Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all starts on the night of his fifth birthday.

Everyone was sat at the table after dinner was packed away and the table had been cleared. The cake was brought out by his mother with the candles already lit and set down in front of him. With the lights in the room dimmed, his eyes reflected the flames that glowed in contrast. When the last notes of a birthday song faded out, he was prompted to make a wish. Looking around at everyone at the table, he closed his eyes and made a silent wish with all his heart. When he opened his eyes, he took a breath with his fists held up against his chest and blew.

However, instead of the candles blowing out with a gust of wind, he blew out a small stream of fire. With a gasp of surprise and shock, he jolted back and looked down at his hands as his left flickered into flames while his right side started to frost over.

With a squeal of excitement and a smile that brightens in awe at his newly established Quirk, he did not notice the look of fear and apprehension on the face of his mothers and the look of greed in his fathers as he gazed down at him with a manic grin while his siblings clapped and cheered in excitement with him.

When he looked up at the two, his mother quickly schooled her expression into a gentle smile and clapped her hands once, resting the back of them against her cheek. “My~ Shoto, what a wonderful Quirk, aren’t you excited?”

He gave a nod of affirmation, “mm! My Quirk is so cool, my wish really did come true. Look papa,” he lifted up his hands to showcase his Quirk to his father that sat to his left, “It’s so warm on my left and cool on my right!”

With a grunt, he mumbled as he looked on at the flames and ice with a thoughtful expression, “a Quirk befitting of the number one hero.”

That same night after going to bed, dreams and visions of a life that isn’t his, but it feels like it is starts to appear. Of kind parents and an older sister. Of snow and laughter. Of warm hands and gentle smiles. What a nice dream, he thinks. He hopes that he has more good dreams like this.

But he hoped too soon.

The next morning, he wakes up, he feels as if his body temperature has risen to abnormal temperatures, yet at the same time, he feels cold chills running down his body and he can’t stop shivering. With a check-up from his mother and a call of their family doctor for a home visit, reveals a heavy fever that should be closely monitored and had continued to last for the next three days. The consensus seems to be due to the appearance of his Quirk and his body attempting to adjust to two vastly different temperatures of his left and right sides. However, it is anything but that.

In those three days, his dreams and visions get worse as he ebbs and flows between being conscious and unconscious. With not being able to differentiate what is real and not as his mother comes to take care of him during those days.

He dreams of parents long gone, passed due to an illness that couldn’t be cured and from then on, it was only him and his older sister. His sister, whose appearance had long braided raven-colored hair that was tied with a bow, deep ocean blue eyes matching his dream-self and wearing a plain maroon colored kimono with a black hakama tied just below her chest.

Time passes in his dreams and suddenly, he dreams of someone new entering their lives. His sister meets a well-off and kind man, who treats his sister with the happiness she deserves, who takes them out to festivals and games as they both so obviously falls in love with each other. Words and dialogue continue to pass between the people around him which sounds like they were underwater. Warbled and unfocused.

Time keeps on passing and skips like a reel of film as he keeps looking in the perspective of someone small, yet a little bigger now. They were inside their home this time as he takes his older sister’s hand. Words are muffled, directed towards him and he can feel his mouth moving with no words coming out in return, but he can tell with the traditional white wedding dress she carries in her other hand that it is the night before her wedding.

Everything starts to slow and go downhill from there. These nightmares are often fuzzy he notices. The happier ones are clear, but these were one of the fuzzy ones, so that’s how he knows. He knows that something is going to go wrong, but he can’t stop whatever it was from happening. He can’t stop it; he can’t stop it.

The nightmare begins with a sudden thud at the front door, which jolts the two out of their stupor, followed by scratching as if someone is trying to pry the sliding door open. His older sister knows that something is wrong and takes immediate action by gently grabbing his wrist and tugs him down the hallway and into her room. With a glance around the room, she guides him to a cabinet of her dresser and putting her dress aside, pulls open the wooden door at the bottom to peek inside to make sure it was empty. She faces him and guides him inside the cupboard until he’s all snug and he sees her mouth moving, it warbles for a second. Then suddenly her voice and the vision become clear. She’s saying, she’s saying--

“--ide in the cupboard Giyuu. Hide and don’t come out until I can come back, ok?”

Oh, so Shoto finally learns who he’s looking through the eyes of. But who exactly is Giyuu? The name feels familiar-- is familiar to him. But he doesn’t recall where he had heard it from until now. In any of his conversations in his dreams so far that wasn’t warbled, there were seemingly certain words of importance being blanked out. As if preventing him from knowing more.

The person-- Giyuu, he remembers --senses now that something is terribly wrong and feels himself shaking out of fear for his sister, so before she goes to close the door to the cupboard and leaves him alone to check the front door, he grabs the sleeve of her clothes. He speaks with a voice that wasn’t his, but small and scared just as he feels now. The bottom of his lips juts out in a wobbly pout as tears start to collect on the rim of his eyes. Shoto finds that he can’t control the words that come out of his mouth as these words aren’t his, but someone else’s. “Promise? Promise you’ll come back nee-chan?”

With a smile so warm, it reassured his fears and melted his heart, she nodded. “Yes, I promise ‘yuu. I’ll come back, so promise me that you won’t come out until then? Can you do that for me?”

He nods with determination, “mm, I promise nee-chan.”

“Good and don’t make a sound, ok?” He nods and let’s go of her sleeve as she hurries to close the door with a quiet thud, turning away after that, she quickly makes her way down the hall after closing the sliding door to her room. By that time the sliding door at the front rattles louder and creaks. The sounds of everything on the other side of the wooden door is muffled.

He’s not sure of how long he stays in the cupboard, but in the first half of the night, he hears Tsutako yelling, then there’s scratching noises and growling. Of breaking wood and splinters and the sounds of something shredding and ripping. Of chewing and liquid dripping onto the floor. He’s scared.

It swirls around in his head and makes him dizzy. Was it out of fear, worry, or the lack of air in the cupboard that was making him dizzy he doesn’t know, but he wants to go out there, he really does. He wants to make sure that his sister is ok, and everything is alright and that she wasn’t hurt. But then that would mean breaking the promise that they made to each other, and he doesn’t want to make his sister upset by coming out before she comes back.

There’s a lull in the noises and he thinks that everything is over until he heard heavy footsteps go down the hallways that gets closer to where he was hiding. That wasn’t his sisters’ footsteps. Who were they? Where was his sister? He hurries to cover his mouth with both of his hands and tries to shimmy backwards as much as he could in the tiny space as the door to the room slides open and the heavy footsteps go around the room. At one point it stops in front of the cupboard, and he holds his breath and closes his eyes tight. Tears start to gather at the corner of his eyes as he loses the oxygen in his lungs at the long wait. Too afraid to take a breath in the event that whoever came into their house could hear. What felt like hours, was only a couple seconds as the footsteps started moving out of the room and left the house.

He releases the pent-up breath that he held back and even if he knows that whomever it was has left, his sister has not yet returned. So, he waits and waits. He forces himself to stay awake throughout the night and only when the light streams in through the windows and slivers through the cracks at the bottom of the cupboard door, does he slowly open the door and crawls out. He looks around and stands up as he whispers out loud, “nee-chan?” She hasn’t returned yet and he knows he’s breaking the promise, but it’s now morning and whoever it was had left, which means that everything is safe now, right?

That was until his eyes land on a smear of blood across the floorboards around the room leading out into the hallway. His blood freezes with a gasp and before he thinks any longer, he sprints out the door and down the hall. The more he runs, the more blood he sees splattered everywhere until he makes it to the room near the front door. He skids to a stop when he sees where all the blood pools around a solid form crumpled on the floor, face unrecognizable and intestines strewn about.

He dreams of the dark, of fangs and claws, of blood so heavy he can even smell it. Iron so strong and metallic, it tickles the back of his throat and makes him choke. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

He dreams of, “Tsutako-nee?”

And he wakes drenched in cold sweat.

Chapter Text

After taking deep gulping breaths, he finds that his fever has broken, and his room had increased in temperature. His left side flickers in and out of flames while his other side is frosted over and slowly being melted by the heat of the room before becoming steam. With a gasp, he sits up and hurries to calm down as he figures it was the best way to turn off his Quirk before he ends up setting his room and house on fire, even as he’s panicking and sobbing quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up.

It works after a few tries and when it did, he noticed that there was an uncomfortable hum under his skin that he never felt before. It’s itchy and hot and it feels like his skin isn’t really his. His fingers twitch, wanting to do something about it, but not knowing what, he gave a frustrated huff while trying to stop crying, but winds up hiccupping through his sobs. However, recalling his dream, he jolts and scrambles out from his futon to pull out the sliding door and sprint over to his older sister’s Fuyumi’s room to make sure she’s ok.

Barely at the crack of dawn, he skids down around the winding hallways until he makes it in front of her room. Shoto anxiously looks around to make sure no one else was awake, knowing that he wasn’t really allowed in this part of the house before frantically knocking at her door and hurriedly wiping the tears from his eyes with his shirt as he sniffles. After a moment, he hears shuffling from the other side and soft footsteps before the sliding door pulls open. He looks up to see a tired-looking Fuyumi looking down at him. With a sigh in relief, he felt the tension disappear from his shoulders as they slump down.

“Fuyumi-nee.”

She yawned loudly in response and looked down at her little brother in confusion while rubbing her eye with her fist. “Mm? Shoto? What are you doing here so early? Aren’t you still sick?”

Shoto shook his head at this with a wobbly smile in an attempt to hide his unease, “mm, I’m all better now. See?” He still has a pale complexion from his nightmare and flushed cheeks, but he tries to smile a little more to persuade her. He leans over a little to the side to peek into her room and turns back to her before looking down at his hands as they fidget together. “But nee-chan? Is it ok if I get into bed with you? I-- I had a nightmare.”

At this, she looked on in slight surprise and concern. After all, she would’ve expected that he goes to their mother rather than her after a nightmare. However, she quickly nodded, stepping to the side with a soft smile. “Yeah, of course. Come in.” She peers out of the door and down the hallway before gently grabbing his wrist and tugging him inside. At the invitation, he grins and steps into her room before grabbing her wrist back and gently pulling her to follow. With a giggle, Fuyumi let him pull her in after she closed the door and joined him under her futon where she hugged him close under the blanket. She wants to ask what his nightmare was about, but winds up not doing so since she figures that he doesn’t want to talk about it and proceeds to slowly fall back asleep. Comforted by the warmth of Fuyumi’s hug and knowing that she was safe allowed him to do the same as he felt his eyes flutter to a close.

The same dream-- no, nightmare continues to cycle repeatedly some days even after he’s no longer ill. He comes to be afraid of the dark and makes sure to check his closet and around his room so that the Demons-- and that’s what they’re called. They’re monsters with claws and fangs that eat human flesh and blood. They only come out at night, and it feels right to call them Demons --are not waiting for him to fall asleep before eating him and his family. Not again, not again.

He wakes up after that and usually goes to Fuyumi each time. Shoto once tried to tell her about his nightmares. Only about the Demons though. Never about the family in his dreams that were familiar to him somehow, like he knows them. Even if he doesn’t at the same time. He never recalls meeting them before after all, but it feels wrong to reject and deny them as people he doesn’t actually know.

