Chapter Text
The kid skidded to a stop right in front of Todoroki, slightly out of breath, grey eyes wide with excitement.
White hair stuck up messily in every direction.
The kid beamed up at him. “Uncle Shoto!”
Everything in Todoroki’s brain came to a halt. “…I’m sorry?” he said faintly.
Behind him, Bakugo froze.
The kid turned, waving enthusiastically toward the stands. “Papa! I found him!”
Bakugo followed the direction of the kid’s wave.
Where a man leaned casually against the barrier near them. Tall, with white hair and bright, blue eyes.
Bakugo’s head tilted. Then his eyes widened, “Tori… holy shit.”
The man lifted a hand in an easy wave, eyes locked on Todoroki. “Hey, kid.”
Todoroki’s breath caught. “…Toya?”
*
The door to Todoroki's apartment swung open.
Ren stepped inside first, eyes going wide immediately. "Whoa."
The apartment was nicer than anything he'd ever seen. Giant windows dominated the far wall, offering a sweeping view of Tokyo at dusk—the city lights just beginning to flicker on, the skyline stretching endlessly in every direction.
Ren stood frozen in the entryway, like he was afraid to step further without permission.
"You can come in," Todoroki said quietly, with a small smile.
Ren looked back at his father for confirmation.
Toya nodded. "Go ahead. Don't break anything."
That was all the encouragement Ren needed.
Bakugo watched from the doorway. He didn't dare say anything.
"This is so cool," Ren breathed, kicking off his shoes. "You live here? Like, by yourself?"
"Yeah," Todoroki said, following him slowly, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. "Just me."
Ren stopped in front of the windows, pressing his palms against the glass. "You can see everything from up here."
"Twelfth floor," Todoroki offered.
Ren turned back, grinning.
Ren's attention shifted again—this time landing on the gaming setup in the corner of the room. A large monitor, high end PC, and a chair that looked like it cost more money than Ren could even count.
His eyes went even wider. "Ooh! You play?"
Todoroki nodded again. "When I have time."
"What kinda games?"
"Mostly strategy games. Some shooters."
"That's so cool. Papa doesn't let me play shooters yet."
Toya, still standing near the door with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "Because you're ten, Reno."
"Basically eleven," Ren corrected automatically.
Todoroki glanced back at Toya—just for a second. Like he needed to confirm he was still there.
Toya met his eyes, and gave a small nod.
Still here.
Bakugo was still behind Toya, staring at him like he was assessing a threat.
Todoroki's chest felt tight at the reality of the situation, but he turned back to Ren quickly, the smile returning. "You can try it sometime. If your father says it's okay."
Ren whipped around. "Papa, can I—?"
"We'll see," Toya said evenly.
Ren groaned but didn't push it.
Instead, he wandered further into the apartment, running his fingers lightly along the back of the couch, peering curiously at the bookshelf, the small collection of vinyl records, the framed photos on the wall.
"Don't touch anything expensive," Toya warned.
"I won't!"
"Ren."
Todoroki shook his head. "He's fine. Really."
Toya's expression softened slightly as he watched his son explore. "He's not used to... all this." A vague gesture at the apartment. "Our place is just... smaller."
From his position near the door, Bakugo hadn't moved.
He stood with his arms crossed, shoulders tense.
His eyes tracked Toya's every movement. Every glance toward Todoroki.
He knew he shouldn't be here. He knew how fucking suspicious it was for Todoroki to be bringing a 'friend' over, who just so happened to play for a completely different team, in a completely different country.
But he couldn't let Todoroki deal with this shit alone. He just couldn't.
He hadn't said a word since they'd left the stadium.
Toya noticed.
He caught Bakugo's gaze and held it for a second—then offered a faint, polite smile. "Thanks for, uh... getting us out of there. I know the field gets kinda crazy after games."
Bakugo didn't smile back. "Yeah," he said flatly.
Toya's smile faltered just slightly.
Ren, oblivious, called out from across the room. "Uncle Shoto, is this you?"
Todoroki turned. Ren was pointing at a framed photo on the shelf—Japan's national team after a championship win.
Todoroki front and center, captain's armband visible, trophy held high.
"Yeah," Todoroki answered. "That was a while ago."
"You look so cool." Ren leaned closer, studying the photo. "Were you scared? Before the game?"
