Undo the Memory

by siRyu

Summary:

This villain possesses a the ability to make anyone they touch relive the worst moments of their life. As the number of victims grows, Midoriya track down and try to stop this force. The hunt intensifies as the villain’s trail gets closer.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

What could happen to him? Relive what he has already experienced? It’s always difficult, okay, he admits it. But it’s over, they are just images. Certainly a bit disturbing, a bit violent… blood, blows, screams, over and over again. Okay, but it was no secret to anyone! Why make a big deal out of it?
Well, some parts were supposed to remain secret

Chapter 1: Tragic Memory

"Memoris?"

Midoriya stood behind the bar, preparing drinks for his friends. While busy behind the counter, he explained his new mission to his guests.

"Yep. A villain who has been lurking for several months. Cunning and vicious. The kind that acts discreetly, taking advantage of the commotion around him. He is weak but knows how to escape without being seen. His quirk is not physical and cannot help him in combat situations. He has access to his victims’ memories. Nothing too serious, one might think. But depending on who he chooses, his quirk can become a real danger."

He gathered all the drinks on a tray, walked around the kitchen island, and joined his friends in the large living room. Tonight was a special evening. He had managed to invite most of Class A, something normally impossible to do. Here they all were, having drinks and snacks, with soft music playing in the background, sharing the latest news at Midoriya’s place. He had just bought a large apartment, close to his agency.

"Why ask you to handle this asshole?" Kaminari intervened after taking a sip of his beer. "It’s not the kind of bastard you usually chase."

"Language, idiot," Ashido reprimanded him, rolling her eyes.

Turning to the others, she pretended to whisper. Midoriya couldn’t help but smile. He had missed his class. Their job leaves them little time to see each other. He had missed his friends.

"Bakugou has always been a bad influence on him, and now he’s starting to swear like him" she leaned back on the large sofa, a cushion on her lap. "Nevertheless, I agree with Denki. We usually see you acting in urgent situations, stopping villains with more… destructive quirks. It’s not the kind of profiles the public is used to seeing you tackle. "

After placing his tray down, he sat on the couch opposite, next to Ochako, who made room for him with a big smile on her radiant face. Midoya blushed and hid his embarrassment by taking his own glass. To his left, Tenya sat upright in his chair, a glass of water in hand.

"A hero must stop anyone endangering our citizens, regardless of their quirk," replied his Iida. "We still sometimes catch petty thieves. Not everything is always explosive"

"That’s true," Momo agreed. "But, Midoriya, you were talking about an investigation… Such protocols rarely involve heroes or heroines… of your caliber, let’s say. Vigilantes, detectives, or the police themselves handle these kinds of cases."

"Mmh. The case has been managed by a detective for months. He almost caught him once. But since then, Memoris has become even more vigilant. Compared to all the other villains he has to catch, this one manages to keep a low profile. His case is never considered urgent or treated as a priority. That’s the problem. When you have a villain threatening to plant a bomb in the most influential street of the city and a dozen others who just want to wreak havoc in the streets, attack the population, influential people, and so on, Memoris is just a mere fly. He doesn’t want to be seen, while his peers do everything to be in the headlines. He takes advantage of the commotion to attack the weakest prey, those no one pays attention to…"

Kirishima, with his mouth full of chips and a half-empty beer in hand, made a grimace of disgust. Next to him, Kaminari was slumped over him, and Sero, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, was muttering insults that were eagerly validated by Ashido. Asui, with her resigned pout, seemed quite calm next to this group. Only Katsuki was missing to complete his little UA gang, Midoriya thought nostalgically.

"What a gutless bastard. If I ever see him, I’ll turn him into mush," shouted Kirishima.

"Do you know how his quirk works?" Ochako asked him.

"By contact. He has to touch his victims, and from what I understand, they need to have a reaction that could make them relive their memories… After that, he makes them relive their traumas… He locks himself with them in their memory. Outside, their bodies disappear."

"Being locked up and alone with this psychopath who makes you relive the worst moments of your life… brrr, what a horror," shivered Ochako. "You really have to be a monster."

"Disappear?" asked Sero, surprised.

"Yes. No trace of the victim’s body or Memoris’s. When he’s done, he releases his hold and the victim reappears in a daze. They are in shock… and the other can escape quietly."

"A real bastard," concluded Ashido.

"Do we know what he looks like?" Momo asked.

"No. He wears a black mask. Always dressed in black too. He is of average height, about 1.75m. Average build too, more slender than muscular…"

"How can you be sure it’s a man and not a woman?" she asked curiously.

"His voice. He talks to the victims. A real psychological torture. The victims have always reported a deep, masculine voice. Whispering horrors to them as they relive the most difficult moments of their lives."

"A real devil," murmured Ochako.

Midoriya saw her shiver, her face worried and frustrated. Her fists clenched on her knees betrayed her anger. He decided to end the discussion. Tonight was a light evening among friends. To celebrate their reunion, to talk about the trivialities of life. He clapped his hands, a big smile on his face, ending the topic of Memoris.

"Who wants some quiche?"

He got up, picked up his friends’ empty glasses, chatted with each of them, and went back to his kitchen. There he found Asui preparing all sorts of dishes… seaweed tartare, zucchini fritters, vegetable chips, quiches, bread, hummus, avocado toasts, and others he couldn’t identify.

"It smells good!" he exclaimed, placing the dirty plates in the sink. "What do you want me to bring?"

Tenya then entered the kitchen, looking relaxed and happy. Seeing his friend so relaxed made him smile even more.

"You look happy, Midoriya," the young man remarked, grabbing some new cans of beer and a bottle of wine. "It’s nice to see."

"Oh, is it that obvious?" he blushed, nervously waving his arms. "It’s just that it’s been so long since we all got together like this. Everyone looks so happy."

"Almost everyone," Asui corrected him, placing a tray of various dishes in his arms. "Not everyone is here."

Surprised, Midoriya caught it with agility.

"Go take this over there, we’re already out of chips and peanuts… How many packs did we buy? Probably around ten."

"You forgot who our guests were," Tenya teased. "These guys used to live on junk food… Without Bakugou, I can’t imagine what their daily lives would have been like."

The trio of friends laughed heartily. Together, they chatted candidly about life, nervously about love, lightly about their future, nostalgically about the past, warmly about their homes, and joyfully planned their future meetings. It was the year they turned 22, still young and spirited, fighting for justice and freedom.

Momo suddenly appeared, her cheeks red, perhaps because of the alcohol or maybe it was just the excitement of the moment.

"So what are you doing over there? Come join us, Ashido has started a game… I haven’t quite figured out the rules yet, but it promises to be fun!"

"And bring the food, don’t keep it to yourselves!" Kaminari shouted from the living room.

Laughing, Midoriya finally brought the tray full of food into the living room. ‘Yes, yes, I’m coming right away!’ he said, as the rest of the group left the kitchen to gather in the large living room.

Chapter 2: Media Stars

The hours passed without anyone noticing. Between the laughter and exclamations, the music and the ambient hustle and bustle, the evening quickly passed in a cheerful atmosphere.

" Do you want to watch the Premiere of the End-of-Year Ceremony?" suddenly intervened Ashido, who couldn’t sit still. "Tonight we have the first images of interviews, debriefs, and everything journalists can do…"

"Of course! We’re not going to miss that," exclaimed Kirishima, bumping into Sero. "I hope I’ve climbed up the rankings! Yooo Denki, putting yourself higher than me in terms of charm… you have the charisma of a firefly!"

"Hey! If I’m a firefly, what does that make you, huh? Maybe you have the charisma of a rock, ever thought of that?!"

"Stop it, you two!" growled Ashido, stepping between the two men who had stood up. "Don’t take it like that, you know these rankings aren’t serious, right? It’s just childish stuff to entertain the public. Don’t take this nonsense as truth. You both have the charm of a beautiful butterfly. Happy now? Turn on the TV, Asui!"

She walked towards her friend, leaving the two idiots with wide, questioning eyes. They then shrugged and shook hands.

"I voted for you anyway."

"Me too, brother, I voted for you."

On this touching scene, everyone turned towards the television. Only one topic occupied all the channels: the End-of-Year Ceremony. It was the event everyone awaited with anticipation. The entire population gathered together to follow the evening. Heroes and heroines were just as impatient, if not more. It was the moment of the results. The moment of the final ranking. The one everyone remembered. Who was Number One? Who carried on All Might’s legacy? It was all in good fun. Not as serious as it was a few years ago. But the system was popular. The population liked having a representative of peace. And the heroes and heroines liked having a goal, a concrete motivation. To have a prize. A reward. It was exciting and motivating for everyone.

Or almost everyone.

On television, journalists spoke quickly, analyzing combat footage, past interviews. Sometimes, citizens were interviewed too.

"This year, who do you think will be Number One?"

"Hawks for sure! He saved so many people again! Not a single day went by without seeing him on TV after saving another victim."

"Mirko, what a question! Did you see her this year? I’ve never seen such strength!"

A cut, more comments from so-called professionals, and other questions:

"In your opinion, Madam, who has the highest count of people saved live?"

"Sir, who do you think will win in the “destruction” category?"

"Young man, who do you see winning the popularity poll?"

And so many other questions. For all the categories.

When Midoriya saw himself appear on the screen, he couldn’t help but blush. He hated it while secretly rejoicing, proud and moved to see these people thanking and loving him. His heart always raced, and his hands were sweaty. Over the years, he managed to control his anxiety, but this Ceremony made him revert to his old habits.

He remembered himself as a child, stars in his eyes, watching with admiration as these heroes and heroines paraded, gave speeches, and proclaimed messages of peace and hope. He watched them socialize together, laugh, and bustle about. He loved seeing them so human, receiving well-deserved rewards for their courage. He loved seeing them without their hero costumes, just men and women enjoying a festive evening.

Now it was his turn to make children dream, to give adults hope.

"It’s the segment reserved for heroes and heroines!" yelled Kirishima. They’ll probably show us!"

"Stop shouting! And last week, I already got questions about the Ceremony… "muttered Ashido nervously.

"Really?!" exclaimed Denki. "And you didn’t tell us?!"

"I got asked questions too…"

" Momo! You too?"

Before their eyes, their friend was the first to appear clearly on the screen. The setting was gray and dusty, the streets unusually quiet. It was the usual landscape after the end of an intense battle in the bustling cities of the country. His blonde hair, the yellow and blue lightning still manifesting around his silhouette.

Suddenly, the street was quickly filled with security agents. Onlookers were already approaching.

The media were already in motion.

"Chargebolt, Chargebolt! You just finished a great fight!"

"Chargebolt, a question!"

"Chargebolt, how do you feel about the Ceremony?"

"What rank do you think you’ll achieve this year?"

Kaminari had dozens of microphones pressing him for answers. He nodded positively, without seeming to understand, vaguely murmuring “yes, probably,” “yes, of course,” “yes, Number One,” “happy to see you.”

Then the images shifted to another heroine. Astonished, Denki stood still, his eyes fixed on the television. Sero was on the floor, trying to stifle his laughter behind his hands… as was everyone else in the room.

"Well then, my poor Chargebolt! That was the moment to have a short circuit," said Kirishima, laughing, slumped over his still frozen friend.

Then Dynamight appeared. As explosive and intense as usual, he had just stopped an impressively large villain who was about to attack a building in the business district. He stood tall and proud, his gaze determined and sharp.

He quickly noticed the cameras and grimaced in their direction.

"Classic Bakugou, he’ll never change," sighed Kirishima.

"And yet, he’s calmed down a lot since U.A," replied Tenya, thoughtfully.

On the screen, Bakugou didn’t hide his disdain for the journalists crowding around him.

"Dynamight! A word, please!"

"Dynamight, what will you wear for the Ceremony?"

The questions were almost inaudible under the shouts of all the journalists.

"Do you think you’ll be Number One this year, Dynamight?"

"Do you still see Deku, Dynamight?"

Bakugou was losing patience. With his lips curled, he grabbed a random microphone from a journalist and made his statement, perhaps a bit too loudly.

"See you at the End-of-Year Ceremony, extras! I will be Number One, no matter what you say. Now go bother someone else, I have more villains to blow up."

Then it was the turn of the ingenious Creaty, charismatic and imposing in her manner of speaking and standing. Crimson Riot, upright and straightforward; Ingenium, quick and rigorous; Uravity, strong and comforting. Midoriya saw himself, confident and open to their questions. He was happy to have gotten through this mini-interview without stuttering. Then other heroes and heroines followed.

The whole group unconsciously moved closer to the screen when they saw a familiar face finally appear.

"It’s not fair, he’s always highlighted! Why does he look like a superstar, huh?" sighed Denki.

"Okay, first of all, he is a superstar. Secondly," continued Sero, "Roki is always like that… It’s not just on TV. Don’t be jealous, it’s just how it is."

Shoto had just finished his fight, as seemed to be the common point for all the sequences shown so far. You could see him vaguely looking at something off-screen.

"He wasn’t voted the most handsome boy in our class for nothing," exclaimed Ashido. "No hard feelings, guys!"

Midoriya expected to see the journalists rush towards the young man, shouting his name. However, as the camera seemed to quickly approach Shoto, he moved in the opposite direction. The camera followed his every move. It captured the moment when he crouched down near a fire truck. The angle prevented seeing what he was doing behind the vehicle.

"Shoto, a word, please!"

"Shoto, Shoto, do you think you’ll be Number One this year?"

"A word about the Ceremony!"

"Please, turn around so we can see you!"

The camera suddenly moved. Behind the hero’s silhouette, a young child could be seen curled up. Before filming anything else, Shoto quickly stood up, forcing the camera to frame higher to capture his face.

With an impassive, nonchalant expression, he blinked and gave them his attention. He patiently waited for the avalanche of questions to subside and calmly responded.

"No, I won’t be going to the Ceremony. I don’t care about the rankings and the polls. Being Number One doesn’t interest me."

He then paused, tilting his head slightly to one side.

"As for the other questions, I didn’t quite understand them," he continued. "So I have nothing else to say."

He smiled slightly, one of his small smiles. On anyone else, this mouth movement would never have been described as a smile. But it was Shoto, and his effort had to be recognized. Thus, he smiled, nodded almost imperceptibly, and completely turned away from the cameras, despite the journalists’ protests.

The segment was over.

"He’s just too cool!" exclaimed Denki.

"Not this year either then?" muttered Sero distractedly.

"No," replied Momo, shaking her head. "I talked to him about it yesterday… No way to change his mind."

"He’s never attended any of the Ceremonies. It’s not going to change today," added Tenya.

"We know his opinion on this event anyway," said Kirishima. "It’s completely understandable."

"Mh, that’s true," continued Midoriya. "He refuses to participate. He used to go to the Old Ceremony thought. With Endeavor."

"Oh really?" asked Ochako.

"Yes, I’ve seen him on TV. What? I remember seeing you there too, Momo! You too, Tenya, don’t look at me like that!"

The show continued.

Aizawa appeared, annoyed, visibly interrupted while walking down the street. He was asked the same questions as the other heroes before the topic shifted. He was asked if the public could consider him the spokesperson for the vigilantes. His former students listened attentively to their teacher.

"Do you think the Hero Public Safety Commission should invite vigilantes to the Ceremony? Are they legitimate to be included in the polls?"