However, Fuyumi says that Demons weren’t real, and they were a figment of his imagination. That his fever was probably so bad, he thought he saw them through the haze of his pain. But he knows that’s not true. He knows that they’re real. When his sister laughed and tried to reassure him in her own way, not believing a word he said as he continued to try and convince her that Demons are real, it left a bad taste in his mouth and made him want to cry, but he doesn’t really know why. Maybe because she made him feel like a baby? In the end, he didn’t say anything.

A week later, his father starts to come to take him to train.

But it’s hard. So hard. He can’t keep up with his father’s training regimen, even though he feels like he should. He wants to be a hero, right? He could be even stronger than All Might just like his father said. But why can’t he do this? It’s too hard and it really hurts.

At one of his training sessions, he finds himself kneeling on the ground and clutching his stomach as he vomits what remains of his previous meal. Tears dribble down his cheeks in pain as he coughs and tries to regain his breathing.

His father towers over him with his flaming beard and mustache, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Stand up! If you’re drowned by something like this, forget beating All Might, you won’t even be able to take the small fry villains--"

His mother quickly comes to his aid by kneeling besides him. “Please, stop! He’s only five!”

“He’s already five! Get out of my way!”

At the sound of a smack and a thud, Shoto looks up with a startled gasp to see his mother crumpled up on the floor and holding her already reddening cheek. The image overlaps to his nightmare with Tsutako crumpled and dead on the ground.

“Mama--!”

He rushes to her side before looking up at his father with a confused and fearful expression. Shakily standing back up, he moves to stand between him and his mother, blocking his way with arms outstretched in a protective stance before shifting into one with his fists raised. His attempt at bravado fails him due to the trembling of his limbs and panicked breathing. The lack of control making his Quirk flicker in and out.

This isn’t right. Heroes weren’t supposed to hurt people, right? So why did father just hurt mother? Why did he hit her?

He feels so scared, facing his father who towers above him and who could easily pummel him down. But as he recalls his nightmares, he doesn't want to feel that weak again, unable to protect his sister at that time, so he’ll make sure to protect everyone else he cares about this time. This time? He shakes his head.

He wants to become stronger and to do so, he’ll have to train. With that thought in mind, he breathes in slow and deep while making eye contact with his father, the change is near immediate as the trembling in his limbs die down along with his Quirk. He made his decision and he’ll keep it. With a newfound determination, he shouts, “I’ll do it. I’ll keep training papa, so don't hurt mama anymore, ok?!"

Not noticing the tears of his mother behind him, she mumbles a small, “Shoto...” After contemplating, he agrees with a huff and orders his mother out of the training room. Shoto helps her stand up and before she left, the two gaze at each other out of worry, but he musters up a shaky smile to reassure her. Once she closed the door behind her, training continued.

Shoto sat with his mother on the couch in the living area as a segment of an All Might interview overlaps with his debut plays. This is one of the free times that happens where his father is too busy with work to train him and when he is able to spend time with his mother. As All Might speaks, his words resonate with him.

“Yes, that’s right! Children inherit Quirks from their parents. But the really important thing is not that connection, but recognizing your own flesh and blood-- recognizing yourself. That’s what I mean when I say: ‘I am here!’ You see?”

Holding him tight she says, “you don’t have to be a prisoner of your blood. It’s ok for you to become who you want to be.”

His mother’s words reassure him and steadies his wavering heart.

Over the next few months, his dreams and nightmares comes and goes. He’s not sure what to make of it yet. Too young to understand the implications behind them and why they reoccur. It happens whenever he’s sleeping at night or as he falls unconscious from his father’s brutal training.

However, at that point he often considers all the training he’s going through to be a welcome distraction to his nightmares. He’s only five though. Is it really ok for him to overthink these things? That he prefers getting beaten up black and blue rather than being constantly reminded of his nightmares? He wonders why he keeps getting these dreams and nightmares even after he wasn’t sick anymore.

He gazes out from the second floor with shining eyes out into the inner courtyard where his older siblings freely laughs and giggles while they all play with a ball. His father hasn’t come for him yet, so he thinks on whether or not he could join them before he does. Before he could decide however, he hears the telltale sounds of his father’s heavy footsteps thudding on the wooden floorboards and looks up as the man harshly grabs his wrist to drag him away for training.

“Don’t look at that, Shoto. They’re from a different world than you.”

His words resonate with him as well and unearths a familiar feeling in his chest.

He feels like it’s true and his words gets interpreted differently in his mind. They really are from a different world then he is. After all, he doesn’t feel worthy to play with his siblings as equals. They were so big, smart, and strong. Would they even want to play with him when he was so small and weak? He knows Fuyumi might, but what about Touya or Natsuo? He wants to become stronger, so maybe when he does, they can let him play with them by then.

At this thought, he hurries to keep up with his father.

Chapter Text

Shoto gets a new nightmare this time. It was a continuation of the night Tsutako dies, but just like the last time, it was clear.

After seeing the crumpled form of his dead sister on the ground. Scared and unsure of what to do, he hurries to run out into the town to get help. However, when he attempts to do so, telling people that his older sister had gotten attacked and killed by a Demon, the townsfolks around him believes him to be mad and delusional after checking out the scene. Claiming that it was likely a bear that had attacked based on the gruesome scene of bitten off flesh and claw marks along both the floor and walls. So, they decided to send him away with his distant relatives to be admitted to a mental hospital.

On their way there after his distant relatives had picked him up, he finds an opening and escapes into the mountains but had gotten lost. All he saw were snow as he traveled for hours before he fell unconscious with the cold. His vision fading away into black.

The next time he wakes up and his vision clears, he thinks he’s woken back up into the real world until he notices that he’s covered under a different futon and near a fireplace in an unfamiliar home. He looks around until he sees an older man wearing a red tengu mask. Startled at the sight and uneasy on where he is, the man introduces himself as Urokodaki Sakonji. He soon gets prompted to explain why he was lost in the mountain and if he had any family that was expecting his return. Afraid that he wouldn't believe him, yet afraid that he would be returned should he not speak, he was conflicted on what to do. Though he was gently urged to tell the truth, in the end, he retells him everything. In return, he gets explained that Demons were indeed real and offers him to stay and train him as a swordsman. He quickly agrees and bows down towards him in gratitude.

He then dreams of meeting a boy his age with long peach-colored hair, lavender eyes and a scar that stretches across his right cheek named Sabito. Of the maroon kimono from his deceased sister that he was able to take with him and how he turned it into a haori of his own.

When he wakes. He does so in tears for a sister gone, leaving behind an empty hole in his heart and for a new family worming their way in.

The next time Shoto wakes is in the middle of the night. Fortunately, it was one of the nights where he wasn’t having the same dreams or nightmares, so he wasn’t sure what had woken him up in the end. Feeling thirsty, he slowly gets up out of his futon and room. He looks down both ways of the hallway then ignites the left side of his Quirk. Looking down at the flames with a smile, he feels comforted by its warmth and moves to brush the fingers of his other hand over it before he pulls it away and reaches his left hand out as a source of light.

Warily making his way down to the kitchen, he notices that the lights were on inside, along with the sound of his mother’s voice. Nearing the slightly open door, Shoto felt relieved enough to turn off his Quirk and yawned before stopping at the tone of her voice. With a rub of his eye, he peers inside to curiously listen to whom she was talking to on the phone.

“Mom, I’m going crazy... I can’t take it anymore. Every day, the children seem to become more and more like him... Shoto’s... that child’s left side sometimes looks very unsightly to me... I can’t raise him anymore... I feel like I shouldn’t... and... he’s so obsessed with training to get stronger. Just like him... I don’t know why he is... he’s only five, it’s abnormal...”

He knows who his mother was referring to when he said, ‘him.’ Was his left side that ugly? A curse so bad that she felt like she can’t even look at him anymore? The side that looks exactly like his father. With flaming red hair and turquoise eye.

His mother sounded afraid and broken. He thought that he had protected her from his father as much as he could have every time he saw him beat his mother down both physically and emotionally. Did he fail after all? That was why he wanted to train harder, so that he could protect her as well, but was that wrong of him to do so? He wants to go in and comfort her, but even he can tell that she is in a fragile state right now. Mustering up the courage in a way where he won’t startle her when he gets her attention, he shifts his feet and takes a small step into the room.

“M-mama?”

The water in the kettle burns higher and hotter as its shrieking whistle pierces the kitchen and deafens the sounds around them. He sees that his mother stiffens at the sound of his voice and trembles as he slowly walks further into the room. He freezes in place when she snaps her head over to look at him with a broken expression of overwhelming fear and stress.

Before he could react, his mother grabbed the kettle, throwing it near his face, and he felt scalding hot water being splashed on his left side. Screaming in agony, he clutched at his burning face and kneeled onto the ground.

It hurts. It burns. It burns. Why mama? Whywhywhywhywhy--

All he can hear are his screams through his frantic sobbing and all he can feel are the hot burning pain on his face as his mother realizes what she’s done and runs to cradle him in her arms. In a panic, she uses her ice Quirk on her hand to try and help ease the burn on the left side of his face. Continuing to sob with tears streaming down his face he can feel her arms around him and hear her scream and cry but is unable to hear what she’s saying.

“AAAH, SHOTO!! I’M SO SORRY SHOTO!! WHAT HAVE I DONE?! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!”

After he returns home from being hospitalized, he enters the training room to meet with his father. The left side of his face including his eye was heavily bandaged as he leans against the door and listens as his father speaks.

“Good grief, this is an important time, too...”

“Where’s mama?” He croaks.

“Oh, she injured you, so I put her in a hospital.”

But it wasn’t her fault. It was because he looked like his father. It was his fault for being born like this. He was the one who scared her by stepping into the kitchen and bothering her at night. But he wanted to help, he was only just trying to help. Shoto was the one to put her into the hospital, but it was also--

“Your fault...” He mumbled.

“Huh?” His father looked down at him and in return he looked back up at him in a fierce glare and a louder voice with his fists balled up at his sides as frustrated tears streamed down his face. “It’s your fault. You’re the one who made mama...”

If it wasn’t for him. If it wasn’t for him. His mother wouldn’t have been so broken down and scared. If it wasn’t for him beating down his mother so badly that all she could see of Shoto’s face was his fathers, then she wouldn’t have gone away.

But he should’ve protected her better and he hates himself most of all for failing to do so.

His dreams and nightmares flashes by quicker during the next month. The old ones still cycle around, but it’s the new ones that appear in quick succession that scares him.

In the middle of all this, Touya dies. A funeral is held. And his sixth birthday passes all in the blink of an eye.

With no time and rest to spare, Shoto dreams of growing and training together with Sabito under the tutelage of Urokodaki, who is warm like the sun and a father figure that they needed. He dreams of entering Final Selection with Sabito, getting injured on the first day and getting saved by him before being thrusted into the hands of another boy as his best friend runs off after another voice crying for help. A week passes until he wakes up and realizes that it’s all over and he passes by luck. There was someone named Murata relaying him of the news that Sabito had protected everyone on the mountain by slaying every single Demon but one at the cost of his own life.

Shoto dreams of coming back from Final Selection with Sabito’s haori. Of shame and sorrow of revealing to sensei that one of them has failed and the other shouldn’t be alive. But all Urokodaki says is that he's thankful that he's alive and that he came back. He sews half of Sabito's haori with half of Tsutako’s to wear as a way to keep them close with him.

His eyes flutter open as he wakes with the remnants of tears sticking to his lashes.

He dreams of snow, the mountains, of running and the biting wind brushing through his hair and his Nichirin sword grasped tightly in his hand. There, he’s facing an older brother and his newly turned Demon sister as the brother is trying to convince him that he can find a cure to turn his sister back into a human. He gets angry and starts to shout. Demanding, and testing that the older brother gathers the will to fight back.

