fandom: bnha (do i even go here? not really lol)
characters: dabi & fuyumi, shouto’s here, natsuo mentioned
words: 860, gen
supposed to be a crack fic, but there’s very small feels
read on AO3
He’d forgotten Fuyumi was Endeavor’s daughter just as she was their mother’s.
Fuyumi doesn't really resemble Endeavor, she hardly looks like him except for the eyes they both inherited. She rarely became angry, but when she did, it was a small wonder any of them made it out alive. (There was, of course, a clear distinction between her and Endeavor’s fury; she was never cruel.)
She’s staring at him directly now, glare more glacial than the ice daggers she’d manifested between her slim fingers, and is seconds away from hurling them directly at his face.
Her eyes are narrowed and her small nose flared in her fury. It’s a jarring difference against most of his memories, where Fuyumi’s face was sweet and rounded with childhood.
This Fuyumi before him is about to murder him.
Rightfully so, he muses. He had come close (not for the first time, either) to harming her baby.
Shouto is on the ground, pleading with his sister to run, I can handle him!
Fuyumi doesn’t respond, only clenches her fist, and the sharp icicles rain down on his head.
Dabi can’t hold back the yelp, as he catches two or three with his arms. They leave gashes, cutting open skin.
They had always known Fuyumi’s quirk could have been strong enough for being a Pro Hero, but she had wanted a different path (and it went unsaid their father had taken any potential hero ambitions and turned them to ash).
Dabi is busy dodging the overhead projectiles, when suddenly a giant chunk of ice catches him square in the gut.
“Fuck!” He doubles over and clutches at his abdomen.
He could’ve summoned his flames, blue in color to match her frost, and melted it all, but if he looks at her face, he can’t do it—he can’t bear to use his fire against her.
Shouto’s eyes are wide with pride and amazement and worry.
Dabi would feel pride too, if he weren’t busy avoiding becoming skewered by the one person he’d never be able to raise a finger against, the one person who’d never hurt him.
Well, before this. (Before he became someone she couldn’t recognize.)
Even from where he is, he can tell she’s starting to feel the exhaustion of overusing her quirk, but she shows no sign of letting up. He fears she’ll end up hurting herself.
He can’t help it, the words spill out of his mouth in his desperation to catch Fuyumi’s attention, to make her stop, before he can think.
“Dammit, Yumi!” he cries out, the name rusty on his lips, the familiar bickering tone (angry, frustrated, impatient, but never with any bite, not for her) emerging from years of disuse, “Quit it!”
She barely responds, launching more and more crystals at him.
Had she not heard him? She is not reacting at all to hearing an infamous villain call her by her childhood nickname.
He holds up his hands in surrender, attempting to placate her.
Fuyumi takes long, marching strides towards him as the barrage slows. He can feel the ire rolling off her, nearly pushing him to his knees. Her brows are knit, and her mouth is twisted into a frown, a fearsome expression clearly spelling out his impending demise.
He pleads again, as she nears, “Yumi, it’s me!”
“I know!” she growls.
His eyes widen.
“Touya, you asshole,” she heaves, and her bare small fist decks him in the jaw.
Dabi stumbles, groans and gently cradles his face, mumbling, “I guess I deserved that.”
Suddenly, he feels chilled hands grab his shoulders, and he’s about to protest any further abuse, when Fuyumi pulls him close, pressing her face into his neck.
“I hate you!” she wails.
His heart breaks, not because he actually believed her, but because both of them know she never could.
“I know,” he whispers, arms coming up to hold her tightly, a practiced movement he’d never grow out of, no matter how long he lived or how many different names he took. “I’m so sorry.” He’s not sorry about a lot of the things he had to do, quite frankly, but he regrets Fuyumi had to be part of his collateral. He wasn’t the brother she deserved.
“I’m gonna kill you,” she promises, earnestly, voice muffled. “I’ll do it. No one would catch me.”
He hums, smoothing down her hair.
“Then you won’t have to pretend being dead,” she huffs. “Your shrine is gonna be for real.”
“Love you too,” he whispers back. Dabi wisely doesn’t comment on the wetness he feels against his shoulder.
“Nee-san?”
Shit. Dabi raises his head from resting against Fuyumi’s, and catches the bewildered gaze of the youngest Todoroki progeny.
Fuyumi, sniffling, turns her head and waves a tired hand at her baby brother to come closer. Shouto hesitates, still giving Dabi a wary stare, but his sister breaks into a watery smile, juxtaposed against her twin’s guarded expression. “Come hug your dumbass brother.”
(“Natsu’s gonna be pissed, too,” Fuyumi mumbles when Shouto finally shuffles closer and she pulls him in.)
