Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s getting easier to find the right places to cut. The knife slices smoothly through fat and muscle and fascia. Tendons and ligaments give way under his sure, deft movements. 

He pops the bone out of its socket, ignoring the noise it makes. Once, that sound made him nauseous. The first time he did this, he almost botched the job - still somewhat unfamiliar with the way bodies are built. Unfamiliar with the work of completely disassembling them, once the killing is done. Their one precious knife nearly broke under the pressure. The meat surrounding the joint was hacked to all hell, and the bones were chipped and ugly. 

Now, he’s got it down to an art.

Now, the sound makes his mouth water. 

Skinning is still his least favorite part of the job. He thought it would be the actual gutting - removing inner organs, taking care not to perforate the intestines and risking spoiling the meat - but that part got easier fast. Making sure the entire digestive system, complete with the rectum and anus, is taken out is just another way of preserving the meat, now.

Skinning, though. There’s something about the process of combining his knife, muscles and gravity to slowly peel and pull the skin off a body that still makes nausea churn in his stomach. Maybe it reminds him too much of the remnants of his humanity, still sitting at the bottom of his soul.

Every time he skins something it feels like he’s removing the last piece of evidence that this was once a living thing. It renders the body nothing but food. Blood to thicken soups, adding whatever nutrients they can get from it to their diet. Meat, ready to be consumed. Bones to break, so they can suck out every little piece of marrow. 

Other parts, too. The ones no one wants to think too closely about. The ones they close their eyes before they pop in their mouths. Once, they might have been squeamish about the parts they ate. 

Hunger took care of that. 

They leave nothing edible behind anymore.

As evening draws close, and snow swirls around him, he puts aside the pieces of the leg. It’s getting colder, and there’s still more to do. He digs his knife in again, starting the work of separating a thigh into equal portions. 

U.A HERO STUDENTS STILL MISSING

There is still no news regarding the missing Flight T729Z. The plane deviated from its flight route between Tokyo and Helsinki, Finland, due to the difficult weather conditions. Last radio contact was at 11:37 AM, on the eleventh of July.

On the plane were twenty-six students from class 3A and 3B from U.A. High School’s Hero Course, along with two of their teachers, Pro Heroes Flight Hero: Kestrel and Tell-Tale Hero: Poe. The students were due to participate in an international rescue training camp for hero students from around the world, with the aim of increasing cooperation between heroes from different nations during natural disasters. 

Among the students missing are renowned winner of this year’s Sports Festival, Keigo Takami, as well as the eldest son of the Flame Hero: Endeavour - Touya Todoroki. 

[Log in to read the full article.]

Touya sits on the edge of the circle. It’s hard, finding the right distance to the fire. 

Too close feels uncomfortable. It’s probably bad for his burns somehow, but it’s not like any of them are medical experts. They feel sore - sensitive and reactive to the physical environment that he takes to mean he needs to shield them as much as possible. 

Too far away, and he gets cold - which is equally as bad, really. So-called ice resistance be damned: his body is clearly not operating at a hundred percent right now, and having to spend any sort of extra energy on balancing his body’s internal temperature leaves him even more exhausted. 

He used to have to move as the temperature changed, until one of his classmates realized the issue and piled more blankets and clothes on him. 

They have more than enough clothes, right now. Not like their owners need them anymore.

He doesn’t remember much from the time immediately after the crash. 

Pain was the prevalent feeling from that time. Pain and the feeling of falling into a darkness he’d never claw himself out of again. 

He’s a Todoroki. He knows fire in all its forms, and he’s overly familiar with the feeling of burning. It’s just that usually, that doesn’t happen in combination with a plane crash. Usually, he’s burning from the inside from overheating, and all that pain is simply proof of his own will and his own choices. 

Usually, any marks on his skin is taken care of by an army of doctors, while his family frets around him. He’s never had to deal with this on his own - at least, not this amount of burns. Not this level of damage. 

The fire in the tail-end of the plane was not him. He didn’t start it - and, despite what some may believe about his Quirk, he certainly couldn’t put it out either. He couldn’t get his fucking seat belt off to get away from it in time. He remembers the heat growing stronger, and knowing with a certainty none of his classmates would have how devastating that fire would be, if it reached him. He was pretty sure he was about to die, cursing at the seat belt that wouldn’t release him. His own flames merely made it melt into him.

His memories are hazy from that point on. 

Everything is coloured by the pure agony, like a red overlay, obscuring every detail. He remembers heat and terror. He remembers anger, because how could this be how he would die? He remembers lying on the ground, open skies over him - coughing and trying to breathe but his chest hurt so much. He remembers how his throat was raw from screaming, and how the very air itself felt like it was digging claws into his skin. 

There was no respite for the pain he was in at first. It’s not like any of them had packed painkillers strong enough for this kind of hurt. 

Healing came in increments. Moments where he was awake for slightly longer. The ability to drink a little more. The confusion, slowly receding, bit by bit. Being able to actually wheeze out an answer to a stupid fucking questions. Blisters, finally starting to heal. Most importantly, finally regaining the ability to get up and relieve himself instead of needing help. 

Well. He still needs someone to help him up, and back down - but he can hold his dick himself. He doesn’t have to pee in a fucking bottle while lying down. 

Small victories.  

If you’re going to go down in a plane-crash in the middle of nowhere, doing it with a class of hero students is probably ideal. Every one of them is devoted to doing good in a way that ensures they treat him and his injuries with the utmost - if somewhat inexperienced - care. Those hero instincts mean no one gave up on him, even when he was barely conscious right after the crash. 

It’s a wonder he survived. It’s a wonder he didn’t succumb to compartment syndrome or dehydration or secondary infections or blood clots or any of the fun shit that can follow burn injuries. Probably the little fire resistance he does have, saw him through it. 

If he’d been near a hospital, these probably wouldn’t count as truly bad injuries. Everything becomes relative the moment you lose access to the perks of civilization. 

He tries very hard not to think too much about the long-term consequences of all his injuries. The fact that they’re so painful is something of a consolation. Pain means that his nerve endings are still intact. It means that they’re probably just partial thickness burns of various degrees. If they’d all been full thickness burns, he’d probably be fucked. If the burns he does have, had covered a larger part of his body than they do, he’d probably be fucked, too.

Well. No ‘probably’ about it. He’d be dead. Recovering in the middle of nowhere is unlikely enough as it is. Full thickness burns or burns covering too much of your body are challenging even at hospitals. 

As it is, it looks like he’ll survive. It just remains to see what condition he’ll be in, once he’s recovered - but it’s a big world, with a lot of strange Quirks out there. Surely someone will be able to help, once they get back home. He just has to stay alive until then, and it’ll be fine. 

He would’ve thought they’d already been rescued by now. Two classes of hero students missing from the most prestigious high school in Japan should have everyone working around the clock to find them. 

Even if that wasn’t enough, he’s a Todoroki. Touya might not be important, but his dick of a father certainly is. As much as Endeavour likes to dismiss Touya’s ambitions and potential, he would never accept anything less than every stone turned over fifty times in the search of his missing son. His pride hangs on it. 

His numbers hang on it. 

Touya takes a small sip of the warm water a classmate brings him. They have no tea or coffee - obviously - but the water helps. It’s a pale imitation of comfort. 

Actually - Endeavor would probably try to spin this into some sort of PR-stunt for approval, if they’re not found soon. The poor hero who lost his eldest son, etc etc, blah blah blah. His loss would be leveraged into raising his ratings. Sympathy-points for the grieving father. 

Of course, they do have fucking Takami with them, too - and the Commission is never going to let their pet investment get lost in the wilderness without a fight. As useless as the damn peacock is without his wings - because of-fucking-course he’d manage to more or less destroy them in the crash - his presence alone might ensure that no one gives up on the search for them quite yet. 

Still. No matter how much he tells himself that someone will find them soon, it’s already been a month.

Morale is shrinking by the day. The realization that they need to do some serious work to make sure they stay alive until they’re found, has set in for most of them now. Work beyond the day-to-day chores of fetching drinking water and scrounging up enough food. It’s fall. If they’re not found before winter sets in…well. It’s not going to be pleasant for any of them.

Fourteen of them survived the crash. The pilots, flight attendants, Kestrel, Poe and twelve students died. 

Fourteen is a lot of people to keep fed and housed. They’ve gutted the parts of the plane still intact and made it into a make-shift shelter from the weather. Some people forage, some people hunt, some people do their best to find firewood, some are on water duty or work on keeping their supplies organized. 

Touya does none of those things. It’s kind of hard when so much of your body is a horror story of burns full of peeling skin and leaking fluid, or small spots that are dry and leathery and completely immune to any sensation at all. Even as the blisters disappear and the most surface-level of his burns heals, the fatigue from his injuries is no joke. Even going for a piss or sitting up for a meal renders him exhausted and feverish. 

Instead of helping, he stays at the base camp. He sleeps a lot. He drinks a lot, because someone saw fit to tell everyone that dehydration is a fatal side-effect of burns, and now he has thirteen do-gooders continually filling up his cup. 

At least he’s not completely useless. Despite his injuries, they’ll never need matchsticks or lighters while he’s around. It doesn’t matter if the fire goes out during the day, as long as they have enough wood when it’s time for him to relight it in the evening. 

Considering the wolves they occasionally hear, that’s something. Not that they can’t defend themselves. They’re hero students with a variety of mostly battle-oriented Quirks thanks to U.A.’s bias towards physical entrance exams. They might not be able to find their way out of the wilderness, but they’ll survive anything that attacks them. 

Except, maybe, the winter. Or, you know, hunger. 

The discussion has apparently been going on for a while when he wakes up. 

Touya blinks at his classmates, trying to make sense of the shouted words and heated arguments. He walked longer than usual earlier today - a victory, in itself - and once he got back to his usual spot he was dead to the world in seconds. Someone’s made sure to put blankets on top of him once it started to get dark, so he wouldn’t get cold. Nice of them, really.

No one has woken him up to light the fire, however, and so the current discussion is happening in such a deep darkness that he can barely make out who’s who. Give it another half hour, and it’ll be pitch black. 

Idiots. 

There’s no point in trying to break into the heated dispute happening. At their current volume, he doubts they’ll hear him. His classmates are meatheads at the best of times, and after so many weeks of too little food and too much stress and fear? He’d be surprised if there was a single brain cell left between them. 

If so, that fucking pigeon probably monopolizes it. Takami’s always thinking he’s so much better than the rest of them, after all. 

Touya gives up trying to make heads or tails of whatever they’re discussing. Since no one else is going to act like a fucking adult, the role apparently falls to him.

He calls his flames.

They come, eager and joyful little flickers of blue, crawling out of his skin and running over his fingers as if they’re caressing him. Stinging little flames, nuzzling his hand and stretching towards the sky. 