Todoroki considered the question. "...A little."
"Papa says you're the best midfielder in the world."
Todoroki's eyes flicked to Toya.
Toya shrugged, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. "I said one of the best."
"You said the best," Ren insisted.
Toya didn't argue.
Todoroki looked away, throat tight.
It was still difficult for him to accept that this whole time, an entire decade of Toya's absence, and Toya had been out there somewhere keeping tabs on Todoroki's career.
But not reaching out. Not checking in.
Never there when Todoroki needed him.
Ren was already moving again, wandering toward the hallway. "What's back here?"
"Hey," Toya said, more firmly. "Don't go snooping—"
"It's okay," Todoroki cut in quickly. He gestured down the hall. "There's um... a gym. Guest room. Bathroom. My room. And a storage room."
Ren's eyes lit up. "Storage for what?"
Todoroki hesitated. "...Some old gear, I guess. Jerseys. Trophies."
"Can I look?"
Toya sighed. "Kid, you can't just—"
"I don't mind," Todoroki said softly.
He glanced at Toya again—that same look. Still here.
Toya nodded. "...Alright. But don't touch anything."
Ren pumped his fist and darted down the hall.
Todoroki followed, still smiling faintly.
Leaving Bakugo and Toya alone in the living room.
The awkward silence returned immediately.
Toya shifted his weight, hands sliding into his pockets. "So, Bakugo," he said carefully. "You and Shoto are... close?"
Bakugo's expression didn't change. "Yeah."
"Friends or something?"
"Yeah."
Toya nodded slowly, clearly picking up on the ice in Bakugo's tone. "Okay then."
Another beat of silence.
Bakugo's eyes narrowed slightly. "You planning on stickin' around this time?"
Toya stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"Don't play dumb. You heard me."
Toya's jaw tightened. "I don't know what Shoto told you—"
"He told me enough."
Toya's expression hardened. "Look dude, I don't know what your deal is—"
"Uncle Shoto, is this your first trophy?!" Down the hall, Ren's voice echoed excitedly.
Todoroki's quiet reply followed, too soft to make out.
Toya held Bakugo's gaze for another moment—then looked away first.
*
Dinner was takeout.
Todoroki didn't cook often—didn't have much in the fridge worth offering—so he'd ordered from a place nearby. Enough for four people, spread across the table in the living room.
Ren sat cross-legged on the floor, chopsticks in hand, eyes still wide as he took in the apartment around him between bites.
Todoroki sat beside him, answering questions patiently.
"Do you travel a lot?"
"During the season, yes."
"What's your favorite place you've been?"
Todoroki considered. "...Sweden. The coast was beautiful." He risked a glance at Bakugo, across the table. "Or maybe Madrid."
"I've never been out of Japan," Ren said, a little wistful.
Toya, sitting across from them, glanced up. "We'll go somewhere someday, buddy."
Ren didn't push, but his smile dimmed slightly.
Todoroki's expression was full of sympathy. "You're welcome to visit here anytime," he said quietly. "If you want."
Ren's face lit up immediately. "Really?"
"Really."
Bakugo, sitting at the far end of the table, hadn't touched much of his food.
He was too busy watching Toya.
Every time Toya spoke. Every time he glanced at Todoroki with that careful, apologetic expression.
Bakugo's jaw stayed tight.
Ren, oblivious to the tension, turned to Bakugo. "So Bakugo-san. You're on the Korean team, right? How come you know Japanese?"
Bakugo blinked, dragged out of his thoughts. "Just Bakugo, dude. My parents are Japanese."
"Cool. Me too." Ren tilted his head a little. "Are you as good at soccer as Uncle Shoto?"
Todoroki's eyes widened slightly. "Ren—"
"Different positions," Bakugo said, waving a hand. "Can't compare a striker to a midfielder."
"But if you could," Ren pressed.
"I dunno." Bakugo smirked. "Your uncle's pretty damn good."
Todoroki looked away, ears going faintly pink.
Ren beamed.
Toya watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on Bakugo for a moment longer than necessary.
*
An hour later, Ren was curled up on the couch.
The TV played some animated movie—something loud that Todoroki had found on a streaming service.
Ren had been riveted for the first twenty minutes.
