Who was I Before You?
The chill of Christmas Eve permeated the air around UA, making the campus seem even emptier than usual during the holidays. During term time, the school felt alive with activity, the chatter of students filled the air, the heat and sweat of intense training schedules warmed the atmosphere but now…it was peaceful and quiet as most students were home for the holidays. But some could not afford to take a break from their school work, whether that was training their quirks, revising from textbooks or building high-tech sci-fi level training equipment.
Shoto had been surprised to find Mei Hatsume, a prodigy in the Support Department, still tinkering away in her workshop on Christmas Eve. Known for her eccentric personality and brilliant inventions, her pink hair, always in disarray, seemed to grow and shiver in excitement when he had asked her for new training gear. Her enthusiasm had been palpable as she'd bounced on her feet, firing off rapid-fire questions about specifications and requirements. She'd leaned in close, disregarding personal space, her eyes wide with anticipation at the challenge of creating something to help with Shoto's temperature control. The prospect of building a new "baby" for one of UA's top students had clearly thrilled her, and she'd immediately set to work, muttering calculations and design ideas under her breath.
Barely a few hours later, in one of UA's specialised training rooms, Shoto stood before what Hatsume had called the Thermal Equilibrium Regulator, or T.E.R. for short. It hummed softly in the middle of the dimly lit room. Shoto was amazed at how comprehensively Hatsume had understood his requirements; the machine tested his ability to maintain the temperature of the shimmering, iridescent liquid as a computer program randomly changed the temperature, forcing him to send either waves of hot or cold through the tempered glass panel. It was training his ability to maintain, change, detect and react to temperature at a speed and expanse he had never done so before.
He gritted his teeth and tensed his arms, causing the blue fabric of his sports uniform to be pulled taut over his muscles as he grew frustrated at his inability to activate both hot and cold at the same time. With Ren it seemed easy, second nature, like some part of her was coaxing both quirks out of him, gently and then all at once. Sometimes it felt like she was entirely in control of him, and then responding to him, and then at his mercy. How was that possible? Deep down, he had always suspected she had a dormant quirk, probably something she was unaware of herself. That could be the only explanation for what was happening between them…right?
He caught sight of his reflection for a moment in the glass panel in front of him as the liquid changed colour to indicate he had accurately corrected temperature. His eyes were focused, his forehead covered in sweat, his jaw set in firm determination. He tried to rid himself of the realisation that he was only here, training harder, pushing himself further, for Ren. He had no idea sex could be a motivator to work harder. The changes he was going through because of her, the way he was shifting to accommodate her, the way he reacted to her, constantly surprised him.
Sex, something that had once been so far removed from him, had now become everything he ever thought he was missing. It was all her fault; the way she looked, the way touched him, even the sounds she made- did she practice them? How did she know exactly how to be to bring out this side of him that he didn't even know existed? Whatever primal part of his brain he'd switched off, let his hormones completely by-pass, was lighting up, catching fire, all for the chance of hearing Ren say his name as though he were the only thing she ever wanted.
It felt almost like a natural progression from their childhood friendship into teenage romance. When they were younger Ren would push him into her antics, get round-eyed and innocently ask for him to use his quirk to achieve whatever chaos she had in mind, take his hand and lead him straight into trouble. He would go, knowing what she was up to, knowing this could only end badly but the thrill of the risk, the mystery of what made this pretty thing smile like that…was too alluring to say no to. Now, instead of Shoto, come over here, Shoto, help me with this, Shoto, be my guard, it was Shoto, fuck me like that, Shoto, put something in my mouth, Shoto, come for me-
"Erm, Todoroki?" Shoto jumped as Hatsume's voice came through the speaker system in the training room. "You okay? She asked kindly, staring at him through he window in the observation room, "you haven't managed to maintain the temperature for like…three minutes and it's not my baby's fault-"
"Sorry," Shoto said quietly, trying to hide the colour on his cheeks, "can we start again?"
"Sure, we'll reboot."
Ren, get out of my brain.
***
"No," Ren said clearly through her phone, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she stood outside of the imposing, gargantuan glass skyscraper that was home to the Ishikawa Media Group. "No more public appearances until my birthday," she snapped at her newly appointed media relations manager, Mizuki Tanaka, an older, aggressively ambitious woman who had some bizarre desire to capitalise on Ren's already unwanted celebrity.
