You were thirteen when the worst fight happened.

It started out normal—just the two of you behind his house near the rusted fence, arguing over something dumb. You couldn’t even remember what it was at first. Maybe the way he snapped at his little brother. Maybe the way you called him out for skipping again.

But it spiraled fast.

“You think you always know better,” Touya spat, pacing. “Like you’re above it all.”

“I never said that—”

“You don’t have to,” he cut in. “You show up with your perfect family and your stupid jokes like that’s supposed to fix everything.”

You flinched. “So now I’m the bad guy for trying to help?”

“You’re not helping!” he shouted. “You just show up because you pity me.”

Your chest tightened. “That’s not true.”

But he wasn’t listening. He was breathing hard, jaw clenched, eyes burning—but not from his quirk this time. From something worse. Something hollow.

“You don’t get it. You never have.”

“And you don’t get that I chose to be here,” you snapped. “I’ve always chosen you. But maybe you’re too angry to even see that.”

His hands curled into fists, and for a second you thought he was just going to yell again—but then he shoved you. Not hard. Not enough to knock you over. Just enough to cross a line.

You stared at him, stunned.

He froze. Regret flashed in his eyes immediately—but it was too late.

You stepped back, heart racing. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He reached out like he wanted to grab your arm, stop you, but you shook your head and turned.

“I’m done,” you muttered, voice shaking. “Figure your own mess out.”

You walked fast, not looking back. But you could hear him. His footsteps trailing behind you. Not close enough to speak, just… following.

“Hey,” he said once. Then again. “Hey—please.”

You didn’t stop. Didn’t say a word. Not even when he said your name.