Now he was asleep, head resting against the armrest, one arm dangling off the side of the couch.
Todoroki stood nearby, looking down at him with fond eyes.
"He's out," Toya said quietly, moving to stand beside Todoroki.
Todoroki smiled faintly. "He has a lot of energy."
"Too much sometimes." Toya reached down, gently adjusting the blanket Todoroki had draped over Ren earlier. "Thanks for... all this. Letting us come here."
Todoroki nodded slowly, and spoke softer. "I'm glad you came."
Toya straightened, hands sliding into his pockets. "I wasn't sure if you'd wanna see me. After... everything."
"I always wanted to see you, Toya."
Toya looked at him. "...Yeah. I know."
Bakugo, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, watched them both.
Todoroki took a slow breath. "Can we... talk? About that night?"
Toya's expression shifted, and it was immediately more guarded. "I don't know, Sho—"
"I need to know what happened. Please," Todoroki practically begged. "I know... I know he kicked you out. I was there. I remember. But why? And what happened after that?"
Toya's jaw worked. "You were just a kid."
"But I remember," Todoroki repeated. "I remember being pulled away from you. I remember Nat crying... And I think I deserve an explanation. I'm not a kid anymore."
Toya exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at Ren—still asleep—then back at Todoroki. "...Alright. Yeah. We can talk."
They moved to the far side of the room, near the windows, their voices low enough not to wake Ren.
Bakugo stayed where he was.
Listening.
Toya leaned against the window frame. "So. Basically. I got a girl pregnant," he said bluntly. "That's what started it."
Todoroki completely froze.
"I was barely twenty-one," Toya continued. "Playing for the reserve team. Dad had this whole plan mapped out for me—national team by nineteen, team captain by twenty-two. He had it all figured out." His voice turned bitter. "And then I fucked it up."
"Ren," Todoroki said quietly.
Toya nodded. "She didn't want to keep him. We were young, we weren't... it wasn't serious. But I wanted him. I told her I'd take care of everything. That she didn't have to be involved if she didn't want to be."
Todoroki nervously started picking at his fingernails. "And... father found out."
"Yeah." Toya laughed humorlessly. "He lost his shit. Said I was throwing my career away. That I was being selfish. That I needed to 'handle it.'" He spat the words. "He wanted me to convince her to get rid of Ren. Or pay her off and pretend it never happened."
Todoroki's stomach turned.
"I told him no," Toya continued. "Told him I was keeping Ren. That I'd get a stable job, something with normal hours so I could actually raise him. And Dad..." He trailed off, jaw tightening. "He said if I walked away from soccer, I was walking away from the family. Said if I wanted to be a father, I'd have to do it alone."
"So he kicked you out," Todoroki said, voice hollow.
Toya nodded. "That night. The night you remember." His voice softened. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Shoto. I didn't wanna leave—"
"Where did you go?" Todoroki interrupted. "After. Where did you go?"
"Osaka. Found a shitty apartment. Got a job at a logistics company." Toya shrugged. "It's not glamorous. But it's steady. And Ren's fed. He's clothed. He's happy."
"I... I would've helped you. You could've called," Todoroki said quietly. "Or texted. Or... or something."
Toya looked away. "I thought about it. A lot. But Dad made it clear—if I reached out to any of you, there'd be consequences. And I didn't wanna drag you into it. Any of you."
Bakugo scoffed. Loudly.
"I was already in it," Todoroki whispered. "I was always in it."
From across the room, Bakugo's voice cut through the air. "That's bullshit."
Both of them turned, and that's when the argument started.
Bakugo pushed off the counter, eyes locked on Toya. "You're really gonna stand there and act like you had no choice?"
Toya shook his head slowly. "I didn't—"
"Yeah, you fuckin' did," Bakugo said coldly. "You chose to disappear. You chose to leave your kid siblings alone with that piece of shit."
"I had a kid to raise—"
"You had a brother to raise. You were old enough to take 'em all with you," Bakugo snapped, jerking his head toward Todoroki. "They didn't get a choice. He was ten. And you left him there."
"How the fuck was I gonna raise four fucking kids?" Toya's jaw clenched. "You should shut the fuck up about shit you don't know about."
Todoroki still looked nervous. "Hey."
