Shouto remembers this scene.

"Evade."

The command rolls off of Endeavor's tongue with malice. Shouto jumps effortlessly out of the way as Endeavor launches himself at him.

"Smoother, Shouto. If I can feel your movements through the ground, it's wrong."

Shouto lifts his right foot, practicing the motions of a silent walker. Heel to toe, a rolling motion.

"Evade."

Shouto steps to the side, silent and waiting for a real attack.

Father smirks.

Shouto circles his father, wondering what he's gotten himself into. Endeavor's circling him right back, this image has been engraved into Shouto's brain through years and years of training.

As Endeavor slowly advances, Shouto backs away. It seems, in this scenario, that Endeavor is the predator, and Shouto is, once again, his prey.

Impatient, Shouto frowns. "Are you going to call something out, old man? Or is this a free for all?"

Endeavor hums, "Your call."

Shouto hates this. He hates Endeavor with a burning passion. He hates that there is no escape from him, he hates how angry he makes him.

Shouto hears his father's voice in his head, each command and his brutal criticism.

Endeavor growls at him, "Idiot. If you can't evade and attack all at once, you'll be useless in battle." He pokes Shouto's chin, "Hit here, with your palm or knee. When I call 'immobilize, 1', strike there."

Shouto runs at his father, quirks at the ready. Endeavor takes on a stance of someone not wanting to be thrown. He misread the situation.

Shouto evades a fiery punch, and exhales deeply with his strike. His palm hits his father's jaw, sending him backward.

With a groan, Endeavor catches himself. Flame ignites from his shoulders, Shouto is forced to retreat. Even still, that's not the action of someone giving their all. That's a move that a losing opponent makes.

Endeavor doesn't advance on him, and Shouto does not recognize this scene.

"Take this seriously, Endeavor," he growls, and he's heard these words too many times to count. "I want you to be trying when I finally get a good hit in."

Endeavor hums in understanding, "This isn't going to be like the other times, Shouto. This is still training, not a real fight."

Shouto clenches his fist, lowering his stance, tightening his core. "That's never stopped you before."

Shouto won't lie. He needs this. He needs to win this match against Endeavor. Or, he needs to lose terribly and prove that his father hasn't changed. Prove that all those nights spent in this room weren't just a figment of his imagination.

Shouto meets cerulean eyes and pretends he doesn't see himself in them, small and hurting. "Don't hold back."

Endeavor is the number one hero, and he cares about Shouto, now. For more than some goal he couldn't complete himself. He's not going to treat Shouto like some villain. He'll hold back, Shouto knows. But he's a man who can differentiate between training and fighting. He'll hold back on the fighting level, but in terms of training, Shouto expects for this to hurt.

"Fine," Endeavor gives in.

It starts out with a few punches to either party. Shouto can feel a bruise blooming on his own jaw, can see the bruise forming on Endeavor's cheekbone. Five minutes in, feels like hours. And seconds. And like this isn't happening at all.

Shouto keeps low to the ground, letting his ice sit at the edge of his fingertips, frost hitting the tatami. Endeavor's flames are back, dancing around his shoulders and face and down his arms, now. Shouto hates the heat, he hates that Endeavor can form his fire so effortlessly.

Wordlessly, Endeavor launches himself at Shouto, putting all of his strength into grabbing Shouto's shoulders. Shouto interrupts the tackle, grabbing Endeavor's hands and locking them into a grapple. He can see the judgement in Endeavor's eyes. He knows he made a mistake. As the shorter, weaker one, why would Shouto initiate a grapple? Why, when he's more likely to lose?

It's like he hasn't learned anything at all.

Shouto pushes against the force of his father, feet starting to slide backward. He isn't going to win this, not if he stays in this mindset.

Endeavor instills a fear that Shouto cannot describe. There is a fear that he will hurt Shouto. A fear that Shouto will succumb to him and lose his own free will.

And there is a fear that he will leave. That he will stop loving Shouto, whether it be for a goal or for a bond. Shouto doesn't want Endeavor to forget about him. He wants him to remember everything he's done and feel guilty about it. He wants Endeavor to suffer for ever wronging his family.

Shouto pushes forward and releases the grapple, instead taking Endeavor's right arm and pulling it behind the man. Endeavor still isn't giving his all. Shouto wants to say he doesn't care. But he does, he really, really does.

Instead of landing face forward like Shouto had expected and planned for, Endeavor pulls Shouto too easily, forward. Shouto's wrist in hand, he jostles his son forward and then back, letting go so he hits the wall. The back of his head slams into a wooden support, the bar cracks under pressure.

"Shouto," he says, concern written in his features. "I'm sorry, I-"

Shouto blasts fire at Endeavor, ignoring the trickle of blood down his neck. The distraction is all he needs to maneuver around Endeavor, behind him. Shouto, then, lets his ice encase his father, and then he wraps his arms at Endeavor's neck, pulling him down.

Endeavor is bent at an uncomfortable angle. He melts the ice at his feet and lets his legs slide out in front of him, until he is laying on the floor, neck wrapped up in two strong arms and hands grabbing trying to release the chokehold.

Shouto cannot remember how many times he's done the same.

Shouto cools his right hand down to a frigid temperature, frost prickling at Endeavor's bare neck. He is made for fire. He can heat his skin up all he wants, try to melt the ice. But at the pace Shouto is producing it, he will still be frostbitten.

"Shouto," he chokes out, gasping for air. "I... please-"

"-let go. I can't... can't breathe!"

Rei screams for her child. Shouto tries to gasp for another breath, but fire fills his lungs. He should've seen his father through the flame, shouldn't have let himself be tackled. He should know better, after a year of doing this.