They light up the scene in brilliant blue. 

Everyone stops, turning towards him. 

“The fuck are y’all hollering about?” 

A few of them look annoyed. Some look away, guilt clear on their faces. No one meets his eyes.

Ah. So it’s been about him, then. His injuries, or lack of contributions, or the way he takes up more resources than anyone else. 

‘You’d be a liability as a hero, Touya. With your weak constitution, it’s better for you to find a job more suited to your abilities. One that doesn’t need a Quirk,’ his father’s voice rings in the back of his head. 

He pushes it down. It wasn’t his Quirk that put him out of commission now. Anyone could’ve been burned like he did. Plenty of them did, actually - it’s just that unlike the others, the fire resistance he does have protected him long enough for someone to get him out of the plane. 

“They want to leave. Gather supplies, and see if they can find a way out of the woods,” a voice says.

It’s clear and strong and unashamed.

A few people shuffle aside, and there he is - sitting on the ground, yellow eyes as unreadable as always. Keigo fucking Takami.

“They seem to think,” Takami continues, “that I’ll be leading them - which is interesting, because I’ve yet to say anything in support of that plan of theirs.”

“What?” Morita says. “You have to come! You’re the best in our class, if we’re to have a chance to make it out, then-”

“They also want to leave you behind, since it’s clear you can’t handle that sort of hike right now. The fact that leaving you alone here is basically the same as killing you is something they’re trying real hard to gloss over,” Takami says, talking right over Morita. 

It’s a shitty fucking day when it’s his greatest rival and most hated classmate that’s coming to his defence. 

“Not all of us want to go,” Horikawa objects. “Me and Kamata have said several times that we’re staying with Todoroki.”

“True. You’re the only ones acting like actual Pro Heroes right now,” Takami says with a smile, making both Horikawa and Kamata flush.

Takami looks like some sort of benevolent king, sitting on his throne of grass and passing judgement and praise with a nod of his head. 

“Here,” Kamata says quietly, putting a few logs down in front of Touya. “Light these instead of your hand. Save your energy.”

Touya doesn’t bother arguing. He lets his small flames spill over to the logs, and releases his control. The blue slowly fades into yellow-red as his Quirk no longer spurs the fire to greater heights.

“Besides,” Takami says, clearly not done with his little superiority rant. His voice grows sharper as he talks. “My wings are too fucked up to be of much help. Not that you asked, Morita, when you tried to plan how to best use me for your expedition.”

“We all know you can’t fly,” Morita says, and fuck if he doesn’t sound annoyed by that. Arai and Honda both nod, where they stand close to Morita.

As if it’s Takami’s fault he’s hurt. As if they’re blaming him for that - for not being the airborne hero who could’ve flown for help. It makes Touya narrow his eyes. Seems there’s been a lot of political strife happening in the shadows lately, while he’s been too busy trying not to die.  

“If you hadn’t been so careless-”

“Careful, Morita.” 

Takami’s face is emotionless as he cuts Morita off again, but his eyes are bright with anger. 

“Better be real sure you want to open that particular box before you finish that sentence. I might not be able to fly, but I have enough feathers left to gut you like a fish if I want to.”

Hell of a threat against a guy whose Quirk essentially makes him blow up like a pufferfish, spikes and all. Works, too. Morita shuts his mouth and ducks his head. His entire body is telegraphing his surrender. 

“Go if you want to,” Takami says, looking at every single one of their classmates, one by one. “I’m staying. I’m not killing myself on some suicide mission just because you lack the patience to wait.” 

And that’s that. It took him under five minutes to cow the class once he decided to speak up. 

Everyone always acts like Takami’s nothing but a sweetheart. A smart, but somewhat ditzy dude who just wants to help. Innocent. A pretty hero student, all big smiles and unstoppable will. A good guy. 

Touya doesn’t buy it. 

His father has never tried to hide behind a smile and his charm - but he has been hiding that temper and his fucking plans and ambitions from everyone outside their family. It’s left Touya with a bit of a nose for other people’s bullshit. 

His father also let slip a few things here and there - mostly over the phone to colleagues when he didn’t know Touya was listening, but whatever - about Takami being a Commission ‘asset.’ Anyone belonging to the Hero Public Safety Commission is hardly going to be the carefree, easy person Takami pretends to be. It does explain how he got into U.A. before he was old enough, though.

There’s a lot of reasons Touya dislikes Takami. 

The knowledge that this is someone groomed and trained to become a Pro Hero is one of them. Someone like him - if only it hadn’t been for his weak constitution. 

The way he uses his charm, social standing and knowledge of people to get his way is another. He’s not usually this obvious about it, but clearly the time spent in the wilderness is causing some erosion to the deft elegance Takami usually shows in social situations. 

As the group prepares for another night in the wilderness, Takami notices Touya’s eyes on him. He straightens, wincing slightly as the movement apparently pulls on his injured wings, and then smiles at Touya. It’s a sweet and innocent smile. In the warm light from the campfire, his yellow eyes look soft. He comes over, crouching down beside Touya.

“I think that dissuaded them,” Takami says, low enough so that none can overhear them. “Either way, I’m not leaving until you do. Won’t leave you here alone to starve to death, don’t worry.”

“Who the fuck said I was worried?”

Takami shrugs. 

“I would’ve been, in your shoes. I’ve been hungry before. Not fun. This time, at least, I’m not as helpless. Won’t let you be, either.”

It’s not the end of it, of course. For all the stress of trying to find enough food, there’s still too many hours in the day to worry about the rescue that never seems to come. 

Morita won’t let the idea of finding the way out of the wilderness themselves go - despite not having a map, any idea of where they are, experience with longer hikes, or common fucking sense. Honda eggs him on. That girl always was a troublemaker. Touya’s pretty sure she’s never quite forgiven Takami for turning her down, and that it’s fuelling her actions right now. She’s really not the sort of person who should be issued the power to use her Quirk as she sees fit, in a profession largely more interested in the glory than addressing a hero’s abuse of power or brutality. 

Eventually, Morita, Honda and Arai decide to go. A few others look tempted, but it’s easy to see that without Takami’s blessing, they don’t quite dare. When their top student thinks it's a bad idea, they apparently don’t have the guts to stand firm in their decision. 

Pathetic. 

Morita wants to take the one knife they have, and the make-shift pan - really more of a bowl made from parts of the plane with the help of Okumura’s Quirk - but Takami stares him down without saying a word. It’s a tense few moments, but in a standoff between the two of them, it was always going to be the winged hero student who came out on top. 

Touya doesn’t bother hiding his smile. Takami’s a lot less annoying when he’s being a dick to other people. 

In the end, the little expedition leaves with little fanfare. They strike out at seemingly random, making loud promises of coming back for the rest of them soon. 

It’s such fucking bullshit.

“Well,” Takami says, sitting down next to him. “If nothing else, it might make everything a little less dramatic around here, don’t you think?” 

He does that sometimes - sits down near Touya to strike up a conversation. It happened back at school, and being stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere has apparently not change that. Almost three years of Touya turning him down doesn’t seem to have deterred Takami much. 

It’s a little bit like Natsuo always seeking him out, really, except he likes Natsuo. 

Right now though, fuelled by the amusement of seeing Morita humiliated, Touya feels generous. 

“How long d’you think it’ll take them to lose their nerve and crawl back?”

Takami laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly be mad if they did find a way out and told the rescue team where to find us, but I really do doubt they’ll manage that. Hopefully they’re not too far away from camp once they realize how far in over their heads they are.”

Of course that’s what he’d say. Despite his obvious frustration with Morita, Takami still insists on acting like the golden boy. 

Touya takes a sip of his water. “You really always have to say the right thing, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your whole ‘oh look at me, I’m the perfect hero and I never do anything unbefitting my image’-thing.”

Takami laughs again. His teeth are bright and white, and his canines are a tiny bit longer and sharper than other people’s. Probably related to his Quirk. Takami’s always been pretty vague on if his Quirk’s just his wings, or if it’s a heteromorph thing. 

There’s been a betting pool on it at school, which has steadily grown through the years. Touya isn’t involved. He refuses to be seen spending even a single minute on Takami more than necessary. 

“We are heroes-in-training,” Takami says, as he gets up. “It’s only proper. It makes people trust us more if we act the part. The trick is making people think you believe you wanna save someone, even if you’d really rather kill the guy.”

Takami walks off with a wave.

Touya sits alone in their make-shift camp, and can’t quite shake the feeling that that was the most truthful he’s heard Takami be. 

Four days later, and there’s still no sign of the expedition party’s return. 

Fujimori frets loudly, growing increasingly agitated and anxious. She is Honda’s best friend, sure, but it’s not like stressing out about it changes what has or hasn’t happened to their three classmates.

“You could at least send a feather,” she complains at Takami. “You still have a few left! What if they’re hurt? What if they need help?”

“I’m sorry, Fujimori, I really am - but I can’t see through the feathers. I wouldn’t know if I was sending it in the right direction. If they were dead and it passed over them, I wouldn’t know that either, and would simply continue to search. We have no idea how far from us they are by now. I can’t risk losing one of the few feathers I have left.”

That makes her shut up. She sits down by the fire, gritting her jaw and clenching her hands. Sakuma sits with an arm around her, talking so low Touya can’t hear them.

Not his problem. 

The way Takami has apparently decided it’s his job to keep an eye on Touya, however? That is a problem. 

The damn idiot has taken to checking on him several times per day. He’s constantly popping up to make sure he has what he needs. There’s a barrage of questions throughout the day about his pain levels; how he’s feeling; if he’s drinking enough; if anyone is bothering him; and if he needs assistance for his bathroom trips or small walks around the camp. 

It’s all a little strange.

It’s all a lot annoying. 

It takes him about two more days of Takami’s hovering before he loses his patience. The last straw occurs when he’s hobbling back to camp after relieving himself, and realizes there’s a little feather trailing after him.

“What the fuck,” he snarls at it. He’s tempted - really, sorely tempted - to set the damn thing on fire, but he reigns in his temper and pushes the anger down. The feathers are their best bet at hunting game out here. It’s the nearest thing they come to a projectile weapon, and Takami really only has a few of them left. 

Instead, he levels the feather’s owner with the most vicious expression he can muster, once he gets back to camp.

“Just making sure,” Takami smiles at him from where he’s sitting right next to Touya’s usual spot. 

“Making sure of what? That I took a piss? You wanna come along and hold my dick next time, or?”

“Is that a real offer?” 

Oh, he thinks he’s so fucking funny.

“What’s the deal, Takami?” Touya winces as he sinks back down and the action pulls on damaged skin. “You didn’t use to play my shadow. I had weeks where you didn’t spy on me taking a piss.”

“Eh. You know,” Takami says, waving a hand at the forest. As if that says anything at all. 