The boy-- and that’s what the other is since Shoto himself is a lot older here --fights with the intent to bring him down with a straightforward attack using his hatchet, even after knowing that he would lose. After he had knocked the boy out and the hatchet was embedded in the tree next to his head, he gets kicked away by the Demon sister while in his thoughts. Alarmed that she would end up eating her brother, his eyes slightly widen to see her protecting him and even having gall to intimidate him to do so. Perhaps these two siblings were different after all. He winds up sparing the Demon by knocking her out as well and fastening a bamboo muzzle in her mouth before sending the two to Urokodaki with a letter in advance.

Before he knows it, he blinks awake with a small hope in his heart.

There’s another mountain again, where he is sent on a mission partnered with Kocho Shinobu to Mount Natagumo by Oyakata on the possibility of facing one of the Twelve Kizuki’s after many of the slayers have died. Rushing through the forest, he enters a clearing where a slayer is held captive by a Blood Demon Art and cuts through before beheading Lower Moon Five. At the realization that he’s meeting the Kamado siblings again after two years, he finds himself stepping in front of them and deflecting Kocho’s blade against attacking the Demon sister. Shoto tells them to run, all of which is breaking the Demon Slayer Corps rules.

It skips to the arrival of Oyakata where he finds himself kneeling in the garden with the others as he listens to Urokodaki’s letter being read; depicting that in the event should Nezuko ever attack a human then Tanjiro, Urokodaki and himself would commit seppuku. Indifferent to the agreements and disagreements of the other Hashira’s, he stays kneeling. Even as Shinazugawa moves to slice his own arm before throwing Nezuko’s box into the shade and jumping in after to drip blood onto her box to tempt her into attacking him. While Obanai prevented Tanjiro from moving, Shoto lifted himself up and moved to grab tightly to Obanai’s wrist, pulling his arm away from Tanjiro as he rushes up to the engawa. The air is tense and still as everyone watches closely when Shinazugawa stabbed Nezuko’s box before opening it to continuously provoke her of his Marechi blood. They all continue to observe her struggling before seeing her sharply turning away. Internally relieved, Shoto goes back to kneeling. When one of his daughter explains what had just occurred, Oyakata gives a small smile and states that this is now proof that she will not attack humans.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers up at his ceiling, feeling grateful.

There is an emergency summons of an attack at Ubuyashiki’s estate. Shoto finds himself running out in desperation for the master. But stops to watch in horror as an explosion appears in the distance. From there the destruction and force of it is felt as the air blows past his face and ashes have fallen. Without another second, he finally runs into the clearing of the estate at the same time as the other Hashira’s has and Himejima shouts to start attacking at the appearance of Kibitsuji Muzan.

Before all their combined attacks can hit, he along with the others disappears into the Infinity Castle below them. Through traversing across the castle, Shoto ends up encountering and battling Upper Moon Three with Tanjiro. The same Demon who had killed Rengoku. The Hashira who was as bright as the flame breathing he wielded. There, he feels his heartbeat and body temperature spiking as he finally gains his Demon Slayer Mark on his left cheek.

In a battle hard-fought, he sees Tanjiro beheading the Demon and of Akaza-- the Demon --attempting to regenerate and continue fighting by sealing his sliced neck. He finds himself standing in between the two to protect Tanjiro. He shouts and, in the end, watches as the Demon used his own attack on himself before inevitably crumbling away.

They appear back on the surface from the Infinity Castle and begins battling Muzan along with the other remaining Hashira's. Without stopping, he continues to throw consecutive attacks and stalling for the sunrise. Blades are clashed. Shoto’s thrown into a building with his right arm cut off, but he stubbornly stands and continues to fight by using his left.

Then he dreams of the sunrise and winning the final battle.

With that, he wakes.

Lastly, he dreams of having short hair, kneeling in front of Kiriya, the newly appointed master of the Corps who was still only but a child is sat between his two remaining younger sisters while he is next to Shinazugawa and being told of the disbanding of the corps.

He sees Urokodaki again afterwards and he finds himself smiling more often. He’s started to reply and send letters to Tanjiro and having lunched bento boxes with Shinazugawa and bathing in the hot springs with Uzui and his wives.

His dreams start to slow to the end of his life as he’s the first to die from the mark at age 25. He spends his last year living on Mount Sagiri with Urokodaki. It’s a life that he feels he is content with, and he passes away quietly, yet peacefully sitting next to the split boulder in the forest that Tanjiro had cut, exhaling his last breath.

Startled, he wakes up in tears and a sharp inhale, taking his first breath as Tomioka Giyuu, the Water Hashira. These were no dreams nor were they nightmares. These were his memories, and he was reincarnated. Over 250 years into the future.

Chapter Text

His name is Tomioka Giyuu, but ah, no, that’s not right. Todoroki Shoto was his name now. Not Tomioka Giyuu. Not anymore. He has to get used to that. It would be a pain now if he doesn’t answer someone when they call the name he was born with in this life. He huffs under his breath and sits up in his futon, looking down at his lap. After a second, he moves to clench his shaking hands together in order to will them to steady, balling his blanket up while doing so and gritting his teeth from his overwhelming thoughts, ignoring the pounding headache that was throbbing from his temple.

Now that he remembers, what should he do now? With his memories, he starts to feel the effects of phantom pains that comes along with a missing right limb. Did that seriously just reincarnate with him? Or was it the aftereffects of just receiving that last memory? He hopes it’s the latter as he scrutinizes his tiny six-year-old hands. The last time he was six was when he was living with his... sister... He shakes his head at the memory, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing his blanket up to cover his face-- almost forgetting that he had his right limb again, his right limb --to hide away the tears threatening to spill. Stop. Stop. No more. That memory is long past now. He should’ve already been moving past that, but even in this new life of his, it seems that he never will.

Taking the time to compose himself, he brings his blanket down and looks at the side to see the time on his digital clock, seeing that it was early morning. It would be a while until the rest of his family wakes up. And isn’t that a weird thought to have? He has a family again. A family.

He rubs his eyes with the back of his left hand and sighs dejectedly while massaging his right hand before schooling his expression to his usual deadpan. He gazes directly across him to stare at the door while thinking and organizing his thoughts and memories, separating them from each other based on prioritization and importance.

For right now, his memories of his past life were not important. The vital thing was what he knows of this era and what he was going to do first in the present. Even if he had all the knowledge of a 25-year-old in a six-year-old’s body to use, the reality is that all his practical knowledge and experiences stems from the Taisho era. Though it would be a shame if that all went to waste if he somehow couldn’t use that knowledge for the current time. Plus, he doesn’t really want to forget anyways. The thought of doing so would essentially be denying who he was.

So, to start-- He’s living in a time where 80% of the world’s population has a Quirk and the remaining 20% are Quirkless. Quirks, which are like the Blood Demon Arts. The world is also prevalent in the idea of Heroes and Villains. Which can be comparable to the Demon Slayers and Demons. To be exact, it seems that he had reincarnated more than 250 years into the future. A lot has happened between the time he died and now huh?

Todoroki Shoto. The son of the number two hero, Endeavor. Also known as Todoroki Enji. He was the byproduct of an arranged Quirk Marriage with the Quirk Half-Cold, Half-Hot. He has three older siblings. One of which has recently passed away not too long ago... His face scrunches up at the memory. He wasn’t sure how to exactly feel about that. He wasn’t particularly close to Touya as he was starting to be with Fuyumi. The same could be said with Natsuo. He feels like they all just tolerated each other living in the same house. And right now, his mother is in a mental hospital due to the abuse she was suffering from his father’s hand.

His father is also training him so that he may pass All Might as the new number one hero. Even though he was training hard for a multitude of completely different reasons.

Wait-- does... does he even still want to be a hero right now? The realization made him slightly widen his eyes in thought. The idea of fighting again in this life, of becoming a hero now that he has his memories as Giyuu-- it makes him hesitate, as his dreams before were really Shoto’s dreams. But he could pretty much do something else-- anything else --with his life now that he has more of a choice. But what does he even want to do?

The reason why he chose to become a Demon slayer in the past was because his sister had died to one. Because he was raised and trained under Urokodaki’s wing along with Sabito-- Sabito. His best friend. The only one that had died in the Final Selection that year. Stop thinking, he’s doing it again. Stop. --to be able to prevent anyone else from going through the same things he did. His thoughts from the past echo back at him.

“The things entrusted to me are connected to the future.”

“I will not let my friends or family die in front of me again.”

In a world where heroes and villains run rampant, can he really do it again? Can he fight against the villains the same way he did to Demons? Obviously, he can’t go and decapitate them. The morals and ethics that society here has created is so that chaos can’t happen where heroes can go around killing villains on the guise of protecting people. Villains were still humans after all. Honestly, they’re pretty tame compared to Demons. Even Quirks in general kind of seemed less dangerous than the typical Blood Demon Arts.

He gave a small smile to himself at the idea and his expression starts to grow a little more excited the more he thinks about it. Becoming a hero would also mean that he can use his skillset as a Hashira again. He can protect and save people again. The way he couldn’t in his previous life. Especially now that he has a family again. A mother, a father, and older siblings. He won’t let them die in front of him again. Not ever.

Even at the mental risk of knowing that he won’t be able to save everyone again as a hero the same way as he did as a Demon slayer, he still endured on with this guilt of his before, right? As many as he can, as much as he can, he’s willing to do it all over again. In his past life and this life and in many other of his lives. Maybe this was why the heavens reincarnated him during this era? So that he can use his abilities as a Hashira to become a hero this time and fight against the villains? It was all he could do in his past life anyways. So why not? He also couldn’t help but think that maybe this was also a way of atonement for him for abandoning his sister to sacrifice herself to the Demon that night and for Sabito to fight through Final Selection alone since he was so useless that he couldn’t protect and save him.

At least this was one of the few things that he-- as both Giyuu and Shoto --can agree on. To be a hero.

Now that he has an end goal, to start, he should focus on getting his body up-to-par in relearning Total Concentration Breathing and move on to Total Concentration Breathing: Constant then Recovery Breathing. While doing so, he should do the same with getting his body used to the swift movements in the Water Breathing style swordsmanship again along with his 11th Form. Luckily, he remembers all of Urokodaki’s teachings. It may not be exact unless he can find a waterfall to meditate under and a mountain to set death-defying traps for himself-- though that would be ideal --along with the permission needed for a six-year-old to go there. As long as he can get his physical body up to speed. It should be fine.

To do this, he wonders if this era still practices kendo. He knows that a shinai is used, but he can use this as a way to obtain a bokken as well. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to possibly learn any new swordsmanship techniques that might’ve come up after the Taisho era. He can practice his breathing, swordsmanship, muscle strength, stamina, and a multitude of the other basics this way under the semblance of kendo to avoid suspicion on being practically self-taught. He can easily convince his father to allow him to practice it for most of these reasons as well.

Hopefully, he’ll agree if he can use these reasons to appease his demands. If he’s using kendo as a way to get stronger in place of training at home, than that’s something the two can agree on. He perks up, maybe he can even find a way to combine the Water Breathing style with his Quirk. To increase his offenses and defenses? Fortunately, it’s still early, so his father hasn’t gone to work yet and therefore he can ask him about it now over breakfast.