"If you talked to them, you’d quickly see they don’t care much about it, grumbled the hero. I don’t “represent” them, as you say."

"If they received an invitation, would that mean they’d decline it?"

He received a nonchalant shrug in response.

"Should vigilantes be banned and laws strengthened?"

"Most of them do far more than you could ever imagine. Some of them would win all the awards at the Ceremony if they wanted to."

"Who are you talking about? Do you know their identities? The Shade? LadyYv? Helly?"

And other vigilante names were shouted in hopes of getting a reaction from Aizawa, who seemed on the verge of falling asleep.

In the living room, Midoriya and his friends were also sharing their opinions. Debates erupted in the room, as they always did across the country on this topic.

On the television, journalists continued to harass the hero, repeating the name "The Shade" hoping for revelations about these enigmatic vigilantes. Then the segment ended, shifting to analysts on the set who continued with their theories. Midoriya couldn’t help but be amused by this enthusiasm.

Everyone shared their opinion, and no one had answers, the discussions quickly exhausted.

"Politics mixed with the Ceremony again," sighed Kirishima.

"Everything is political," replied Tenya. "Especially when it concerns heroes…"

"And especially after the Great War," added Momo. "Talking about rankings, laws regulating heroic activities, the status of heroes or vigilantes, and so on, are sensitive topics."

Then Ashido turned off the television, yawning, and got up to brush her teeth. The others followed her example, debriefing their TV appearances while the rest quietly cleared the table.

"I need to send a message to Shoto tomorrow," muttered Midoriya.

He planned to check in on his friend and invite him to eat. With his hands full of glasses, he headed to the kitchen.

"What are you mumbling about, Deku?"

Surprised, he jumped. Ochako was very close to his face, her eyes bright and curious. He choked, his face slightly red.

"Eh, just that I need to send a message to Shoto, hehe, nothing special!"

"He couldn’t come tonight?"

"No, unfortunately, he told me he was busy. It was bad timing for him tonight."

"Too bad, I would have liked to see him. It seems like he never stops."

Chapter 3: Mind Games and the Detective

Midoriya woke up early, feeling calm. In his pajamas, he left his room, careful not to step on Denki and Sero who were still sleeping.

He quietly made his way to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Midoriya! Did you sleep well?” asked Tenya, who was already busy in the kitchen.

At the table, Ochako was almost asleep, her head supported by her right hand. Across from her, Asui was preparing some toast.

“Good morning,” he replied, stifling a yawn. “Slept well, and you?”

He received various grunts in response. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and thanked Tenya, who offered him some slices of bread with jam.

“Eat quickly and get ready. It’s already 8:25, you don’t want to be late to see the detective,” urged the young man with glasses.

Midoriya thanked his friend and started devouring everything while chatting with him.

The detective had called him last week, asking for his help to catch this villain who had been wreaking havoc for a few months without anyone taking action.

The young hero had sensed the detective’s exhaustion and frustration as he complained about not having any worthy heroes who would “finally get their flashy butts moving” to lock up “this crazy villain.” “Why didn’t you ask for help earlier?” Midoriya had asked. Oh, the poor detective had. But because Memoris was not considered an “immediate danger,” his requests for intervention had always been taken lightly. When they did send help, it was “an inexperienced youngster who dreams too much and can’t follow the instructions of a simple detective with a useless quirk. Their arrogance piss me off, these smugs little…”

Losing patience, he had decided to contact the heroes himself.

This case weighed on him, it dragged on, and as time passed, the number of victims multiplied.

Filing a complaint was useless; most of them were in psychological distress and completely shut down. Those who had tried to seek justice found themselves facing a useless judicial system that could do nothing without evidence or a suspect description… In short, the victims were left alone and vulnerable, with no repercussions for the villain who had harmed them…

Unless they had made it all up themselves? Over time, they began to doubt what they had experienced…

“A nasty case,” sighed Tenya. “The profile of this villain prevents a serious and thorough investigation… He is not considered dangerous enough compared to all the others who can cause direct deaths… I hope you catch him quickly, Midoriya. Attacking vulnerable and defenseless people for no reason is really disgusting.”

The young hero nodded and got up to put on his costume, already thinking about the case. Determined, he intended to put an end to this impunity.

While getting ready quietly so as not to wake the rest of his friends who were still sleeping, he reread the file the detective had sent him. Inside, there were all the information he had gathered about Memoris and all his actions, testimonies, some photos, and plans.

He greeted his friends who were chatting quietly in the kitchen, enjoying a worry-free morning with loved ones.

“Let us know when you’re done with your meeting with the detective!” exclaimed Ochako a little more awake.

“And don’t worry about the apartment, we’ll clean up this mess,” said Tenya firmly. “Leave with a clear mind and focus on Memoris.”

“Oh, I’ll keep an eye on the boys, don’t worry about that either,” Ashido intervened, having just woken up and stumbling into the room sleepily. “They’ll clean everything up, trust me.”

He thanked them warmly, urging them not to worry about the state of his apartment and to enjoy the morning. He wished them a good day, promised to have such evenings again soon, and wished Tenya good luck for his afternoon. He knew Tenya had a villain to catch in another district of the country. The same goes for Momo, who had to go to her agency to handle some paperwork.

In short, everyone would be working by the end of the day, whether on patrol or buried under files.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

“Hello?” called Midoriya as he entered the detective’s office.

He had been greeted by the secretary, who warmly invited him to go see the detective.

The building was nothing extravagant. Really just a concrete block. The only indication that he had arrived at the right place was a plaque on the front with the inscription:

 

Tokimori SATO
  Private Detective

 

The interior was simple and reassuring.

You could see the effort put into creating a calming environment while maintaining a professional and rigorous aspect. The curtains at the window were a lovely cream color, and the seats in the small waiting room looked comfortable. The secretary’s desk was made of elegant wood, the walls were decorated with various paintings, and there were a few plants scattered in every corner. Behind the secretary, there was a plain door leading to the detective’s office.

Inside, the room was large. There were shelves filled with files, papers everywhere. A large whiteboard stood in the corner. There were several chairs, more plants, a large computer dominating the detective’s imposing desk. There were other screens, tablets, and various phones lying around.

A kind of organized chaos, thought Midoriya.

“Ah! Good morning, hero Deku! Glad to see you, I hope we can finally close this case together,” exclaimed the detective gruffly, jumping up to shake the young man’s hand. “Thank you for responding so quickly. I know you must be busy.”

The man facing Midoriya was tall and thin. His hair was graying and disheveled, a scruffy beard, a hard and determined face. He smelled of cigarettes. His eyes were a piercing gray, with deep wrinkles etched into his face.

“Mr. Sato, pleased to meet you. Thank you for calling me.”

“Have you read the file? Sit down, Deku, don’t just stand there.”

Midoriya sat down on the chair opposite the detective’s desk, who heavily dropped into his own chair. He had dark circles under his tired eyes.

“Yes, of course, and…”

“Ah, very good, I expected no less from you,” Sato interrupted. “What do you think?”

“We can catch him. You just needed someone… let’s say, capable, to catch him in the field. We need to act quickly and decisively, without giving him time to see what’s coming.”

The man listened attentively, nodding his head. He took his pack of cigarettes from the drawer and shook it slightly towards Deku, who nodded in response to Sato’s silent question. Sato lit his cigarette, smoking while listening to the analysis of one of the most competent heroes currently.

“You’ve already been able to anticipate Memoris’s actions. It’s not the most complicated; he intervenes when there’s commotion around him. He’s vicious and discreet, but he needs people around him to operate.”

“You forget the victims found in front of hospitals, hero agencies, police stations… basically, all those places that are supposed to ensure the protection of the population. As soon as they leave, after an uncomfortable moment for them, they are at the mercy of this madman. Why does he even do this? I still have no idea…”

“Yes, you’re right. But it will be more difficult to intercept him when he attacks at the exits of these buildings… There are few people, the place is monitored. He is therefore even more cautious. We don’t know which of these places he will go to… It’s the best time for him to act. The victim is vulnerable. If they leave these establishments, it’s because something has happened to them… So I think we will have a better chance of stopping him when he thinks no one will notice him, during a live attack by a much more threatening and dangerous villain…”

“I follow your reasoning, Deku, and I agree. You could even ask your contacts to stage a little scene… to lure Memoris to the scene he thinks is favorable for him…”

“Maybe, Detective… you seem to have already thought about the question,” Midoriya replied cautiously. “As for the motive for his attacks… I don’t see any reason either. His victims are mostly young women. I haven’t seen anything that could connect them. No particular common points, no relevant links.”

“Just a sadist. Nothing to understand,” growled Sato. “Or maybe not. Let’s catch this bastard and we might get more insight into his psychological state.”

They talked for almost an hour.

To catch him, they needed to act quickly and use the crowd just like Memoris did. Caught in his own trap, Midoriya thought with amusement. If he was smart enough, he would flee without touching anyone.

But Deku felt that this wasn’t the kind of man to stop when he took the risk to strike. A man who targeted psychologically vulnerable women and men, making them relive difficult and painful moments, was a villain who liked to feel powerful and in control, without risking a fight with anyone.

The whiteboard was filled with their various lines of thought and the future plan, which was starting to look solid.

In fact, the detective had already thought of most of the plan and its details.

He just needed someone to execute it.

“Detective Sato!”

The secretary’s head suddenly appeared, interrupting the two men.He looked agitated and quite nervous, Midoriya observed silently.

“He brought another victim.”

The detective straightened up abruptly. Deku stood up slowly, ready to intervene.

“Now?”

They could hear movement in the main room. Deku focused on the two people who seemed to be there, missing Sato’s worried and irritated look.

In response, the secretary nodded affirmatively and nervously opened his mouth.

“In fact,” he continued, agitated, “he’s been trying to calm the young woman who was attacked for over fifteen minutes.”

The two men rushed out of the office. Just before entering the room, the detective grabbed Deku’s wrist, stopping him.

“Listen, Deku, I was going to tell you, but another he…”

“Focus on my voice. That’s right. You’re doing very well, Mado.”

Surprised to hear the voice of one of his best friends, he freed himself from the man’s grip and stepped out.

“Shoto?”

The young man was crouched, speaking calmly to the young woman sitting in a chair in front of him. He turned his head towards Midoriya but quickly refocused his attention on her.

“Please, don’t speak until she calms down,” the secretary intervened again, whispering - the young hero noted that he should ask for his name… he was tired of calling him “the secretary.” “Shoto asked me to keep quiet until the young girl, Mado from what I heard, calms down.”

He added to himself, “I think he even threatened to cut my tongue and send me away if I didn’t stop fidgeting…” Midoriya blinked, surprised.

So they waited as Mado regained her composure, under Shoto’s constant encouragement.

Deku noticed that he was in civilian clothes.

He wore black jeans with a white t-shirt over which he had added a light blue open shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
It was Saturday morning.

He knew Shoto spent his mornings either with his mother or visiting his older brother, Dabi.

Toya, Midoriya corrected himself internally.

Despite the years that had passed, not everything had changed, much to Midoriya’s regret on this point.

He refocused seeing Shoto slowly stand up and sit on the chair next to the woman, which he pulled closer. His hand was being squeezed by the young girl, who kept her head down, her long black hair hiding her face.

“Feeling better, Mado?” Shoto asked calmly. “Squeeze my hand if you don’t want to talk, that’s perfectly fine too.”

He must have received a positive response because he continued, just as peacefully, taking his time.

“Can you look at me, Mado? I need to see your face, please. Can you do that for me? It will make things much easier for me to explain what’s happening.”

Everyone waited for something to happen for a few seconds. Shoto was leaning towards the young woman, his hand trapped in Mado’s, resting on her knee.

Then she slightly raised her head.

A few strands of hair moved aside, gradually revealing her face. The young hero then gently positioned himself in her line of sight. He had his back to Midoriya, who could only see Mado’s expressions. But he knew his friend must have had a reassuring smile, his captivating and sympathetic eyes mesmerizing the confused young woman.

“Hello Mado.”

Deku, the detective, and the secretary (he vowed to know his name by the end of the morning) then saw the woman’s eyes regain a spark of life. Her mouth slowly opened, blinking several times.

Chapter 4: Mayday

"Sho… to ?"

It was the first time she had spoken. Her voice was weak and trembling. Seeing the woman’s distress deeply pained Deku.

"Shouldn’t we call someone?" the secretary asked the detective, who looked at him curiously.

"And who? She is in the presence of two of the greatest heroes we have right now, along with a renowned detective and his brilliant secretary. What more do you want? A doctor won’t do anything for her, nor will the police, and calling a random psychologist isn’t my thing. I can recommend one to her once she calms down. Anyway, she’s not the first victim we’ve taken in here."

"I guess", Deku retorted. "But we can’t do nothing".

"Your friend has the situation under control. He already brought in another girl last week. He knows what he’s doing, there’s no problem."

He turned properly towards Deku, looking grave and serious.

"Memoris is acting faster and faster… It’s worrying me, he’s making more and more victims. The time lapse between his attacks is shortening."

"He’s rushing. He’ll make a mistake soon, for sure. What I don’t understand is why," Midoriya added, his eyes still fixed on Mado.

"Oh. You recognize me?" Shoto replied.

The detective rolled his eyes and mumbled something into his beard. “I’ll be back,” was the only audible phrase Midoriya caught, who turned just in time to see Sato return to his office.

The young woman was weakly nodding her head. She was shivering, Deku noticed.

Her gaze was fixed on the young hero in front of her.

"I am honored, Mado. Let me introduce you to a very dear friend of mine. You probably know him. Mado, this is Deku," he said carefully, turning his gaze towards him.

Mado took a few seconds before tearing her eyes away from Shoto and following his gaze. Finally, she looked at Deku, who gave her a big reassuring smile and a slight wave.

"Hello, Mado."

At that moment, the detective appeared with a bottle of water in hand. As he approached, Shoto continued the introductions.

"And that old man there is Detective Sato. He likes to grumble, but deep down, he cares a lot about people. He’s stubborn and grouchy, but we can’t do anything about it."

Midoriya was surprised to hear his friend speak so familiarly about the detective. Did they know each other?

"You need to stop provoking me, kid," he growled, handing the bottle to the young woman. "He doesn’t hold his tongue and it’s been getting him into trouble for years. He’ll never learn, I’m telling you. He’s a hopeless case."

In response, Shoto shrugged nonchalantly.

Midoriya observed Mado, who was looking at them curiously. Her trembling had gradually subsided. She had her head fully raised. Her eyes were black, with a small slightly upturned nose and red lips. Her makeup had run. The black applied around her eyes was smeared to her temples and cheeks. Some hair was stuck to them. She had lost an earring. He noticed a piercing on her eyebrow. She must have been their age or maybe a bit older. She was wearing beige shorts that fell to her knees and a cream-colored blouse. Deku then noticed that her knees had been carefully bandaged.

"Th… that doesn’t bother me," she murmured in a still weak voice.

Everyone seemed reassured by her response. Only Shoto remained impassive, his eyes still fixed on her. She had taken the bottle that Seto offered her with her free hand and thanked him softly.

"You see, Sato," he said simply, watching her drink cautiously.