Touya levels him with his flattest ‘cut-the-crap’-stare. With his family - and genetics, let’s be honest, Endeavour’s glare is famous for a reason - it’s a fairly good weapon. 

“Jeez, fine, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I just figured it’d be good to keep an eye on you, what with everything.”

“With everything what.”

“Todoroki. They looked at you and your injuries and decided sacrificing you was an acceptable price if it gave them a chance to get out. They know I stayed because I refuse to do that. Morita and his friends may be gone, but most of the others supported him towards the end of that big argument. He talked them into letting you die. If I hadn’t spoken against him, they would have gone through with it. At some point, one of them might decide that if you were simply gone, I wouldn’t have a reason to insist we stay anymore.”

“You really think they’d dare challenge my fire?” 

Touya’s a little offended at that, sure - but the realization hits him that Takami had waited for the argument to play out to, what? See who would support Morita’s plan? 

He always thought there was more to Takami than the airheaded, genuine hero mask he presents. It’s kind of eerie to be proven right. 

By his side, Takami leans back on his hands, looking at the sky. 

“I think hunger does a lot of things to people. I think there’s gonna come a time where hard choices must be made. I’m just gonna make sure it’s the right choices.” 

The leaves start turning yellow. The nights keep becoming colder and colder. The change in weather is unwelcome, and it makes his classmates more and more nervous. Shorter tempers, less hope and despondent faces become common. 

There’s still no sign of the expedition. Hopefully it means they’ve made it far enough to find people, but Touya has the feeling they’re not that lucky. 

On the plus side: Touya’s Quirk is more sought after than ever before. No one wants to face the cold without a real fire - and he’s the only reliable way they have of keeping their campfire going. It also makes the odds of anyone deciding he’s standing between them and safety smaller, which is nice. 

The downside, however, is that the very real possibility that they’ll have to deal with winter grows for every day they remain unrescued.  

Takami wears this pinched expression when he thinks no one is looking, these days, eyes tight with worry. Now that he’s less worried about Touya’s safety - a notion that still makes Touya scoff, because honestly, the very idea of Takami worrying about him feels foreign and uncomfortable - the winged hero student is spending most of his time out hunting, hoping to bolster their food storage. 

Even if they don’t have a reliable way of storing meat over time. 

“We’ll survive longer if we’re not already skinny when winter comes,” he explains, when their classmates question him.

Not an answer anyone wanted, probably. ‘We’ll survive longer’ indicates that death waits for them in the wilderness during winter. It does spur the rest of the class into putting in extra effort too. Foraging hasn’t yielded them a lot of food, since none of them are especially knowledgeable about what’s edible or not, but every little bit helps at this point. 

It also makes the embers of conflict after Morita’s little attempt at making everyone leave, flare up again. 

“We should go too,” Fujimori argues loudly. “We’ll go slow, and switch on carrying Todoroki. We won’t leave anyone behind, but we can’t stay here!”

Touya ignores her comment about carrying him. Fuck that.

“And if there’s a snowstorm, what then?” Kamata responds, standing beside Touya. He and Horikawa have been sticking close to him, too, after Morita’s expedition left. He suspects Takami’s influence. “We don’t know this area - we have no idea what the weather will be like. Here, at least, we have some form of shelter.”

“It’s not much of a shelter,” she fires back, mouth twisting into an ugly expression. “Huddling together like dogs to keep warm? I’d rather take my chance out there, like a real hero, instead of hiding here like cowards!”

“Funny you’re only raising this when Takami’s out hunting,” Touya says. 

Fujimori flushes, but isn’t cowed. “He’s not being rational about this, and you all know it. He never is! If he was, he’d never have gone back for-”

“Fujimori!” Horikawa snaps. “Shut your mouth!”

They glare at each other. 

Touya sighs. This bickering isn’t helping anyone, but the way tempers have been fraying lately, it might be better to let people release some of that stress and frustration. 

“I think Fuji’s right,” Sakuma says, and then everyone’s talking at once. 

“You’re insane-”

“It’s selfish to think that-”

“We can’t stay-”

“We cant go-”

“We’ll starve-”

“We’ll freeze-”

Touya keeps quiet. If they decide to go, he’ll slow them down. If they decide to stay, he’s a liability whose only worth is his ability to keep the fire going. 

‘If I wasn’t hurt, I’d have gone a month ago.’ 

It’s not the first time he’s had that thought. He knows himself. Fear has never stopped him from doing something: not when he was a kid, training in hiding. Not when he took the entrance exam for U.A. without telling his family. Not when he got accepted, and had to tell his father he was going no matter what. 

It wouldn’t have stopped him from marching out of this damn forest, either. 

This insistence on “one for all and all for one” they’ve got going on is going to damn them all, one way or another. 

“It’s snowing,” Mitsui says, effectively silencing the argument. She’s standing at the door to their salvaged shelter, staring out. 

Oh.

If the snow’s here - well. Too late, then. Too late to leave and hope they’ll survive the weather, not when they don’t know how fast winter falls here. 

His classmates seem to realize the same thing. The argument fades away, as each student sinks into their own thoughts. When Takami returns that evening, with a light dusting of snow in his hair and on his jacket, but without food, his expression is grim. 

The knowledge that everything will likely get a lot worse hangs over the camp.

When they wake in the morning, Fujimori and Sakuma, as well as their backpacks, are gone. Two pairs of footsteps lead out of the clearing, the same way Morita’s party had gone. 

No one follows.

He watches as Touya makes his slow way through the forest. The fire-user stops often; to lean against a tree; to catch his breath; or to squeeze his eyes shut and stand very, very still while he deals with the pain. Sometimes, before the snow came, he would sit down in the soft grass and rest for a bit. Not really an option anymore. 

Touya got hurt. Really hurt. 

It’s getting better now - slowly - but still. That proud, volatile student is vulnerable, now, in a way he’s clearly never been before. 

It’s tempting to approach him. The urge is always there. To push, to prod, to see what he’s like when his back is against the proverbial wall and anger colours his cheeks pink and rage makes those blue eyes dance. To see new sides of Touya Todoroki is a rare thing, and it’s luring him in like a siren song.

He makes himself stop. 

It’s not the time for it. 

Right now, there are other things that matter more. There are so many students in the forest. It’s a lot of people for him to watch carefully so he can learn as much as he needs. So many to keep an eye on, to make sure none stray too far from their camp. So many to monitor, to make sure none of them try to use this opportunity to get too close to Touya. 

He’ll have more opportunities later to approach Touya himself. It’s not like the students are going anywhere - which means, neither is Touya. 

Winter, after all, is a cruel, hard thing. It’s too late to leave, now. 

Chapter Text

The meat is spoiling.

The colour is turning, little by little. Protein, breaking down. Decomposition, slowly setting in. The smell is carrying a rancid undertone now. It's barely detectable to him, so the others likely won't notice it yet. Right now, they'll probably still think it's fine.  

Not much choice, anyway. They don't have anything else to eat right now. 

It's not cold enough to freeze the meat properly like they'd hoped. At best, it's like keeping it in a fridge. Not enough to keep it from going bad. 

He takes the pieces of meat and starts cutting them up. The edges feel almost dry. There's no blood leaking out. No aroma promising energy and survival. It doesn't tempt him to dig his teeth into it, not at this point. 

A day or two more and it'll be uneatable. Today they might still manage to keep it down. Little bits of rabbit or bird or whatever this is. He doesn't actually remember.

Meat is just meat, once it's cut into small enough pieces to share between everyone. Who cares what it was, once upon a time? Now it's just the promise of living to see another day. 

Half a year ago, long before this trip was even planned, he'd never have believed he would miss pushing his knife into the body of something that was once alive. Half a year ago, though, food was just food. Even though he knew hunger in a way most others didn't, he had never killed something for the strict purpose of eating it before. 

It's been illuminating. 

He cuts off a piece and pops it in his mouth, raw. Teeth, slightly sharper than those of a regular human, make short work of it. Despite the slight taste of taint, there's something satisfying about swallowing it down. 

His kill. 

His food. 

It's his job to disassemble it all into something presentable and palatable to the others – removing all traces of the living thing it once was, just so the students don't have to face it. 

It's also his prerogative to keep some of the meat back. 

He eats another piece. 

It's not like they'll notice, for one. Not like they've earned this food, either. Not like he did. 

His choice, then: to feed them. His choice, to make sure the food is distributed according to his preferences.

Touya is torn out of his sleep by shouting. 

Between the pain and the sleep and the hunger, it takes him a moment to reorient himself. It's pitch black – the fire has seemingly gone out again, and either no one noticed or they've not managed to wake him up agan. The latter is getting harder lately.

The shout comes again, from the outside.

"HELP US!"

"Mitsui, can you give us light?" 

Takami's voice is calm in the darkness of their shelter. It only takes a moment, before Mitsui's floating globes of light materialize, casting everything in a bright, orange-yellow light. 

Touya blinks and squints, trying to will his eyes to focus. Everything is blurry, and the brightness feels like a knife cutting into him through his eyes. There's a dull throbbing in the back of his head. A figure is already moving across the room, disappearing out their make-shift door with one of the light globes trailing after him. He's pretty sure it's Takami. Even injured, the remnants of wings on his back have a distinctive shape. Easily recognizable.  

There's the sound of shuffling and low voices, as the other students start getting up. Trust Takami to already be up and ready to act at the first sound. 

Touya stays where he is when the rest of his classmates make their way outside. He's not much help as it is, right now. Better not to get in the way, and his body already aches. He really doesn't want to move right now and make it worse. 

There are raised voices outside. 

Someone – it sounds like Okumura, maybe – gives a sharp cry of surprise. Someone's crying. 

No sound of fighting, so whatever is happening is probably not dangerous then.

"Todoroki. Can you call your fire, please?" 

Kamata, recognizable by those horns of his, is crouching in front of him. There's something in his hands, but it's still hard to make out details.

Doesn't really matter. There's only one reason anyone asks him to use his Quirk these days. Touya might not feel the cold much, but the rest of them do, and keeping the fire going is the main priority. Whoever let it go out during the night will probably get a very public dressing-down, once whatever's going on outside is resolved.

"Todoroki? You okay, man?" 

"Yeah," he says, trying to free his arm from the blanket and the clothes piled on top of him. Once free, it takes him a couple of tries before his usually faithful fire comes. Yellow and tiny on the tip of his index finger, it's barely the size of a lighter's flame.

Slowly, the world is coming into focus. He can make out Kamata's eyes now, large and familiar with their horizontal pupils. The other student is frowning at him, and the sorry excuse of a flame he just produced. 

"You don't look so good," Kamata says, lowering his voice. "Just try to get some sleep, okay? I won't say anything 'bout your Quirk to the others."