With a yawn he walks out of his room and starts to do his usual morning routine. When entering the bathroom and sliding the door shut behind him, he goes and looks at himself over the mirror. Reaching up with his hands, he pinches a lock of his red hair in one hand and white hair in the other, blinking lethargically at his heterochromia. He lets go of his hair and moves to squish his baby-faced cheeks before pinching them and stretching them apart. Letting go, he turns his head left and right, allowing him to clearly see his side profiles of bright red hair with turquoise eye and his white hair paired with his grey eye as his hair swishes around. Even after looking at his reflection, he doesn’t really feel that he’s Giyuu, being too used to his deep ocean blue eyes and raven-colored hair.

Maybe he should grow out his hair again.

Chapter Text

After performing his basic morning duties, he comes out of the bathroom and turns to walk towards the kitchen. When passing the kitchen, he notices his father standing tall while making coffee, so he goes straight to the dining room where his other siblings already were with their breakfast after their caretaker just finished setting up the table.

Shoto slid in his seat that was across from his father’s usual place at the table and next to Fuyumi on his right with Natsuo on her other side. He looked up at her with a small smile and getting one in return, “good morning, Fuyumi-nee.” He leaned forward in his seat a little so that he can try and see Natsuo, with a shy mumble he awkwardly greeted him too. “Uhm, morning Natsuo-nii.” Giving their good mornings in return, he turned back to the table and clapped his hands together before muttering, “thank you for the food.” He picked up his chopsticks before digging into his tamagoyaki and rice. His siblings following the action while chatting eagerly with each other as he stayed quiet.

While chewing, his father entered the dining room and chatter faded away into a tense silence as he gruffly sat, muttering his thanks before digging in as well. After waiting for a moment, he slowed down his chewing a little to look up at his father and bluntly asked. “Father. May I request to learn kendo?”

At his question, all sounds of utensils clattering ceased to exist. Well, it sounds like kendo still exists here, good to know. Otherwise, there would’ve been a different reaction.

Ignoring the piercing and curious stares from his siblings, he mindlessly continued to chew on his breakfast, not bothering to wipe away the grain of rice at the corner of his lips as he waited for his father to answer.

After a minute of scrutinizing him, he gruffly replied with a simple, “why?”

He swallowed his rice, staring into his father’s usual glare with his dead expression, “I want to get stronger.”

Ignoring the sudden weird feeling he got from Shoto’s emotionless look and lifeless tone of voice as well as the fact that his son seemed to just get strangely mature overnight. He mentally shrugged it off, thinking that it might be due to some strange six-year-old epiphany that he had. Maybe his training is working in some way if he wants to get stronger of his own accord without him forcing him to. He’ll take whatever he can get. Either way, to blatantly say that he wanted to get stronger through a sport of swordsmanship. He scoffed under his breath. Shoto can barely handle his own training with him. How can he say he wants to add another to his plate? He finds it implausible.

His father raised an eyebrow at this. “Really? Is my training not enough for you?”

Shoto gave a curt nod at this, ignoring the various degrees of startle from everyone at the table, not bothering to pull his punches as he monotonously recites what he thought of earlier, “yes. With kendo, I can train more with a variety of other things that I might not be able to with you.” He picks up another piece of rice to eat. He repeated himself, “I want to get stronger. I know with kendo I can do so. Plus, I’ve been interested in learning swordsmanship as of late and I can do so by practicing it.” He really doesn’t wish to explain further. Hopefully it should make sense and he doesn’t have to actually drain his energy giving all the reasons on why he should sign up for it. His words hang into the air as he silently returns to eating his breakfast without another peep, ignoring everyone’s staring again.

It seems not just his facial expressions and tone of voice, but the formality of his speech is starting to get disconcerting. After a couple minutes, his father spoke up again. “Ok.”

Shoto looked up at that, seeing his father look down on him with a contemplating expression, a hand on his chin in thought and suspicion. “As long as you can get stronger, I don’t care. However--” He added on with another thought. “If you can’t keep up with your regular training with me as well, then I will be forced to pull you out. Understood?”

He nodded, willing the corner of his lips to stop twitching into an excited smile. “Yes, I understand.” He looked down before muttering a quiet, “thank you.” Though, it was still audible since the room was in a hushed quiet. A moment passed and everyone proceeded to finish with breakfast.

His father winds up finding him a private kendo instructor that comes by his house three times a week starting the next week. It made sense all things considered that he wanted to oversee the lessons most of the time and had the money to be able to afford a private instructor in the first place as the number two hero.

There was research that he wanted to be involved in with his father and he learned that the instructor was an expert as well. Obviously, they would have to be, but he prefers if they were competent enough in their teaching abilities to learn from. Here, Shoto also learns that essentially his instructor fought Quirkless since they’re focused on that traditional aspect of kendo of the Pre-Quirk era. Which was exactly what he requested for.

However, not a lot of people were a fan of that-- which he also learned was because Quirkless discrimination exists around here. Which doesn’t make sense to him? Maybe it was because he was basically Quirkless before and fought Muzan without the need of one and ended up somehow surviving that it doesn’t make sense. But also, weren’t everyone’s ancestors Quirkless before Quirks appeared? This means that people are just in a way-- discriminating against their ancestors, and he finds that impertinent.

While in his lessons, he’s made to wear Quirk-Suppressing cuffs as well after his father signed some more papers. Not that he would’ve used it anyways. But he understands, all things considered that using a Quirk might be instinctive to use since it’s an extension of a person’s body and these cuffs were made as a preventative measure to keep that from happening. If he thinks about it, it could even count as Quirk control training.

He could even enter some competitions if he had wanted. Though he was surprised that his father even agreed to his request of this instructor in the first place, thinking he would’ve ignored him and made the decision for him of signing him up for another instructor that included Quirks in their teachings.

After getting the needed supplies and uniform for kendo, including the much-wanted bokken, he proceeded to learn both in and out of the private lessons. In his free time at home, he had a wooden dummy that he sparred against relentlessly in the inner courtyard and training room whenever his father wasn’t home until blisters started to form on his hands and hardened into calluses. While learning the swordsmanship techniques behind kendo, he also started to go through the motions of all ten Water Breathing forms and doing Total Concentration Breathing at the same time. He’ll save the 11th form that he made for last.

Shoto often switches from wielding his bokken from his right-hand to his left-hand and back again, wanting to become ambidextrous again. There was this paranoia that he can’t seem to brush off that without knowing how to use his non-dominant left hand, he wouldn’t be able to perform his swordsmanship when fighting against a villain, and it was part of his training anyways, so there was no reason to ignore that. The phantom pain of his missing right limb still seems to persist after those last memories of his, but it mainly comes and goes. Over time, it seems to also fade away the more he uses his right limb again.

But it feels right again, getting his hand on a bokken and swinging it around even if it’s not exactly his Nichirin sword, and being aware that Demons no longer exists in this future. At least it eases the discomfort of not having a sword in the first place.

He made progress halfway through the year and was even able to keep up his regular training with his father using and practicing his Quirk. Afterwards, for the remaining half of the year, he moved on to Total Breathing Concentration: Constant and Recovery Breathing. With his Water Breathing, his speed in moving through his forms had slowly started to increase.

Since he had gotten his memories back, he made sure to plant wisteria around the estate after requesting for it and strategically putting them at certain places. Even knowing that Demons no longer run amok, the scent of the flowers puts him at ease. Shoto started to even create personalized yet simple pouches, adding in dried and crushed wisterias and tying them up to gift them for each of his family members. Particularly his siblings. He even attempted to give one to his father before realizing the older man trashed it and persisted in making more for him to hold on to it until the man caved with a scowl.

By the time he turned seven, he was training at the inner courtyard, swinging his bokken in a repeated motion when he heard a distressed caw nearby. Immediately stopping his motions, he turned to look behind him at a rustling bush and the frantic beatings of wings. With an exhale, he swiped his forehead from the sweat accumulated and moved closer to the bush to peer in to see a baby crow struggling to fly. Shoto slowly crouched down to put down his bokken before moving in to gently scoop up the crow with both hands while softly cooing to it to help it calm down. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that its wing was broken and looked up at the tree that was above it and seeing the nest.

“Oh...” At the realization that it must’ve fallen out of it, he peered down at the baby crow, only to notice that it stopped struggling and was rather looking back at him with a curious gaze. Shoto tilted his head, and the crow mimicked his action by tilting its head as well. The crow strangely seemed comfortable as it snuggled into his palms perfectly.

With a small, excited smile, he tenderly moved the crow to his left palm and lifted his right to lovingly caress the top of its head with the pad of his index finger and expertly moved it back, massaging into its feathers. The action immediately making the crow kurr and caw quietly while closing its eyes, leaning its head towards his finger as he shifted his movements to rub right under its beak and getting a chirp in response. It really reminded him of--

“Kanzaburo...” He mumbled. At the sound of his voice or the name, the crow blinked its beady black eyes open to look up at him and giving a sweet little caw in response. Startled, Shoto paused in his ministrations on the crow before slowly resuming and watching as it closed its eyes again and leaned against his finger with a chirp.

He muttered, “don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Chapter Text

After picking up his bokken, he moved to quickly enter the estate and taking off his shoes, he padded in through the hallways and into his room, making sure no one saw them. Shoto moved to gently put the crow down on his futon next to his bokken before swiftly grabbing some towels and shirt along with a roll of bandages and medical tape from the first-aid kit and an empty shoe box he found. He then kneeled in front of the crow and started to make a makeshift nest in the box while it quietly watched before he turned back to it.

Luckily, he recalled how to fix a bird’s wing and slowly moved his hands to its broken wing as to not scare it. Strangely enough, it seemed knowing that he was only going to help and obediently shifted so that its broken wing faced him. A smart crow... With gentle fingers, he started to move its wing and wrap it around with the bandages, making sure it wasn’t too tight nor too loose either before taping it off. He then soothingly scooped it up into his hand and moved it into the shoebox, lightly adjusting the shirt around so it can be comfortable.

Fingers twitching, he mumbled nervously, “is-- is it ok?”

In response, it gave a hop around the nest and turned its head to look up at him, confirming it with a soft caw and bobbing its head up and down.

With another small smile, he reached it to lightly pet its head again. “I think you’re a boy, right?”

At that, it gave another caw in response. He fell into silence at that, contemplating with himself while looking down at the ground before he gazed back up at the crow. His lips were in a tense line before he opened his mouth and quietly asked to himself. “Is it ok to name you Kanzaburo...?”

Another immediate chirp in response in agreement startled him out of his thoughts and he smiled before pulling his hand away from petting him. Instead, he leaned forwards a little to nuzzle his nose against his feathers, getting a nuzzle in return. “Ok. I’m glad you like that name Kanzaburo.”

While waiting for Kanzaburo to completely heal, Shoto started to try and teach him speech. Little by little, he would mimic him with different vocalizations in chirps and caws.

Two weeks had passed, and he had finished healing, before another month went by with the two hanging out in Shoto’s room. Kanzaburo was sat in his futon while he rhythmically swung his bokken up and down. However, he froze when he heard a soft caw. He paused in his swinging to look back down at him with a small smile and an exhale. “Yes, Kanzaburo?”

“Caw... little... Giyuu...”

At his first spoken words, he sharply inhaled in cold sweat and dropped his bokken in shock. It took a moment to process what was said, but when he did, he wobbled towards Kanzaburo in trembling steps and dropped down to his knees in front of him. It can’t be, right?