"Please, don’t encourage him."

"Mado," Shoto resumed seriously. He waited until he had her full attention before continuing. "I need to ask you a few questions. Do you feel up to it? If you’re too tired, we can continue later."

Already, she was sitting a little straighter. She put the bottle on the ground and even turned towards Shoto. She nodded affirmatively.

"Yes?" he inquired. "Now?"

"Yes," she said more clearly.

She was a proud and usually composed woman, Midoriya understood. Her chin held high, she looked the young man straight in the eye. Deku sighed with relief.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the detective take a notebook and pen from the secretary’s desk.

"We can start from the beginning. Your name is Mado…"

"Okino," she completed.

"How old are you?"

"25 years old."

"Your date of birth?"

"April 29."

"What do you do for a living?"

"Researcher."

He asked her other routine questions. Sato scribbled the answers in his notebook. He glanced at the young woman who had regained some strength.

"Can you explain to us what happened to you?"

She swallowed with difficulty, tense.

"I was leaving the police station…" she glanced quickly at the men around her and, as no one interrupted her, she continued. "Then I felt someone grab my shoulder. I… I turned around and his hand moved up to my face. Then suddenly I was… in my head? I don’t know, everything is… blurry. I’m sorry."

"Everything is fine. Did he speak to you?" Deku asked gently.

"When we were seeing my… memories?" she spat, "yes. He’s a chatterbox."

"Was he with you?"

"Not exactly… I could hear him but I don’t know where he was."

"Before being in your memories, did he say anything to you?"

"No."

"Could you describe him to us?"

"Everything happened so fast. One moment I was in the street and suddenly I was looking at my life. I never saw him properly."

"You wouldn’t be able to recognize him if he was here, if I understand correctly," summarized Detective Sato.

She shook her head.

Shoto turned to the detective. He nodded imperceptibly, stood up, and approached Mado. It was over for now, they soudn't push her more. They just had to escort the young woman.

"Ms. Okino, we won’t bother you any longer. We will take your contact details. If you remember any detail, even if it seems insignificant, let me know. I will give you my number, you can reach me at any time."

She took the business card the detective handed her, uncertain. Midoriya stood up too.

His back was starting to hurt from sitting for so long.

"Deku," he continued, "is the hero helping me catch the villain who attacked you. We will keep you informed of the progress of the case. If you have any questions, we will be happy to answer them."

She stood up in turn, listening attentively to the detective.

She couldn’t help but glance at Shoto, the hero who had calmly brought her here and patiently pulled her out of her mind. She plunged her dark eyes into his, seeking that feeling of safety and reassurance in his. Would he also try to catch Memoris, who had trapped her in her painful memories? Midoriya could see the question on her distressed face, and it was likely his friend did too, as he responded with a reassuring smile.

Yes, he would follow the case and do his best to help Deku catch this man.

Calmed and more confident, the young woman turned back to the detective.

"Do you know who… did this to me?"

Sato sighed, arms crossed over his chest, casting a quick glance at Deku.

"We have a good lead. We don’t know where he is, but the case is progressing well," Midoriya reassured her. "Your testimony is helping us get closer to him. Don’t worry."

Mado opened her mouth to respond, but she stopped abruptly.

Her eyes widened, and she suddenly let go of Shoto’s hand, realizing she had never released it. Human beings find comfort in the presence of another, sometimes even a stranger… Even when another had hurt them just moments before. It was a kind of cycle that bordered on masochism, impossible to break. Hurt by one and reassured by another, in a loop.

Mado was apologizing vehemently, her cheeks red, her voice trembling, facing a Shoto who had also stood up and was trying his best to reassure her.

It wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last time someone clung to the person who saved or helped them.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Shoto relaxed imperceptibly.

He hadn’t planned to visit Detective Sato today, much less to come across a distressed woman in the middle of the city’s streets.

He had quickly bandaged her scraped knees without stopping to talk to her, looking for any other physical injuries. He had reassured the police officers, insisting that he had the situation under control. He wanted to avoid all the inevitable procedures, all the bureaucratic delays. It wouldn’t help the young woman who had become withdrawn from the world and was clinging to his t-shirt with all her strength.

He had then used his hero status, revealing his face hidden under his cap and sunglasses, and when the police officers recognized him, they reluctantly left him alone.

Shoto asked them to send the surveillance footage from the police station to the detective handling the case and gave them his contact details.

Handling this kind of situation where the victim was psychologically vulnerable always made him a bit more tired when it was all over…

Usually more than a real fight…

Midoriya, who knew his best friend well, approached him, and the two of them watched the detective waiting for Mado’s mother with the young woman.

She was supposed to come and pick her up in 5 minutes.

"I didn’t know you were working on the case, Shoto."

"I’m not on it," he clarified, taking his phone out of his pocket. "Let’s say I’m giving the detective a few pointers. But I can’t work on it properly."

He didn’t elaborate, but Midoriya guessed from the slight frown on his face that he wasn’t satisfied. Quite the opposite…

"That’s why I advised him to call you. I spent some time forming the beginnings of an action plan with the detective, but I can’t catch him myself… I have this other… case, which takes up a lot of my time."

"Wait!" Midoriya said, surprised. "You’re the one who gave him my number?!"

Outside, a car arrived at full speed, stopping abruptly in front of the detective and Mado. The engine still running and the car barely stopped, a small woman jumped out of the gray vehicle and rushed to take the young woman into her arms with force.

Shoto turned away from the window and motioned for Deku to follow him into the office.

"He would have found you anyway. Besides, you told me you wanted to take on a different kind of case, right?"

"Yes, I remember, of course. I mentioned it the last time we saw each other with Kacchan. But I didn’t know you would find something for me! And especially not so quickly."

Without stopping, Shoto positioned himself in front of the whiteboard where everything about the Memoris case was written. Midoriya and Sato had made a plan, and the latter had hung a large map of the city on the wall behind it.

Shoto stopped in front of it and took a pushpin, which he placed on the map. It indicated the place where he had found the last victim, Midoriya quickly realized.

"Shouldn’t I have?" he asked. "There are plenty of cases like this, it’s not like they’re in short supply."

"Yes, yes, of course. You were right. Thank you, Shoto."

He then took the marker and wrote in his neat, elegant handwriting in the section reserved for found victims :

Mado OKINO, 25 years old.
Left the police station. November 19, 10:05 AM

He put the marker back in its original place and glanced at his watch.

"Thank you, Midoriya. I know you’ll catch him quickly… We’re nearing the end of the year, and villains love to make noise during this period. At the next big attack, Memoris will be there. He’s gained confidence and won’t miss such an easy opportunity."

"I agree. He never operates in the same place twice… Covering all the police stations, hero agencies, fire stations, and other such establishments would be impossible. And to have such a wide range of action…"

"Maybe a taxi," Shoto muttered in response to Deku’s thoughts. "Or something like that."

"Yes! Yes, of course! That would fit… an activity that allows him to move around without being noticed…"

"I have to go, Midoriya," he cut him off. "Sorry. If you need me, I’m reachable. Call me when you’re on the field, I’ll stay in support to block Memoris."

He took his black sunglasses out of his pocket and grabbed his cap that he had hooked to his jeans.

Before he could leave, the young hero hugged him in a quick embrace.

Surprised, the younger one didn’t even have time to respond.

"It was nice to see you. We missed you yesterday, you know. Are we still having lunch together tomorrow? I know Tenya isn’t sure if he can come, but Momo will be there, of course. And Katsuki is working this weekend…"

"Yes. Yes, of course, tomorrow at noon. At Momo’s. I’ll be there."

"Great, see you tomorrow then!"

They said goodbye, and Midoriya found himself alone in the office, thoughtful.

Memoris would be caught very soon, there was no doubt about it.

They had all the elements to catch him. The detective only needed him to apprehend the villain. That’s all that was missing in this case, which was stalling only because no heroes or heroines had taken it seriously… In 5 months, there had been 18 victims found… and Deku suspected there were many more who hadn’t come forward.

5 men and 13 women.

5 found in front of agencies. The rest were victims found at combat sites. He wondered if his friend wanted to avoid facing Memoris. This thought pained him, but he understood the reasoning behind this decision very well.

The goal was not to get trapped oneself.

The door opened, interrupting his thoughts. Detective Sato entered, grumbling.

"I thought the mother would never let me go. I gave the girl the contact of a very good psychologist if she needs to talk to someone. She will come back tomorrow to answer a few more questions and complete other formalities. Fortunately, Shoto intervened. He doesn’t seem like it, with his impassive look, but he could reassure a stone if he wanted to."

"Yes, you’ve got him figured out well," Midoriya smiled. "Do you know each other well ?"

"Crossed paths a few times, before… And he got involved in the case last week… As soon as he heard about Memoris, he came to see me and quickly advised me to contact you. He says you could wrap up the case in no time."

"Ah, I’ll do my best! There’s no reason for Memoris to still be running around the streets. We’re just waiting for another villain to cause enough chaos for Memoris to attack in turn…"

"Call Dynamight, he could help us," Detective Sato insisted before Deku left. "The Ceremony is approaching, he’s taking advantage of the last few weeks to make his mark in the media. Who is more explosive than him… Shoto himself promised to keep an eye out and call me. His own fights easily rival Dynamight’s in terms of aggressiveness… You three probably have the most visible and unrestrained quirks of your generation…"

Chapter 5: Monsters like me

“Oh, I almost forgot. What’s your secretary’s name?”

“Why are you bothering me now, Deku? What do you want with the kid?”

“His name, Detective. I can’t just call him ‘the secretary’.”

“You could.”

“Detective Sato, please.”

“… Reizo NIWA.”

“Thank you, detective. Have a good day, we’ll see each other very soon.”

“… Yeah, right. See you soon.”

 

What a character, thought Midoriya.

He was leaving Momo’s place, full but in a hurry.

He had just received a call for an emergency intervention in the city.

Before that, he had eaten at his friend’s house, along with Tenya and Shoto. It was impossible for them to enter a restaurant without attracting attention.

Living in public was a real nightmare in that aspect. Every step they took was scrutinized and judged, shared on social media without any control.

A few years ago, he was surprised that he was assigned a public relations agent and that they were required to take communication courses or even participate in various training sessions on the subject.

Yet, this was the integral life of a hero or heroine.

Offering one’s life to the public.

And he himself had been the first consumer of everything related to the world of heroism. He had always been the first to scrutinize them, admire them, collect everything he could find about his idols. He analyzed their videos for hours sometimes.

He sighed, ignoring the wind hitting his face and the void beneath his feet.

He was running on the rooftops of the city towards the report.

According to the latest news, Hawks was on the scene. If they had called Deku too, and not another hero closer or on patrol, it was either a move by his press agent to ensure him a spot on screen and gain popularity before the Ceremony, or a matter of quirks…

He leaned towards the first option, knowing the man in question.

He had been too happy that Midoriya asked him to make sure he was always on the field in case of a major attack. No matter if it was temporary, just long enough to catch a secondary and unimpressive villain for the public. If he could use Deku’s concerns, then his agent wouldn’t hesitate to do so. “It’s increasing your chances of being Number One this year,” he had argued. “Look at Dynamight, he understood a long time ago that the more you take up spac in the media landscape, the more your chances of being Number 1 increase drastically.”

 

He arrived at his destination.

The police had already barricaded the area, and he could see Hawks flying above the villain, a tall man with animalistic features. His ears, resembling those of a wolf, had immediately turned towards Midoriya.

A stealthy approach was now impossible.

Part of his attention remained focused on the crowd.

He had sent a message to Detective Sato and knew that Shoto was monitoring the area. He had followed discreetly, staying further back. An extra pair of eyes.

Deku admired his friend’s talent for observing and going unnoticed. He found it incredible that a man like Shoto, who naturally attracted so much attention due to his physique, name, and aura, could become so silent, so stealthy.

He and Shoto had adjusted their earpieces before leaving Momo’s place to communicate. If Memoris had to act now, they wouldn’t miss him.

“I’m tired of playing with you, bird! Come down or I’ll eat you!”

A wolf, judging by the growl, thought Deku as he dodged a punch from the opponent.

Definitely a wolf.

“Deku? Who would have thought I’d make the great hero of the Great War come out,” he sneered, trying to hide his nervousness.

“Oy! How’s it going, Deku? It’s good to see you!” Hawks called out cheerfully.

He responded with a nod and focused on the villain in front of him. If he was too easy to defeat, Memoris wouldn’t act. The streets were relatively calm… And Hawks was clearly toying with his prey.

“Two against one? Really? Some heroes you are,” spat the wolf-man.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The fight was over in less than 5 minutes.

Hawks was parading in front of the public and the cameras, looking carefree.

Memoris, on the other hand, had not appeared.

There were three injured, a woman and two men who had found themselves next to the villain when he decided to smash all the shop windows on the street…

Slightly annoyed, Midoriya called his agent, who was supposed to notify him of specifically important and explosive attacks.

Neither of these adjectives matched the scene he had intervened in.

"Can’t you ask your own agent to notify us in case of an attack?” Midoriya asked Shoto using his earpiece.

“Nope, sorry.”

“I know you don’t like her, but at least she’s efficient.”

“Yours is too. You just have different goals. Look, the journalists are arriving. He’s very efficient. Smile, Deku, it’s showtime.”

“Very funny, Shoto, thanks.”

“No problem. See you later.”

And he cut the communication, leaving Midoriya to handle the media, while his agent completely ignored him.

“Big smile, Midoriya, and don’t forget to say what I told you. This year you’ll be Number 1, you deserve it, my boy,” was the message his agent sent him.

Midoriya would have preferred if he had ignored him, after all.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

It was Hawks who pulled him out of the sea of cameras and the hundreds of questions being thrown at him. The journalists had only one word on their lips : Ceremony.

The public was excited, and the media were fueling the general excitement.

“There are only two reasons for you to intervene,” Hawks began, putting an arm around Deku’s solid shoulders. “One, to steal the spotlight from me and hope to gain some points for the Ceremony. Two, I have no idea yet, but I’ll find out.”

“None of that,” lied Midoriya. “I was just passing by and heard some commotion, nothing more!”

Once in a quiet place, the hero let go of the younger one and stared at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Who were you communicating with?” he asked, tapping his ear.

Ah, he had seen that.

Hawks was smart; lying to him was useless. Hesitant, Midoriya nervously scratched his neck. They were alone; the elder had taken him to a secluded alley. The Memoris case wasn’t a secret…

The more heroes knew about it, the more eyes there would be to watch the surroundings.

“Okay, I’m here for another villain.”

“I’m listening,” he replied, raising a blond eyebrow.

“His name is Memoris, his quirk is…”

“Ah, Memoris,” interrupted Hawks. “I understand better now! Why didn’t you say so earlier!?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking detached and ready to leave now that he had his answer. Midoriya watched him, surprised.

He knew the villain?

“Yep. Shoto warned me. He told me about this guy who makes people relive certain moments of their lives when he touches them. Honestly, I have no desire to run into him, haha! Good luck with the case and catch him quickly, will you?! Bye, let’s grab a drink one of these days!”

And he was gone.

Midoriya stood frozen for a few seconds.

“Congratulations, Midoriya! Get ready to win more than one award at the Ceremony 😀.”