Touya nods, and withdraws his arm back into the cocoon of clothes and blankets. He curls up on his side, feeling sleep already tugging on him. 

There's still raised and distressed voices outside.

He doesn't let it keep his attention. Whatever is going on won't be worse than what already happened, anyway.

It doesn't occur to him until the next time he wakes up to wonder why Kamata said he'd keep Touya's small and weak flame a secret. 

The next time he wakes, it's to a hand gently touching his shoulder.

"Hey," Takami says when he opens his eyes. "Sorry to wake you. Figured you should get some water and food in you."

"Mh," he says, which the winged student apparently takes as agreement. 

There's an arm helping him sit up. A cup is pushed into his hands. It's warm against his skin. He takes his time, drinking in small, careful sips. Takami doesn't rush him, merely keeping him steady with the arm against his back. 

"What was going on last night?" he finally asks, once he's drunk his water and eaten his ration of the food. 

They don't have a lot. Everything they have is measured up and shared between them, but it's pretty clear they need to find food soon if they want to survive. Even so, he's not really hungry right now. It's only Takami's insistence that makes him chew and swallow the meat, ignoring the slightly sour taste. 

"Girls came back. They found Honda." Takami keeps his voice low, even if their shelter is empty except for the two of them right now. 

It takes Touya a minute to understand what that means. "Just her?"

"Yeah. She had been wandering around for a while, apparently."

"Wait. She's alive?" 

"Yeah," Takami says.

"What about Morita and Arai?"

Takami sighs, taking Touya's cup and giving him another piece of meat. "Eat this, too. You need more food if you're gonna get better."

He waits until Touya has dutifully started chewing, before continuing to talk. "Well. According to Honda, some animal came after them. It stalked them for a while, and attacked when it was dark. It got Arai first, and a week or so later, Morita. She ran, and claims she hasn't seen any sign of whatever it was since then."

What the fuck. 

"That sounds kinda…" Touya trails off, looking for the right word. The arm around his back is a warm, steady presence, keeping him from sliding down again.

"Strange? Yeah. She insists she never saw it – but whatever it was, it was strong enough to drag both Arai and Morita off into the forest. If she's telling the truth."

"You don't believe her?" 

The cup is back, refilled with hot water. "Here. You should probably be getting IV fluids, but this is the best we can do."

Touya tries to shove the cup away, but Takami only sighs again. "Stop being a pain, Todoroki. Drink your damn water."

"I'm fine," he tries, but Takami cuts him off, lowering his voice even more. 

"You're really not. We're doing the best we can, but I'm pretty sure you've got a fever. Can't really tell, what with your Quirk. You're breathing faster than usual too, even when you're sleeping. Drink the water."

Touya drinks the water. 

"Don't know what I believe," Takami says once he's done glaring at Touya to drink, and has handed him another piece of meat. "We only have Honda's words for what happened. It's not like Fujimori and Sakuma saw their bodies. Honda's looking pretty banged up too, so it might just be confusion from stress, dehydration and hunger. Who knows. People freak out and make up stories about what they think happened all the time, unconsciously filling in the blanks."

"How'd she make it alone this long?" 

There's something cold in Takami's face when he answers. "Morita had protein bars. Asshole had a whole bunch of them, and didn't tell anyone – it's probably why he felt safe leaving. She grabbed the bag with them when she ran, and rationed them out. She still had one and a half when the girls found her."

Touya swallows the last of the meat, not quite sure what to say to that. It's unusual to see Takami like that: no trace of his usual friendliness. Even when he's upset, his face is alive. This, however, looks more like a stranger. This is cold and blank, like no one is home.

"Anyway," Takami says, emotion and life flooding his face again as he gives Touya a smile. "You should rest. I'll wake you in a few hours so you can drink some more, okay?" 

"What do you think happened?" Touya asks, not quite ready to give up on this chance for a conversation without being overheard by their classmates. 

"I think," Takami says slowly, "that people do things they'd never normally do once they're pushed far enough. I think fear and hunger and the darkness can make people show their true colours, too. I'm not saying I think whatever happened is Honda's fault. Maybe there was an animal. Wolf or bear or something. Or maybe Morita felt entitled to something she wasn't ready to give, and Arai backed him up. We all heard the way he talked about her sometimes. I wouldn't want to be alone with those two if I were her. Maybe there was an accident."

Touya tries not to let his eyes drift to Takami's back, where there should be great, red, feathered wings. What remains of them – bones, muscles and skin – are carefully wrapped in torn pieces of cloth, presumably to protect them. There are a few gaps where Takami's remaining feathers sit, and where small, downy feathers cover the skin. Places where the fire didn't reach.

He lets Takami help him back down. That cold, blank expression is nowhere to be seen now. As the other hero student disappears, off to do whatever he does when Touya sleeps, he can't help but wonder exactly how much he's missed if Takami's mask has started slipping this much. 

It takes a few days before he actually sees Honda. He's in and out of sleep most of the time, and she's presumably busy resting. 

Touya has just woken up to find Horikawa sitting beside him, mug of hot water ready and a stubborn expression on his face. It doesn't matter that Takami's out – he always makes sure someone sticks around to badger Touya into drinking more water than anyone reasonably would ever want. 

The wind is howling outside, and the cold is starting to be noticeable, despite the fire, the blankets and all the work Okumura has done to insulate the plane. Most of the class are inside, except Takami who is out looking for food with Kamata and Kojima. 

He's talking with Horikawa while, yes, drinking his water, when the door opens. Sakuma pushes inside, bringing with her the bitter cold and more than a little snow. Honda follows close behind her. 

She's thinner. It's the first thing he notices. They all are, of course – but he hasn't seen her in a while and the change is. Distinct. Her cheekbones are sharper, her skin looking like it's stretched thin over her bones. There's a bruised look to her eyes, and the redness from the cold only makes her look sick.

She looks a little bit like a walking corpse.

They've never been friends. He's never liked her much. She's too different from him: motivated by fame and the wish to be adored, but without the work ethic to back it up. Still, when their eyes meet, he gives her a nod. 

She looks surprised at his greeting. He always did tend to ignore her more than anything, after all, but she nods back as her eyes grow wet and large. 

One of her hands is clutching Sakuma's jacket – like a child, worried about losing her mother. 

Like a teenage girl who survived something out there, and spent weeks alone in the wilderness.

She looks scared and sad and it's hard to hold her personal brand of 'mean girl' against her, in the face of that expression. 

Horikawa tracks her as she makes her way across the room, settling down beside Fujimori. There's none of the compassion the boy would've had a few months back when seeing one of them upset. All Touya can see in Horikawa's face is tension.

Touya slowly grows aware of the low hum of conversation. There's a soft, warm light, and for a moment he's sure he's in the sun room at home, having fallen asleep on the couch and waking to his siblings' soft voices. 

"I'm not going out there when it's dark!" a shrill voice says, rising above the rest and shattering his illusion.

Reality comes into focus again. 

The plane. The crash, the deaths, the snow and the hunger and the pain.

"Everyone takes turns getting firewood," someone else says. "If you'd done it earlier when Okumura reminded you, you wouldn't have to do it now." 

"Mitsui should do it! She has her lights! She can see just fine in the dark," the shrill voice protests.

"Mitsui did her chores," someone else cuts in, annoyed. Touya's pretty sure that's Kawano. "I don't fucking care if you went wandering off for a few days, nor that you found Honda. You still have to contribute like everyone else."

"Oh, like Todoroki, you mean? All he does is sleep and eat our rations-"

"Sakuma."

That one, single word, and silence falls. 

Takami's still got the class wrapped around his finger then. That's probably a good thing because now that Touya's more awake, he can feel the tension in the room. It's heavy, like their dinner table at home whenever Touya is unable to curb his temper and shut his mouth in time. It's a moment, balanced on the edge of a knife, teetering this way and that.

"Come on, Takami," Sakuma says. "I'm not saying we shouldn't help him, but if we can make accommodations for his injuries, why can't we make any for anyone else? You guys don't know what it's like out there, away from the plane, but I do, and I don't want to relive that!"

Something tickles against his arm. 

"There's a difference between third-degree burns and being afraid of the dark, you fucking moron," someone snaps, triggering a multitude of voices.

"Don't call her that!"

"It's not about being afraid of the dark, Kashiwagi!"

"You do realize he's the only reliable way we have of getting a fire, right?"

"Just start doing what you're supposed to, and this wouldn't be an issue-"

"How much food can he even eat, when he's that hurt-"

He tries to keep his movements slight, to keep anyone from realizing he's awake. If the violence he can all but taste in the air breaks out, it's better they're not aware. His flames have been small and unreliable lately, but if anyone tries to come for him, they'll find that he has more tricks than just his Quirk. 

Touya learned he could never rely on his fire alone at a young age. He took that lesson to heart. 

The tickling sensation is back. He shifts slightly, so he can see his arm better.

A small glimpse of something red.

Something soft strokes gently against the thin skin on the inside of his wrists. 

It's one of the few feathers Takami has left – which also means he knows Touya's awake, but electing not to alert the rest of the room. As much as the bird seems to have the class well in hand, there's probably a reason he's not saying anything. A warning, maybe? 

Touya lies quietly, focusing on keeping his breathing even and listening intently. Most of the class seems to have devolved into a bitter sort of squabble. Arguments are becoming nonsensical, insults are getting personal and the volume keeps rising. 

"If you're that unhappy with how we run things, just leave then," someone yells. "It'd have been better if you guys never came back, if all you're gonna do is argue! At least we'd have more food for the rest of us if you'd died like Morita and Arai!"

The words hit like a bullet, cutting through the noise and reverberating in the sudden silence of the room. 

"I think maybe we should turn in for the night," Kojima's even voice eventually says. "We're all tired, and saying things we don't mean. Right?" 

Her attempt at defusing the situation is no use.

No one takes the opportunity to agree with her. No one says anything at all. The only thing Touya can hear are the shuffling noises of his classmates getting under their own blankets. Sakuma doesn't leave for more firewood, but no one mentions it. 

The tension lingers in the air, like the rancid smell of decay.

'We might still be alive, but the way we're already falling apart isn't exactly promising,'   he thinks, waiting for sleep to claim him once again. Takami's feather is a warm and grounding presence around his wrist. 

"What's with the feather?" he asks, the next time there's some semblance of privacy between him and Takami, and the rest of the class. Most of them are outside, taking advantage of the slightly warmer weather. 

"Drink your water," Takami says, because he's nothing if not an annoying dick. 

"I am," Touya replies, shaking his almost empty cup for emphasis. The little water left makes sloshing noises as it's swirled around. Outside of the quiet breathing of Mitsui and Kojima who are both napping, it's the only sound in the room. With the sudden warm day, they haven't even kept the fire going. 

"The feather?" he presses, when it looks like Takami intends to give him the silent treatment. The feather in question is still tucked close to his skin, resting against his arm inside his sweater.