Endeavor scowls, grip on Shouto's small neck fiery and painful. He releases his son, and Shouto holds his right hand to his neck, cooling the burn.

"Tell me what you did wrong."

Shouto's lungs struggle for air, and he sees Rei crying, again.

Shouto hates his father.

Shouto makes to pull his arms out from Endeavor's neck, but fire invades his vision and he flinches back. His head hits the ground in an instant, vision swaying and the colors of the tatami and fire mixing.

It all comes at once, a blow to the stomach and a kick aimed for his knee. Endeavor is going to immobilize him. Just like in their training. Years ago. When Shouto was four and Endeavor wanted him to just fight.

There's a hand on his neck, now, fiery and strong. An arm laid across his shoulders and chest, pinning him down. Shouto pushes against the tatami with his legs, but Endeavor weighs more than Shouto can move with, now.

Shouto flinches when Endeavor's voice rings out in the room. All too loud to not wake Fuyumi up. The neighbors, even. It hits Shouto that it is two in the morning, on Fuyumi's makeshift Christmas Day. He is fighting his father on his first Christmas free from the man.

"Why... why do you want this?!"

Shouto exhales a cut-off breath, "Maybe I just wanna feel like you, Endeavor."

Endeavor shakes his head, teary eyes and bleeding down his forehead. "I've changed. I'm trying hard for you kids."

"I don't care!" Shouto frees his arm and punches Endeavor, the older doesn't flinch, hardly reacts. "None of it matters, not when you shouldn't have done any of that in the first place! Not when I don't need you anymore!"

"Shouto, I don't know how I can ever make it up to you. I keep apologizing and I know it's not working, because you just keep hating me and it's... it's intensifying. I don't... what do I do?"

Endeavor releases Shouto, sitting back on his haunches. He wipes blood from his eyelid, tears mixing with red. "I don't know... I don't know what anyone wants from me, anymore. It's like everything I do is wrong."

Shouto doesn't take the distraction. Heat spreads down his arm and flame blasts out at Endeavor, and this time, he doesn't block it.

Shouto keeps at it, only adding heat to the flame. He knows his fire won't hurt his father. Because it is Endeavor's own fire he is using, and he is tolerant. Shouto could never burn him. He could never win a match against him. There will always be a part of him that is weaker than Endeavor, and the part that isn't, is equally matched.

Every training match, mock battle, every time he tried defending his mother... he was always outmatched. It was Endeavor's lenience that saved them. Shouto could never win. He is his mother's son.

Shouto cuts off his quirk, crawling over and kicking off of the ground to tackle Endeavor. He straddles his chest, balling his hand into a fist. "You don't get to be mad that I can't forgive you!" He punches. "You don't get to guilt me for your problems." Blood runs down Endeavor's nose, Shouto is indifferent. "Nobody has to forgive you! Stop expecting things you don't deserve!"

He punches. And he punches and Endeavor isn't fighting back anymore. He isn't fighting back, and so if Shouto keeps punching, then the roles really have reversed.

"You know," he says, voice trembling. He looks down at his bloodied fists, "If you'd changed earlier on, maybe I would've forgiven you." He moves off of his father's chest, sitting on the tatami next to him. "If you'd been what I needed you to be, maybe we wouldn't all be here like this."

Endeavor does not say anything. Shouto's head throbs, and there is a tightness in his chest, stinging at his eyes that hurts worse than the concussion he's harboring.

"All this," Shouto gestures to Endeavor, "It's just proof that you could've changed all along." His voice breaks, "You could've, but you... you didn't."

The dam breaks. Tears wash over his cheeks as he sobs, blood smears on his face when he wipes his eyes, feeling a bruise on his right eye. An air of finality enters the atmosphere as two broad arms wrap around his hunched-over form, squeezing tightly and pulling him close. He can't tell if Endeavor is crying or not, through his own sobs. His body wracks with pain and sadness and he wants to pause time and stop feeling anything at all.

Shouto pulls away from the one-sided hug, eventually, taking in Endeavor's exhausted form. By his bloody face, bruised and swollen, and the small patch of skin on his neck that is discolored from Shouto's cold, Shouto can tell that he could be considered the winner.

But he doesn't care about that, anymore.

Shouto stands, letting his hand hang down towards Endeavor. "Come on, let's go clean up."

Endeavor looks to Shouto, pitiful eyes searching for... for something. "Why... why?"

Shouto sniffs, wiping his nose with his arm, "If I'm gonna be better than you, I've gotta start here."

Endeavor, despite the tears and broken state of his face, allows a small, proud smile. And he takes his son's hand, standing up and fixing his tank top. They walk through the halls together, Endeavor's heavy footsteps following Shouto's silent ones.

As Shouto applies a bandage to his father's newly cleaned face, Endeavor hisses out in pain.

"You really have grown, Shouto."

Shouto doesn't show it, but he feels a sense of pride, knowing someone so important thinks that.

"You certainly punch harder, than the last time we trained," he tries again, and Shouto huffs out the smallest of laughs.

"I fight harder when I'm angry."

Endeavor sighs, "Like father like son, right?"

Shouto thinks that right now, it's okay for him to think that. It's okay for Shouto to be like his father. Because his father isn't only the abuse, just like Shouto isn't only the abuse.

The sun filters through the the windows of the bathroom, Shouto places another bandage at the bridge of Endeavor's nose, where Shouto admits he might've punched too hard. After this, Shouto will pick himself back up, bandage his own face and assess the situation on the back of his head. And later today, they'll both sit at a dinner table together, both trying to appease Fuyumi. Shouto will eat the food she makes and he's sure Endeavor will, too. Everything will return to how it was just hours ago, excepting a new understanding of one another.

They didn't talk about much, but Shouto doesn't think they had to, anyway.