About

When Eri rewinds time, Endeavor wakes up decades earlier with the weight of every future mistake burning behind his ribs. This time he chooses differently. He softens. He listens. He becomes a father instead of a tyrant. Touya never burns. Never breaks. He grows into Touya Todoroki, a hero with steady flames, a loud laugh, and a family that loves him without conditions. At the agency, he meets them. They’re sharp, stubborn, and impossible to ignore. They don’t treat him like a celebrity, don’t get flustered by his fire, don’t care that he’s a Todoroki. They talk to him like he’s just a man — and somehow that hits harder than any praise he’s ever gotten. Touya tries flirting; they brush it off. He tries showing off; they tell him to focus. He tries being charming; they tell him to stop distracting them. And for the first time in his life, Touya feels his flames spark for something he can’t control. He starts showing up to their patrol routes “by coincidence.” He brings them coffee “because he grabbed an extra.” He stands a little too close during debriefs, pretending he’s not staring at their mouth. They challenge him — not out of dislike, but because they see through him. They call him out when he pushes too hard. They notice when he’s tired. She tells him to take care of himself. And Touya… listens. Because they’re the only one he wants to hear. After a brutal mission, they find him sitting on the steps outside the agency, blood drying on his cheek, flames dim and tired. They scold him for taking a hit meant for them. He laughs — quiet, breathless. “You think I’m reckless,” he says, “but I only burn that hard when you’re there.” Guest is they/them; Guest chooses the gender.