He felt his lips quiver as tears started to form in his eyes while his hands were hovered around the crow, not sure of whether this was real or not. He hesitantly muttered, “K-Kanzaburo? Is that really you?” Did his Kasugai crow wind up reincarnating with him? And somehow, they were able to cross paths with each other again in this life by chance or fate? He didn’t recall ever mentioning that he was the reincarnation of Giyuu to him once this past month and a half ever since he met him. For all he knew, his name was Todoroki Shoto.

The crow peered back up at him and tilted his head before hopping forwards with a soft caw, flapping his wings, and jumping into his arms when he noticed Shoto wasn’t moving to pick him up. He nuzzled his head into his chest and cawed, “Giyuu... found... Giyuu…”

At that, the dam broke, and he sobbed, hugging him close to his chest and kissing his head. He shoved his face into his feathers as tears dribbled down his cheeks and onto him. His voice was muffled as he repeated, “Kanzaburo... Kanzaburo...” Somehow, he was able to recognize him even in a different appearance. He wasn’t alone anymore, and he felt a crashing wave of relief in that fact. He didn’t realize he would’ve felt so lonely until then. “You’re still the same Kanzaburo...”

While he practiced his Water Breathing forms over time and tested the effects of using his Quirk with it, he realizes that upon doing so, it tampers with the power behind the swordsmanship, slowing it down. At this analysis, it lets him know that by doing this, it would help him hold back against fighting people instead of Demons, so he wouldn’t incapacitate them as bad as he would fighting completely Quirkless.

But by combining his Water Breathing style swordsmanship with his Quirk, it allows him to also bump up his Quirks offense and defense in a better controlled point.

In conclusion, if he wants more power behind his swordsmanship, he shouldn’t use his Quirk with it. However, if he wants more precision, offense and defense with his Quirk itself, he should use both.

For the next three years, Shoto continued to diligently train his Water Breathing after mastering his Total Concentration Breathings and even managed to recreate his 11th Form again, reaching his Hashira skill-level at age ten. Though just because he had his skills, doesn’t mean his young body is able to keep up. His lack of height, reach with his arms and the lack of muscle that comes with the limit of being ten really prevent using his skills to the fullest. At that point, his hair is even long enough that it reached the nape of his neck when he ties it up in a high ponytail with a dark blue rope cord.

From kendo, even if he succeeded in his lessons and was no longer able to be taught, he was unable to join competitions due to his father forbidding him to. Not that he cared either way. Though, he would’ve liked more sparing partners of various skill levels.

At the same time, he is able to keep up with his training with his father. Often seeking him out whenever they have the free time on top of that and sparring on and off from between using his Quirk and fighting Quirkless. He finds that his father is the best opponent for him with his fighting styles, being the number two hero despite the man’s clinical nature towards him. And as much as he doesn’t want to deal with his father, since being in his presence regularly drains his emotional and mental energy, he still wishes to do so to get stronger.

Nevertheless, he finds himself more readily accepting his Quirk since regaining his memories, knowing that his Quirk is of his own and not his fathers. At this, Shoto excitedly uses his fire side more often than his ice as it reminds him of Rengoku and Tanjiro with their respective breathing styles. Since associating it with his past, he is more acquainted and experienced with his fire side than he is with his ice. Still though, he can definitely say that he prefers fighting Quirkless as that is what he’s used to.

Not only that, but in the end of these spars, he finds that he has a higher chance in winning against his father fighting Quirkless as well in comparison to fighting with his Quirk. Evident by the longer spars between them when he fights this way. Whenever this happens, his father often gets irritated with him. Whether or not is due to him beating him Quirkless, or that in doing so makes him think that he’s refusing and denying his Quirk, or just both have yet to be clear. It might even be the shame of being beaten by his ten-year-old son, but who can say?

With a deadpan expression, Shoto naturally doesn’t make an outwards reaction to his shouting. Too used to Shinazugawa’s aggressiveness and hatred towards him during the majority of the time in the past while in the Corps, yet he can’t help but internally wince at the volume of his voice that makes him want to grimace as he forces his hands to still so that he doesn’t move them to cover his ears lest he wish to face more of his father’s wrath. Despite his anger however, his father somehow manages to agree with sparring with him most of the time he asks. And that’s something to appreciate a little at least.

He still definitely doesn’t agree with his parental methods though. After knowing Shinjuro since he joined the Hashira’s ranks, he noticed his decline as the man immersed himself into alcohol since his wife’s passing, which had surely affected his two sons. It reminded him of hearing Shinazugawa’s story as well after the Corps had disbanded. He often wonders if he could’ve helped change his family for the better by remembering everything before his mother scarred his face and Touya having died. If he could’ve even gained the courage enough to do so even if he got his memories earlier.

But then he also remembers that he’s in a child’s body. Even if he spoke up, would a kid be able to sway his father’s-- a stubborn man --actions and attitude towards his family?

In the end, his relationship with his father stays indifferent. Though, he can’t forgive his actions towards his mother and the neglect his siblings face. The anger simmering under his skin.

There are times throughout the years where he wonders if he should tell them that he wasn’t really Todoroki Shoto. At least not anymore for the most part but was someone from the Taisho era that had no right being here at a time where he should’ve stayed dead and who took their beloved family members place.

However, when that thought arises, he decides against doing so for a multitude of reasons.

There was still that innate fear of his that they won’t believe in him like the townspeople did when he tried to tell them that a Demon had killed and eaten Tsutako. Shoto also doesn’t want to upset them either, since he feels like he's not really their son anymore since he’s a reincarnation. That it’s his fault for reincarnating in the first place as their son and sibling and that the real Shoto is predominantly gone. There was also his past that he may have to be forced to explain and he doesn’t want that. It’s just too complicated to do so and takes too much energy.

He also thinks about the reason why he reincarnated. Does the world need Demon slayers again? Have Demons returned somehow? Was he the only one reincarnated? At that point, he feels he should be better prepared than not. The idea and thought of Demons somehow returning, which was why he would be reincarnated at this time, is making cold chills run down his spine and dread bubbling in his stomach. If that were to ever happen, he would be back on the field again. The livelihood of everyone here would be in danger.

He has to find some answers.

Chapter Text

The next day after getting dressed and packing a notebook and some writing utensils in his messenger bag, he leans down and kisses Kanzaburo on his head. “Sorry, I can’t take you with me Kanzaburo... I don’t think they let animals in the library, and I don’t want to stuff you in my bag,” he mumbled turning to head towards the door while waving goodbye as a small caw is croaked in response. He walks into the living room in the early afternoon to see their caretaker while his father is at work and proceeded to shuffle his feet a little awkwardly before speaking up.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m going to the local library.”

She nodded, “Ok, have fun Shoto. Don’t stay out too long.”

With a breath of relief, he stiffly nodded and moved to put on his shoes and tapped it against the floor before grabbing the keys and opening the door. “Thank you...” He bowed politely then stepped through the door and sliding it close behind him.

While walking to the library, he took the time to look around him with a deep breath. Even after all this time, it’s jarring to see a world without Demons. Where everything is peaceful. Well, as peaceful in a world of heroes and villains could be. In his case, this world is peaceful to him as long as Demons no longer exist. It makes him glad to see that all the hard work and efforts that the Demon Slayer Corps went through were worth it. This was the future that they all had worked for.

When he made it to the library, he entered and looked around in awe at all the books. Unsure of where to begin, he shuffles to the front desk and gripping the strap of his messenger bag, he waits until someone working notices him. Once they do, he asks for the historical books that dates back around the Taisho era. Ignoring the strange look he had gotten-- since what kind of 10-year-old kid would want to willingly look for historical books dating that far back in history instead of searching on the internet --he was led to a shelf in the back. With a quiet nod in thanks, he starts to glance at words on the spines of the books and grabs a few to start to leaf through.

In the end, the results were mainly unsuccessful. Any information about Demon slayers and Demons were nearly nonexistent. The only thing he was able to find was a chapter surrounding the description of Demon slayers as a group of people who fight against Demons; further defined as human flesh and blood eating monsters who only prowl at night with the abilities called Blood Demon Arts bordering on myths or legends. He gives a small frown at this. Strange as the book describes it as such in a world where Quirks are akin to Blood Demon Arts.

Other than that, there was nothing about Oyakata and the Ubuyashiki line, the Hashiras, the Final Battle or Kibutsuji Muzan. At first, the lack of information bothers him, as he slightly furrows his brows. However, the more he thinks about it, the more he feels relieved. This means that the people of today can relax and go about their everyday lives without knowing about their dark history and freely forgetting the past with Demons and the secrecy with the Demon Slayer Corps. As it should be. The Final Battle was over after all, no need to broach up some dark memories.

He puts the book where he found the chapter back onto its rightful place on the shelf and thinks of looking online at the library’s public computers next. Shoto walks over to the nearest private one and boots it on. When it does, he tries to look up the same information as he did in the books and the results come up basically the same. He then looks up information that he knew he wouldn’t be able to find in books and starts to do so by typing in about Oyakata.

He finds that Ubuyashiki Kiriya died over a century ago. With any descendant’s unknown. Though, he's glad to see that he was able to live a long life unlike his father. Remembering the master pains him and he quickly moves on by looking up the names of his fellow Hashiras.

Only for Shoto to be disappointed.

With a sigh, he finds that there’s no information about them. The most recent that he could find with links to two of them dates back to more than a century ago. Which was both the Rengoku line and Uzui line.

He starts to look up the others as well. His breath stutters in chest when results immediately pop up. With shaky fingers he moves his hand to click and read articles based around them.

Not just the Rengoku and Uzui line, but he found out about the Kamado line and Hashibira line all recently dated back to more than a century as well. Unfortunately, there was nothing current.

He lets out a breath that he didn’t realize that he held in. He may have been at their weddings with the exception of Uzui’s-- since he longed married his three wives before he joined the Hashira ranks and knew them --he wasn’t sure if they had any descendants. To have it be confirmed makes him feel more relaxed. They all seemed to have lived in Tokyo near where the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters used to be. He’s relieved that they all had somehow found themselves to be living nearby each other in the same city.

Based on the websites and articles he found, the Rengoku's owned a kendo dojo while the Kamado's owned a bakery. Uzui Tenma was a professional gymnast who won a gold medal in the Olympics. Definitely flashy, he looked just like Tengen. Meanwhile, Hashibira Aoba was a well-known botanist doing research on the Blue Spider Lily at the same time. He looks just like Inosuke as well, though he definitely looks more timid. All this was taken place during the Pre-Quirk era.

He's not sure of the Agatsuma line though he was there for his and Nezuko’s wedding too.

However, what he found regarding Agatsuma was surprisingly copies of that book, more specifically the memoir that was made written by him. Which had only a few copies available in the world and since the original was over two centuries old, were a rare find. It was safe to assume that the original was in the hands of the Agatsuma family. The book is titled, “The Legend of Zenitsu.”

The corner of his lips slightly twitches up in a small smile, holding up a hand to cover his mouth as he leans closer in amusement. Of course, he would end up giving his memoir that title. He probably changed it to that after he had passed. Based on the summary, it talks about his life as well as the lives of the Demon slayers in the Corps. Oh. There's even the picture that they all took together at the Butterfly Estate celebrating the end of their battle with Muzan. He tears up at this and quickly wipes away at his eyes with the back of his hand before they could fall while he leans back. He supposes that no one created more copies for the same reason why he found such little information about the Demon Slayer Corps and Demons in general. People most likely thought the whole story to be an exaggerated book of myth and legend and it was unpopular, so copies were no longer made. A shame really.