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

"Get your ass over here, Deku! I’ve got a monstrosity to kill and people running all over the place!"

Four days had passed.

The wait was over.

Finally.

He had never been so eager for a villain to attack. He felt conflicting emotions about this realization. But the moment had finally come. If everything went according to their plan, two villains would be arrested during this operation.

When he received Dynamight’s call, he was already on his way. His own agent had warned him, as had his agency. He had put on his costume and made sure to cover as much skin as possible.

All the heroes and heroines had been warned of the potential presence of another villain, Memoris, who trapped his victim in their own memories by touch.

"I’m on site", Shoto’s voice intervened in his earpiece, at a much more reasonable level than Kacchan.

"Good, don’t bother me."

"Civilian in danger to your right, Dynamight."

"Shut up, don’t tell me what to do!"

"There, in thirty seconds," Deku interrupted them.

He was happy to be able to work again with his two best friends.

The three of them were a force that was hard to match.

In terms of brute strength, it was almost frightening.

Dynamight’s explosions, Shoto’s extreme temperatures of ice and fire, and Deku’s superhuman strength… Whether it was long, medium, or short-range combat, they had no weaknesses. Shoto was complete, with his quirk allowing him to keep his distance or engage in close combat with terrifying precision. Dynamight and Deku specialized in close combat.

A deadly combination.

Strategically speaking, Deku’s detailed and precise analyses quickly revealed the enemy’s weaknesses and the workings of their quirk. Dynamight’s impetuosity and impulsiveness, combined with his instinctive intelligence of his surroundings, could quickly thwart enemy plans.

Shoto was a mix of these two personalities.

Midoriya had thought about it for a long time, noting his observations and numerous reflections in his notebook. His way of developing strategies could be cold and calculating, thoughtful and deadly effective.

However, there was something unpredictable about him too. An impulse, a kind of explosiveness that caught the opponent off guard, and sometimes even his allies. Unpredictable and surprising.

The three of them formed an invincible team.

"Fucking hell, what’s with this huge iceberg? Is this what you call keeping a low profile?!"

"They were going to destroy the building. I could freeze them if there weren’t civilians everywhere."

"But it’s swarming with panicked people and damn it, you just announced your damn position to everyone! Don’t interfere in my fight, asshole!"

"Noted. I’ll let them destroy everything with the next hit."

Indeed, a glacier now looms over the city.

Solid. And cold.

There was panic everywhere he looked. People were screaming, debris was flying. The villain was huge. Without Shoto’s intervention, he would have smashed the building with a punch and crushed all those people trying to flee. And probably killed the people who hadn’t had time to evacuate the building.

"Looks like Godzilla", he let out, stunned by the enormity of… the person?

"Who?"

"Oh, shut up. And fucking move instead of watching the monster, Deku."

"There are too many people down there," Shoto muttered.

"Not my problem."

"Where did they come from?" Deku asked.

"This is not the time to think about that, idiot!"

He activated his quirk again, concentrated it in his legs, and leaped towards Godzilla.

He must have been 20 meters tall… was he aware of what he was doing? Why had he transformed? And why now? Was he a villain? A civilian who had lost control of his quirk? A child?

He landed on their head.

Godzilla shook it violently, and Deku let himself fall onto his shoulder, shouting at him to stop and surrender.

Around him, Dynamight disoriented him and drew his attention.

"We can’t fight that! If they falls, they’ll crush everyone!" Deku warned.

"We need to lead them to the lake."

"And what do you think I’m doing up here, huh?"

Other heroes and heroines were rushing in.

He couldn’t do anything for Godzilla.

They had to guide him to a calm area and neutralize him.

Dynamight was shouting instructions into the earpiece to clear a path towards the water.

"I’ll leave them to you, Dynamight, I’ll clear the path below and look for Memoris."

He received no response.

The explosive hero had suddenly dived under Godzilla’s giant foot (paw?) and grabbed a woman just before she was crushed. He quickly set her down and was about to leave, but paused for a moment.

She must have said something, and he once again leaped into the air, ready to take down Godzilla.

Out of the corner of his eye, Deku saw ice ceilings, makeshift shelters to protect civilians from the debris raining down on the population. Soon, ivy leaves formed to do the same. A barrier of ice was slowly forming, taking care not to touch any civilians, on either side of the giant, towards the lake.

Deku was clearing the way, his eyes scanning the alleys and every person he saw.

There were too many people.

"Shoto, we can’t handle both villains. We need to focus on Memoris."

"Mmh. I’m pulling back."

Deku also announced his withdrawal to their allies. He mingled with the frightened civilians, directing them to a safe place and checking on the injured or missing.

"Fucking media assholes," came Dynamight’s voice in his earpiece.

In the air, helicopters had appeared, risking being grabbed by Godzilla.

Deku focused on the cries and complaints of the people around him.

“I lost my dad! Dad! Dad! If you…”

“Where did you see him last, kid?!” Deku immediately asked.

The child pointed behind Deku, before being gently guided by… Momo?!

She too was dressed to limit skin exposure, trading her usual outfit for a tight black ensemble. The top was open at the ribs, protected by her arms, and at the sternum so she could use her quirk. She had kept her belt.

“I’ll take him to safety,” she said, gently reassuring the child and guiding him firmly to safety.

Relieved to see the little boy taken care of by Creaty, he rushed to the indicated spot, creating a path through the screaming crowd. As he passed, he shouted for them to follow the signs towards the safety zone.

"Shoto?!"

"Nothing on my end."

"Me neither. And no response from the others either."

Then he saw a man fallen on the ground. He rushed to him before he could be trampled by the crowd, helping him up. The man, in his forties, had graying hair and bulging eyes, trembling. His gaze fixed on Deku.

"Deku. He… He… did something to me," he said, pointing.

Deku followed the direction just in time to see a black figure disappear into the crowd, moving against the flow. Heart pounding, adrenaline sharpening his senses, he ran in the indicated direction, quirk activated.

"My son!"

"Safety zone. Creaty!"

And he disappeared.

Chapter 6: Panic Room

"Shoto, I got him."

"I’m coming. I’ll report it on the channel."

Shoto, like all their colleagues, had access to his exact location.

Meanwhile, Deku was running behind the dark figure. Memoris was agile and quick, skillfully weaving through the crowd. But he stood no chance against the hero. And Midoriya knew he realized it. The villain was pushing everyone he passed, probably hoping to hinder the hero chasing him.

Deku noticed he was careful not to touch anyone directly.

In the distance, Godzilla was moving away. Only his footsteps still made the ground tremble, and his growls made the air vibrate.

He had to catch Memoris. If he sped up, he risked injuring the civilians around him. He decided to wear him out. Wherever he went, Deku would be right on his heels, for as long as it took.

"I’m following you from the rooftops. I can freeze him," Shoto suggested. "Let’s finish this."

"Wait. He has a goal in mind. He might lead us to something," Deku exclaimed.

For five months, this man had been targeting a particular profile of people.

People who had experienced difficult and traumatic events.

He knew his victims.

A few days ago, the detectives had contacted him. Mado Okino had come to answer Sato’s questions. She was leaving the police station after filing a complaint against her ex-boyfriend. An intense and short relationship, the destructive kind. Parties, nights out. Alcohol. Sometimes drugs. She had been sexually abused. Drugged, raped. Several times, before she realized it. Memoris had made her relive each of these acts.

Hoshi Matsuno, Nobukazu Kaba, Ema Nakatomi, and 15 other victims. Rapes, survivors of a villain attack. Accident survivors, murder witnesses. Difficult childhood, battered woman. These were very specific tragedies. An indelible mark in the brain of each of these people who had to learn to live with it. Wounds always caused by another.

Why? Why target them? What was Memoris’ goal? These questions haunted Midoriya. He didn’t understand.

"I’m not sure, Midoriya…"

"He has nowhere to go. We lose nothing by letting him run a bit longer."

There was a moment of silence. But Deku was focused on his chase, barely blinking. Memoris was speeding up. The hero did the same, effortlessly.

"We’re going back to where I came from…" was Shoto’s only response.

Indeed, the villain turned right once he reached the end of the street. Deku lost visual contact for a few seconds before taking the same path and seeing the glacier, still towering in front of the building and proudly overlooking the city.

Why here? he wondered. The area had been evacuated, leaving only huge concrete craters and the remnants of quirks that served as temporary roofs in the street. The crowd was sparse, and emergency vehicles were placed further away due to the exploded road.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized that Memoris had slowed his pace. He was right in front of the hero.

"Stop, Midoriya!" Shoto shouted in his earpiece.

Cold hands were already gripping his face.

He was too surprised to stop and collided head-on with the body in front of him.

Both were propelled into the air before rolling on the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of Deku. Images exploded in his mind. Him as a child, Kacchan, alone, his notebooks, the blows, the insults, All Might, All for One, One for All, alone, the scars, the blood, the pressure, the secrets, the war, the screams, Tomura, cries, wounds.

"So alone. So lonely. Always the same choice. Alone for his dream. But what’s the point of achieving something if you’re the only one rejoicing in the end? No one by your side," a suave and deep voice reached him.

He was on the ground, dazed by the fall and dazzled by his memories playing at high speed before his eyes.

Then the weight crushing his chest disappeared, and the images faded as suddenly as they had appeared.

The cold air could once again kiss his cheeks.

A sharp pressure on his neck.

"So boring, hero Deku," murmured Memoris, before continuing, shouting, "If you try anything, I’ll stab him and this w…"

Then the characteristic sound of his friend’s quirk.

Disoriented, he took a deep breath and prepared to quickly get out of his current position. He turned his head and saw the long sharp blade pressed against his artery.

His eyes quickly moved up to the hand holding the handle and that arm, encased in a block of ice. Memoris was covered in ice, unable to move. Only his face was still visible, hidden by a mask.

“Midoriya! Are you okay?” Shoto asked, appearing in front of him, worried.

“Yes, thanks. Just a bit stunned,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

He got up cautiously, helped by Shoto.

A circle of onlookers had formed around them.

“Did he use his quirk on you?”

He was relieved to find that nothing was broken.

“Yes… It’s… unsettling.”

“Pff,” Memoris intervened, his voice trembling. “If it’s only… ‘unsettling’ for… you, you can… consider yourself lucky.”

“Shut up or I won’t hesitate to freeze your face and suffocate you under your mask,” Shoto threatened.

He had snatched the knife from Memoris’s right hand and was standing at a safe distance from him, Midoriya noticed. Around them, the crowd was coming back to life, the bravest or most careless already approaching, phones in the air filming the chaotic scene unfolding before their eyes.

“Shoto, thanks for the rescue,” he said sincerely.

“That’s what I’m here for, no need to thank me, Midoriya. I’ll let everyone know that Memoris has been apprehended. Can you manage the crowd for a moment? Make sure no one gets close to him.”

And before Deku could respond, he stepped aside, one hand on his earpiece, the other expertly sheathing the villain’s sharp blade.

They had caught Memoris.

Then his questions assailed him again. He turned to the villain who had run here. Only his mask was visible, black and simple, covering his entire face. There were two indentations at the eyes, with silver details shining on them. Intricate designs, with complex symbols stood out against the black background. On the right eye, a silver tear was on the cheek.

Memoris had used his quirk for a brief moment to search his memory. No specific memories had played out. Just vague sensations.

Memoris could therefore use his quirk to different degrees.

“Why do this? Why come here?”

“Does there… have to be… damn it’s cold!.. a reason?”

Before he could answer, Bakugo’s voice exploded in his earpiece.

“It’s about time, guys! You took your damn time catching that bastard!”

Shoto approached, a smile on his lips, looking amused. He met Midoriya’s gaze, who rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Bakugo,” Shoto replied. “Stop Bodzima and we’ll celebrate tonight, I guess.”

“Godzilla, you idiot! Don’t tell me what to do and I’m not hanging out with you losers.”

“See you at your place, Kacchan!”

“Don’t invite yourself to my place!”

“Help is coming for this one,” Shoto said, pointing his thumb at Memoris. “They’re sending reinforcements to move him and take him to a cell.”

“Perfect, thanks Shoto.”

In the meantime, they set up a security perimeter and took care of the civilians around them. The injured were directed to emergency vehicles and fire trucks. The curious onlookers were gently but firmly kept away. The swarming journalists were cautiously ignored and kept at a distance. But Deku couldn’t help but feel that something was eluding him.

He couldn’t relax, carefully watching Memoris, still immobilized and shivering.

He approached him, ignoring his friend’s insistent gaze, standing in front of the villain.

“What is your goal?”

He wanted to see what Memoris looked like. But removing the mask would reveal even more skin, and he didn’t want to take any more risks.

“Nothing… to… say,” he managed to say with difficulty.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

Backup arrived soon enough.

An armored vehicle approached them with difficulty due to the state of the road, and two men and a woman got out.

The woman approached Deku and Shoto, asking them to carry Memoris to the back of the black and red vehicle.

With the help of the two men, Deku cautiously positioned himself behind Memoris, who remained silent, while Shoto created an ice path from the villain to the car. The three men only had to push Memoris, who slid easily.

Twenty meters separated them from the vehicle.

The area was swarming with heroes and heroines assessing the damage and already starting to repair the area, while keeping a vigilant eye on the apprehended villain. Always on guard, Deku was ready for any eventuality.

A heavy silence settled as they moved this man whose identity was still unknown.

Shoto and the woman held the rear doors open.

As they approached, Midoriya saw that his friend had created a ramp to slide Memoris from the ground into the spacious vehicle. He lifted him effortlessly, passing him between Shoto and the woman, directly into the car.

As Midoriya allowed himself to relax, he frowned, incredulous.

His gloves were wet.

His hands were damp.

And before he could even open his mouth to share his observation, Memoris slipped from their hands when he was just a few centimeters away from Shoto and the woman.

He threw himself into the young hero’s arms, and Shoto’s quick backward movement was stopped by the vehicle door. He instinctively activated his flames, being careful not to burn Midoriya and the two men beside him.

Memoris grabbed his hair with one hand and placed the other on his cheek, pressing his fingers, purple from the cold, against his scar, ignoring the flames dancing on the hero’s skin, illuminating the features of his face.

The cold had numbed the villain's hands.

If there had been no one around, Shoto would have gladly let the fire within him explode and immolate this man. But the limited space and the suddenness of the attack left him no room to maneuver, and Midoriya could only watch, taken by surprise, as Memoris lunged at his friend, his feet still stuck in the ice.

“Todoroki… Shoto. Son of the Number 2 hero Endeavor, younger brother of the villain Dabi. Who… has embraced you like I do… my boy?”

“Shoto!” Midoriya shouted.

He reached out towards Memoris, weakened by the biting cold that had held him prisoner for so long, to push him away from his friend, to throw him far from here.

Shoto intensified the heat of his flames, hoping to burn the hands on his face, to melt them, to incinerate them and tear away from these suffocating sensations.

With wheezing breath, the pressure on his scar and the roots of his hair, he saw the overwhelming shadow of Endeavor imposing itself before his eyes. The cold body against his made him feel a wave of nausea. The smell of burning filled his nose, the black, unbreathable smoke danced, obscuring his vision.