Takami sighs a little. 

"It lets me monitor your health while you sleep," he finally says. 

"You didn't do this earlier, when I was arguably doing worse."

Takami stands up. His movements, despite the injured wings, are smooth and easy. Without a word he takes Touya's cup, and walks over to refill it with water. When he returns he pushes both the cup, and another piece of meat into Touya's hands. 

He's pretty sure Takami's been giving him part of his own rations lately. He wants to protest, but there's something in the other boy's stare that gives him pause. Before he can say anything, Takami speaks up again.

"There's…a lot of tension, lately. I spend most of my time outside, looking for food. I just want to be able to get back in time, in case anything escalates."

"Escalates?" Touya repeats, before grimacing at the word. He hates feeling slow and out of the loop, especially in front of Takami, who he usually competes with over the top ranks in every subject. 

"You sleep through a lot of conversations, Touya," Takami says. "You might not wake up in time, if some of those conversations turn into something more and I'm not here."

The implications there – that Takami has good enough control that he can hear conversations even when ranging far away from camp, and that there are discussions being had that could, what, pose a threat – are big enough that he's momentarily distracted, putting the piece of meat in his hand into his mouth and chewing while he thinks it all through.

He wants to question it further, but there's noise outside heralding the return of the other students. Takami gives him a smile before moving off to do whatever it is he does when he's not pestering Touya about drinking more and raising chilling concerns about their classmates. 

It's only later, when he's lying under his blankets and trying to sleep, that he realizes Takami used his given name.

"Todoroki?" It's Mitsui, looking equal parts worried and embarrassed as she approaches him. 

"Yeah?"

He's sitting up, leaning against the padded wall of the plane. Okumura's Quirk has been a godsend to them. Without her ability to mold non-living materials, they would never have gotten the plane into a livable state for the winter. Sacrificing most of the seats for more insulation was an easy choice, really.

"I'm really sorry to ask this," she says, "but would you mind lending me and Kashiwagi some of your blankets? The others are getting firewood, so they're keeping warm, but we're mostly just trying to gather bark from the trees and it's taking forever because Okamura's attempt at making more knives hasn't worked, and-"

"And you're cold," he finishes, already gesturing towards the small pile of clothes and blankets surrounding him. They're the only fabrics in the room right now. With the sudden cold snap hitting a few days ago, everyone's wearing everything they have when they go outside. 

"We'll try to be quick, I promise. Kashiwagi's getting more wood on our way back, so you can keep the fire bigger while we're gone, okay?"

"Mitsui. It's fine. I'm okay. Just go do your thing."

It is, strictly, not fine. His usual unconscious control of his internal temperature is all messed up right now. Okumura said she was pretty sure it's because of the fever he's still running, when she brought him water earlier. Takami's convinced it's the direct result of the infection the bird is so sure he has. 

It doesn't really matter. He feels like shit. He's alternating between feeling too hot and too cold, and he can't seem to calm his heart or his breathing. Sleeping helps, if only because he doesn't have to feel the constant ache in his joints or the soreness of his skin – even the healthy parts – or the ever-present pain left by the fire. 

"Thanks," she says, still looking awkward and avoiding his eyes as she leaves. She probably waited until Takami was out looking for food before approaching him. 

There's a part of him – the quiet, sneaky one that always makes him feel slightly off because it's hardly very heroic – that sees her shame and guilt, and sees opportunity. Something to use, if he needs it. 

For all of Endeavour's insistence that he'd never help Touya become a hero, growing up in the Todoroki household left him with certain skills that still might come in useful one day. Even if they sometimes feel more suited to the life of a villain and not a hero.

He pushes the thought aside. 

It doesn't matter here. Endeavour might have taught him some lessons he never intended, but here, among the growing tension, it might come in handy. Especially since he misses so much of what's happening while he sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. Every time he wakes up, it's like the constellations of who supports who has changed again. 

The only constant is Takami, still firmly planting himself in front of Touya.

If it was anyone else, he'd be questioning what their motives were. Takami, however? Those protective instincts of his probably honed in on Touya the moment he got hurt, and has been devoted to keep him, as the weakest member of their group, alive since then. Always the perfect hero.

Okay, to be fair: Kamata and Horikawa have been unchangingly loyal too, as has Okumura. And it's not like the rest are actively out for his blood or anything like that – it's just the growing tension getting to him. The part of him that sees opportunity in other people's weaknesses also spots danger the moment it appears; it's obvious that Honda, Sakuma and Fujimori are stirring up trouble. Anyone who spends too much time talking with them makes his radar ping, these days. 

His father's footsteps down the hall, almost stomping with clear anger, heading towards Touya's room. 

Sakuma sitting down beside Kawano this morning, talking to him in a low tone. 

'Pay attention,' that part of him says. 'This is where problems might arise.'

Touya draws his remaining blankets closer around himself and wonders who told Mitsui – sweet, tentative Mitsui who hates inconveniencing anyone – that she should ask him once Takami was well away from the camp. 

"People have had to do it before to survive," a voice says inside. "We need to be smart about this!"

The voice belongs to Honda. She was quiet the first few weeks or so after her return, but she seems to have started to liven up now. 

Touya pauses.

He's been hobbling his way back to the plane from a visit to their makeshift lavatory, Kamata hovering nervously behind him. The other student has been sticking close while Takami and Horikawa are out searching for food. When Touya stops, Kamata furrows his brows at him in a clear question. He shakes his head. Kamata takes the hint, standing completely still.

Touya's head swims, and he knows he's swaying slightly - the fever is still making a mockery of him, leaving him weak and in pain. It's nothing. It's just pain and discomfort. He's been powering through that since he was a kid.

"You're talking about eating people, Honda!"

Beside him, Kamata draws in a sharp breath. 

Interestingly it's Fujimori who's protesting. Those two are usually always in agreement.

"I'm talking about not wasting the resources we have!" Honda snaps. "You don't know what's out there. You didn't feel the way it hunted us one by one. I want to survive. We all do! I'm sorry, I really am, but there's no way he's going to survive the winter like this, and we should be prepared for what to do! It's only a matter of time before one of those infections he keeps getting ends up in septic shock."

"Oh, don't pretend you know what that actually is," Kojima interjects in her cool, judgemental tone. "Throwing in random medical words you think sound serious isn't going to make your suggestion any less insane."

"Sepsis is serious," someone else points out. Touya can't tell who it is, but right now he's struggling to pay attention to any voice that isn't the one that apparently is trying to convince his classmates to kill and eat him. Or eat him after he dies, which is a distinction that doesn't do much to cheer him up, really. 

"We're supposed to be hero students," someone says.

"We're supposed to be safe and sound back home," Honda replies, and fuck if she doesn't sound like she believes what she's spouting. "We're not gonna be anything at all, unless we survive the winter, and it's not like we're finding anything else to eat."

"You've lost your mind," Mitsui of all people says, and then the discussion devolves into nothing but bickering. 

Kamata touches his arm lightly. His whole face conveys his concern, and his goat eyes are wide and distressed. Touya just shrugs at him. He waits another minute, before stamping his feet in the snow loudly and making his way to the door. 

Inside, several of his classmates avoid his eyes. Honda pretends not to see him. Kojima comes over and parks herself right next to his pallet. It's the first time she's made her position known that clearly.

Every day: new constellations. 

His body aches after his trip outside. He tries not to show his relief as he sinks back down on the makeshift bed Okumura made him, from pieces of wood and a few plane seats. Kojima doesn't look his way, nor does she say anything while he pulls the blankets over himself. She's flexing her hands, over and over again, as she keeps her eyes trained on Honda. With every movement, sharp claws glint at the end of her fingers.

On the other side of the plane, Kawano leans closer to Honda to whisper in her ear. Whatever he says makes her raise her hand to her mouth – but not in time to avoid Touya seeing her smile.

This shelter they've made out of the plane's body feels a lot less safe than it used to. The small red feather inside his shirt feels like it's burning against his skin. 

'You sleep through a lot of conversations,' Takami said. 

What else have they been discussing, when they thought he couldn't hear them? 

Touya's dreams are a confused mess of images and feelings and noise. Dripping, heavy meat, and smiling mouths with blood between the teeth. Snow and forests and fire and hunger, and people who stare at him as they whisper between themselves. He can feel his heart beat fast and hard, and he runs through endless halls in the Todoroki mansion, looking for Fuyumi and Natsuo, but there's only more of the people whispering and staring and whispering and staring, and his chest burns with it, and something grips him, tearing his heart right out of his chest-

He coughs himself awake, gasping for breath. 

There's cool hands on his face, and he tries to bat them away, but his arms are under the blankets and they're too heavy for him. He struggles harder, trying to fight his way free. He grasps for his Quirk, but it slips between his fingers before he can get a hold on it. 

"Easy," someone says. "Shit, Todoroki, calm down!"

The voice is familiar, but before he can recognize it, another round of coughing racks his body. 

"Is he okay?" 

"Go away, Honda," the voice says, just as another chimes in with a "don't fucking pretend to care now, you damn snake. We heard what you suggested."

Takami. Horikawa.

"Water," he breathes out, pushing the word out between coughs. 

"Sure," Takami says over him. A few moments later, there's a cup pressed to his lips. 

"I'm allowed to be worried about my classmate," Honda argues in the background. "I never said I don't care about him!"

"No, you just want us to eat him instead of helping him," Horikawa says somewhere to the left of him. 

"That's not what I said at all!"

"Can y'all shut the fuck up," Takami snaps, losing some of that usual polish he wears as his words descends into something broader and rougher. 

If he says anything more, it's lost as Touya coughs again, deep, raspy coughs that tears at his body and makes pain bloom in his chest. 

The argument fades away in the background, as he tries to catch his breath. Takami's a warm presence beside him, holding his water and supporting his back every time another round of coughing rips through him. 

When he finally lies back down, exhausted and aching, he finds he doesn't mind the hand softly carding through his hair. 

Part of him wishes it was slightly smaller, with cool, elegant fingers and soft skin, accompanying familiar humming and warm, grey eyes. 

Ayumi Honda yawns and leans her head on Nozomi Fujimori's shoulder. They're huddled together on the other side of the plane, as far away from him as they can get. They're careful about it – nothing too deliberate, nothing that indicates that they're worried in any way – but he can tell.

They're acting like prey. 

There's still a simmering anger digging its claws into him. To suggest letting Touya die is one thing. It's an unforgivable offence in itself. To believe even for a second that any of them would be allowed to lay a hand on Touya's body afterward? 

Sitting as far away as she can get is the smartest thing Honda has done ever since the plane crash. 