"I don't fucking know, you just figure it out. You must've had money saved up from being a damn pro athlete." Bakugo's eyes were hard. "You knew they were suffering, and you shoulda just figured it the fuck out. Sho told me you used to step in when Enji went after him. That you protected him."
Toya said nothing.
"So where the fuck were you when he needed you?" Bakugo kept going. "Where were you when Enji was tearing him apart? When he was covering bruises before matches? When he was so fucked up he didn't even know how to ask for help?"
"Katsuki, please—" Todoroki started.
Bakugo ignored him. "You don't get to show up after ten years and act like you didn't have a choice. You had a choice. You chose Ren. And that's fine. But don't stand there and pretend you didn't also choose to leave your siblings at the mercy of a goddamn abuser."
Toya's face went pale.
Todoroki looked between them, hands shaking slightly. "Katsuki," he said again, gently. "That's enough. Okay?"
Bakugo finally looked at him.
And the anger on his face softened—just slightly. He exhaled, then turned and walked toward the balcony door. "I'm gonna get some air."
The door slid shut behind him.
*
It was cold out on the balcony.
Bakugo leaned against the railing, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling up into the night air.
Tokyo sprawled out below him—endless lights, noise, movement... It was overwhelming in a way that usually helped.
Made his own thoughts feel smaller by comparison.
Except tonight, his thoughts wouldn't shrink.
He kept seeing Todoroki's face.
The way he'd looked at Toya. Like he was afraid to blink and afraid to watch him go all at the same time.
And Toya just... standing there. Explaining himself, like it was simple.
Bakugo exhaled smoke through his teeth, jaw tight.
Behind him, the door slid open, then shut.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Bakugo started immediately, not turning around. "I'm not tryin' to be a dick. I just—" He dragged a hand through his hair. "I've seen the bruises, Tori. I've seen—"
He stopped when he turned halfway, and realized it wasn't Todoroki.
Toya stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, face unreadable.
Bakugo's jaw tightened. "Oh."
"Yeah." Toya moved closer, stopping beside the railing. He didn't look at Bakugo. Just stared out at the city. "Can I bum one?"
Bakugo hesitated, then pulled the pack from his pocket and held it out.
Toya took a cigarette, along with the lighter Bakugo offered.
For a while, they just stood there. Smoking in silence.
"You're not wrong," Toya said finally. "What you said in there."
Bakugo glanced at him but didn't respond.
"I did leave him," Toya added. "I told myself it was the only option. That if I stayed in contact, Dad would make it worse for all of them. That the best thing I could do was stay away and let them move on without me."
He took a drag, exhaling slowly.
"But the truth is... I don't know if that's actually true. Or if I just told myself that so I didn't have to feel like shit every day."
Bakugo's grip tightened on the railing. "You coulda checked on them."
"I know." Toya muttered. "You think I don't know that?"
Bakugo didn't answer.
"I watched every one of Sho's games," Toya said quietly. "Every single one." His voice turned bitter. "Like that made it okay. Like me watching from a distance was the same as actually being there."
Bakugo took a drag of his cigarette.
"Every time Japan won, I wanted to call," Toya added. "I wanted to call him so bad. I had my phone in my hand, his number pulled up, and I just... couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because I didn't know what to say." Toya half shrugged. "What the fuck was I gonna say? 'Sorry I left you there'? 'Sorry I wasn't brave enough to stand up to Dad for you the way I did for Ren'?"
Bakugo exhaled smoke, jaw clenching. "He would've forgiven you."
"I know," Toya said quietly. "That made it worse. 'Cause I didn't deserve it."
Another stretch of silence.
Bakugo shifted his weight.
Toya flicked ash over the railing. "You're good for him, y'know."
Bakugo's head snapped toward him.
Toya glanced at him, a faint, sad smile on his face. "He needs more friends like you."
Bakugo looked away quickly so Toya couldn't see the way his eye twitched at that word.
Toya took another drag, then stubbed out the cigarette on the railing. "Thanks." Toya looked at him. "For looking out for my baby brother."
Bakugo couldn't even take the compliment. He just shook his head.
"Don't fuck this up," Bakugo mumbled. "Don't show up, let him get attached again, and then disappear. Because if you do, I swear to god—"
"I won't," Toya said firmly. "I'm not goin' anywhere."
***