 

“I welcome you… to your worst nightmares.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7: The Boy Born With Everything

Midoriya blinked several times, disoriented. He was on the ground, his legs folded under him.

He had no memory of falling.

“Where is this place?” came a familiar voice.

“Kacchan?!"

That’s what he wanted to say. But his exclamation sounded more like a vague, inarticulate groan. His mouth was dry and his head was spinning. His friend was cautiously getting up, senses alert. They were still in their costumes.

“What the hell is this? Where are we?”

Midoriya stood up as well, looking around.There was nothing, no walls, no furniture. An empty space. It was disconcerting.

Running a trembling hand through his hair, he forced himself to concentrate and regain his composure. Where was he just before?

Shoto. Memoris. The villain had thrown himself into his friend’s arms.

“Shoto!” he panicked, turning to Katsuki. “Shoto! We were about to capture Memoris, but he managed to break free from the ice! I don’t understand how he did it, but he did. And he threw himself…”

“Shut up for a second, Deku.”

Surprised, Midoriya saw him kneel down.

Then he saw Shoto, sitting back, hands clasped, holding his head. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed, breathing heavily. Izuku approached his friend, worried.

“Candy Cane, can you explain this mess to me?”

For all response, Shoto took one last breath and forced himself to adopt a detached expression. His gaze fell on them, cautiously guarded. Yet, he must have known that it would not fool either Katsuki or Izuku.

The blond frowned, unconvinced.

Before he could respond, the air around them began to move.

“What’s happening now?” grumbled Bakugou. “And why am I here, huh!? I just finished stopping fucking Godzilla!”

 

Todoroki Shoto… your memories are a mess, a real jumble. It’s giving me a headache.

 

The three heroes jumped, exchanging a look.

Shoto stood up, in a defensive position. Bakugo observed him from the corner of his eye, making no comment on their friend’s trembling hand.

A deep, masculine voice.

Memoris.

Midoriya was thinking quickly. He had never read anywhere that he was capable of trapping multiple people in… an empty space.

Then he realized, stunned, that the place had changed. They found themselves facing a place they all knew.

“How?"

Shoto stood straight, jaw clenched, eyes wide open. A large, traditional property, with its large, well-maintained green space that looked calm and soothing.

Midoriya could see his friend’s emotions swirling in his pupils. Confusion. Panic. He looked haunted.

 

Oh… I thought you might want some company to reflect on your life, Todoroki. I understood that Deku and Dynamight were trusted companions, so I brought them with us!

 

“My quirk isn’t working,” said Shoto, horrified, staring at his hands and completely ignoring the villain.

Not feeling it vibrate under his skin was uncomfortable. He felt nauseous.

Midoriya tried to activate his own, without success.

Bakugo pulled himself together, tearing his gaze away from the Todoroki house and heading towards a wall. With a grunt, he threw a punch. His arm went through it. The wall was undamaged. There was no explosion.

None of their quirks were working. They had no control over the world around them. 

 

I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the end of the experiment to regain your faculties. You can’t do anything here, said Memoris’s mocking voice.

 

“You bastard, you’ll regret this.”

The air contracted again, and they suddenly found themselves in darkness. He heard a muffled gasp. Midoriya still couldn’t see anything in this darkness. It took some time for his vision to adjust.

“I can’t,” Shoto let out.

“IcyHot…”

Then Bakugo and Midoriya first saw the corner of a futon. A desk, a wardrobe.  A tatami floor.

Then the sounds reached them. A distant commotion.

Shouts. A very clear argument. Heavy objects falling to the floor. Then, in the corner of the room, pressed against the imposing wardrobe, a figure shivered. It rose slowly and cautiously.

A child.

He moved silently towards the bedroom door, which he opened very gently, making sure it didn’t creak. A ray of light then illuminated his face.

The most obvious thing to describe would be his hair. His child’s face was framed by one half as white as snow, with an angelic purity. The other stood out with a bloody, scarlet red.

The faint ray struck his unique, piercing eyes that made you forget the world around you. In this beautiful, innocent, and clear gaze, one could perceive a hidden shadow, a buried darkness, threatening to veil it. One iris of a pretty steel color, a deep gray in which the light’s reflection shone. And another, whose azure blue seemed to move under this thin ray of light.

Later, these features would form a rare beauty, strange and surprising, fascinating.

It was easy to recognize their friend.

The only notable difference was the obvious absence of the scar that normally embraced part of his face. It was strange to see this familiar face without it.

“Are you serious?” murmured Shoto. “Why?”

“Shoto… do you want us to turn around? We don’t have to look or hear anything,” Midoriya said softly in a low voice. “I didn’t even know Memoris could do that.”

 

What, you don’t want to look? Is that even possible, while you’re inside the memory? You can’t escape it.

 

“How did you trap me here, bastard?” shouted Bakugo with less violence than usual.

His gaze remained fixed on the little boy who was about to cautiously leave the room. He moved silently, watching the hallway he ventured into, his arms cautiously folded in front of him.

The noise was getting louder.

The racket filled the entire house.

 

I will answer your questions when the scene is over, heroes. Now shut up. And Todoroki Shoto, I heard that.

 

“What?” he said, surprised.

Shoto met Katsuki’s gaze, trying to make sense of what was happening. Then, head tilted, he pointed his finger at his face, astonished.

“He can hear my thoughts?”

“Insult him,” Katsuki replied instantly.

“That’s what I did.”

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

The child moved cautiously down the hallway, curious and worried about the noise coming from downstairs.

Dinner had just ended, and he had gone upstairs to bed.

The schedule was very strict; his father didn’t want to see him up after 8 PM. If he was caught past this curfew, he risked a severe punishment.

Shoto had crossed the hallway and was now at the top of the stairs. The argument became clearer.

He could hear Endeavor’s booming voice. He had no trouble recognizing his mother’s and Toya’s voices, quieter or at least less audible. When dad was angry, he could hurt someone.

Worried but ignoring his fear, he clung to the banister on tiptoe and began to descend.

He was at the bottom of the stairs when he was bumped into by Fuyumi and Natsuo, who were running in the opposite direction.

“Shoto!” exclaimed his sister, surprised and holding her brother by the arm. Troubled, she leaned towards him, lowering her voice. “What are you doing here? You should be in bed. Go upstairs before dad sees you.”

Shoto shook his head, dodging his sister who was blocking his way. She moved aside, still blocking his path, determined not to let him pass.

“Dad can hurt them.”

“And what are you going to do, huh Shoto?” spat Natsuo.

The youngest couldn’t help but recoil, head lowered.

“I… I don’t know. But I can’t…”

“Stop it, Natsuo,” Fuyumi interrupted, elbowing her brother.

Still worried, she looked over her shoulder.

A huge crash made them jump.

The three children instinctively huddled together, all senses alert, eyes fixed in the direction of the noise.

“You can’t go, Shoto,” his big sister said, trying to hide the tremor in her voice. “Go to bed with us.”

She pushed her two brothers up the stairs, urging them to go up.

“But… What about Toya?”

“What, Toya? You think he needs you?” Natsuo retorted.

“I… I can help him!”

“Pfff, modesty isn’t your strong suit! You already think you’re above us?”

“Stop arguing!”

“You think you, you!” Natsuo ignored him, stepping closer to the youngest, “can help Toya? Do you hear yourself? He can make you disap…”

He was cut off by a resounding crash, as if a multitude of dishes had shattered on the floor.

Silence.

The echo of the crash resonated throughout the house. And then a heavy step.

The familiar, heavy step of Endeavor. Eyes filled with terror, the children looked at each other, motionless, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Fuyumi weakly pushed the boys towards the last steps.

Behind them, the steps were getting closer.

Again. Even closer.

They were coming from the other side of the hallway, very close to where the three children were standing. Soon, they would reach the bottom of the stairs.

Without another word, the children rushed down the hallway, trying as much as they could in their panic not to make any noise. The boys’ and Fuyumi's bedroom door was a few steps away. Shoto’s was further away, in another wing of the house.

Fuyumi pushed him again, harder.

“Run to your room,” she whispered hastily.

She held Natsuo’s hand firmly in hers. Their knuckles were white. She gripped the handle of their shared room with her other hand.

“Hurry, Fuyumi,” her brother said weakly, rushing inside and pulling his sister behind him.

Shoto met his sister’s sad and frightened gaze before she disappeared. She had opened her mouth, arm outstretched towards him, before the door closed abruptly.

The dull sound of the door made him jump, his heart pounding.

The little boy was alone in the large hallway of the house. He didn’t know what had happened to his mother and older brother.

And he realized he was standing alone in the corridor in front of his siblings’ room, past 8 PM. Alone, in the dark, and he was coming, probably advancing in a black rage, in his direction.

Fear seized him brutally, sinking its icy fangs into his entire being.

The stairs creaked.

The quick, steady steps of their father echoed through the house. There was no other sound but that.

Only his steps.

Each creak on the floor. Each impact of his feet on the carpeted floor had the effect of a bomb in the heavy silence of the home.

Shoto started running again, snapping out of his stupor, until he finally saw the door to his room. He heard the last step creak.

He threw himself at his door, opening and closing it just as violently, blinded by the uncontrollable terror that threatened to suffocate him.

The child stumbled into his bed, rushing under the covers, turning his back to the door. Curled up in a ball, the blanket pulled over his head, he could only hear the frantic beating of his heart. Its angry and frightened thumping that deafened him.

I'm sleeping. I'm sleeping. I'm sleeping. I am not here. I am not here, I'm sleeping. I know nothing. I'm sleeping. I am not here.

The man outside would inevitably pass by his room. Shoto slept in the one near his parents. His brothers and sister were in the opposite wing.

I'm sleeping. There is no door. I'm sleeping. I know nothing. Nothing. NOTHING. I am not here.

Then light seeped into the room.

He saw it through his tightly closed eyelids and through the duvet that protected him. He stifled a small cry that almost escaped him, his hands pressed against his mouth. It was hot.

The heat filled his room.

He struggled to breathe under the blanket. He was sweating, his hair falling in front of his eyes and sticking to his neck. His wet skin stuck to the sheets. His body trembled uncontrollably and intensely. It was so hot.

He saw black spots dancing under his eyelids and focused on them, on those black spots that soon turned into multicolored beams, ignoring the light.

Go away. I'm sleeping. I am not here.

A loud breath and the sound of flames. Crackling. He didn’t want to know where they came from.

I hear nothing. I'm sleeping.

He remained huddled in his bed, not daring to move a millimeter until morning.

Numb, tired, and drenched in sweat, he got up when his mother entered his room and found her little one curled up, clutching his blanket as if his life depended on it.

She sat gently on the edge of his bed.

With careful and gentle gestures, she helped him out from under his duvet. She spoke to him in a low voice, and he recognized his mother.

He surprised her by quickly getting up, kneeling on his mattress, taking his mother’s long, thin, cold hands in his small, warm, and sweaty hands.

She held back her tears when she realized that her little boy was looking for very specific marks on his mother’s skin.

"I’m sorry," he whispered.

She held herself together, biting the inside of her cheeks. A metallic taste helped her keep a clear head and not burst into tears. She would not cry in front of her children.

" Why my Shoto? Come here, my baby, let’s get ready."

She took him in her arms, holding him tightly against her body, ignoring the dampness that clung to her skin and soaked her t-shirt, ignoring the protests of her aching body. Rei and Shoto stayed like that for a long time before feeling ready for a new day.

 

Downstairs, the front door slammed.

 

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

" It was… intense," was all Midoriya could say, feeling nauseous.

"How old were you, IcyHot?" asked Katsuki, pale.

"I don’t remember. 4 years old, I guess?"

Without giving them time to ask more questions, Shoto turned away aggressively, his eyes towards the sky…

There was absolutely nothing above them.

"You saw one of my remarkable memories, thanks Memoris for this memorable moment!" he began, irritated. "Now that we’ve all had fun, why don’t you let us out of here and back to the real world, huh?!"

His two friends looked at him nervously.

"Does the villain usually do anything else?" Kacchan asked, unusually concerned.

"No, he makes people relive certain distressing moments of their lives. But I have a bad feeling, Kacchan. This is the first time he’s taken other people. We misunderstood his quirk."

 

Let you go? When I can know everything about Todoroki Shoto? And…

 

"Check all the news channels and look at the articles, my whole life has been transcribed on them for years!" he cut in angrily.

Shoto rarely got angry. It had been years since Midoriya had seen his friend so agitated.

He cautiously approached him.

 

It’s not as funny. I’ve never read anywhere what I just saw. What else have we been kept from, I wonder.

 

He was enraged, his face distorted with hatred.

"Shoto," Midoriya held him back, gently grabbing his wrist.

He pulled away violently, avoiding the contact and turned his attention to Midoriya. The young hero seemed to snap out of his fury, his eyes quickly moving from his wrist to his friend’s still-raised hand.

" Okay great, we get it, you’re a villain, big bad guy, blah blah blah," Bakugo suddenly growled. "I’ve already attended too many meals with the Todoroki family, and no one wants to eat with that damn family. We know what to expect, and that’s enough for me! Now tell me, what am I doing here? You want to torture IcyHot over there? Great, fantastic, but I’m not an extra, nor a sidekick, bastard."

 

I can’t let you out of here. You’re stuck until the end.

 

"The end of what, fucking genius?!"

 

The end of the experience! Think of it as a movie projection! I touched you, you’re part of Shoto Todoroki’s life, I could offer you a front-row seat!

 

"I think the world has seen enough drama from the Todoroki family," he said sarcastically.

"When did you touch him?!" exclaimed Midoriya.

 

When he saved me.

 

They looked at each other, not understanding. Bakugo burst into loud laughter.

"Incredible!" he said, wiping away an invisible tear. "I think I would know if I had saved a jerk like you. You’re lying."

 

But you did, and that’s why you have the honor of being here!

 

"Bakugo, you saw his face. You know who Memoris is," Shoto quickly concluded, turning to his friend.

 

Chapter 8: Tough love

Let's take a little detour into your life, Todoroki. What do you say?

 

"Go to hell."

The air became charged, and a new scene took place.

Bakugo ignored him, too preoccupied. Frowning, he was recalling his damn day. When could he have crossed paths with that bastard? A masked figure, dressed entirely in black with only his hands visible... He would have definitely noticed and stopped him without hesitation. So, he must have looked like a civilian when they crossed paths. That bastard took the time to touch him and then went to change into his villain costume, putting on his outfit in the hustle and bustle of the city. It was unbelievable.

"Do you know how many people I come across in a day," he growled, frustrated, to no one in particular.

Even if he went through all the faces during the Godzilla attack, it was impossible for him to think of a specific civilian, and it was unthinkable to believe he would remember all the men he had saved. There were too many people, too much commotion, and a 20-meter monster threatening to crush the city. That monster had demanded all his attention, thank you very much.

"Bakugo. When we get out of here, we'll know his identity."

Was IcyHot trying to reassure him? He shook himself abruptly, turning to that compassionate face. A compassionate face that couldn't hide his frustration and his certain desire to blow everything up. Or burn everything, in Shoto's case. Or freeze. That bastard had the choice.

"I know, idiot. And once we're out, I'll take care of him."

IcyHot nodded once and turned away but stayed close to him. Katsuki could see the stiffness in his posture and the tension on his face. He was watching the scene form out of the corner of his eye, looking frustrated.