Pushing her dark hair away from her face and sighing, Ren watched her breath appear before her face in the chilly Winter air. She tightened her tan coloured winter coat around her and continued to argue with Mizuki as she waited for her car to collect her and take her to her university. She had just finished a day of her internship at nerve centre of her father's media empire and was glad to see the clock hit 4PM when everyone decided to go home to get ready for the Ishikawa Christmas party. It was taking place at some swanky venue in the city, not that Ren had any desire to go. She had actual work to do.
She clicked her heels against the sidewalk and moved out of the way to dodge commuters hurrying from their office jobs in the business district to their homes quickly, in an attempt to outrun the cold. Ren's grey eyes caught a hold of someone she recognised from accounting and forced a smile as the boy elbowed his colleague and nodded in her direction. The usual pattern ensued…a glance of confusion, realisation dawning in their eyes, a smile of awkward recognition and an amused, muttered, comment to their friend. It had been the same, every day, the entire winter break. She was so glad her father was still abroad while she was working here, or else they would be spotted together every day. The Ishikawa family name followed her like a dark cloud above Ren's head, expectations for her to be no more than a pretty face, accusations of nepotism, skeptical looks and gossip…she was so tired of being on display.
"Can I just…" Ren struggled to find the words, "can I just have until my birthday to be a normal human being?" Mizuki paused on the other end of the line, suddenly she could hear the pleading in Ren's voice, suddenly the fact that she was dealing with immense fame at the age of nineteen became apparent.
"Make a deal with me, Ren," the media heiress heard her say as she lifted up her hand to signal her car to stop beside her, the gold bracelet on her wrist twinkling as the streetlights turned on. The Bentley pulled up next to the sidewalk and Ren unconsciously chose to wait until someone opened the door for her. "Have the big fabulous birthday party your father wants you to have and you don't have to do anything for two months. You can go into hiding."
Ren sighed as the door to her car opened and she slid onto her seat, as the door shut behind her she sighed in relief as the sounds of the city were silenced. She begrudgingly agreed and put the phone down before sliding down, releasing all the tension she carried in her shoulders while at the office. She closed her eyes as she felt the seat heater warm her from beneath.
With a start, Ren snapped open her eye as her car door opened again, instinctively she put a hand to her throat, protecting her most vulnerable part that was still stinging and warm. She shook herself awake, barely aware that she had fallen asleep, gathered her bag and left the car.
The university campus was quiet on Christmas Eve, most students having departed for the holidays. As Ren made her way to the building that housed the newspaper office, she felt a bizarre sense of freedom as she realised there was no one around to stare at her, talk to her, take photographs of her. Despite her own name being on the tallest building in the business district of the city, she felt more at home on this campus than there. In fact, as she descended the stairs to the basement and felt the familiar warmth from the adjacent boiler room enveloping her, she realised it was specifically this small office that felt like home. The office was a stark contrast to her father's sleek corporate headquarters. Mismatched furniture, outdated equipment, and stacks of papers created a cozy, lived-in atmosphere. Ren breathed in deeply, the scent of ink and old books filling her lungs.
She made her way through the maze of cubicles to Kaito's office. One wall of his office was entirely glass, offering a view of the entire workspace, but Ren quickly closed the blinds for privacy. The tube lights above her hummed and buzzed and sounded louder than the harsh beating of her heart as her eyes landed on the rolling console housing various outdated media players - VCRs, DVD players, and an ancient TV set.
With trembling fingers, Ren reached into her bag and pulled out the VHS tape the villain had tried to give her. She inserted it into the player, her heart racing as pressed play on the console and sat down to watch.
The screen flickered to life, Ren's heart stuttered, her grey eyes widened as uncensored, unedited version of Stain's manifesto began to play. The VHS tape contained an uncut, raw version of Stain's ideology, far more comprehensive than anything that had been circulated online. The hero killer's intense gaze filled the screen as he articulated his ideals with a fervour that was both terrifying and captivating. His drawling, hoarse voice spoke of a society corrupted by false heroes, of a system that prioritised fame and fortune over genuine altruism. His words were sharp, cutting through the usual rhetoric surrounding hero society with brutal efficiency.
