation like that.”
Enji is still glaring in his direction, but Shouto’s moved on. He's looking right at Naito and not giving his father another acknowledgement. He refuses.
“In a simulation like that, there are things set up so that the hero-in-training can get out and can effectively be tested and trained at the same time for how good they are at looking through a situation and finding all possible ways to beat it. It's teaching how to catalogue everything in seconds so you can figure out when and how to use it, not necessary what you'll need or what a specific situation would be.
There are lots of different things set up to create different outcomes so everyone will see at least one and then be trained to find all of the others. That's how it works. It isn't shoving kids into an almost inescapable-possibly life ending-situation and scaring the shit out of them so that they learn something. That doesnt teach anyone anything. The best it'll do is traumatize.
I can't name a single thing that I learned from being trapped and helpless and almost drowned.” Too much, too much, he refused to look up and see the rage rising on his fathe’rs face, he could already fucking feel it. He bit his tongue and turned to Monoma. “But maybe that's just me. Did you learn anything, Monoma?”
Monoma's slow to move after that. His hand ends up looked around Todoroki's wrist, finger and thumb gently coiling around the bone. His eyes don't glint like his grandfather's liked to when his quirk was used, no. Instead, his eyes go a little dead as he concentrates.
'Synchronize' was an interesting quirk. A complicated one, but one that was all too appropriate for Naito's lines of work. It allowed someone to steal information at just a touch, foreign knowledge gently settling in to overwrite one's brain like it's been there forever, granting skills and facts one couldn't possibly have known before. And with every second, another little scattering of neurons pulsed with an identical wave of intelligence, from victim straight to its user.
Monoma winces at the first few waves of data, though from the outside, it looks like he's simply shocked at everything Shouto has to say. Of course he doesn't know what to expect, getting into the boy's head...
... It's...
“...” Naito wets his lip some, looking thoughtful as long fingers reach up to stroke his beard. “Of course,” he says, stealing the attention and conversation away from Monoma, who has started to look a little pale, just a little bit sick, mouth slightly ajar like he still means to speak but forgot which lines in the script were right to say. “I don't mean to make light of any...”
“...” He glances at Enji, oh so deliberately, oh so obviously enjoying himself even if his expression hadn't changed a bit. The man could see through him in an instant and he lets him as he nods to himself solemnly, giving his grandson a comforting pat. “... trauma. Maybe I'm being a bit too casual. You are children.” His free hand moves to twirl a few locks of long silvery hair around, expertly dodging the rings that decorated his finger. “However, I think that's precisely what's so important about this conversation. Humanity can't survive without hope, without optimism. After all, isn't that what All Might taught us?”
Monoma makes a small sound to himself, a brief little intake of breath that could easily pass for a snort, and Naito chuckles. “When AfO was around, of course we didn't feel like we were learning anything. We couldn't see any positivies. But, in the end, it gave way to the utopia we lived in for so long, didn't it? We're no longer trapped under his reign, now, are we? But we are better equipped so that it'll never happen again. This is precisely what I mean. A school couldn't possibly teach such a lesson without being seen as monstrous or cruel, but that's the point, isn't it? Try as they might, they can't properly prepare you for what's coming. And what's coming is, well, that.”
Nodding to himself, Naito finally moves his hand off Monoma's shoulder, only to dip his fingers into his hair, gently and affectionately curling the golden strands around his ear.” Better to go through it now in a setting where you'll get all the help you need than be cast out into the wilderness as a naive adult thinking you're prepared and made to deal with it on your own. You're being supported, aren't you?”
Shouto was surprised that Monoma was doing this, right here, right now. Almost holding his hand in front of both of their high profile guardians. He didn't think Monoma was that clingy- of course he wouldn't consider the possibility of a quirk currently being used on him without giving him any idea of it. It wasnt even at the back of his mind.