There was now a big black car with tinted windows parked in front of the Todoroki residence. A chauffeur was bustling around. Of course, Endeavor had a damn chauffeur and probably several for his other vehicles that he must keep somewhere.

"Shoto, Kacchan," Midoriya intervened in a low voice. "I think Memoris can access all your memories. Not just the... let's say, the most sensitive ones."

Internally, Katsuki smacked his head at the clumsy word choices of this idiot who thought he was doing well by being cautious. Shoto wasn't the type to swallow subtleties. In that, they were the same, he had realized years ago, reluctantly. Midoriya had once shared his stupid reflections on certain common points he shared with the sugar cane. The explosion he had let out had been memorable. Deku had never spoken to him about it again.

Well, just once or twice, because he was a stubborn idiot who loved to talk. And he wrote all those stupid reflections in his notebooks anyway... He had no control over that broccoli head, anyway.

"He will want to buy time," continued the latter. "He knows that once outside, it's the end for him. His alter... it's not as precise as we thought. In fact, he has an impressive alter, I've never seen that."

"Shut up, Deku. His little shitty quirk is nothing impressive, idiot."

"They are just mirages," Shoto added distractedly. "He is boring."

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

 

I appreciate seeing you all agitated like a bunch of joyful buddies and marveling at my greatness, but what I see interests me much more. I'm watching the movie, if you don't mind.

 

What a freak.

But Bakugo couldn't help, in a sort of morbid curiosity, to turn towards the child and scarless version of Shoto. This expressive version that still had that childlike wonder. He never wondered what the youngest was like as a child... Seeing him with that baby face, the expression so frank and open, naive and innocent, so unguarded, he couldn't help his traitorous heart from aching for this child who never really was one.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Shoto stood in Endeavor's black car.

Next to him, his mother was rummaging through her bag, looking for something. Opposite, his father sat, his expression as stern as ever, his thick arms crossed over his powerful chest.

His father was displeased. He often was, but Shoto could tell he was particularly irritated to be in this car.

But it was the first time the child had been in this impressive vehicle. He was excited and curious, sitting up as straight as possible to see the city and all the activity of the outside world through the window. His father had refused to install a booster seat for him, arguing that it was for children and that his son should behave with dignity. Neither Shoto nor Rei had dared to argue.

He wasn't used to going out. And certainly not with both his father and mother. The situation made him particularly nervous.

His parents had dressed carefully. His mother wore a pretty black dress under her fitted light jacket, with high-heeled shoes. She had fastened an elegant pearl necklace around her neck and applied soft makeup to her face. As for Endeavor, he had put on a two-piece suit and a tie with embedded flames.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

"Buahhaha! What a big dork, what's with that tie!" Bakugo laughed.

Midoriya hid behind his hands, more discreet but just as much in agreement. He could see Shoto's slight mocking smile.

"And you won't guess the best part," he added deadpan.

"Spill it, Halfy," he replied, catching his breath.

"He has a whole collection. More than twenty, with flame patterns, which he keeps carefully and only brings out for special occasions."

"You're kidding me?!" the blond chuckled.

The three boys relaxed imperceptibly. Midoriya remembered the commercial Endeavor had shot for his famous ties. He had started his own brand and they had sold by the thousands. His mother had given him one as a gift, which he had thrown away a few years later.

"He was very proud of it," Shoto mocked. "He wanted me to wear one one day."

"If I ever see you with that damn monstrosity one day, Icyhot, you and that horror, I'll blow you up."

"Thanks, Bakugo," he said seriously. "But no need. I froze it and threw it against the wall. It shattered into little pieces, they were everywhere. He was furious."

Katsuki greeted this anecdote with an immense, machiavellian smile.

Midoriya sighed, amused.

In front of them, the car was slowly driving down a long driveway towards a huge establishment, richly decorated and surrounded by a forest.

"What is this building?" he asked.

"A school," was the brief response. Shoto did not elaborate further.

They calmed down, watching the child fidget to get a better view of the trees and the imposing building under the tender but worried gaze of his mother and the hostile surveillance of his father. The child looked exactly like his mother.

"You were so cute, Shoto," Midoriya couldn't help but say.

Seeing this mini version of his friend made him feel tender. He could see the same emotion reflected on Katsuki's features. The blond intercepted his gaze and immediately grimaced, threatening. As for Shoto, he was caught off guard and thanked him awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

"Let go of your mother's hand, Shoto," Endeavor growled, his eyes fixed sternly on the child.

He quickly let go of her hand, red and a little ashamed, but took a step back, standing behind his mother.

There were a lot of people. Adults everywhere accompanying a bunch of children. Children holding their parents' hands or others, older ones, running joyfully after each other, ignoring the weak reprimands of their guardians. He curiously observed fathers bending down to the height of the little ones and teasing them with a big proud or reassuring smile. Some children walked happily in the middle of their parents, holding hands. Others clung to their mother's or father's neck.

Fascinated, he observed each of these lives passing by him. A slight pressure on the top of his head made him look up. He met his mother's gaze, who gave him a weak smile. He blinked and returned it as best he could despite his nervousness. There was something in his mother's expression that he couldn't grasp.

"Move on, I don't have all day, let's get this over with."

Rei gently put his little hat on his head and encouraged him to move forward, a hand affectionately placed on his small shoulder. He saw other children dressed in the same uniform as him.

"Enji," his mother said calmly, "it's his first day of school. Be kinder, please. We are in public."

There were cameras and journalists trying to film behind barriers. Men and women in red and gold uniforms were watching them, making sure no one crossed. Shoto could see some people's gazes lingering on his family and their eyes widening with admiration when they saw Endeavor.

"He shouldn't be here," he replied harshly, ignoring the stares and cameras.

The family moved towards the grand door of the building, imposing with moldings and lots of gold. The child felt overwhelmed with sensation, mouth slightly open and eyes bright, soaking in all these new things.

"His brothers and sister went to this school and it always went very well, Enji. We've talked about this before," she said in a low voice, pausing before insisting. "Toya was here."

Shoto was in the same school as Toya.

A reassuring warmth spread through his chest and he suddenly felt more confident. Toya had come before him, and this new information made him very happy.

In front of the closed door, families were already waiting, chatting cheerfully among themselves. A nervous energy vibrated through the assembly. He had heard his parents talk about all these people. He was surrounded by well-known personalities, celebrities, heroes and heroines, politicians, businessmen and businesswomen. He wasn't sure what it all meant but he was impressed and could feel the importance emanating from these men in suits and these elegant women in dresses or tailored suits.

Endeavor stopped slightly apart, casting a disdainful glance towards the crowd.

"He is not like his brothers and sister, Rei. He shouldn't be here."

"And where else then, Enji? This is the best institution in the country, where else do you want to put him?"

She gently stroked her son's shoulder in calming and relaxing movements. She made sure to keep her voice low and relaxed.

"At home. I can bring him the best teachers in the world. Teach him to be a hero. I don't need to waste more time than that."

"Enji," Rei said, her voice trembling for the first time, escaping her control. "He is four years old."

"Already."

Almost reflexively, taking Shoto by surprise, his mother brutally pulled him behind her, hiding him from Endeavor's gaze. He held onto his mother's dress to keep from falling, torn from his contemplation.

Before she could say anything, her face unusually distorted by horror, a man proudly stepped forward, a microphone in hand.

Shoto quickly lost interest in this strange man and timidly took his mother's hand in his, ignoring the part of his brain that urged him to obey his father. His mother looked strangely upset. She wasn't smiling.

"Mama?" he whispered softly to avoid drawing Endeavor's attention to them.

He felt his mother startle, her cold hand painfully tightening around his. He said nothing and watched her. He saw her gray eyes settle on him, an expression on her face that scared him a little.

Then suddenly, a thunderous applause erupted, and Shoto saw his father step towards the crowd, arms outstretched and a big smile on his lips revealing his teeth. He cast a quick glance at his wife and son, an expression that made Shoto shiver but disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

It was the feeling of emptiness and cold in his hand that made him realize he had unconsciously let go of his mother's hand.

"Thank you, gentlemen, thank you, ladies. It's too much, I'm just doing my duty, and I will continue to protect you with my flames!"

Everyone started cheering. These men and women applauded Endeavor, the children pushed to get a better view of the Number Two, one of the greatest heroes of society, just behind All-Might.

"It is an honor to welcome you to our establishment, Endeavor. We are very proud to say that we have participated in the education of Endeavor's son. Isn't this the fourth Todoroki child we have the joy of seeing in this prestigious establishment?!"

His father's fake smile horrified Shoto, who forced himself not to move and not to hide behind his mother. He kept his eyes down, observing his shoes and the red tiles of the aisle with dedication.

He felt the gazes of all these people examining him, all these eyes crushing him with their intensity.

I don't like this.

"Stop these praises, Mr. Director, and continue your speech, please," his father said, almost mockingly.

And the director presented other names he didn't know, and this long speech was starting to bore him. But the attention was not on them anymore. He could breath.

He wanted to go play.

This thought scared him a little, knowing that his father didn't like to see him having fun, but he really wanted to. He hoped he could do it here.

"Raise your head, Shoto," came the harsh voice of his father.

He complied, slightly panicked at the thought of having Endeavor right behind him. The child hadn't realized how close his father had gotten, standing close to his mother and him. Like all the other families, Shoto noticed, seeing the small groups formed of two parents and at least one child.

Then there was movement, and the director began making grand gestures, inviting the adults to move to the side.

"We are going to take the famous start-of-year photo to mark this new school year! Come on, parents, place yourselves, then it will be the children's turn!"

He heard his father sigh loudly and felt his heavy hand land on his shoulder.

"You stay here quietly while we finish this charade and please this man's ego. Don't move, we'll be back," he instructed before speaking harshly to his wife. "Come on, look at the stupid situation you've put us in."

And his parents walked away, not without his mother turning back, looking worried and hesitant. But Endeavor took her by the arm, and this gesture, which could seem gentle and loving in other couples, hid a painful force that no one suspected. Except Shoto, who knew. Shoto, who knew his father's grip. Endeavor's touch was burning, leaving marks of all colors on the skin.

He saw the director start to talk animatedly with his parents, placing them right in front, in the middle of all the other adults.

"Are you Endeavor's son?"

Shoto jumped, surprised to see a brown-haired boy taller than him speaking to him.

He's talking to me.

Heart pounding, he forced himself to pull himself together, remembering his father's words about his posture. Behind the boy, there were three other children staring at him, waiting for his response. He finally nodded.

"Can't you talk?" And before Shoto could respond, he continued. "What's it like being Endeavor's son? You're so lucky, you know? Do you already have a quirk? Can you make fire too?"

"You're so small, how old are you?" asked a girl with short black hair. "My sister said she's in the same class as yours."

Too many questions, and he didn't know what to answer. Fortunately, the children in front of him didn't seem to notice his inability to respond and kept questioning him at full speed.

"You have funny hair," said a little boy who must have been his age.

Shoto blinked, not knowing how to take this remark. It was the first time children had spoken to him. He wasn't going to ruin it. 

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage and interrupted them, without really realizing it.

"What's your name?" he asked timidly.

The children fell silent, interrupted in their sort of monologue and obviously not expecting to be cut off. Then each of them introduced themselves.

"Can we play?" Shoto continued, hiding his trembling hands behind him.

"You play?" said the little girl, Seika, looking surprised.

"But you're Endeavor's son," replied the oldest, who seemed to be the leader of the group, Roku.

Shoto didn't understand the connection with his father, nor why the children thought he didn't play... Well, it's true that he had never played, it was forbidden at home. He could only watch Toya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo play outside from a distance. But he wasn't at home, and his father wasn't there to pull him away and scold him. And no one knew.

A bit annoyed and frustrated, he was about to defend himself and explain that yes, he wanted to run and play like the other children.

"Shoto, come here."

But he was interrupted by his father, who was watching him sternly. Behind him, his mother made a small gesture to encourage him to come, a fixed smile on her lips.

Reluctantly, he moved away from the children who had turned to see Endeavor, admiration and stars in their eyes on each of their faces. Troubled, Shoto joined his parents without another glance at the group that seemed to have already forgotten him.

"Come on everyone, it's the children's turn! Gather all the children here, please! Come on, come on!"

In the distance, the director was bustling to gather all the children in the same place where the parents had stood a moment ago. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the group he had just spoken to running clumsily towards the director, constantly glancing at Endeavor, each of their mouths still wide open.

"Enji," his mother said cautiously, finally speaking, to her son's great relief. "Let Shoto take the photo. It will be a nice memory. For his first day of school."

His father stared fixedly at the place where the excited children had gathered. A sinister smile on his lips, he watched the director bustle to try to organize this excitement and bring the youngest ones into the photo.

"No."

He tightened his grip on Shoto, who was starting to hurt. He knew that moving would be useless, that at the slightest movement his father would put even more force into his grip, forcing him to stay still.

"Come on, Enji, be reasonable," his mother insisted in a low voice to avoid attracting attention. "Let him take the photo. It's good-natured."

He revealed a predatory smile, ignoring Rei.

Shoto felt uncomfortable. He didn't really know why, but he suddenly wanted to cry. He felt watched, traped, and Endeavor held him firmly in front of him, exposed to the eyes of all these people.

"Look straight ahead, Shoto," his father reminded him.

He was forced to watch this crowd.

He noticed that everyone was observing each other. That each group was murmuring among themselves. Some whispered in the ear of the person accompanying them. There were fingers discreetly pointing in certain directions. He saw a man in a black suit with a stern look speaking in a low voice to his wife, who had a hard look and bright red lips. When two other women approached, the couple quickly stepped aside, and their expressions turned into big smiles, with laughter and exclamations of joy. It was strange. And the director seemed panicked, nervously looking around, pushing the unruly children to take the photo. The man turned to other adults; Shoto saw his lips moving rapidly.

"Watch closely, Shoto," his father said in a low, threatening voice, leaning even closer to the child so that only he could hear. "I'm going to teach you your first lesson, listen carefully and observe."

The director scanned the crowd of adults in front of him, looking for something. Shoto met his gaze and the man lit up. Heart pounding, the child felt his father's hot breath on his neck.

"Enji, please, no scene. It's childish!"

But his mother quickly realized that her protests were useless, and fell silent, defeated. She could only stand close to her son, and thus inevitably close to her husband.

"Ah," the director exclaimed in their direction. "I thought there was a child missing! And not just any child, hahaha. Endeavor, please, bring your son closer! We'll put him in the front row, his place is already chosen!"

"Ah, Mr. Director, you'll have to excuse me but I must refuse! He stays here."

Some adults had turned away from their conversations to follow the exchange between the two men who were staring at each other. The director was caught off guard, not knowing what to say. Thinking he had misheard, he even asked the hero again and reiterated his request to have Shoto in the photo. Perhaps he thought that rephrasing his sentence would be enough to convince the father to let his son take this photo. And Endeavor smiled, savoring the director's stammering.

"Go ahead, take this photo! You can see you're making these poor children wait!"

And without waiting for the director's response, his father lost interest in the situation. Shoto vaguely noticed that he had started to tremble and sweat.

"First lesson," his father began. "Never give them satisfaction. Never give them what they want. And do you know what they want?"

