Crimson Marks

The first time Tomura Shigaraki saw Natsuo Todoroki up close, it was not the white hair or the gentle curve of his jaw that caught his attention—it was the way Natsuo flinched at a sudden noise, a quiet, ingrained fear that made Shigaraki’s fingers twitch with something other than destruction. They were in a quiet café near the university, an odd place for a villain to linger, but Shigaraki had been bored, and boredom led him to strange observations. Natsuo sat alone, nursing a cup of tea, and when their eyes met across the room, Shigaraki offered a slow, deliberate smile.

Natsuo looked away first, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. That was interesting.

Shigaraki rose, his long coat brushing against the table as he moved, and crossed the room with the easy confidence of a predator who knew his prey was already intrigued. He slid into the seat opposite Natsuo without invitation, resting his chin on his hand as he studied the younger man. “You’re the Todoroki who got smart and stayed out of the hero business,” he said, voice low and almost teasing. “Smart move.”

Natsuo’s throat bobbed. “What do you want?”

“Company.” Shigaraki’s red eyes gleamed. “You look like you could use some too.”

Before Natsuo could respond, a scarred hand slammed down on the table, rattling the cup. Dabi loomed beside them, blue eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “Step away from him, Shigaraki.”

Shigaraki didn’t flinch. “Touya. How domestic. Didn’t know you had a watchdog role.”

“He’s my brother.” Dabi’s voice was a low growl. “And you’re going to get up and walk away, or I’ll burn you to ash right here.”

The café’s few patrons had already fled. Natsuo looked between them, heart pounding, but Shigaraki merely tilted his head, reaching out to lift Natsuo’s chin with two fingers. The touch was feather-light, careful, not a single finger descending. “Pretty thing. I’ll see you again, Natsuo.”

Dabi grabbed Shigaraki’s wrist and yanked him away, flames flickering at his shoulders. “Don’t you fucking touch him.”

Shigaraki laughed, a dry, rasping sound. “Possessive. I’m not after you, Dabi. I want him.” He nodded at Natsuo, who sat frozen, lips parted. “And I always get what I want.”

With that, Shigaraki melted into the shadows of the alley, leaving Dabi trembling with rage and Natsuo more confused than ever.

---

The next week, Natsuo started changing. Fuyumi noticed it first: the subtle tint of gloss on his lips, the slim black shorts that hugged his thighs when he went out, the way he paused at the mirror longer. Shoto, passing by the bathroom, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Enji Todoroki was, as usual, blind to anything that did not involve hero rankings.

Natsuo told himself it was nothing. Just experimenting. But every time he saw his reflection, he remembered the warmth of Shigaraki’s fingers on his chin, the promise in those crimson eyes. It was wrong—Shigaraki was a villain, the leader of the League, Touya’s boss and tormentor. Yet Natsuo couldn’t stop replaying the moment.

He started taking different paths home, lingering in parks and quiet streets. The third day, Shigaraki found him on a bench under a cherry tree, petals drifting like snow. “You’re waiting for me,” Shigaraki said, sitting too close, his knee pressing against Natsuo’s. “That’s sweet.”

“I’m not—” Natsuo started, but Shigaraki’s hand cupped his jaw, tilting his face upward.

“Liar.” Shigaraki’s thumb traced Natsuo’s lower lip, smearing the gloss. “You did this for me.”

Natsuo’s breath hitched. “You’re insane.”

“Probably.” Shigaraki leaned in, lips brushing Natsuo’s ear. “But you like it.”

He pulled back just as footsteps thundered toward them. Dabi, again, appearing like a vengeful ghost. “I told you to stay away!”

Shigaraki stood lazily, brushing off his coat. “And I ignored you. We’re going in circles, Touya.” He turned to Natsuo, eyes dark with promise. “Until next time, little snowflake.”

Dabi grabbed Natsuo’s arm and hauled him up. “We’re going home. Now.”

That night, in the Todoroki household, the argument was brutal. Dabi cornered Natsuo in his room, his voice a hiss of smoke and fury. “You don’t understand what he is. What he’s done. He’s using you, Natsuo. You’re not just some casual fling to him—you’re a weapon, a way to get to me or to Shoto. He’ll destroy you.”