He always wants more of Touya. Nothing he's gotten so far has been enough, and for just one tiny moment her suggestion did intrigue him. Anyone else would just be meat in such a situation, but not Touya. To house his indomitable spirit, to honor and care for what would be left of him? It's no wonder some people saw consuming parts of their lost ones as a sacred practice. To enjoy Touya's body that way is not that dissimilar to sex, really; it's just another way of becoming one.

If Touya does die one day, there's no chance in hell he'll ever let anyone else have his body. 

Especially not Honda.

Beside him, Touya sleeps.

Touya was getting better, but not long after the first snow, he took a bad turn. It's pretty obvious his body is trying to battle something. Considering his burns, it's most likely an infection, which is worrisome. There's a high risk to those, he's pretty sure. The latest development with that nasty cough makes him think of pneumonia.

Still, it's not all bad. 

Touya lets him help, now. An arm around the firestarter's shoulder. Holding a mug to his lips. Giving him extra rations whenever the others are away. Touya, ever so proud and untouchable, will lean his weight on him now.

The forest does have some upsides, just like he thought. 

All he has to do now is make sure no one else has any bright ideas about laying their hands on Touya. 

On the far side of the plane, Honda whispers something to Fujimori, before she stands up and makes her way towards the door. This late, just as dark is falling, it's most likely to visit their makeshift toilet. It's located a little ways from the plane. 

Today was the second time she's come after Touya. That's two times too many.

It's just a short walk to the toilet. 

Plenty of time for a short conversation, however. 

Chapter Text

It's probably not going to be that different.

Objectively speaking, it's just a body. Does it make it worse that there are no fur or feathers? People butcher their cows and sheeps and whatever else all the time, despite knowing the animal. It's the purpose of livestock: to provide sustenance in one form or another. 

There's nothing wrong with fulfilling the meaning of your life – or death. 

Objectively speaking, taking a life is a lot worse than making use of the remains. There's an argument to be made that not utilizing everything left behind is the worst crime of all; to let life slip away and not harvest as much as possible from the loss. 

There are people out there in the world who take great pride in using all they can from their kills. Every part of an animal was made into something – food or tools or clothes or even art. To not do so is disrespectful. It's wasteful. Does it make it less of a travesty to forego the potential use of a body just because it's not his kill? It is just as much of a waste of resources, really.

He takes a breath and gets to work.

He locates what he assumes is the best place to start. He's going by what he knows from the earlier catches they made, and while the anatomy is different, this part should be similar enough. Get rid of everything that can pollute the food, right? 

Cloth gives way under his knife. 

Skin soon follows.

The first cut isn't as hard as he thought it would be. Part of him feels a bit sad about that; it feels as though it should have been a more significant moment in his life. Maybe it would have been, once. Before the plane and fire and the snow and the hunger.

Before Touya's life started slipping away, a little more every day, as he grew thin and pale.

They might not understand. They might hate him for this. Maybe they'll never forgive him – but if they turn it down, that means more for him, really, and more for Touya. He can't find it in himself to mourn that possibility.

The rich aroma of sweet, nourishing blood hits him.

His mouth waters.

He keeps cutting.

"Anything?" 

The voice pierces through Touya's dreams, dragging him out of the nonsensical world his mind created and back to the hell this class trip turned into. 

"No. There's too many tracks around to tell which way she went, and it's fully dark now. Even Mitsui can't follow them all."

He can hear someone sniffling. There's the sound of the door opening again, and the tell-tale sound of someone stomping their feet so they don't drag too much snow inside. The gust of air is cold, even under his blankets, and he tries to make himself smaller. 

He's so fucking cold these days. Who knew the cold could be so miserable? 

"I couldn't sense anything with my feathers, either."

There's a moment of silence, before someone starts crying. The noise feels like needles stabbing into his brain, and he buries his head in the blankets, trying to shut it out. 

"We should get some rest, and continue looking for her once it gets light again."

His head throbs with pain, and he wants so badly to tell his classmates to keep it down, but speaking up feels like too much effort right now. It's late, he's tired, and every time he falls asleep he coughs himself back awake not long after.

The conversation between his classmates continues, but the voices feel far away now. It's like trying to hear what someone says while you're underwater. Everything is slightly distorted and muffled. Some of the voices sound angry.

There's a hand gently touching his forehead, resting there for a moment, before disappearing again. 

He wants to ask whoever it was for water, but before he can raise his voice, he feels himself being dragged back down into sleep. 

Touya's trying to catch his breath after a particularly nasty round of coughs, when the door bangs open. Someone – he thinks it might be Kashiwagi? It's hard to tell, when his head is swimming and everything feels like it's on fire – stumbles in, leaving the door wide open. A gust of wind accompanies the arrival, and Touya can feel the piercing cold air through his blankets. When he takes a breath, his lungs burn with it.  

There's a chorus of protests from his classmates, drowning out whatever it is the newcomer tries to say. 

"You gotta come," he says, and yeah, that is Kashiwagi. His voice is higher than usual, making him sound young and scared. "I don't know what to do! It was an accident, I swear, and now-"

The rest is lost to him, as his lungs seize up, causing him to double over in pain. Every cough tears at his chest, and it feels like his ribs might give out at any moment.

Dimly, he registers the flurry of activity around him. The noise is overwhelming, and he can't make out individual words. It's far away, hidden behind the pain and the fear and the feeling of his organs giving out inside of him. 

He coughs, and coughs, and coughs, when the attack finally passes, he's too exhausted to even think of investigating whatever is going on. Someone's gonna tell him, later, surely. He curls up on his pallet, shivering despite the fire and the blankets, and tries to will himself back to sleep.

At least when he's not awake he doesn't have to feel the pain and the hunger. 

When Touya wakes up, it's to a completely empty room. 

It might actually be the first time he's done that. There's always someone here, ready to pester him about drinking water or trying to convince him to use a bedpan – and fuck Okumura for making one on their behest – instead of letting him do the trek to the toilet they set up. 

Now, however, the room is quiet and still. There's still a fire going with lazy flames licking over big logs, so clearly someone's been here to feed the fire recently. They've been a lot more diligent about not letting it go out lately. Maybe they don't want to wake him. 

'Maybe,' a voice whispers, 'they're simply preparing to manage without you when you finally croak.'

There's a mug beside him. The water in it is still a bit warm. Probably left by the same person who fed the fire. 

He takes a sip, grimacing at the sensation of water running down his throat. Feels like it's made of sandpaper, tearing at the soft, sensitive tissue of his esophagus. 

Fuck the water. He can drink when wakes up next time instead. He ignores the way it feels like the room tilts with every movement he makes.

It's pretty strange that everyone's out, though. Maybe they finally caught something to eat, or something. Would be nice to have something other than their terrible attempts at boiling bark and leather products to get any kind of nutrients out of it. 

The room spins gently. 

Touya lies back down, firmly ignoring the nausea and the vertigo. 

"Todoroki?"

There's a hand in his hair, gently combing it back. Everything is too warm. His mouth is dry and his throat feels like it's on fire. 

"Touya, can you hear me?"

"Mhh," he says. It's a bit of an effort, but Takami sounds uncertain and worried. It's very unlike him. 

Hands help him sit up, and there's a mug pressed to his lips. Water fills his mouth – cool water, not warm, and it feels like a balm. He drinks another few sips, and then turns his head away.

"C'mon, Todoroki. We can't lose you too," someone says. Okumura, maybe.

"Y'should be so lucky," he slurs out, because Okumura's always been a decent sort and he doesn't like hearing her sound so upset. 

She laughs, like he intended her to, but it sounds strangled. 

"Another sip, Touya," Takami says, and Touya does his best to take a few more gulps of water. 

He feels boneless, but not in a good way. Sitting up hurts. He's leaning against Takami's warm, solid body, but every place they touch is uncomfortable against his sensitive skin and his burns. 

Some of the water goes down wrong. He coughs, trying to dislodge it, and it hurts, it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurts

"Shhh, I know," someone whispers, as they rub his back. 

He gasps for air, struggling against the nausea and the vertigo and the pain and-

"Then where the fuck did she go?!" 

The voice is loud and close and Touya's reaching for his flames before he's even properly awake. Someone shouting near him has never been a good thing, usually. 

"I don't know," someone shouts back. "That's why we're fucking looking, you asshole!"

His fire slips away from him, like trying to catch goldfish with his hands like he did with Fuyumi when they were small, giggling as they knelt by the pond in the garden. Everything was so big then. The garden was a magical place, where no one bothered them and they could simply just be kids. 

"Do you think it's that thing she talked about?" 

"You think some animal followed her back here and waited around until she was alone? Seriously?"

He tries to push himself up, but his arms won't listen to him. 

"There's nothing alive around camp. Nothing breathing, nothing with a pulse. If she's alive, she's not here."

"How far did you send your feathers, Takami?" 

The voices start fading away. None of them are as angry anymore, and it no longer feels as urgent to keep track of them. 

Touya sleeps. 

The water tastes bitter and strange, and he tries to push it away.

"It's bark water, sorry. It's the only thing we have. Please try," Takami says. 

He doesn't want it. He doesn't want it, he wants this to stop, he can't do this anymore, everything hurts and every time he wakes up it's worse. 

The water is back, mug insistent against his lips, and there are soothing words whispered into his ears when he makes protesting noises.

He tries to tell Takami to stop, but the words are slurred and nonsensical and he can't quite recognize his own voice.

"Hang on, Touya. Don't give up."

He wants to say that he's never given up on anything in his life, ever, and he should be allowed to quit something just once, but then he slips back down, and everything is quiet and still again.

"It's okay if you hate me for this. I understand. But I think you'd say yes, if you were well enough to understand. I think you'd do the same, if our roles were reversed. You're the only one who ever truly understood. You know life isn't fair."

A cool cloth gently dabs at his forehead.

"I hope you understand. It's the only way I can think of to help you."

It's not water.

That's the first, conscious thought he has. 

There's liquid being fed to him, a little at a time, but it's slightly thicker and it tastes like…well, he's not sure, really. It tastes good. It makes him want more. 

When the mug disappears, he makes a protesting noise, and someone chuckles. 

"Not too much at once," they say. "You'll get sick that way. More in an hour or so, okay?"

Someone, somewhere in the background, is crying. 

Whoever spoke to him raises their volume slightly, talking over the crying. The words slide over him, smooth and familiar, even if he can't place the voice. He's content to lie there, surrounded by the warmth of them.

Touya lets himself be soothed back to sleep by the gentle voice.

"Hey. Think you can drink a little more?" 

Takami's face comes into focus above him. He's pale and drawn, and the lack of food has made his jaw and cheekbones stand out. That babyface of his is less pronounced, this way. The way he smiles though, broad and relieved, makes him look just a little bit like that golden hero student Touya used to resent so much.

Life before the plane crash feels so far away, sometimes. It's hard to remember that this Takami, with his watchful eyes and careful hands, is the same guy. 

