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     Is it wrong to look a dead man in the face and feel nothing? A face, once electrified with fire and just as well fiery rage, that caused nothing but grievances and pain in your life? Or is it worse when you want more than anything to feel nothing, yet you can't help that pounding feeling that maybe it's not so simple.

    Not a tear came out of Todoroki Shoto's eyes on January 23rd, the day of Endeavor’s funeral, the day he seemed to be waiting for his whole life. He wasn't sure if he should be crying, it was disingenuine and felt wrong, but if he jumped on the coffin and started dancing he was sure none of the guests would be too stoked, nor the whole of Japan. Instead he stared, maybe too long, reliving the painful memories of his life with his father. Perhaps Shoto had won. I mean, here he was standing over him, he the lone survivor. This is what he had always wanted.

    This is what he wanted, right?

    The other faces at the funeral looked unto him with remorse. None of them understood this lifelong battle that Shoto and his father had. To them, this was a turning point in his life. He, a helpless boy, now lost and fostered to the world with no where to go needed their help, their support. Every ‘I'm sorry for your loss’ made Shoto want to wring their neck. He didn't need their pity. He was strong. He was the Number 1 Hero.

    Not minutes into the reception, Shoto's former class of 1-A came towards him in a clump, Momo the assumed leader of the lot.

    “We're all very sorry for your loss,” she said. Shoto went through with it, after all these were the few people he respected at the event.

    He nodded, “Thank you. I'm glad you all could make it.”

    “Anything for you Todoroki.” He winced. The rest of the group stood behind Momo looking at him solemnly. They had been close friends, but they had grown distant over time. What had it been, 12 years since they graduated? Yet Shoto only kept in contact with one. And he couldn't make it.

    “Anyways, help yourselves to as much as you want,” He offered, motioning at the few food tables. Shoto paid for everything and had hoped he could get rid of it all before the night was done.

    Shoto stood by himself for some time, taking short sips of top shelf red wine and thinking to himself. Suddenly, a firm arm rested on his shoulder from behind. He turned around quickly, almost spilling from his glass.

    “Whoa, careful there,” Says a burly voice that comes from a figure much taller than Shoto.

    “Ah, Iida Tenya. Long time no see.”

    “Ouch,” Iida smiles, “All the way back to full-name basis, huh?”

    Shoto grimaced dramatically, “I'm afraid so.”

    They laughed quietly, being respectfully aware of the other patrons at the funeral.

    Iida took a sip of his own wine and raised his eyebrows. “So what has mister ‘Number One’ been up to?”

    Shoto smirked and looked down at his feet. “He's been doing his job, pretty much,” He looked up at Iida, “No time for anything else, if I'm being honest.”

    “Understandable,” Iida nodded, “I mean, you have all of Japan watching you, and if you're not there when they need you... “

    “...the media goes crazy, and I'm compared to Midoriya again,” Shoto finished.

    Iida Tenya took a pause, sipping his wine and averting his gaze. “Yeah,” He agreed under his breath. It was no secret that most people, well, all people, would much prefer that Midoriya was still alive and well. He had a much friendlier, helpful demeanor than Shoto did, that the commonwealth adored. When Shoto became the Number One Hero, his presence was nothing less than unnerving and tense. Try as he might, Shoto somehow always shadowed his father in some sort of way.

    He looked around, feeling incomplete and dissatisfied. “Do you want to get out of here?” Shoto asked, executing a nonchalant voice to cover his discomfort.

    Iida, taken aback by the sudden proposition, had a small tinge of doubt. “Are you sure? Shouldn't you be staying here… ?”

    “I have workers bussing it. They don't need me.”


    And they didn't.

    Shoto didn't return to the funeral that night, that morning, or that next day.


    “So what'll it be? Gin, martini, or vodka?”

    “Martini,” Iida said from behind Shoto’s bar. His house was rather large, this being only one of the unnecessarily extra features.

    Shoto slid a fancy martini glass with olives to Iida before pouring some vodka for himself. He sat right next to the man, who was comparatively larger. Iida Tenya had taken his suit jacket off and rested it on the back of his chair, exposing his gruff forearms and tight white dress shirt, almost teasing Shoto’s emotions.

    He took a steady sip, exhaling briefly as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. “So how’s the business going?” Shoto asked, referring to the Hero Intern Agency Tenya ran.

    Iida fiddled with olives in his drink and replied, his face lighting up, “It’s actually great! I get to see a lot of the kids from UA as they come in. They’re all so young, full of passion and potential. It’s amazing I get to kind of shape their lives in some sort of way.”

    Shoto smiled at Iida. The way his face was glowing, passionate about these kids, was wholesome in a way that could not be described in words.

    They talked for a little while, drinking more and more and getting progressively more sloppy.

    “You know you’re the only one to treat me like a real person all night…” Shoto offered, looking into Iida’s eyes.

    “Yeah?” Iida smirked, “How’s that?”

    “Everyone else just, ugh,” he snorted, “they were all ‘we’re here for you’ and shit.”

    “They care about you.”

    “Professionally.” Shoto took another sip. “You’re better than… all of them.”

    He paused for a moment, then put his thumb on Iida’s lip. They looked at each other knowingly with a mix of bedroom eyes and drunkenness. Shoto pressed his mouth up against Iida’s, Iida giving in instantly. He held Shoto’s jaw, stroking it as their mouths push and pulled. Shoto’s arms grazed down to Iida’s chest and he messily fiddled with the buckle. What happened next was all a blur, and with a blink he was on his king mattress underneath Iida. His shirt was pulled off as well as Iida’s, and their pants were only held loosely to their bodies.

    As if they had merely fallen off, their pants were inevitably on the floor. It was all the same rhythm from there- the top would rub Todoroki's penis and tell him he was beautiful. Then he would rub lube over two of his fingers, then separating them teasingly before gently working them around and into the butt. Then they ask if Todoroki was ready, as if they would stop now. Todoroki turns around, not looking the top in the face as he thrusts in and out rhythmically, growing more intense with every second. The top eventually climaxes from the now extreme sensation, then Todoroki comes soon after. They unattach, clean, then lay down with each other, the top telling Todoroki he did great.

    But Todoroki didn't catch any of that this time, as his mind was in a far away region.


    “That was great last night.” There it was. “But I...” That was new.

     Todoroki sat up. “What?"

    "I mean, that's not me. That's not you. We don't just have a drunken one night stand. That's not-"

    "What if it is me?"


    "What if that is me, the guy that has sex with anyone? Just for the feeling. What if that is me?"

    Iida stared at the back of Shoto's head, the other knowing not to look back. "Just... Just for the feeling?"

    "Yeah. Wouldn't that be messed up?"




    "I am not Shoto. Shoto doesn't lie around moping after his father dies. He has a hold of himself," Todoroki scoffs, "Todoroki is a weak, pathetic, subdued baby that sucks a grown man's binkie to suppress what he doesn't want to know."

    Iida is repulsed. The last words sting.

    Todoroki stands up. Not straight or in a way that flatters him. When he stands up, he looks small, childlike, if not for the setting. He still doesn't face Iida, the man that he used, the man that now knows he was used. He puts on a sheet.

    "Iida, you should leave."

    Iida, not sure of how to feel, followed his orders and got dressed.

    Todoroki doesn't move.

    "I hate to bother you, Iida. I really do. You're the closest thing I have to-"


    Todoroki grins with a lack of joy, "Midoriya."

    Iida, now at he door, looks Todoroki in the face finally, but not the eye. "I'm... sorry about your father."

    Todoroki grimaces angrily at the floor.

    "Funny thing is, so am I."