“Maybe I don’t care!” Natsuo shouted back, tears burning. “Maybe I’m tired of being the invisible one, the one who doesn’t matter. He sees me, Touya. He makes me feel real.”

Dabi’s expression twisted. “He’s a monster.”

“So are you,” Natsuo whispered. Dabi recoiled as if struck, and for a moment, the rage guttered into something broken. Then he spun and left, slamming the door so hard the frame cracked.

---

Two days later, Shigaraki appeared at Natsuo’s bedroom window at midnight. How he got past the security, Natsuo didn’t know, but when he pulled back the curtain, Shigaraki was there, smiling, one gloved hand pressed to the glass. Natsuo’s heart raced. He opened the window.

“You’re insane,” Natsuo breathed.

“You said that.” Shigaraki climbed inside, then paused, tilting his head. “But you opened the window.”

They met in secret after that. Hidden corners of the city, late-night rooftops, once a quiet bookstore where Shigaraki teased him about his taste in romance novels. Shigaraki was patient in his own way—he never used his quirk near Natsuo, always kept his touch light, as if he understood the weight of destruction in his hands. When he kissed Natsuo the first time, it was fierce and claiming, pressing him against a brick wall with a hunger that stole Natsuo’s breath. He left marks, deep purple bruises that bloomed on Natsuo’s neck like flowers, and Natsuo wore them with a dizzying mix of shame and pride.

Natsuo started coming home with swollen lips and a dazed look that made Dabi’s fury spike into open violence. Once, Dabi caught him in the hallway, grabbing his collar to examine the welts. “He’s marking you like property,” Dabi snarled. “You’re not a whore, Natsuo. You’re a Todoroki.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a Todoroki,” Natsuo shot back, shoving him away. “Maybe I just want to be me.”

Dabi’s flames ignited, singeing the wallpaper. “Then you’re a fool. He’ll get you killed.”

---

The revelation about Shoto came during one of their secret meetings. Shigaraki, lying on a blanket in an abandoned greenhouse, idly traced patterns on Natsuo’s bare shoulder. “There’s a villain targeting your little brother,” he said casually. “A group that wants to dissect his quirk, see how fire and ice can coexist. You should warn him.”

Natsuo sat up sharply. “What? How do you know?”

“I hear things.” Shigaraki’s eyes glinted. “I could stop it, if I wanted. But I’d need a reason.”

Natsuo’s heart clenched. “Is that a threat?”

“No.” Shigaraki sat up too, cupping Natsuo’s face. “It’s an offer. I’d protect your family—even the ones I hate—for you. That’s not something I say lightly.”

Natsuo told Dabi the next day, expecting rage. Instead, Dabi went pale, then stormed out without a word. He returned hours later, reeking of smoke. “Shigaraki wasn’t lying. I found the bastards. They’re dealt with.” He wouldn’t meet Natsuo’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean I trust him. He’s still using you.”

“He helped.”

“He’s manipulating you!” Dabi roared. “Can’t you see? He gives you a little information, plays the hero, and you fall deeper into his trap.”

“Or maybe he actually cares!” Natsuo’s voice cracked. “Maybe someone finally cares about me, not my quirk or my family name. You’re so convinced I’m worthless that you can’t imagine anyone wanting me for real.”

Dabi froze. His fire flickered out. “That’s not… you’re not worthless.”

“Then let me make my own choices.”

---

The tipping point came when Enji Todoroki discovered the truth. One of his sidekicks had reported seeing Natsuo with a known villain. Enji cornered Natsuo in his study, flames licking at his shoulders, his voice a thunderclap. “You will stop this foolishness immediately. You are not to leave this house except for university, and I will have you escorted at all times.”

“You can’t do that!” Natsuo protested.

“I am your father, and I will not allow you to disgrace this family.” Enji’s eyes were hard. “If you defy me, you will find yourself confined to this house entirely.”

Natsuo broke down that night, sobbing into his pillow. Fuyumi tried to comfort him, but he pushed her away. Shoto stood in the doorway, expression torn. “I’ll talk to him,” Shoto offered.

“Don’t bother,” Natsuo choked. “Nothing you say will change his mind.”