But Monoma did look a bit off. Shouto wasn't the best at reading people, but sometimes he didn't have to be. It was just obvious. Something was wrong. He felt his stomach drop. Maybe mentioning it directly to Monoma was too much. It might have been too much for him if he had been put on the spot so suddenly to answer about how he felt about the event-and in such a personal way. He would have to apologize later.
Enji is still glaring down his son, and has partially turned his attention to Naito as well, giving him the same treatment. He wouldn't do anything special for Naito just because he was another rich man looking to get richer. They were at a big fancy expensive gala-who the hell wasn't.
He did agree with Naito, though. His son was being tough because he went through something harder than expected. He had to take more time to recover, because this wasn't just him getting too tired after training. This was something real. And he needed to learn how to face something real and terrifying and to get past the moping about how he was a child and he shouldn't be facing those sorts of things-because he was a hero now and he'd face anything and everything and he needed to know how to get back up even when it hit harder than usual. He needed to become immune to the punches. Isn't that what Enji had been teaching him his whole damn life?
“Anyone who gets into the hero course at a school like UA knows what they're getting into.” Shouto retorts, despite Naito’s sense. Enji scoffs. Shouto finally looks at him again, and it's dirty. It's mean. It's how someone who has an anger that runs deep in their veins looks at the person who lit that anger on fire and laughed as it burned down everything that could have helped.
“Like hell you knew what you all knew what you were getting into. I've seen all of the hero course kids fight-I've been in the hero course. Most are there for the glamour. I'm sure it taught a lot of your classmates a valuable lesson in what they're actually going into and weeded out anyone who didn't know. Good riddance.”
That lights his veins on fire again. Shouto stands up straighter, somehow, and lifts his head. He didn’t want to fight with his father, but if he had to he absolutely wouldn’t run away from it. To hell with being in public.
“You aren’t part of UA now. You have no room to speak on what my classmates do and don’t know. What happened was a fucking disaster, and if students have to drop out because of parents or because they can’t take the stress that’s another future hero that we could have gone. Going into what’s happening since All Might’s retirement we need everyone we can get and you’re just willing to let them drop like flies?”
Enji grits his teeth. This is not how he wants to spend this time. Shouto wasn’t going to get anywhere with this, and it was pathetic, and making them both look like idiots. From his decades of experience he knew at least that much.
“Don’t swear at me. I am not doing this here.”
He nips it in the bud before it can go any further. It’s foolish of him to think his son won’t press.
“I’m right, you don’t know shit about what happened and you can’t compare that kind of villain attack to what I “will be facing”-I don’t have-none of them have the kind of training needed to handle something like that, physically or emotionally. It’s bullshit-”
Before Shouto can go on another tangent, Enji cuts him off.
“SHOUTO”
Shouto loses his breath at his father's near shout. He glances around carefully, to see who’s looking, to see Monoma, how Naito is reacting. His hand moves a little and grabs onto Monoma’s. He doesn’t even notice.
Nothing about his posture changes. It’s all in his face. His breathing. The way he immediately goes from defiant and angry, to scared. He doesn’t press it. He looks down.
He doesn’t say anything. He feels out of place. In these clothes and in this room and with these people. The only thing that feels close to what his place is is the hand desperately holding onto Monoma’s and the way Enji looks like he could kill him. He probably could. He was humiliating. Of course he was. The way everyone around them seems to go on feels wrong. He can’t find a way out.
“-We are. Being supported.” He mutters, trying to sound normal in response to the last thing Naito had said. “We have plenty of resources. So that we can turn it around. From something traumatizing to something helpful. We’ll probably have a class on it.”