After all, he would definitely want a copy of his own so that he can read it. Maybe he can pull some strings somewhere as the son of the number two hero? Or steal his black card maybe--

If there are descendants after more than a century ago, he wonders if their ancestor’s history gets passed down. Now that he may be aware of descendants, that doesn’t necessarily answer his questions on whether there had been any other reincarnations besides him though.

He looks down at his hands resting on the keyboard in thought. Who else should he look up? Now that he thinks about it, he would need to find a way to get his hands on an actual Nichirin sword as well. Would there be any left that can be found in this world? There’s a certain difference in the feeling and heft between a wooden bokken and an actual Nichirin sword in his hand. He wants to find a way in order to get his hands on one again since he didn’t know where his old one might be.

His first idea is that he could try and find the Demon slayer headquarters again. The thought of visiting makes his fingers twitch with anxiety. He was unsure of what happened to it. Did someone ever take care of it? Or has it rotted away over the last two centuries? He hopes not, since perhaps there were extra uncolored Nichirin blades laying around there. Though rusted, he thinks he can find a way to clean it. If not there, then he could try and find the Swordsmith village next? Would there be any descendants of the swordsmiths who still practice the craft? Or anyone who would know where he can get one?

He sits there in contemplation, before jolting up in his seat at the thought. There was one. One person who was still alive from his time in the Taisho era. He quickly looks up at the screen of the computer and types in a name. ‘Yushiro.’ Results come up immediately for his name. But they were too broad, so after looking around for half an hour he finally suspects that he found him and opens the article to read.

‘Yamamoto Yushiro. Famously known for his paintings of only a single subject of a beautiful woman he lovingly dubs as Lady Tamayo.’ Not much else is said about him with the exception that he lives in seclusion from everyone else. After all, he is known for his aggression towards reporters who wish to interview him. There was a website that depicts all of Yushiro's painting of Tamayo and his place of residence in small font. He luckily caught it and decided to quickly jot it down with a pen and paper that he had pulled from his bag. He lives in Asakusa, Tokyo. Which upon looking at an online map, was calculated to be three hours from Musutafu by car. Half by train.

He puts down his pen and crosses his arms before staring down at his lap in thought. Already he’s attempting on coming up with a plan. He’ll have to find a time where he can go while his father is at work. He would rather sneak off at night. However, at this time, people would be suspicious of a 10-year-old traveling by train in the middle of the night. Or would they? He definitely prefers not to confront any police officers or heroes on their patrols and cause everyone trouble at that time, so the best time to leave would be in the morning or afternoon.

With a nod, he moves to delete all the tabs and history on the screen and powers off the computer before packing up and slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder to leave the library.

Chapter Text

It was the day after, and he wakes up in the early morning to get a head start on what he’s planning to do. After performing his regular morning routine, he goes to pack for his trip to Asakusa, Tokyo by pulling out his messenger bag and putting the necessary items inside before leaving it next to his futon. It was times like these where he’s glad that his father is a workaholic hero since he knows by now that he had gone to work already for his morning patrol and was aware of the routes that he would take when he does so that he can avoid confronting him if possible.

After he padded out into the kitchen, he quietly greeted his siblings and ate his breakfast. When he was done, he put away the remaining plates and utensils into the sink and cleaned them before going back into his room. Shoto went and changed into his outside clothes then kneeling in front of his bag, he flipped it open and turned to the side to face Kanzaburo. With a wave of his hand, he urged his companion to hop into the bag and watched as he did with a soft caw. For this trip, he would be taking him with him. He gave a small smile as he flipped the flap close, leaving Kanzaburo with breathing room. When he was comfortable enough, he emitted a soft caw to signal that he was ready and Shoto slowly stood up, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder with a small huff and swiped his bokken that was leaning against his desk to take with him.

He moved across the room to peek out the door and step down the hallway into the living room. When he sees that his siblings weren’t there, he quickly went to the door to put on his shoes, sneaked his All Might cap from his bag and shoved it on, adjusting it so it fits around his ponytail. He grabbed the house keys before rushing out the door and locking it behind him. Honestly, he thinks the added All Might cap is a perfect disguise with the blond bunny ear fringe sticking out of the front. Since he’d probably die if his father caught him wearing All Might merch, he’d think twice before he notices that it was really him.

Shoto probably has the whole day before coming back for dinner. So, he should be fine. After all, he was a man on a mission.

After he was able to get a train ticket to Asakusa, Tokyo on the pretense of going to visit a friend-- which really was a half-truth. Were him and Yushiro friends? He never met him personally since he left right after the battle. Only knowing that both he and Tamayo were great essentials to aiding them in the Final Battle against Muzan --he sat down next to the window and peered outside as the environment rushed past them in a breeze with Kanzaburo poking his head out from the bag. He’s never been on the train since the Taisho era. It was much faster than before. The wonders of technology never ceases to amaze him...

In an hour and a half, as predicted, the train announced their stop to Asakusa, Tokyo. Making Shoto stand up from his seat as the train came to a stop. He moved to shuffle past the crowd of people and step off into the train station, turning to look over his shoulder as he watches the train leave after others had stepped off after him.

Shoto turned back to look up ahead of him at the big district and moved so he wouldn’t get into other people’s way. Hidden under the shade of a tree, he lifted the flap of his bag to allow Kanzaburo to fly freely and land on top of his head with a plop, lifting both wings to gesture while Shoto shuffled around in his bag to grab a slip of paper with the street name of Yushiro’s area of residence. “Caw... Asakura, Tokyo... caw...”

“Mm.” He reached up to pet him on the head. “Let’s go Kanzaburo.” He started to look around at the street names as he headed deeper into Asakura. There were a few times when he had to awkwardly ask for directions before he made it to a more rural area where houses were lined up in the back alleys.

Slowly peering at the names of residences whom each house belongs to as he quietly walks down the deserted street, he looks up at his companion as he looks around as well. He muttered, “Kanzaburo... if you find anything, please tell me, ok?” In reply, he received a caw.

At the end of the street, he was faced with a brick wall and turned his head left and right that led to the other streets. His face slightly furrowed in confusion as he looked down at the slip of paper in his hand again. Suddenly, Kanzaburo leaned down and shook his tail feathers while frantically flapping his wings, looking straight at the brick wall in front of them. “Demon...” He croaked. “Little Giyuu... Demon... ahead...”

Startled, he looks up with slightly wide eyes at the brick wall ahead then blinked before looking up at his companion then back at the wall. Glancing around him to make sure no one is looking, Shoto slowly reached out and touched the brick wall, only to have his hand start to sink in. “Oh. A Blood Demon Art...” Looking around again, he took a step forward and started to phase through the wall before popping out on the other side. He looked up to see a piece of paper with a red symbol swirling around to look like an eye on the house. It looked like the one he saw on the foreheads of the Kasugai crows and the others during the Final Battle. At least that confirmed it for him.

Shoto curiously looked around as he walked down the path leading up to the door, shoving the piece of paper back into his bag, however, the closer he got, the more he felt anxious as he gripped his bokken tighter. In front of the door, he reached up his hand and knocked.

A couple of seconds barely passed before the door was yanked open and Shoto was face-to-face with a man dressed in the Taisho era clothing, with short pale green hair and slitted lavender eyes which were currently glaring angrily at him. Probably wondering how this dumbass had gotten through his Blood Demon Art and despite his aggressive attitude, Yushiro felt wary. Luckily, he had a knife hidden under his sleeve.

Another minute passed where the two didn’t say anything until the older man started to get increasingly impatient, evident in his gritted teeth and shaking posture to hold back on shouting, only to explode in the end.

“What the hell do you want, you brat?!”

He was startled out of his stupor. Oh yeah, he was an unrecognizable 10-year-old child in an All Might cap and a crow on his head. Then again, if he was back in his original body, would he recognize him? It’s been more than two centuries after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, albeit quietly as per usual, with his dead fisheyes and expressionless face. No use beating around the bush. “I’m Tomioka Giyuu.”

“Hah?!”

He deemed it necessary to repeat himself, maybe he didn’t hear him the first time.

“I’m Tomioka Giyuu.”

The other man sputtered indignantly, “I heard what you said, you brat!”

He furrowed his eyebrows at this, almost bristling. “I’m not a brat. I’m Tomioka Giyuu.” Maybe he doesn’t remember after all. “I’m the Water Hashira.”

Yushiro groaned, “again. I heard you the first-time kid, I’m not deaf!” He jabbed a finger over Shoto’s chest and shouted, “but you’re just a tiny little brat to me! A squirt! Where did you even hear of that name anyways?!”

He pursed his lips to hold back on arguing that he was not a brat, but in fact a 25-year-old man in a 10-year-olds body. Or if you add them together, technically he’d be 35. “It’s my name.”

Yushiro knows of all the names of the past Hashira of course, but that was one of the names he hasn’t heard in more than two centuries. To see such a small random child knocking on his door in the late morning bordering on early afternoon, claiming he was the Water Hashira, holding a wooden bokken and even able to bypass his Blood Demon Art: Blindfold. He can’t help but be suspicious. For all he knows, the kid could be pranking him or have some sort of shape-shifting Quirk and was aiming to kill him. Damn Quirks. And now great, he sounds like an old man now. Which he’s not.

But then again-- He squinted his eyes at the child. If he’s speaking the truth, a reincarnation maybe? But that couldn’t be. Usually, the reincarnations that he was aware of in the past, looked just like what they had originally looked like when they were living. This child is looking nothing like the original Water Hashira. His hair though... looked half-and-half like his ugly haori. Could it be? If it winds up being a prank, he’ll bonk him on the head. If he’s a murderer, he's sure he can fight them off and knock them out. Either way, he’ll just have to find out. Maybe by inviting him in first... the sun is really irritating him even though he’s currently safe in his own house.

Yushiro realized that he was still squinting at the kid while Shoto was staring unblinkingly at him. He clicked his tongue and jerked his chin towards the inside of his house while stepping to the side. “Get in. Might as well.”

“Oh.” He looked down, then up at him again. “Sorry...” he muttered before hurrying in and looking around while bending down to take off his shoes. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

Yushiro closed the door behind him and curtly nodded before turning away. “Follow me.”

Shoto quickly did as they went deeper into the house just in the next room over by sliding open the shoji door and closing it behind him. He shuffled to kneel on the zabuton that’s laid on the floor, putting down his bokken on his left, pulling off his messenger bag to leave by his side on his right, then slowly taking off his cap to lay it next to the bag after he moved Kanzaburo to the ground. Looking up, he noticed that Yushiro was staring at him directly across from him and moved to bow down respectfully with his hands resting on his knees. “Thank you for having me Yamamoto-san.”

He snorted and waved his hand, “yeah, yeah.” He adjusted himself in his seat before he eyed Shoto’s hair and face now that the majority of his features hasn’t been obstructed with the cap, taking note of the scar on his face. It took a moment to recognize why he looked familiar, but he raised a brow at this. “You’re Endeavor’s son, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

With a scoff, he took a glance at his left side that was baring the scar. “Figures.” He added, “anyways. I only invited you in because the stupid sun was annoying me. Plus,” he eyed Shoto skeptically. “I wanted to see if you really are who you say you are. Prove it.”

He looked back at him confused. How could he do that when they didn’t really know each other? Shoto looked down in thought before looking up at him again. “Should I perform some Water Breathing forms?”

“No,” he snapped. “If you do that, then you’ll be breaking things around my house, and I don’t want you to. That’s not necessary.”