Shoto weakly shook his head. People were staring at them. The director was motionless, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

"It's you, my creation. Never play their game. Show them who really holds the power. In this environment, they will try to lure you with pretty words and welcome you in expensive suits, serve you their most precious and rarest things, and they will all boast about it. Don't be fooled. They don't do it out of kindness or because they love you, Shoto. Never. They will have expectations and will try to make you do everything they want. They want to manipulate you and will discard you as soon as they no longer need you."

The photographer counted to three, and the sound of the flash imprinted strangely in Shoto's foggy mind.

He heard in the background the children's laughter, the jokes made to immortalize this first day of school.

His father continued to speak to him, absorbing all his attention.

"If there was All-Might's son or daughter, do you think they would look for you? Of course not. Everyone here would turn to that child, their attention fixed on him or her. No one would see you anymore. You would be pushed aside, asked to move to make room for them. You wouldn't matter anymore. Only the best have their place."

The children started running at full speed, laughing and throwing themselves into their parents' arms. Others, more calm, walked or chatted joyfully with their friends. The photo had been taken. The session was over.

The principal, his face still pale, put away his phone, just like all the parents because everyone had taken a photo.

"So, Shoto. Never think that you owe them anything. Let them flatter and cajole you. Accept their stupid attentions and their little games. But when they ask you to do something for them, because you think you need to thank them for all this, a fair return they will say. Walk away. Don't help them. They manipulate you to bring them more power and influence. Don't let them manipulate you. You are a Todoroki. Show them their place, and who is in a position of strength. Understood?"

Shoto nodded, trying to digest his father's words.

"Speak clearly."

"Yes," he said, his throat tight.

He hadn't understood everything, he felt a bit lost.

Suddenly, the painful pressure on his shoulders disappeared and he almost fell. His mother caught him, a delicate hand placed on his arm.

He was breathing again.

And the world regained its brightness.

 

Chapter 9: Behind these walls

"You can't say that to a damn kid!" Bakugo protested. "And all this for what? To show who's boss to some guy?! It's completely stupid, damn it!"

"Kacchan... that principal... He's one of the richest men in Japan. He's the one we listen to when making decisions about school programs or the school in general..."

"So what? How does that concern a kid?! Yo, Halfy, you're not going to say anything?!"

Shoto seemed to be thinking about something else, his gaze distant. This apparent apathy from the main person involved was enough to make Katsuki lose the little patience he had left. The other broccoli head remained motionless, probably trying to digest what he had seen and put his thoughts in order.

"HEY! CandyCane, what was that?!" the blond hero shouted, standing right in front of the youngest.

"Bakugo. You know I agree with you. But there's nothing we can do about it, that's just how it is. Plus, there's some truth in what he says," he finally replied, expressionless.

Aghast, he grimaced at this stupid response. But before he could shout anything else at his face with a few well-chosen insults, hoping to provoke some kind of reaction, he saw Midoriya nervously fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, seeking his gaze. He almost automatically turned to him, his features still twisted with fury. Maybe Deku could bring some life back to that placid face.

"It's not the first time I've heard him call it 'my creation.' Kacchan, it's... it's... I don't know! There's too much to address!"

"Just talk as if he wasn't there, stupid Deku," Bakugo growled, grimacing.

 

Okay, I get it, can you stop now?! I can't take it anymore!

 

Surprised by Memoris' sudden and frankly loud interruption, the two friends jumped. They had almost forgotten the invisible presence of this villain. Then, looking at the youngest, Katsuki could see that he was indeed present this time, his gaze sharp and clear. He expected some reactions from Shoto. Anger, normally carefully hidden and buried, ignored until it rotted and only a putrid smell remained until the inevitable moment when it would explode. Frustration, maybe shock, but not what he saw.

The young hero displayed a satisfied smile, pleased with himself.

"IcyHot, what did you do to him?" he asked, still disturbed by what he had just seen, by the way. Thanks, but seeing a 4-year-old kid being bullied and talked to like that on his first day of class while all his classmates seem free as a bird requires some cold blood to get over.

Well... not for everyone apparently... And not for the main person involved, to his great dismay.

"I tested his patience," he said proudly. "And I won."

That bastard was beaming.

It was reassuring to see in a way. Bakugo knew that Shoto was very good at testing others' limits. Oh, he knew from personal experience. This man knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how to go about it. And all while maintaining his innocent image.

 

You didn't wi...

 

"Tell me how you got free from my ice in front of the truck, he interrupted, looking more serious.

Bakugo silently questioned Deku with a look, and who mimed "later" with hand movements.

 

And why...

 

"Or I'll do it again."

There was a moment of silence. Shoto stood firmly on his legs, looking determined. Feeling the perplexed gaze of his friends on him, he turned away to offer them a reassuring smile.

 

I have a... Heating or cooling suit.

 

What the fuck.

Bakugo blinked rapidly, frowning. This remark, coming out of nowhere and frankly ridiculous, with or without context, seriously raised questions. He met Deku's gaze and knew exactly what he was thinking. Memoris had come prepared. More specifically, ready to meet Shoto... Katsuki didn't know whether to laugh or be amazed. He saw Deku's brain working at full speed in his eyes.

"Who provided it to you?" Shoto asked without showing any emotion.

 

Who says I needed someone to get it?

 

"Because no suit like yours exists on the market. Freeing yourself from an ice block like the one you were immobilized in requires technology advanced enough to melt that much ice in such a short time, and without burning you."

He received no response. Far from being discouraged, Shoto was deep in thought, eyes fixed on the ground, one hand raised to his pensive face, index finger tapping his cheek. Bakugo could hear Midoriya mumbling to himself at full speed.

"If I had gone down to even lower degrees, we wouldn't be here," Shoto concluded softly. "Your suit wouldn't have been powerful enough to save you in time. And even if it had eventually managed, your body would have been completely paralyzed by the cold..."

"Shoto," Midoriya interrupted, eyes wide, thinking just as fast. "His legs were still stuck in the ice when he freed himself... Only the upper body was released."

"Probably because heat spreads more easily around the chest area. That's where the heating system of the suit must be placed."

"That'll teach you to be nice to that kind of bastard. Next time, immobilize him completely instead of being lenient with everyone and holding back," Bakugo growled. "Now they'll think they can counter your quirk and trap you with some cheap gadget."

He ignored Midoriya grumbling something like "certainly not a cheap gadget, his equipment is worth a fortune..." while cautiously keeping in mind that Memoris has significant resources...

"Noted," Shoto replied sarcastically, locking eyes with him. "Next time I stop a villain, I'll imprison him in a block so cold he'll feel like he's burning before becoming completely numb and unable to even feel his fingertips. Once he's out of there, he'll go to prison with his body purple from the ice and necrotic, unable to function. With his head spared, he'll have all the time to realize his new state."

Katsuki grinned widely, amused by the younger one's morbid humor, which he discreetly returned. Enough to scare Memoris. Maybe he'll talk about it to his acquaintances, especially the bastard who designed that damn suit. Midoriya watched them from a distance, doubtful and not a fan of such threats. Katsuki appreciated them and had found Shoto very good at delivering such messages early on.

 

Great, hero. Can't wait to see your next capture, Todoroki Shoto, it'll bring back memories for the public. Speaking of nostalgia, isn't this one of the rare times your whole family is around a table?

 

Shoto grimaced, and all three turned to the scene.

"You should do it at least once," Bakugo murmured to him quietly.

Shoto shook his head, his fringe falling into his eyes. The blond decided to leave him alone and met Deku's disapproving gaze. He rolled his eyes and reluctantly turned to the new scene. They weren't really going to go through all 23 damn years of Halfy, were they? Ugh. Katsuki saw the disaster coming in all its glory. The Todoroki family all together in one room. It was bound to be the start of a bloody and dramatic story that he had no desire to witness.

Next to him, Midoriya seemed to share his apprehension, nervously rubbing his head and fidgeting like crazy. Okay, none of the three heroes wanted to be there. And he was already trying to digest the previous memory.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

"I don't understand why you're doing this."

Memoris didn't respond. The young hero was holding himself together. Shoto was trying to keep a cool head and distance himself from what was happening, detaching from it all. His jaws hurt, and he forced himself to relax for the umpteenth time. Seeing these clear versions of his memories, which had become vague over time, and the detailed reconstructions of his memory made him dizzy. He felt like he was reliving each scene, and each one was renewed, brought out of the shadows, dusted off. Every sensation forgotten over time came back with a new vigor, a violent jolt throughout his being. When it was over, he was left with vivid and rejuvenated emotions.

"What do you want to stop this charade?"

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The father. The mother. The eldest son. The eldest daughter. The second brother. The youngest.

The six of them sat around a large traditional table, filled with hot and still steaming dishes, colorful and with a thousand flavors dancing in the room. Each dish was better than the last.

Yet not a sound.

Each person made sure to keep their eyes fixed on their plate, skillfully handling their chopsticks without making a noise.

The tension was exacerbated by the father's foul mood. Endeavor's angry and tense face had convinced the rest of the family to be cautious. Although this was not a very special thing in the Todoroki family. Just a tendency that intensified day by day. The hero ate noisily, serving himself with brutal gestures. To his left sat Shoto, the little boy kept his head prudently lowered, regularly glancing in the direction of his older brother sitting across from him. Indeed, to Endeavor's right, Toya ate quickly, a hesitant smile on his lips. The child had most of his hair white and looked at his father with excitement, seemingly wanting to say something. His electric eyes nervously sought his father's, looking for the right moment to speak.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

It was difficult to recognize today's Dabi in the round and innocent face of this child. The little boy in front of them was just that. A little boy. Toya. Dabi did not exist yet. There was no point in imagining the black scars on the delicate features of the child. Imagining the bloody staples holding Dabi's necrotic skin on this healthy and childlike face was impossible. Inhuman. Almost repugnant. Nauseous, Midoriya couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between the two brothers. Shoto and Toya shared the same slender and elongated silhouette. The fine and delicate features. The shape of the eyes and that frown, that pinched mouth, that bright and vivid blue eye, those plump cheeks. The expressions, the gaze, the body language... It was quickly apparent that they were brothers, without a doubt. One would look up and recognize the mother.

"I don't understand," Shoto said in a slightly trembling voice.

Midoriya turned to his friend, blinking. He couldn't help but see the resemblance again. Despite the scar and that cautiously fixed face behind an apathetic mask. An old mask that had broken many times, shattered and burned but always in place when needed, like an old friend. Patched up, glued back together, re-welded, reforming that cold and unfathomable facade. When all it took was a gentle and loving hand to shift it and see a friend. A friend who had never fully put that disguise back on for years and who had never stopped trying and getting back up with an uncovered face. Tired but standing. And always wearing a smile, always turned towards his friends, his fans, the public, and always towards his family.

"What I don't get, Halfy, is your brother's hair thing. Can't he just pick a color once and for all?!"

Katsuki moved closer to the scene, leaning forward, staring at Toya. There was still no noise around them. No one was talking. The children sat straight and still. The mother was stiff and looked exhausted, her eyes lost in the distance. The tension in these memories made them uncomfortable, and Midoriya was almost afraid to breathe.

"Look at that... Damn, you really do look alike," Kacchan growled. "And tell me, Halfy, are all your memories going to be this tense?! Just watching you guys do the bare minimum, like just eating together, stresses me out."

Midoriya swallowed hard at Bakugo's bluntness and quietly asked him to hold back. He knew his friend was trying to make the experience easier for everyone and to distract Shoto's attention, at least for a few moments.

"I don't even remember this day," Shoto murmured, ignoring him.

He had his eyebrows furrowed, focused on the scene playing out in front of them. In his mismatched eyes, there was intense frustration and... Midoriya looked away.

 

Memory is a complex and fascinating thing. You don't remember what you see, yet the memory is always there, in your head, out of reach for your consciousness. Memory is your whole story. It is unique to each person and forms everything you are.

 

"Damn, don't tell me this jerk is philosophizing."

 

Memory is not just the restitution of your entire being. It also gives you the ability to learn. It is our past, our present, and our future. Your emotions help fix each moment, imprinting it in your brain. But sometimes, these emotions are so intense that they become unbearable and can alter the entire functioning of memory...

 

"I'm not sure what we're seeing illustrates your little lesson," retorted Shoto. "You're just buying time. You can go through my 23 years of existence, we'll eventually get out."

In this memory, no one was moving, everyone was focused on their plate, eyes cautiously lowered... Only Toya dared to speak. He nervously recounted his day to Endeavor. Midoriya imperceptibly flinched upon hearing Toya's childish voice, nervous but filled with hope. Although he wore a hesitant smile in the face of his father's hostile expression, the child continued to speak without being deterred. Bakugo had stepped back but kept his gaze fixed on Toya.

 

You must have a headache, Todoroki Shoto.

 

"Why?" he replied cautiously without meeting his friends' eyes.

 

It's normal. Sometimes the brain represses memories considered... painful because of the intense emotion they caused. Bringing back a blocked memory is painful.

 

"Stop it."

"Shoto," intervened Midoriya, worried about his friend's pale face. "Are you okay?"

He grimaced internally and ignored Katsuki's angry face. Shoto nodded, a slight reassuring smile.

"Ah! Of course, Endeavor doesn't lift his ass to clear the table!"

Midoriya moved closer to the youngest, his shoulder almost touching his.

"There's nothing painful about something I don't even remember," he reassured him.

Midoriya found nothing reassuring about that.

They silently watched Rei clear the table.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Rei moved like a ghost. Silent and discreet, she made several trips to clear all the dishes from the table. Fuyumi had gotten up as well and was taking the glasses in her small hands, standing on tiptoe each time to reach them. She followed her mother closely, without a word. Natsuo followed his sister's example, getting up clumsily.

At the table, there were only Shoto, Toya, who was expressing himself with grand gestures, and Endeavor, who ignored him. Endeavor seemed ready to lose his patience, his brows furrowed, his muscular arms crossed over his imposing chest. Shoto hurried to finish the last grains of rice to clear his plate and follow his mother, but she quickly stopped him, a gentle hand on his head, the other on his small hand holding his empty plate. With a reassuring little smile, still without a word, she took it from his hands.

"I told you to stop with these games," reasoned Endeavor's voice.

Shoto turned to his brother, who blinked, surprised to have received a response. He quickly recovered, moving excitedly towards his father.

"Why? I want to become a hero! No one can beat me! I'm the strongest, everyone says so! The teacher told me I would be a great hero later, like you!"

A blue vein throbbed on Endeavor's forehead. Shoto really didn't like standing so close to his father. He sometimes felt his scrutinizing gaze pass over him, looking for something.

The family rarely ate together. The hero was very often on duty and only came home very late at night. When he was there, everyone was on their guard. His mother didn't hum while cooking, his sister and brothers didn't laugh, they didn't even argue. With Endeavor, his mother barely looked at him, Fuyumi kept her distance, and Toya became mean, threatening. Natsuo always sided with his older brother.

He hated it.

His mother served the desserts while Fuyumi and Natsuo clumsily placed clean plates. It smelled good. There was that strawberry cake that Shoto absolutely wanted to taste. He had seen his mother come back from shopping with it. She had gently pushed him away, promising him a piece for tonight's dessert. She had cautiously put another cake in the fridge, mumbling to herself something like: "with this, Enji might be happy. Right, my Shoto, what do you think? Daddy will be happy seeing all these good things, don't you think?"