Monoma sucks in a breath. It's. Hard to describe what's going on in his head anymore. Because it's not his head anymore, not really. Everything's being rewritten in a subtle, itchy little process. Suddenly, he knows. Obvious things at first, obvious and subtle, tiny little details about the temperatures of the body and the air, what degree makes it below freezing and what makes something burn and burn so hot it's a violent blue scorch--
-Oh, that's a thought, too. He's touching- they're touching, he could feel Shouto's quirk sitting inside him just as persistantly, fire and ice just waiting to explode and consume the room-
And then, different things, articles and passages sink into his brain with all new understanding, things he's read and done, exercises weave themselves into his muscle memory. The ability to perfectly wrap a burn to minimize the pain of a victim wriggles itself into his mind and he can practically feel the cool plastic of a first aid kit in his hands. It's so... odd. It's all so odd.
“Oh my...” Naito is mostly quiet as the two argue. He doesn't pay any mind to his grandson besides making sure to keep their connection intact. If he really wanted to, he could siphon those same details straight from him, which he admittedly can't help but do every now and then, stealing a second or two of data as Enji and Shouto go back and forth.
It's a little incredible. A little terrifying, to see in person what he's only had nothing but suspicions and rumors and intellectual theories about for so long, but incredible nonetheless. He predicts Enji's explosion before it happens, watches the ripple of instinctual fear at such a large, aggressive presence just rush across the crowds. People inch away from their conversation. Shouto goes from very large to very small, ancient with wisdom to damn near infantile in only a moment. Monoma holds onto him, pale. Naito admires the scene, tapping one finger to his lip and then another.
He chuckles, a light and easy sound. “A class, yes,” he agrees with another soft little laugh. “Hopefully even a couple of them.” He calms his laughing, as to not sound like he was mocking the boy, eyes glinting as he stares appreciately down at him like one would peer into a lens to examine a diamond's cut. That's all he can imagine; jewels, the absolute finest ones, all gathered before him for him to have. Enji, Shouto, and his grandson, of course...
... who was looking all the worse for wear by the second. Monoma feels the grip on his hand from far away, twitching back into reality as Enji yells. His own fingers tighten around Shouto's as he stares up at his face, eyes narrowing just so. He hates him. He hates him. He's the most vile thing he's ever seen.
It's just training. That's what Shouto had said, wasn't it?
You barely know what it was.
He stares hard into Enji's face, searching it, glaring, cursing his name. Damn it. God damn it. He'll know it all.
“... Try not to look so defeated” [Naito teases gently to the young Todoroki boy, gesturing for a passing waiter to come forward and lifting an elegant glass of champagne off it, offering the first to Enji before he reaches for another to pass over to Shouto. “I still absolutely agree with you. It is bullshit, it is an absolute fucking disaster, and it will take a lot to fix this, especially with all the news coming out on the matter... In fact...” He passes a third glass to Monoma before taking one for himself and shooing the man away.” I was just discussing this all with Neito yesterday, wasn't I?”
“You were,” Monoma replies shortly through gritted teeth.
“Were either of you considering making a statement on the matter? Because I know I considered it. I really do hate how willing everyone is to tear the poor man apart- All Might, I mean. It's a hard situation. I was thinking, maybe something to clear his name... So many TV stations are just absolutely gagging for the chance to just speak with someone who experienced it, I was thinking maybe an interview or two if Neito was willing-”
Monoma exhales shakily and winces at the sound of his name. Pain- the memory of pain?- Something phantom and strange and far away suddenly stings just above his eye. His heart starts to race as cold, icy dread floods into his chest. It's not a memory- it's something deeper, a scar that was beaten into the tissue, something unresolved and gaping and Monoma can't seem to see through it all clearly, he can't register it, vision darkening, tunneling around Endeavor, his stomach roils like he needs to vomit, his arms sting with bruises and blows he needs to stop. His blood boils. He almost learns a name, almost hears it like someone whispering frost into the air. Something is- boiling. It's hot.
Instantaneously, Monoma drops the glass like it's something burning. Both hands snap over the left side of his face as he hisses out, staggering, steadied only by Naito's grip on his shoulder keeping him in place as he sways.