Ren swallowed hard, her grip on the television remote control increasing as she became
As Ren watched, she found herself unsettled by how compelling some of Stain's arguments were. He spoke of the need for true heroism, of self-sacrifice and unwavering dedication to justice - ideals that resonated, if only a little, with her own critiques of the current system. Yet, his methods were undeniably brutal, his call for violent upheaval chilling. Ren's mind raced, grappling with the complex emotions the video stirred within her. She understood why this unedited version was so dangerous - it had the power to sway minds, to unite the consciousness of those already disillusioned with hero society. The raw, unfiltered nature of Stain's words stripped away the sensationalism often attached to villain manifestos, presenting instead a disturbingly rational, if extreme, perspective. Ren realised that the villain who assaulted her had been correct- he had handed her a match, the power to ignite complete societal unrest.
Her mind raced with questions. Why exactly had the villain given her this tape? Did he expect her to write about it? To use her father's influence to broadcast it? Was there a deeper plan at work, or was this simply the act of a patchwork madman?
But all of it fell apart when she heard his words echo in her mind: "you're just like me, Ren. You need a little bit of chaos to feel alive, don't you?
"I suppose that was a pretty good reason for breaking into my office."
Ren jumped, her gold necklace catching the light as she spun around, her heart in her throat. Kaito stood in the doorway, his usual kind smile tinged with concern. Beside him, Ryu stood, his usual disheveled appearance somehow more pronounced. His bright green eyes darted between Ren and the TV screen, a mix of curiosity and suspicion evident in his furrowed brow.
Kaito stepped forward, his tweed jacket creasing as he moved. "Where did you get the tape, Ren?" There was a tone of authority in his voice that Ren was not accustomed to. She lowered her gaze, her fingers toying with one of her silver rings.
"It was sent to me," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Why would anyone send you this?" Kaito pressed, his eyes glinting behind his glasses.
A short snort of laughter from Ryu drew their attention. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his rumpled shirt. "Isn't it obvious?" he jibed. "She's anti-hero and has access to an international broadcasting organisation. Villains see her as an ally."
Ren's eyes flashed dangerously, "I'm not anti-hero," she said, her voice low and controlled despite the anger bubbling beneath the surface.
He raised an eyebrow in response, clearly unconvinced. "Really? Because everything you write-"
"Is pro-non-hero."
Ryu scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Same difference."
Leaning back in her chair, a sarcastic smile played on Ren's rose coloured lips. "Right, so if I'm pro-non-hero I must be anti-hero, and if I'm anti-hero I must be pro-villain?"
"Basically."
"That's real fucking nuanced, Ryu," she spat out sarcastically. "If only you could bring that same subtlety to your writing."
She watched in satisfaction as his face flushed red, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "At least I have my position because I can actually write, not because I know who to bat my eyelashes at." Ren's eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening as she prepared to retort. But before she could speak, Kaito stepped between them, his hands raised placatingly.
"Okay, enough!" he said firmly, looking sternly between the two f them like a disappointed father. "Am I the only one aware of the fact that we're all on the same team?" The two journalists looked away, both embarrassed by their outburst. Kaito took their silence as an apology and moved towards the VCR player. He ejected the tape, holding it carefully as he turned back to Ren.
"Ren," he said, his voice low and serious, "what you have here is huge. We could be the first to publish it online. It's just a matter of time before someone else does."
Ren's heart raced as she processed the implications of the tape's contents. Her journalistic instincts screamed at her to publish, to expose the raw truth behind Stain's ideology. It was the kind of scoop that could cement her reputation as a serious journalist, separate from her father's influence. But as Stain's words echoed in her mind, Ren's thoughts turned to the boy she found it hard not to think about. Publishing this would be a direct attack on the world Shoto was fighting to protect, the ideals he stood for. She imagined the hurt in his mismatched eyes if he saw her name attached to this expose, the betrayal he would feel. The conflict tore at her - her passion for truth-telling warring with her growing feelings for Shoto. She couldn't bear to be the one to undermine everything he believed in, everything he was training to become. Yet keeping this hidden felt like a betrayal of her own principles. Ren realised, with a sinking feeling, that she was at a crossroads. Whatever choice she made would define not just her career, but her relationship with Shoto and her own sense of integrity. The weight of the decision pressed down on her, leaving her feeling more alone than ever. Who could she turn to, who stood on middle ground? Could see her as a journalist, as a potential victim to a villain if nothing was done, someone who would work with Shoto's interest in mind? The answer seemed obvious, if not terrifying.