What else then? “Uhm... I don’t... know... I still have my memories. You and Tamayo-san were there at the Final Battle with Muzan--” saying the name out loud even now still makes anger bubble in his stomach. He looked down, “I died... due to the Demon Slayer Mark when I was 25...” He raised his head at the sound of an exasperated sigh.

Yushiro slumped down his shoulders when he heard what was said. After all, there was nothing in the history books regarding him, Lady Tamayo, and the curse behind the Demon Slayer Marks. That simply proves it then. “Tomioka, huh?”

Feeling relieved that he was believed, he nodded. “Yes.”

“Tch, damn. Alright. So, you reincarnated as Endeavors kid? What did you come here for? How did you find me anyways?”

Shoto straightened himself up at the questions. “Yes. I was able to from your name and the website on your art with Tamayo-san. It had your street address.” He took a breath. “And I wanted to see-- if you knew where I can find a Nichirin sword.”

Chapter Text

At the sound of his request, he immediately looked down at him with a scowl. “The hell you need one for?”

“I... don’t feel comfortable with just my bokken in my hands. I need the feel of a Nichirin sword again.” His fingers twitch in response at the reminded feeling of emptiness and he balled his hands into fists to hide his anxiety. In the hopes that it can convince Yushiro since it sounded like he wasn’t going to tell him anything, he added on with determination. “I want to be a hero.”

He immediately sneered, “a hero? Haven’t you done enough fighting previously as a Hashira? Let the past die off already. It’s been more than two centuries. There’s no more Demons. No more Muzan.” Which the name was spat out with venom. “And the world is at peace as much as it could be since Quirks appeared. Besides, I still don’t understand why you need one to be a hero. You have a Quirk, don’t you? So just use that or do something else with your life. If you have all your memories back, isn’t that all the more reason to just move on?”

All very good points honestly. “Yes, but-- fighting is all I know how to do.” He furrowed his brows, lips held in a tense line as his shoulders slumped back, feeling defeated. “It’s all I’m good at.” Despite what Yushiro is harshly spitting out, he really cares huh? He gave a small smile at that. The other man startling at the first sign of a smile on his expressionless face since coming here before seeing him school his expression back to an indifference.

“I know that I could choose another profession in this life besides being a hero but...” He leaned down to grab Kanzaburo, putting him on his lap so that he could pet him to sooth his anxiety and calm his thoughts. He repeated himself, “fighting really is all I know how to do and is all that I’m good at. I don’t think I can escape. Even when I have a Quirk, the swordsmanship of Water Breathing has been drilled down deep, so it feels off when I don’t use it at all.” He looked down at Kanzaburo as he softly cawed at Shoto’s gentle ministrations. “If I want to fight and not let it go to waste, I want to do so while protecting and saving as many people as I can, just like I did while I was a Hashira. And now that I have a family here. I want to protect them too and preserve the peace.” He’s willing to do it all over again.

Talking this much drained his energy, so he sighed deeply.

The air was quiet as Yushiro contemplated what was said. “You thought about this a lot, huh?”

Shoto simply nodded instead of speaking again.

He sighed at that and groaned before standing up. There wasn’t any point to change the kid’s-- man’s --mind. “Alright. Stay here and don’t move. I’ll be back.” He turned to walk out of the room and deeper into the house, closing the shoji door behind him with a thunk.

Shoto watched as he left and once the door closed behind him, he leaned down and snuggled against Kanzaburo, burying his face in his feathers with another sigh. He straightened back up when Yushiro stepped back into the room with something held gingerly in his hands.

Returning to his seat across from Shoto, Yushiro cautiously laid the item down in between them. The item was long and wrapped in a pitch-black cloth, tied tightly together with a deep red cord so that it wouldn’t unravel.

Looking on in anticipation, he removed his hands from Kanzaburo as he hopped down his lap to sit next to him and with his hands forming into fists, watched as Yushiro took the time to untie the cord and unravel the cloth, revealing another pitch-black scabbard wrapped with a maroon red sageo-- or cord. The tsuka-ita-- handle wrapping --was also a matching maroon red over the deep blue handle. The tsuba-- handguard --being a simple pitch-black color with the inner design of the bottom half being simple waves with golden accents. It was beautiful. Shoto took a sharp inhale at the first sight of the Nichirin sword.

Yushiro huffed at the sight of the weapon, looking back up at him. “Luckily for you. I managed to get my hands on a few of the Nichirin blades before those eyesores could come across them on the black market.” He clicked his tongue. “Rich bastards, not knowing the significances of these weapons and thinking they were regular swords.” He added on. “I couldn’t recover every single one of them of course, for obvious reasons, but--” he tilted his chin up with a feral smirk. “I was able to get the majority of them over time. Collected from both that Swordsmith village and your headquarters before anyone else can stumble across them. Stored in another room in the house.” He scowled, glaring down at him with arms crossed, “but just because I have an abundance of them, doesn’t mean a limitless supply, so don’t go breaking or chipping them you useless slayer. There’re no more swordsmiths these days practicing their craft in making more Nichirin swords. Along with the ore that is taken to make them.”

Shoto continued to stare down at the Nichirin sword as he listened, ignoring the clear berating in leu of the other things he said. After a moment, he wondered, “that means that the headquarters and the Swordsmith village are still unfounded?” That would be a relief. The thought that anyone would possibly find, and trespass places of importance leaves him uncomfortable and irritation to simmer in his stomach.

He nodded, “right. It’s only been just me that knows of them.”

He looks up and anxiously glanced at the sword between them, lifting a hand. “May I see it?”

“Yeah, what the hell do you think I bought this up for? Quite a few that I had collected had its blades already changed colors. The one right here is one that is unchanged.”

With permission, he reached out and gingerly took the sheathed blade in his hands and inspected it a little closer. His fingers brushed gently along it before he moved to unsheathe it, holding it up by the handle to watch it change color in the florescent light. It’s strange, to be able to experience this all over again, like he was back in Urokodaki’s and Haganezuka’s presence. Except this time, it was only him and Yushiro. With no surprise, his blade changed color into a deep blue identifying him as a user of Water Breathing. He slowly tilted his sword sideways to inspect the color and blade.

The only think he found missing was the ‘Destroy Demons,’ engravings that are usually etched into the Nichirin blades of all the Hashiras.

He took the time to sheathe his blade back into its scabbard and bowed towards Yushiro. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Yushiro awkwardly looked away, unused to the respect of another Demon slayer much less a Hashira even if he was in the physical appearance of a child. There was the tint of a blush on his cheeks. “Tch. Yeah. No need to thank me. I just can’t believe I have to deal with a stubborn Hashira at this age.” Whether he means his age, Shoto’s age, or this current era is unsaid. Yushiro looked back at him again. “Anything else? Or is the Nichirin sword all you needed?”

Shoto straightened himself back up again, resting his sword down next to him before folding his hands on his lap. He looked down before looking back up, “no.” He added on. “I’d like to know if there were any and or current reincarnations besides me since the Taisho era and if there are any descendants of anyone we may know in the Corps.”

“Yes, there has.”

He perked up at this.

“However,” he curtly added, making Shoto deflate a little. “So far, all of the reincarnations look like what they had originally looked like. For the most part, they even retained their personalities as well. None turned out to be like you where you’ve assumed a different physical appearance. Not only that, but not even one has ever even managed to remember their past life.” He pointed at Shoto. “You’re the first one.” He lowered his hand. “From what I’m aware of now, there are no current reincarnations.”

“As for descendants.” He continued. “The Kamado line, Agatsuma line, Hashibira line, Rengoku line and Uzui line have continued on since you had passed. I’m not sure of how much you’ve brushed up on your current history, but there was this war that happened around when Quirks first started appearing. Since all this chaos happened more than a century ago, I lost track of all their lines and have yet to find them again. As for the Ubuyashiki line, Kiriya was the last one I was aware of around the same time as well, so any of his descendants are unknown.” He waved a hand dismissively with a shrug. “Knowing how persistent you slayers are, I wouldn’t be surprised that they all still have some descendants living somewhere.”

“I see.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” For some reason, he’s embarrassed to ask this one. After all, he never really did show any interest in the Agatsuma kid’s book before. To ask of it now would be a little strange. His cheeks started to tint pink; lips pursed together. “Do you know if they still make copies of Agatsuma’s book? He titled it as, “The Legend of Zenitsu.”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “No. They don’t. However, I do have one or two copies of my own.” He looked down at him. “If you want one, just say so.”

After a moment, he mumbled, “yes, please...”

He looked down with a deep sigh, shaking his head with a scowl and stands up. “I’ll go get it.” With that, Yushiro left and came back a couple minutes later with a black book in hand. He sat back down again and handed it over to Shoto. “Here.”

He reached out to gingerly take the book from his hands into both of his own and looked down at the item with sparkling eyes. “Thank you.”

“Tch. Yeah.”

Shoto turned to his right to flip open his messenger bag and delicately slipped in the book before closing it. He faced Yushiro again and inclined his head with a small blush. “I think that’s all. Uhm, may I contact you in the future?”

“Hah? Why?”

Shoto really doesn’t know why, but how can he explain to Yushiro that he just wanted to keep in contact with a friendsomeone that experienced and lived in the Taisho era with him. Even though it’s been ten years, he often still feels like he’s out of place in this time period and that he shouldn’t be here. To talk to someone who lived in the same time period as him would be nice.

He looked down. “Since we’re both from the Taisho era, I thought that maybe...” He glanced away, then back to him. “We could be friends?”

“How old are you now anyways?”

“Ten...”

“I don’t know about friends.” He paused. “But we can contact each other.” He turned away with a blush. They’re totally friends.

Shoto perked up at this and leaned down to pick up Kanzaburo to plop him onto his lap. “I can send messages through Kanzaburo.”

“Message... caw!”

He nodded, though he squinted at him. “Don’t you have a phone? Isn’t it easier that way? Your family should’ve had plenty of money from your father, right?”

He blinked, jolting a little. “Oh. I do. I just... prefer using Kanzaburo.” Shoto isn’t comfortable with using his phone. And if he makes contact with a famous artist like Yushiro who is also a Demon, it might get traced back to him. Yeah. He doesn’t trust technology. Call him paranoid, but he prefers the Kasugai crow’s way of communication if he’s going to talk to Yushiro at least.

Yushiro held out a hand in demand. “Let me add my number.”

“Oh, ok.” Shoto turned back to his bag to take out his phone and unlocked it before handing it over.

He grabbed it and started to type in his number. “If needed, I can also send in Chachamaru to you.” Once he was done, he handed it back to Shoto.

“Chachamaru?” He grabbed his phone back and slipped it into his bag.

“My cat.” Yushiro turned to the side at the sound of a meow. Shoto following the sound to see a familiar calico cat with amber eyes. Oh. She was that cat from the Final Battle.

Chachamaru padded over to the two and meowed as she was receiving pets from Yushiro before plopping down in front of Shoto. He slowly reached out and gently petted her on the head, sparkling when she leaned in closer to his hand and purred.

Kanzaburo gave a soft caw at the sight and soon the two were communicating in animal language.

“Caw... caw...”

“Meow~”

Yushiro continued on. “She’ll meow once to appear and another to disappear. Like the Kasugai crow’s she’ll know your location.”

He nodded in understanding. “Ok.”

“Is that all?”