Touya nods, taking a sip of the mug Takami holds up for him. 

It's broth. 

Thick and nourishing broth. After the second sip, his stomach remembers that he hasn't had real food in forever, and the hunger hits him with a force that almost bowls him over. He drinks deeply, almost desperately. 

"Here," Takami says, and holds out what looks like small, carefully cut up pieces of meat. It's clearly been cooked over the fire, and the aroma is-

Touya is grabbing after it before the thought even finishes, weak arms struggling to keep up with the all-consuming need, and it's only when Takami (who is clearly stifling a laugh at Touya's clumsy attempts) simply leans forward and pushes it into his mouth that he can calm down. 

The taste is rich. Savoury and sweet, and tender. It fills his mouth as the piece of meat practically melts on his tongue.

He might actually moan, but it's not like he's paying attention to anything but the meat itself right now.

"Yeah. I did that too," Takami says quietly, before feeding him another piece. 

Touya loses himself in the relief of finally, finally having something to eat.

He's in and out of consciousness after that. It's like his body, finally given fuel, decides to work overtime on bringing him back to a semblance of better health. He sleeps, but it's no longer the fitful, feverish sleep he struggled to wake from. Whenever he wakes, Takami's there, making him drink more broth and feeding him tiny pieces of meat. 

It takes a few rounds of that, before he starts feeling like a human again. It's like his brain is coming back online, one tiny piece of meat at a time. 

He's chewing on his latest piece – Takami has actually started giving him slightly larger pieces, apparently deeming him able to not choke and die on them now. The room is quiet. Most of his classmates seem to be there, huddled in blankets in small groups scattered around the room, but there's almost no conversation. 

He would've thought they'd be more cheerful, considering they finally have something to eat again. 

Okumura gives him a small smile when she notices he's looking, but avoids his eyes. There's a tightness to her face. 

"Thought we were gonna lose you there for a minute," Takami says, pulling his attention back from his quiet classmates. 

"Should've let me die, birdie. At least you'd have food then. You're getting kinda thin there." 

Takami startles. For a second he's just staring at Touya, mouthing 'birdie,' before he seems to gather himself. Apparently he's not used to nicknames – or maybe it's just Touya's he's surprised over. 

"Aw, worried about me, Todoroki?" 

"Dunno who I'd compete with otherwise," Touya grins at him. 

"Ah well, we found food. You don't have to worry. It's all good," Takami says, as the brief flash of humor bleeds out of him. 

The room stays quiet.

Touya eats another piece of meat, and thinks about constellations and everything you miss when you spend too much time sleeping. 

The next time he wakes up, it's Kamata sitting beside him, mug of broth already ready. 

"Hey," he says, blinking his big eyes with those horizontal pupils down at Touya. He looks sad. "How are you feeling?"

"Eh," Touya says. "Better than after last year's Sports Festival afterparty."

It doesn't get the laugh his jokes usually would. Kamata just smiles a little at him, before helping him sit up and giving him the mug. 

On the opposite side of the room, Fujimori is crying. Okumura, who's never been particularly close to her, has her arms around the other girl. She just looks tired. That's not new, though. Okumura's girlfriend died in the crash. She's looked mostly tired ever since then, as if continuing to stay alive is all she has the energy for. 

Touya can't say he blames her. They all lost people they were close to in the crash. They do their best to simply survive right now, which means pushing all that grief and horror away, but there's a difference between losing someone you joked around with between classes, and the person you were dating. 

"How's Okumura and Horikawa doing?" 

Horikawa's girlfriend died, too. They haven't really talked about that. Touya's been a little busy trying not to die, but now that he's starting to feel human again, there's a pang of guilty conscience for not checking on them. 

"They're still standing. Don't think we can ask for much more, really." Kamata sighs. 

"Yeah. Probably not."

He drinks a little more broth, and accepts the pieces of meat Kamata hands him, before nodding towards the two girls hugging. "What's up with Fujimori, though? Something happen?"

"It's just this place. Trying to survive here. Don't worry about her, she'll be okay. Okumura's looking after her right now, until she calms down."

It sounds like an answer – except they've been here for months now, and unlike Touya, who's spent a large part of that time asleep, Fujimori's been awake and dealing with it all the entire time. She's never needed anyone to 'look after her' before.

Kamata avoids his eyes, walking off to refill his mug instead.

"Takami's out looking for food with Mitsui and Kawano. They'll be back later," he says when he comes back.

Touya accepts the mug. 

It might be nothing. They're all exhausted and more than a little traumatized. It could just be a badly worded reply from Kamata – but Touya has vague memories of waking up to so many arguments lately. He can't remember anything exact, but there's the impression of a lot of noise. 

He takes a sip from the mug, and pops the last piece of meat into his mouth.

Across the room, Fujimori breaks into another sob, burying her head in Okumura's shoulder. 

Touya wakes to humming.

He rubs at his eyes a little, as he pushes himself up. The culprit is Takami, who's lying down on his stomach on his own pallet nearby, seemingly content to actually stay still for a moment instead of ranging through the forests and wrangling the class and whatever else he usually does. 

"Mornin'," Takami says, eyes still closed. Those feathers of his makes sure the guy doesn't need such paltry things as his own eyes, apparently.

"Hey," Touya says. "Where is everyone?" 

"Out. Some are getting firewood, half of them are checking snares and looking for game. Decided to let them hunt for once – it really doesn't always have to be me." Takami yawns as he twists himself around and into a sitting position. Once he has his shoes back on, he busies himself over by their sort-of-functional fireplace. 

"Guess they all have to earn their keep, huh?" 

Takami looks relaxed. There's an ease to him now, evident in his shoulders. It's weird to think that he might have been that affected by Touya being sick, but the coinciding factors of him getting better and Takami looking relaxed does kinda point to it. Well, and finally having food again. That probably is a large part of it. 

"Hah! Sure," Takami laughs, pouring something into Touya's mug.  

"Not sure what that means for me, though. Haven't been much use at all, so far. Glorified fucking lighter," he says, and yeah, okay, there's bitterness he fails to hide there, despite his attempt at a lighthearted tone.  

"You don't have to worry your pretty head about that, Todoroki. I got you." 

Takami grins at him, handing him the mug. It's filled with steaming broth.

"Don't think anyone's gonna call me pretty after this."

He has no idea what he looks like, now. His face seems to have mostly come away unscathed, but there's some damage to his jaws, he knows. Something about his eyes feel a little wrong. In that brief time between getting better from the burns, before the infection hit, he never quite got the courage up to ask if any of the girls had a mirror.

"Eh.You just look a little less like some snow elf prince. It's not bad," Takami says, as he starts cutting up meat and giving each piece to Touya as he works.

"You don't gotta keep giving me your rations, y'know," Touya says, deciding it's safer to focus on the topic of food than whatever the hell that comment about his looks was. "I'm out of the woods now."

Takami laughs at him. "Caught me, huh?" 

"You've not been slick about it. There's no way my share's been big enough for all the food you've been shoving into my mouth every time I woke up."

"Yeah, well. Had to get you healthy again. Bodies need fuel to heal." 

Because Takami apparently lives to be contrary, he still gives Touya the rest of the meat he'd been cutting up, before sitting down again. 

"Seriously, Touya. I'm fine. Just eat."

Touya eats.

Takami keeps feeding him every time he's awake – which is more and more these days. He can actually stay up for a while now, instead of falling back asleep the moment his stomach is full. It's nice. The coughing is all but gone, and he doesn't really feel that feverish anymore.

Best of all: his temperature control seems to slowly be coming back. 

That's actually really nice. Freezing sucks, and getting some of his ice resistance back is a relief. Getting to give one of his blankets to Okumura feels pretty good, too. 

"Are you sure?" She looks worried, flicking her eyes between him and Takami, who's napping. 

"Course I'm sure," he says, ignoring the irritation of having her look towards Takami, as if asking for permission. "If I wasn't hurt, I wouldn't be needing nearly as many blankets as I have – but I'm getting better, and I keep kicking some of them off me whenever someone tries to tuck them back on."

There's a twitch in her lips at that, as she hides her amusement. 

"Besides, you were always the first of us to get cold. We wouldn't have made it until now if it wasn't for you and everything you did to make the plane livable for us. Take the blanket, Okumura."

There was a time people tended to assume he and Okumura were a thing, before she started dating Maiko Sakai. The two of them have always gotten along well, and there's something about her quiet nature that reminds him a little about Fuyumi. It made it easy to fall into a sort of companionable friendship, where they're fairly open and comfortable around each other. 

It also makes it easy for him to see, now that he's actually awake, that something is wrong. Something more than just the plane crash and the hell they're in here. 

"Hey," he says. "Wanna tell me what's bugging you?"

There's a little jolt going through her, as if she's surprised he's seen through her. She still won't really look at him, eyes sliding over him to rest on Takami's sleeping form again.

"Not really," she says, which, well, okay then. It's not like he can force her to talk. 

"Kay. Gonna come find me when you do wanna talk about it?"

"Sure," she says, hugging the blanket to her chest and avoiding his eyes. Again. 

There's altogether way too many people avoiding his eyes, lately. He tries to let it go, but when even fucking Kawano ducks his head to avoid his stare – Kawano, who he's never really been close with, and had way too many arguments with over stupid stuff cause the dude's incapable of backing off – he's had enough.

He brings it up, the next time it's just him and Takami. He figures if anyone will be straight with him, it's the only other student who was never awestruck over his parentage, or Quirk, or fazed by his injuries after the crash. Takami listens to him as he explains the behaviour from the others, and then sighs.

"Don't hold it against them. We agreed not to tell you yet," he starts. "Not until we were sure you were really out of the woods."

There's an almost apologetic tilt to the bird's head as he talks. He doesn't shy away from Touya's eyes, though, which is something. 

"Honda disappeared, a few weeks back. She went out one evening to use the lavatory, and never came back. We've been searching for her ever since, but there's not a single trace of her anywhere."

"What," Touya says. There are memories of yelling, of crying people and a lot of activity, and, yeah, this explains a fair few things. Fujimori's crying. The way more people are outside in the daylight, now, where usually they'd conserve their energy as much as they could. 

"Yeaaaaah," Takami says. "Wherever she went, she followed our regular tracks far enough from the camp that we haven't been able to find where she stepped off. I thought she just wanted some space because she was pissed about something at first. You know how she gets, right? But, well. It's not looking good."

"And no one's heard or seen anything? How could she just disappear? Where would she even go?"

"I dunno. Some of the others think it's whatever got Morita and Arai, but why would whatever that was follow her back here and then wait several weeks before taking her? It's not very realistic, is it?" Takami shakes his head, as he hands Touya meat. Again. 