Later, Dabi slipped into his room. Without a word, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Natsuo into a rough hug. “I hate him. He’s a villain. He’s dangerous. But…” Dabi’s voice was strained. “I won’t let Dad lock you up. If you really care about Shigaraki, I’ll help you see him.”

Natsuo looked up, stunned. “You mean that?”

“I mean I’ll break your legs if he hurts you.” Dabi’s grip tightened. “But I’m done being like him.” He jerked his head toward the door, where Enji’s heavy footsteps could be heard. “Fuck him.”

---

The next evening, Dabi created a diversion—a small fire in a warehouse that required Endeavor’s immediate attention—and Natsuo slipped out. He found Shigaraki waiting on a rooftop overlooking the city, the wind whipping his pale hair. Natsuo walked up to him, heart pounding.

“My family’s falling apart because of this,” Natsuo said.

Shigaraki turned, and for once, there was no smirk. “Is that what you want? To stop?”

Natsuo shook his head. “No. I don’t want to stop. I want…” He took a shaky breath. “I want you. All of you. I don’t care about the consequences anymore.”

Shigaraki crossed the space between them and kissed him, deep and desperate, gloved hands cradling Natsuo’s face. “You’re braver than any hero I’ve ever met,” he murmured against his lips. “And I’ve killed a lot of heroes.”

Natsuo laughed, a tear slipping down his cheek. “That’s a terrible compliment.”

“I’m a terrible person.” Shigaraki rested his forehead against Natsuo’s. “But I’ll burn the world down before I let anyone take you from me. Including your father.”

“Including Touya?”

“Especially Touya.” But Shigaraki’s tone was almost fond. “He’s your brother. I won’t kill him unless I have to.”

When Natsuo returned home that night, his neck was a map of fresh bruises, and his lips were cherry-red. Dabi was waiting in the shadows of the hallway. He took one look at Natsuo and something in his expression shifted—resignation, maybe, or a grudging acceptance. “Don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart,” Dabi muttered, but he walked Natsuo to his room and stood guard until dawn.

The next morning, Enji found a letter on his desk, written in elegant script: “Touch Natsuo again, and I’ll show you what a real villain looks like. – T.S.” The rage that followed was volcanic, but for the first time, Natsuo didn’t flinch. He had someone who saw him, someone who would fight for him. And maybe that was worth any price.

---

Weeks passed. Natsuo continued his studies, but he also continued his secret meetings. He learned to navigate the double life with a grace born of desperation: the dutiful son at home, the beloved of a villain outside. Shigaraki was possessive but surprisingly tender in quiet moments, reading to Natsuo from old books, teaching him about the decay of society and the beauty in destruction. Natsuo started to see the cracks in Shigaraki’s armor, the lonely child who had been twisted by cruelty. He didn’t excuse it, but he understood.

Dabi, true to his word, covered for Natsuo more often than not. He still bristled whenever Shigaraki’s name came up, still threatened to burn down the League’s hideout, but he also started talking to Shoto and Fuyumi about breaking away from Enji’s control. The Todoroki household, long a pressure cooker of repressed trauma, began to shift. Shoto, ever protective, kept a close eye on Natsuo, but his skepticism softened into a quiet support. Fuyumi, caught between hope and fear, baked extra food for Natsuo’s “study sessions” and pretended not to notice the marks.

One night, on a rooftop under a crescent moon, Shigaraki knelt in front of Natsuo, holding out a simple silver chain with a pendant shaped like a snowflake. “It’s not a ring,” he said, almost shy. “I’m not good at… this. But I want you to know it’s real. You’re mine, Natsuo Todoroki. And I’m yours.”

Natsuo let him clasp the chain around his neck, tears blurring his vision. “I love you,” he whispered, the words terrifying and true.

Shigaraki’s breath caught. Then he smiled, a real smile that softened his scarred face into something almost human. “I love you too, little snowflake. More than I ever thought I could love anything.”

They sealed the words with a kiss, the city sprawled beneath them like a promise of chaos and creation. And somewhere in the distance, Dabi watched from a neighboring rooftop, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He didn’t intervene. For the first time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, his brother had found something worth fighting for. Even if it was a monster.

Even if they were all monsters, in the end.