Standing up, Ren held out her hand to Kaito, her gold bracelet sliding down her arm. "No," she said firmly. "That's far too dangerous. I won't be responsible for seeming to endorse a villain's message."
Ryu's bright green eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? What happened to journalistic integrity? Speaking the truth? People have a right to know."
But she stood steadfast and shook her head, her earrings catching the light as she moved. "Publishing this could incite panic, potentially lead to copycat crimes, and undermine the very institutions keeping people safe," she spoke in er media voice, a well though out answer, a reassuring smile, perhaps she should consider a career in politics. "It's not our place to decide the impact of releasing such sensitive information. We have a responsibility to consider the broader implications. I know who I need to talk to."
She kept her eyes locked on Kaito, who was clearly torn between his journalistic instincts and his trust in Ren. "It was sent to me, Kaito," she said softly. "It is my property. Please return it to me."
There was a moment where it looked like Kaito might withhold the tape from her, Ren tried to hide the panic in her eyes, but after the moment of hesitation, Kaito handed the tape back to her. Ryu swore under his breath, turning away in frustration.
"Thank you," Ren slipped the tape into her bag, relief washing over her. "Merry Christmas," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she left the room.
The two men stood in silence until they heard the main door to the office shut sharply behind her. Ryu was looking at Kaito in a way he never had before. "If that was me or Bubbles, you would've fought harder to publish it," he spat at his editor.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I hope you start thinking with your brain and not your dick in time for the new year."
There was a pause, and then Kaito's voice came softer, as he sat on the edge of his desk, "Ryu," he began before pointing to the TV and its many associated devices, "This device duplicates whatever plays on the TV," Kaito said, his voice filled with conflicting emotions.
"You mean-" Ryu started, realization dawning.
"It recorded it," Kaito confirmed, his tone grim.
***
The Todoroki house stood silent and imposing against the darkening sky. Its traditional Japanese architecture, with its sweeping rooflines and meticulously maintained gardens, exuded an air of elegance and refinement. Yet, as Shoto approached, he couldn't help but feel the loneliness that seemed to live in the shadows, the heartache that seeped from its very foundations.
Shoto paused at the front door, his heterochromatic eyes scanning the wood in front of him, lifeless and dark. His mind drifted, trying to recall the last time any celebration had graced these halls. No twinkling Christmas lights, no birthday candles, not even the faintest echo of laughter. The family home stood as a stark testament to their fractured relationships, the long, empty hallways were just a physical manifestation of the distance between them.
With a soft sigh, Shoto slid open the front door. The familiar scent of tatami mats and incense greeted him as he stepped inside, his bag slipping from his shoulder and onto the floor. As he bent to change into his slippers, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He stepped up and turned the corner, stopping suddenly as he was met with an unexpected sight.
Fuyumi, his older sister, was pressed against the wall, her ear tilted towards their father's office. Her white hair let loose, a few sparks of red visible in the white. Her black and red dress, uncharacteristically festive, stood out starkly against the muted tones of the hallway. Was she going to the agency Christmas party? Or playing spy in the hallway?
"Fuyumi," Shoto began, "what are you-?" but as his older sister whirled around, she pressed her index finger to her lips in a frantic gesture for silence. Her eyes, wide behind her glasses, held a mixture of surprise and worry.
Before Shoto could press further, Endeavor's voice echoed through the house. It wasn't the usual bellow of Shoto's name, but something different - his professional tone, controlled and authoritative. "Shoto, come here."
Confusion and apprehension warred within Shoto as he approached his father's office through the darkened corridors. The door stood ajar, revealing Endeavor's imposing figure behind his desk. For once, he wasn't in his hero costume but dressed in civilian clothes, his flame beard noticeably absent. But it wasn't his father's appearance that made Shoto's heart skip a beat.
A familiar scent - vanilla and coffee - drifted through the air, and Shoto felt his world tilt on its axis. He tried to keep his steps steady as he entered the room and his eyes fell on a figure standing on the other side of the desk, and he felt her name leave his lips in an unwelcome tone of surprise
"Ren?"