Despite their conversation about not giving up his own rations, Touya's still getting a lot of food these days. It's not nearly enough to sate his hunger, of course – but it's more than his share should be, surely. 

"Didn't we talk about you giving me your rations?" Touya says, grateful for the excuse of focusing on something else for a minute. He just needs a moment to process a little. How could she just be gone?

"I'm not," the lying little bird says. "You told me to stop."

"So, what, it's the other guys' food then?" 

Takami barks a laugh at that. "You're not receiving anyone's share except yours, you idiot. You sleep like, a day at a time. Of course it feels like a lot when you're eating almost a day's ration every time you're awake. Especially when none of us have eaten in a while. Your portions aren't even that big, it's just bigger than we're used to."

Touya doesn't answer. It doesn't sound entirely right. Surely he'd know, if he was sleeping that long at a time? On the other hand, it would explain why there's still food now, and why no one else is complaining. 

"Just eat your damn meat, Todoroki," Takami says. "We can't afford to waste any food, and you can't afford to miss any more meals than you already do."

Touya sighs. It's not like he's not hungry. He might as well.

They sit in silence as he chews the meat – still just as good as the first time – and Takami slowly drinks his own mug with warm broth.

"D'you think we're alone here?"

Takami raises his eyebrows at that. "I think we'd have noticed if anyone else was in the area, so yeah, I do. Why?"

Touya swallows the last of his food, before he replies. "An animal wouldn't follow Honda back here and wait until she, specifically, was alone. A human, though. A human would."

"I think I'd have noticed with my feathers, if-"

"We both know there's a lot of Quirks in the world, birdie – and it's not like you're at full strength either. Can you say with one hundred percent that there's absolutely no chance you'd miss someone right now?"

Takami's unhappy expression is all the answer he really needs.

His health continues to improve. It's early afternoon, a few days after the conversation with Takami. He's been up for hours today, and he's honestly feeling pretty okay still. Well enough to be playing cards with Kamata, Kojima and Mitsui, and just the option of doing something is novel. 

A few of the class are out preparing firewood and tending to whatever other chores need doing. A couple of them are out hunting with Takami.

"You know Todoroki's feeling better once he's back to beating us even at cards, huh," Kojima sighs in mock frustration, throwing down her remaining cards as he takes her last chance of victory from her. 

"Hope you enjoyed the brief respite while you could," he laughs. "Since Takami finally had some luck hunting, I'm back to fighting form."

Their smiles die out. 

Kamata looks down. 

Kojima clears her throat. 

Mitsui sits very still.

"What?" he asks, looking from one to the other. "What's wrong?"

"Todoroki," Kojima says.

"Don't," Kamata cuts her off. "We shouldn't-"

"He's doing better now. He's awake, and talking, and beating our ass at cards like he used to, and he deserves to know!" Kojima's voice keeps rising as she talks, high and frustrated in a manner he's seldom seen her display before.

"I deserve to know what?"

Mitsui starts to cry. It's a quiet thing; it's just small, stifled sniffles and silent tears making their way down her face.

"Guys," he tries again, and he's getting a bad feeling about this, because what could possibly be making them all this upset?

"Didn't you notice you haven't seen Sakuma lately?" Kojima says, and her eyes are wet.

Touya feels bile rise as the implications of that one, tiny sentence hits him. 

"She fell," Kamata says. "It was an accident. She was out looking for Honda, and she slipped on ice, and the hill wasn't that steep, but it's rocky and. Yeah. She didn't make it."

He waits, hoping against all logic that this isn't going the way it looks like. His stomach churns at the thought. At the thought that Sakuma- 

He has to clamp his jaws shut, and take deep breaths while he squeezes his eyes shut as the urge to vomit hits. It feels like he's sitting on a boat in rocky water. It feels like that cold he's finally starting to handle again has taken a hold of his body, squeezing him until it's hard to breathe. His lungs burn, and it's like when he was down with that fever or infection or whatever it was – that sure-fire certainty that he was about to die.

There's a hand softly touching his back and he reacts instinctively, letting his fire flare out in a short burst. He hears someone curse, but he can't right now, because apparently he's been fucking eating his classmate and he didn't even know, and that broth that's thick and full of taste has to be boiled on her goddamned bones and yeah okay enough of that. 

He pulls his legs up and bends his head down, focusing on breathing deep and evenly until the wave of panic starts to pass and the nausea loses some of its grip on him. 

Sakuma used to wear her hair in a long braid, back when she transferred over from General. It was glossy black and thick, and she clearly took a lot of pride in it – all until she got in a fight during her work studies, and someone used it to throw her off-balance. 

She hadn't even hesitated. Next time she showed up at school, her hair was too short for anyone to get a good grip. 

Lousy taste in friends aside, she genuinely cared about becoming a hero.

There's a memory of Takami handing him piece after tiny piece of cooked meat, wearing a pleased smile and soft eyes. 

She had a fucking origami Quirk, and everyone kept telling her it wasn't suited to the life of a Pro Hero, but she never quit. Of course she wouldn't stop looking for Honda, either. Of course she'd push herself just a little bit too far, and now there's no Pro Hero life waiting for her anymore.

Touya keeps his head between his knees, gripping his hair tight with his fists. The way his scalp stings helps him focus on breathing. On keeping his stomach where it belongs.

They fucking made him eat Sakuma.

"Hey," Takami says as he comes in the door. Whoever he dragged with him today follows close behind him, but Touya doesn't give a shit about them right now.

"You fucking asshole," he spits. There's a tingling feeling under his skin. Familiar and on the verge of becoming uncomfortably hot.

His emotions. His fire. They always did go hand in hand. 

Takami furrows his brows. "Touya?"

"Don't you dare call me that. You have no fucking right. What the fuck, Takami," he says, "what the hell did you do?!" 

"...ooookay. What's up, Todoroki?" Takami blinks at him with big, guileless eyes while he speaks. 

That affable look he's wearing makes Touya want to throw up – or punch him. He doesn't buy it. He doesn't buy it for one fucking second, because there's no difference between this mask and the one his father uses, not really. Not when you boil it all down to their bare essence: manipulative psychopaths, doing whatever it takes to ensure they come out on top. 

"What the fuck do you think? I know about Sakuma. I know exactly who you've been feeding me." 

"Oh," Takami says. 

Nothing more. It makes Touya's rage burn harder. He doesn't miss the look Takami sends towards Kamata and the girls, though, making them all shrink back, which, yeah, not fucking happening. 

"Don't fucking look at them like that! You made me eat a human being, and you're pissed at them for telling me?"

Takami's head snaps back towards him. Those eyes of his are fierce, making him look like the bird of prey he's taken his stupid hero name from. He narrows them slightly as he tilts his head, making him look even more like a predator. 

"I'm 'pissed' at them, Todoroki, for breaking the agreement we all had to not tell you about that while you're still recovering. I'm 'pissed' at them for doing it while I was out, and clearly also telling it in a manner that has you all fired up, when you really should be resting. I'm 'pissed' because-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up. I don't give a fuck. How could you do this?"

Takami sighs, shrugging off his coat, and sitting down on his own blankets to undo his shoes. "I don't know what they've told you, or what kind of impression you're under, but everyone had a choice. They all knew. They all voted. They all decided to eat. They all chose to keep living."

"I sure as hell didn't know what you were feeding me!"  

There's more than just Mitsui sniffling softly behind him, now. Touya ignores them, focusing all his helpless horror and rage on the man who kept bringing him food, day after day after day. 

"No," Takami says, and his face is cold and impersonal as he speaks. There's no trace of that affable look anymore. All that remains is the bird of prey, staring out of Takami's eyes. 

"You were dying. I won't apologize for saving your life, Touya, and if you're done being a fucking child about this and get your head out of your ass, then consider this; if nothing else, you can console yourself that you didn't choose to eat another human being. That's more than the rest of us can – so maybe be grateful for that."

Touya is about to bite back, words of violence and rage on the tip of his tongue, but Takami interrupts him just as he opens his mouth.

"But that ended today, you realize that, right? I'm pissed at Kamata, Mitsui and Kojima because yeah, now you, too, have to make that choice. Right up until now, you were still blameless and innocent here, but they just dragged you down into hell with the rest of us!"

The words ring through the room. He keeps his eyes locked to Touya's. There's a clear challenge in them that Touya would normally be rising up to meet, but the words make him falter. 

Takami's right.

Touya has to choose, now. 

Sakuma had looked bashful but proud, when she returned with her newly short hair. Honda had laughed, asking if she'd really give up her looks for a job, because that was Honda in a nutshell.

Sakuma just smiled.

In the beginning, it felt like he should have been seeing results faster.

Sure, it had only been a couple of days of having actual food again, and it wasn't like Touya would be able to regain all his lost weight in that time – but surely his complexion should've started improving? He was still gaunt and grey, looking as if colour had leached from his skin little by little. 

It was as if he was turning into a grayscale picture where he used to be made of vibrant colours. As if Death has already put a hand on Touya's shoulder, calling him home. 

Well. Fuck that.

He increases Touya's meals, both in size and frequency. He chooses the meat he assumes has the most nutrients, leaving the rest for the others.

It helps.

Touya rouses faster than he used to, which is a nice change to see. He grumbles and protests, but he eats the meat shoved in his hands, drinks some broth made of bones and blood, and then falls back asleep again. 

He repeats the process over and over again. Waking Touya, feeding him extra pieces of food and making him drink. Any time the others are outside, he uses the opportunity to push some extra meat into his firestarter.

Touya breathes easier. Colour starts to return. He talks more. He laughs. He stays up longer, he sits up by himself, and becomes just a little more alive every day. 

Worth it, then. Worth the risk. Worth the extra work. Worth it, to hide the extra body and reduce it to bite-sized chunks he can smuggle back inside to force into Touya's mouth. There are upsides to none of the others being able to stomach the work; they never come to where he stores the food. 

No one notices dwindling rations if they don't know the real size of their pantry. 

Worth the confrontation, too, when Touya found out exactly what he's been eating. It was ugly for a moment, but survival instinct almost always wins. The meals Touya missed before he finally caved isn't enough to hurt him – especially since he's been getting more than anyone knew, and he still is. 

Touya finishes chewing his extra meal that he still thinks is part of his regular rations, and after a few more snarky comments curls back under his blankets. He never really deals well with eating, these days.

It's fine. Touya will survive. That's the important part. 

He makes sure the firestarter is asleep, brushing some of that hair away from Touya's face, before turning around – and looks right into wide, upset eyes.

Kawano. 

Kawano, who has clearly been standing there for a moment. 

"I knew it," he breathes, anger and disgust starting to make his lips curl as he looks between him and Touya. "I knew he was getting better too fast. How much of our food have you been giving him?"

He sighs.

This is going to be unpleasant.

"Answer me!" Kawano yells, and oh. That might wake Touya.

That really won't do.