Shoto slowly nodded, looking at the time on the wall to see that it’s been more than an hour already. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He moved to bow. “Thank you for having me.” He picked up Kanzaburo from his lap to put him on the floor and started to stand when he noticed that Yushiro was doing so as well while picking up his bag to sling over his shoulder. Then he put his cap back on and adjusted it around his ponytail before bending down to quickly wrap his new Nichirin sword with its cloth and tied it back with the cord to pick up along with his bokken. Shoto stood still as Kanzaburo flew to land on his head again and hurried to follow Yushiro to the door.

Under the scrutinizing gaze of the Demon, he went to slip on his shoes and turned back to face Yushiro. He bowed again. “Thank you, Yamamoto-san.”

He clicked his tongue. “Just Yushiro is fine.”

He straightened back up. “Ah. Yushiro-san then...” Shoto awkwardly shuffled his feet before turning away and glancing back at Chachamaru who was following them to the door. He nodded, “bye Chachamaru.”

“Meow~”

“Caw... bye-bye...”

Yushiro watched as Shoto stepped out the door and headed down the pathway towards the brick wall and sneered, cupping a hand around his mouth to shout, “I hope I don’t get to see you back here again!”

Shoto looked over his shoulder. He definitely bothered Yushiro, or at least that’s what he thinks. With a small frown and a regretful expression, he bowed in apology before turning back to disappear through the wall. Not noticing the soft smirk on Yushiro’s face as he turned away and closed the door behind him.

Chapter Text

After he snuck back home, he felt relieved that no one had noticed that he even left in the first place. His siblings were likely in their rooms and their caretaker either in the kitchen or in the back gardens. Shoto made to rush in taking off his shoes, shoving his cap off of his head and stuffing it into his bag next to Kanzaburo. He put the key back where it belonged before padding down the hallways and into his room where he had quickly, but quietly shut the door behind him.

Moving around the room, he released Kanzaburo from the confines of his bag before resting his bokken against his desk and looking around to room to find a hiding spot. Upon seeing his closet, he moved to open it and push his new Nichirin sword inside and towards the back behind his clothes so that it was hidden in the dark. He closed the door and went to unpack the rest of the belongings in his bag, gingerly picking up, “The Legend of Zenitsu,” and slotting it amongst the rest of his books on his bookshelf with a small, yet giddy smile. He can’t wait to read it soon.

A month had passed while he was secretly practicing with his Nichirin sword. After all, he didn’t want to get into trouble if anyone found out he was wielding an actual blade this time instead of the wooden one and risk it being confiscated. The differences in weight and feel were truly astounding just as he predicted, and he finds his movements in his Water Breathing to be that much more fluid. It was a good thing that his father owned so much land that spans for miles and a multitude of different courtyards that he could easily take advantage of. He just had to be cautious of the security cameras and take note of blind spots whenever he’s training.

It was around that time where he deeply considered the idea of becoming a vigilante. Some of the time, he would hear his father talk in passing about his hero work and the amounts of things that villains would do in the daytime and during the night. It was obvious as he had tied it to the same way that the Demons would only come out at night in the past.

Most of the time, he would sneak into his father’s office and read through his files and reports to gather information to see how fighting villainy can be vastly different than fighting Demons, making sure to remember and put them back exactly the same way he had found them. Even though his father mainly worked as a spotlight hero, that didn’t mean he was inexperienced with working in the night as well.

Throughout this time, Shoto had recently been feeling restless. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was finally able to gain a Nichirin sword that he’s slowly going back to his old habits of staying up all night to patrol and fight Demons while taking short naps and sleeping during the day.

Or maybe it was due to the fact that he now check-marked all that he was planning to do to get his techniques back into shape, that he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Since he was only ten, he would have to wait another five years before he could get into U.A. Which was the number one heroics school that both All Might, and his father had gone to. It was obvious that going to that school would be his next big step.

But first now that he had his techniques locked down, he wanted to help and gain experience somehow and this could be the way to do it. Shoto just has to not get caught. If people find out that the number two hero’s son is a vigilante, it could have some serious repercussions. Even he was aware that vigilantism was a crime thanks to all the complaints his father goes through, both verbally and through his reports. As much as a part of him doesn’t really care, he can’t really do that to his family by making trouble.

At one point deep in his thoughts, the corner of his lips quirked up into a small smile. After all, by definition, vigilantism is the illegal use of Quirks under the acts of heroism. Since he mainly fights Quirkless, he’s technically not breaking any laws at all. Shoto gives himself a mental pat on the back for that.

He spends the next month preparing since he wasn’t about to go into this blindly. Using a map of Musutafu, he plans to go out and find which area holds the seediest nighttime back ally deals where Heroes would be least likely to go into and making that his regular patrol routes and maybe expanding it the more he gets used to it.

During that time, he teaches-- or in this case reminds --Kanzaburo their old signals and warnings since he’ll be bringing his companion with him.

Once he felt that preparations were completed, he made to set out the next night. When everyone was asleep, he quietly gets out of his futon and brings his outfit together. It was the similar one he wore when he was being taught under Urokodaki.

Putting up his high ponytail and taking off his night clothes, he starts by slipping on a white half-juban kimono (worn as an undergarment on his top), then his maroon nagagi over it and tucking it into his black hakama pants, tying it together with a white obi belt. He grabs his black tasuki (a cloth cord) and rolling up the sleeves of his nagagi, he ties it up by wrapping it around his shoulders and back. He then leans down to wrap his white kyahans around his calves and slips on his blue tabi socks before his light jade green setta sandals.

Shoto then grabs his Nichirin sword from his closet in its sheath after unwrapping it from its cloth and tucks it into his obi, making sure it stays still. Turning to the mirror, he inspects himself before nodding in satisfaction and grabbing his wooden fox mask that was the exact replica of the old one Urokodaki carved for him before the Final Selection. It was gifted from Fuyumi after she had come home from the festival hanging out with her friends one day and when seeing his confused and awed expression, she explained that she somehow gravitated towards that specific one and felt that he would like it. The thought of it gave him a small smile. Maybe he should consider taking up woodcarving just as Urokodaki did, if only to feel closer to him.

Slipping it on over his face, he finds that it’s still a perfect fit as he continues to gaze at himself in the mirror and seeing the fox’s grumpy expression looking back at him. He turns to the side to pick up his backpack of supplies, including his map of Musutafu, ropes, his notebook and pencils and slinging it over his shoulders.

He makes his way towards his room window and looking back around his room, he turns back to open the window quickly and quietly. Feeling the cool night air brushing across his exposed skin, he faces Kanzaburo and beckons him to go first.

With a small caw, he obeys and flutters through the window, perching on the nearby tree branch. Resting his hands on the windowsill, he heaved himself up and over with ease, landing on the other side with a soft thud. Turning back, Shoto moved to lower the window enough and grabbing a small pebble, put it in between the sill and the window so that he doesn’t get locked out of his own room.

He looked up at Kanzaburo and waved his hand for him to follow, even when he would’ve followed anyways and whispered, “come Kazaburo.” He turned without looking back and started to sprint off when he heard the rapid flapping of wings as he followed him.

When he made it far into a random direction by hopping over roofs, he slowed down his pace to a stop and took out his map to check where he was located since the area didn’t seem as well-taken care of in comparison as when nearing the center of the city.

Making a note of where he was with a pencil, he froze when he started to hear the sounds of a scuffle in the alleyway right next to the building he was standing on. He hurriedly stuffed his map and pencil into his nagagi before swiftly rushing towards the edge of the roof to scout out what was happening down below with his hand resting on the sheath of his Nichirin sword while Kanzaburo landed right next to him.

While watching, he made sure to note that the main perpetrator was a bulky man with what seemed to be a mutation Quirk harassing an office worker as they’re both fighting over his bag, presumably with his items of importance inside. And it seems that the smaller of the two was losing the battle.

Shoto turned to Kanzaburo and lifted up a hand, signifying for him to wait until further instructions before he stood up and unsheathed his Nichirin with a satisfying hiss of steel. He made sure to turn it so that the blunt edge of the blade would be facing outwards.

With a hop up on the ledge of the building, he promptly jumped down with his hand holding the weapon raised over his head and made sure his stance was relaxed with his legs slightly held apart. Quickly inhaling his breath, he exhaled as the wind rushed past his ears as he neared the two on the ground without the two noticing yet. Once he was within a foot from the main perpetrator, he rapidly swung his blade down, the sharp movement allowing him to spin forwards and harshly having it connect with his head as the visual effects of water fades away.

‘Water Breathing, Eight Form: Waterfall Basin.’

(‘Mizu no kokyū, Hachi no kata: Takitsubo’) 

The effect was immediate as he saw the man crumple upon himself down into a heap onto the ground as he landed on his back in a crouch without a word. Shoto moved to step off of the man as he looked over the office worker, noticing that he was stunned into silence on what just happened.

Letting the man some time to process, he quickly moved back down to a crouch and switching his Nichirin to his other hand, allowed him to rest his free hand on the man's back. Noticing that he was still breathing, knocked out, and thankfully not dead, he pulled back his hand to finally put his Nichirin back into its sheath, letting himself relax, but still be on guard. Shoto turned to face the office worker who was still gaping like a fish before he decided to take things into his own hands and took a step towards him with a raised hand gesturing to his body.

“Are you alright, sir? Are you hurt anywhere?” Unfortunately, he couldn't exactly disguise his child-like voice, even if it was monotonous.

With a shake of the head, the other man uttered a single, “no,” and moved to hurriedly add, “I-- uh, I mean, yes, I’m alright, but n-no, I’m not hurt.”

In return he nodded in relief and silently turned back to look down at the unconscious man. With an almost inaudible mumble he made sure to direct his next words towards the other. “Make sure to call the police on this man. I made sure to knock him out for a while, so you should be safe.” He paused for a moment, contemplating his next words. “Please don't tell them that I was here if you can. Tell them that a hero had rescued you.” He turned back to face the man and noticed that he had calmed down enough and took note of his nodding in understanding. Figuring that Shoto must be a vigilante to ask such a thing from him.

“Yes.” He said breathlessly, his shoulders slumping down in a relieved state before nodding more confidently. "I-I mean yes. Yes, I'll make sure to tell them that. Thank you-- thank you so much!!” He bowed his head towards him at a 90-degree angle. Not at all deterred that he was doing so to practically a child; rather he was relieved that he was saved and his things were not stolen.

With a small shuffle of his feet, he nodded and bowed down in return, uttering a few monotonous words. “Be safe,” before promptly disappearing before the man’s widening eyes. Though, he himself had only flashed back up onto the roof where he was before. With that the man had hurriedly called the cops and explained the situation while waiting for them to come. All the while glancing nervously at the other unconscious man, hoping that he didn’t suddenly wake up again even when he initially did a whiplash on the fact that he was tied up with rope. When did he--?!

Feeling proud of his first mission, he continued to do much more that night. Most often, he had repeatedly requested to the victims he saved to not utter a word about him and instead tell the police that a hero had rescued them instead. Other times, he had to stay at the scene as the victims had either run off in fear or he told them to run himself and tie the villains up with rope instead, sticking a note on them for someone to call the police on them and hope that someone would do so. For now, he wasn’t going to risk sending Kanzaburo to the police station, lest both he and his companion got caught and interrogated.

With an hour and a half before dawn, he allowed himself to relax, not hearing any more nearby sounds of distress, he held himself near the edge of another building while looking at the stars in the sky.

Lost in his thoughts, he never noticed an oncoming presence until they had appeared right next to him and a gruff tired voice speaking to him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at home asleep for school kid?”