“Haa...” Nonplussed, Naito only nudges the broken glass away from their little group with the toe of his boot, smallest of pouts on his face as he acknowledges the spilled drink below them. “Drank a little too much already, ah, Neito? “he teases gently, only doing just enough to keep Monoma standing as he stares past him, still watching his guests. “Where are your manners? Please, excuse him...”
Shouto looks at Naito, eyes large. This isn't how he wanted to look. He couldn't stop it, though. That's what hurt the most about this. Everything that was happening felt so far off and out of his control, from his burst and his take down, to the way he knew he looked so helpless right now and he couldn't do a single thing about it. It was the worst feeling. The way Naito observed him, though, was comforting for a moment. Maybe. He wasn't looking at Shouto like he was pitiful. He wasn’t anything less because of what he saw. He couldn't quite place exactly how Naito was looking at him, but it doesn't make him feel.... How does it make him feel?
He looks down at their hands. It was such a tight grip. He held tighter. Monoma looked like he was even further out than Shouto. He's glaring at Enji but it's unnatural. Lingers too long for Shouto to be comfortable. He shakes his head lightly. Every detail invaded his mind, as if that's the only way he could get through this. Put everything away, find all the ways it differed from the norm, know every single detail about what was happening. At least he'd know. He hated being left in the dark and right now it felt absolutely pitch black.
He's shoved back once again by Naito addressing him. He hates that. He hates it. He rolls his eyes at Naito sympathizing-or something close to it. Agreeing with Shouto, when before he had been talking about how it could be valuable blah blah bullshit learning experience GET DROWNED IN YOUR OWN BED AND LEARN FROM IT SO YOU CAN BE A GREAT HERO!!! all the same shit being shoved down his throat, all the same ways to brush off what happened, play it down. All the same. He wasn't forced to be hospitalized for weeks to be told that it was a learning experience. For his father to say that he'd learn how to get up quicker. He didn't do any of this for shit because it was all completely and utterly out of his control.
He takes the glass. He gives it his best neutral-angry look.
Enji takes his and immediately drinks. God knows he needs it. He couldn't stand it when Shouto pulled something like that in public. Causing a scene seemed to be one of his favourite hobbies whenever they were out. Turning around and denying his part in it was his second favourite. It was always Enji's fault. Enji's fault for getting frustrated, raising his voice, saying something that upset Shouto. All excuses, things his son was convincing himself of so he could safely disrespect and belittle Enji without choking on his own guilt.
“I have to. Something about my duty as number one.”
Enji rolls his eyes. He obviously wasn’t thrilled about the idea. Truth be told, it was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t know anything beyond what they were allowed to tell him, and what little was revealed from his sons stay at the hospital. A mysterious villain got ahold of the security of UA because All Might was too afraid to say no and make the right choice and send everyone home without a sound, contact authorities who could actually handle it and then wipe it clean off of his hands.
Now he had come close to having to wash blood from his hands for his grave mistake, deluding himself with believing he was still the great #1 that they had once worshipped, a man who could make no mistakes and do absolutely no wrong.
How lucky he was that the only thing he had to wash from his hands was the ash from saving those two kids from a burning room and the tears of so many others worried for the future of their school and their career.
Shouto nods. He’s trying to catch all of his thoughts so he can sound coherent.
“I’d give a statement.”
He pauses, reassuring himself that that was the right thing to say.
“I was in the middle of it. I can give a statement. I don’t want an interview. Just to say some things about it. All Might was just trying to do the best for us.. It was a mistake… a really bad one. All that. Not sure there’s much else to say unless you get into rumours.”
Enji is about to cut in, saying something about how “Mistakes don’t just almost get possibly all of your hero course murdered,” when Shouto cuts him off, seeing how Monoma is struggling, looking even more pale than before, and he shuts out the conversation entirely to seek some sort of answer from Naito to what’s happening through just a look, jumping slightly when the glass falls and Monoma’s holding the side of his face. It happens in seconds, and feels even shorter.
What the hell…” Enji growls, observing from behind Shouto, as yet another child causes a scene. Shouto reaches out and holds Monoma steady with Naito, seeming to be almost scared of touching him or getting in the way somehow.
Confusion overwhelms him. Why doesn’t Naito seem concerned? He’s watching this, right? Monoma seems to be falling apart right in front of him and he barely gives it a thought other than pushing away glass, brushing it all off and moving on, Shouto’s seen Monoma drunk and he doesn’t just shut down and freak out like this-usually, he turns into a bitch and tries to screw Shouto-it’s not normal. That’s not something you brush off. For once he can agree with his father. What the hell.
“Monoma?” He puts his hands over Monoma’s, pulling at them gently. “Are you okay-?”
Monoma only clutches to himself harder. His body temperature flashes cold in his panic, then hot, then there's another pulse of knowledge, the phantom feeling of water on his face, and then he feels all too hot again, feverish, sick. His hand starts to smoke just a little where it's still pressed to his eye.
Naito sighs.
“Excuse him,” he says again, reaching forward to pry Shouto's hands off his grandson before he hugs him to his chest like he was shielding him fron sight, arm wrapped protectively around him though his expression while doing so seemed almost bored by the act. “He isn't as strong as you, Shouto. Though he tries.” A dramatic sigh. “Sometimes group settings can be so overwhelming for him, for obvious reasons...” He waves a hand around nonchalantly. “So many powerful quirks around, you see....”
Gently continuing to support him, Naito downs his drink before he gestures for someone to come close enough to take it for them, and then he continues his coddling, petting through Monoma's hair as the boy relaxes a hair against him, eyes squeezed shut in his anguish. “I'll take you to your mother now. She'll calm you down. Alright?”
Yet another dramatic sigh leaving him, Naito takes the moment to reach into his jacket, briskly retrieving a small and sleek card. He offers it to Shouto with a quick little smile. “I'd love to continue this conversation some time, though, Shouto.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles down at the boy. “If you could, if it's possible, I'd like you to think of me as yet another support. I'm here for you, just as I'm here for Neito, and just as I've been there for your father, and for All Might, and for any hero in just a little too much trouble. Please, don't ever be shy, ah?”
Grinning, he reaches over to ruffle Todoroki's hair, and then he nods. “Todoroki-kun.” He nods to Enji.” Todoroki-san.”
With that, he begins to make his leave, carefully guiding Monoma away from the two with a lot more careless ease than he probably should.
Shouto lets Monoma go easily, taking a step back when Naito pulls him close. It still feels wrong. Like Naito was just trying to get them out of the situation inside of fixing it. Hiding behind holding Monoma and almost acting concerned. Then again, he didn't look at all the part. Bored and so painfully casually about Monomas outburst.
If Shouto knew anything he knew that Monoma didn't do this in public for no reason. He's smooth, he's smart, he's somewhat put together at social events. This isn't normal and another burst of anger begins to hover, wanting to lash out again, take Monoma and look at him and ask what was wrong. He didn't move. He knew better than that. He had already spoken back and started an argument, no need to add acting like he knew Naito’s grandson better than Naito did just because they had been talking for a couple of months.
Shouto took the card, looking over it quickly.
Any hero in just a little too much trouble.
He wasn't in any trouble. He didn't see the point in giving him the card, as if he was going to do anything that would create a need to see Naito.
But maybe need was just a cover up for why he was given the card and encouraged to contact Naito. Isn't that something business men did? Hide their true intentions behind.. whatever that was.
“..Of course. Thank you.” He bows his head momentarily, brushing his hair back down after it's ruffled and giving Enji a short look.
Enji looks less than happy. He shakes his head when Naito is fair enough away with Monoma to not see him.
“Don't trust him, Shouto.”
He puts a hand on his son’s shoulder. Shouto shrugs it off. He can't think with his fathers hands on him.