Daddy didn't look happy. Shoto didn't even know if he could be.

The family was once again complete around the large table. As they sat down, his mother had heard Toya talking about his future heroic vocation as Number One and had skillfully diverted the conversation to school and what he had done with Fuyumi and Natsuo after school. Rei anxiously watched her husband. Endeavor seemed on the verge of exploding. She had managed to divert her eldest son's attention, who was talking to his sister, excited and full of life. She knew he would soon return to the subject of his quirk and his training. Toya was persistent.

She served Fuyumi and Natsuo and stopped when she met the rebellious gaze of her first son. He served himself. She did not take the risk of serving her youngest child. Endeavor gave her a nasty look. She sat back down.

Shoto straightened up on his knees, too small to reach the dish. His eyes shining and eager to taste this dessert, he leaned over the table. Almost. Just as he touched the dish and was finally about to serve himself, the cake flew before his eyes, crashing against the wall.

The sound of dishes exploding behind his head, and he was on the floor, his face a few centimeters from the tatami. Completely frozen, he realized that his cheek was burning terribly. His whole face hurt horribly. Something was flowing. It was viscous and thick under his nose. Elsewhere it was fluid and continuous. He trembled. Stunned, he slowly raised his head, a trembling hand on his burning cheek. It hurt.

His mother was beside him, panicked and in tears. When had she moved to stand next to her son? She was crying. She seemed to be screaming, but he heard nothing. He heard nothing, only a dull, unpleasant sound. She held him against her, and he saw nothing either. His body no longer moved, and he didn't think he could make it move. Moreover, he could no longer think either. Unconsciously, he took refuge in his mother's frail arms, ignoring the rough and uncontrolled movements of his body.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Toya's eyes were wide open, unable to react, his mouth agape. Frozen, he could only watch the scene in front of him.

Bakugo could only sympathize and share this state of shock. If someone told him he had the same stupid expression as Toya at that moment, he would just nod, too stunned to reply. Everything had turned upside down in less than a second. While a deathly silence had prevailed from the beginning, only timidly disturbed by the eldest's uncontrollable energy, chaos had erupted in the room.

Caught off guard, he could only blink. Just once.

And the scene changed completely. Bakugo had been amused to see this mini version of Shoto struggling against the elements around him to reach that stupid strawberry cake in the center of the table, too focused to notice his older brother mocking his exaggerated efforts. The next moment, the child was thrown to the ground accompanied by a deafening noise, the cake splattered against the back wall, and the plate shattered. Time seemed to have stopped. Everyone was frozen, unable to register and understand what had just happened.

Calmly, Endeavor sat back down, his eyes still filled with a bestial and completely insane fury.

"I never want to see a single sweet under my roof again," he said, breaking the heavy silence.

Rei then snapped out of it as if waking up. She stood up, her expression devastated, brutally hitting her knee against the table without even noticing, and rushed to her still motionless child on the floor. The mother's face was distorted by panic and drowned in tears that began to flow abundantly. There was blood. Blood on her son's face. Blood flowing onto the tatami floor. Blood on her baby's face caused by his father's sudden slap.

Bakugo had never thought he would see that flash of rage on this delicate and cautiously guarded face. He had spoken to Rei before. She was upright and just, addressing her son tenderly. Despite her injuries, she did her best to be present. She tried. Seeing that murderous expression on her face was disturbing. But damn reassuring. Bakugo could breathe a little easier.

She began to scream, insulting and spitting at the man who served as her husband and the father of her children, holding her still frozen son in her protective arms. The scene began to fade little by little. Before their eyes, everything gradually turned black, the screams becoming distant, the figures starting to fade. Even after the complete disappearance of this memory, Bakugo still had the vivid image of little Shoto, completely paralyzed, deaf and blind to the screams and sudden commotion. His eyes wide open, as if unable to blink, large tears flowing. His cheek red and already swollen. Blood flowing from his small nose, dripping onto his slightly open lips. His small hands clenched. Toya completely shocked and trembling, unable to make sense of it all. Taking his brother and sister almost reflexively, moving them away from their enraged parents. No. From his enraged mother and his impassive father, eyes gleaming and threatening.

"What happened next?"

Deku's voice almost made him jump. He glanced at him and saw him with his trembling hand covering his mouth, looking pale. But his eyes were burning with rage and disgust. Bakugo grimaced when his slowed-down brain finally caught the question. More urgently, he turned to Shoto. On his equally pale face, his eyes were fixed on the dark and obscure space where his memory had played out. He opened his mouth several times before a sound came out.

"I don't know."

He didn't remember. Bakugo moved closer to the youngest while thinking. Shoto didn't remember the rest. But he had also said he didn't remember the scene they had just seen. What was the difference? Why had the memory faded in front of them, extinguishing like the flame of a candle? Why had it exhausted itself at that moment? Bakugo forced himself to calm down. Against his habits and personal convictions, he allowed himself a flurry of silent insults against that damn fraud Endeavor and breathed, keeping his attention on Shoto. Next to him, Midoriya was angry enough for two. He could save his hatred for later; it would explode in front of the enemy.

 

Notes:

Sorry for the wait, it was a very busy period ><. Happy New Year to everyone!

Chapter 10: High Hopes

What had happened?
What had he just seen?

Like a phantom pain, his face was sore, his cheek on fire as if he had received that blow.
He had received it, but at least 20 years ago. Such scenes, he had vague memories of them, blurry and inconsistent. Troubled, he realized that Midoriya and Bakugo had seen it.

That they had really seen it.

That all of this was really happening. That it was reality. And it was just beginning. This memory was one he considered usual. A kind of daily life not much worse than any other day. That's why he had forgotten it. It was nothing special. Just another day at home, simply. Endeavor had always been a violent man and Shoto was the first to say it, the first to proclaim it in public and to anyone who would listen. Dabi had probably been more convincing, it was ultimately him that the world had heard. He forced the world to listen to him after so many years of being rejected and forgotten, silenced.

But seeing it from an outside perspective was unsettling and frankly disturbing.

 

You know, every time you summon a memory, your brain makes a tiny transformation to it. Just a detail, each time. The shadow of a smile, a tender caress, a faint sound, anything, really not much.

 

Memoris paused for a moment.
Shoto felt the weight of his friends' gazes. He really felt tired. An old fatigue. Being stuck here was not part of his plans for the day. Recalling lost memories was not something he considered positive in his case. Generally, he no longer dwelled on this past and just wanted to move forward. He had made peace with this  part of his history. Clinging to it would bring nothing good. He had experienced it. Dabi had concluded it.

 

But after 20 years of cosmetic touch-ups, the whole picture has changed. When we recall a memory, our brain reconstructs it, and this process can introduce small changes or distortions. Over time, these small changes can accumulate, leading to significant alterations in the memory. This means that our strongest memories, those that evoke strong emotions, might not be entirely accurate representations of the original events.

 

The air around them compressed.

He forced himself to breathe calmly, to focus on something else, anything. He had to see Ilda tomorrow. He no longer knew what time and where he was supposed to meet him, he had to send him a message. He had a report to submit as soon as possible, he had already written a good part of it but it was not finished. He didn’t really like paperwork, it was long and boring. He always wrote them automatically, concise and precise, without wasting time. (As Endeavor had always taught him to do.)
Shut up.
He would need to contact Detective Sato as soon as possible. It was also Fuyumi’s birthday soon, he still had to find her a gift. He had no idea what he could prepare for her.

He had to find a way to block his memories at Memoris.

 

Imagine the purity of a memory you have never dwelled on since its formation! An authentic, true scene, never retouched! They are exquisite. And in this so damaged brain, this so chaotic memory, there are plenty of surprises to discover!

 

Once again, he found himself facing himself, almost 20 years earlier. Once again, he fought against this suffocating emotion that threatened to engulf him and break him violently.

There is nothing left to save here, he reminded himself as he closed his eyes, refusing to turn towards Bakugo and Midoriya.

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Little Shoto was sitting, staring intently at the papers spread out in front of him.

Early this morning - or was it late at night? his father had burst into his room, waking him with a start. Blazing in his hero outfit, his flaming mustache, he had thrown something onto Shoto's small desk. Confused and dazed by the noise, the child had sat up, blinking sleepily, still half asleep.

"You will learn everything in this package. When I come back tonight, I will check. Got it?"

"Yes, da..."

"No school today."

And he left, slamming the door so hard it shook on its hinges, startling the child.
Motionless, he had stayed for a few moments staring stupidly at that door, trying to understand what had happened in the span of a few seconds. It was only after a long moment that he felt fatigue envelop him once again with its powerful arms, and unable to fight any longer, he fell back asleep, Endeavor's silhouette still imprinted in a corner of his mind. Later. His heartbeats had finally slowed down after an eternity frozen in the dark.

Why is it beating like this? It's only Endeavor... my father.

Trembling but breathing more lightly, he lay back down. And he fell asleep again, waking up much later since no one had come to wake him up for school.

 

And that's how he found himself in the large dining room, sitting at the table with furrowed brows.

"If you keep staring at that table like that, I'm afraid you'll pierce it."

"Mom," he exclaimed, surprised, looking up.

Rei approached, placing a dish of hot rolls fresh out of the oven. She smiled at her son and examined the scattered papers on the table.

"What is this?" she asked.

"I don't know. Dad gave them to me before he left."

She took them in her hand and said nothing for a few seconds. She massaged her forehead, her face impassive. She had taken one of the sheets on which there was a photo of the children's school entrance as well as another with names.

"What does he want you to do with this?" she finally asked, putting them back on the table.

"He told me to learn."

Learn what, Shoto wasn't sure. He couldn't even read what was written... On the sheet Shoto was holding, there was a photo of the adults on which his mother and father stood, right in the center. Endeavor, chin raised, was looking at the camera, determined and intense. He commanded the gazes and eclipsed all the people around him, like the sun in the middle of the stars.

"He wants you to learn the names and professions of all these adults...," Rei murmured, focused on reading what's was on the paper. "I'll help you, my snowflake. But first..."

With a teasing air, she left the kitchen and returned a few moments later, hiding something behind her back. Curious, Shoto sat up, trying to see what his mother was hiding in her hand. With a big smile, rare and radiant on her usually sad face, Rei revealed a small device that she placed on her eye.

Click.

"There's no reason everyone should have a picture of their little angel except me. Smile!"

Photo after photo, Shoto and his mother had fun taking pictures for a long time. Little snowflakes danced peacefully in the kitchen because "it makes beautiful photos with a bit of snow, a bit of ice, and oh, look, a bit of mist for a magical touch!" his mother exclaimed joyfully. "We'll have the best photo of the year, theirs is quite pale in comparison to this one, don't you think?"

His mother rarely used her power. And it was a real shame. She did extraordinary things with it! And everything became white, light, magical, cold but so beautiful.

Seeing her use it and take photos filled him with overwhelming joy, and he joined his mother in that fantastic and immortalized moment.

Shoto couldn't say how many photos he and his mother ended up taking.
It was funny. He was happy.
He thought his mother looked happy too. Fascinated, he watched her and ran after her. Her crystalline laughter echoed around him, her cool hands encouraging him joyfully, and in her sweet and playful eyes, there was no longer that worrying shadow. She seemed free, and he followed her, free too, a big smile on his little face.

 

 

 

 

Back at the table, the papers were still there, simply placed where they had been left. Rei let out a small sigh, which did not escape Shoto's attention. She gave him a reassuring little smile. She had placed the small camera next to her.

"Come on, let's get to it. Better to finish this as quickly as possible, don't you think? So you don't miss school for nothing either!"

Shoto was sitting quietly next to her, still excited and restless, and frankly not happy to start working. He rarely had the chance to be alone with his mother and to play with her.

"Focus, snowflake, you will have to remember a lot of names and try to understand what these people do in life. Better not to anger your father when he comes back tonight."

The mention of his father quickly calmed him down. Suppressing a shiver, he forced himself to focus on the photo of all these adults. On the other sheet, he tried to decipher what was written. But he didn't really know how to read...

His mother did it for him. She read him a name and showed him who it belonged to in the photo, explaining their job. Minister of Finance, Chief Financial Officer of such and such a company, Vice President of this organization, an internationally known actress over there, a recognized producer here, shareholders of giant companies, some heroes and heroines on this side...

Shoto was dizzy.
He repeated the names and all those long titles after his mother. Several times he had to force himself to stay focused, gently scolded.
He didn't know how long it took before he could recognize most of these men and women and associate them with their jobs... He still didn't understand what these people did for a living. Except for the heroes and heroines. That he understood.

"That's enough, bravo my Shoto, that's very good for now. Little break? Shall we eat a bit and then continue? We'll move on to your classmates, it will be more fun."

Feeling his brain on the verge of exploding, the child let out a big gulp of air and let his head fall on the table.

I hate this.

"Why do I have to do this?" he whined, eyes closed. All those pinched, stern, haughty, made-up faces danced behind his eyelids.

"Your father must believe it will be useful for you later," his mother replied while preparing some snacks.

"Why?"

This time, his mother took longer to respond. Shoto wanted to go out and play. He wanted to get the camera back.

"You'll understand when you're older."

"Then I'll learn all this when I'm older too."

"Shoto... I think your father wants you to get a head start on becoming a hero. That's what you want to be later, isn't it? A hero."

Shoto didn't respond immediately. He didn't really see the connection between being a hero and learning this kind of thing...
Did Toya have to learn to recognize all these adults too?

"Can we go play?" he suddenly asked. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, it was really too boring.

"Just a little more effort, my son. We'll look at the children and then it's over, okay? After that, we'll go play! Before everyone comes back. What do you think?!"

Excited, Shoto nodded vigorously. He would finish this quickly! He just had to recognize everyone and Endeavor would be happy!

"Are there children you play with during recess?"

Shoto darkened a little, uncertain. It was a bit difficult to play with the children at school. He talked more to the adults and they took up all his time after class... Adults liked to talk a lot. And the children... They seemed both wary, curious, and disinterested at the same time. And he didn't know what to do once he got close to his classmates.

"Are they mean to you?" his mother suddenly worried.

"No! Hmm. It's okay."

It will be okay. He had time, it hadn't been long since he started school. He would have time to play with his classmates and make friends. His mother seemed to read his thoughts and with a warm little smile, she stroked his hair.

"It's only been a few days. It's normal. You'll see, you'll quickly find nice children to play with."

Reassured, Shoto nodded vigorously. This exercise his father made him do might be a way to get to know his class even better! Motivated, he started listening to his mother with more vigor than before.

It turned out that Shoto hadn't finished when his siblings arrived. His mother got up to take care of Toya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. He found himself alone in the kitchen and had a hard time staying still.
In front of him, the faces blurred together and he was terribly bored.

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

"Wasn't that Momo and Ilda in the photo?!"

Midoriya was surprised to see this mini version of his two friends! He could recognize heroes like Ingenium in the adult photo, but he wasn't really familiar with all the others.

"Always the same faces," Kacchan muttered. "Why did your old man make you learn this kind of nonsense?"

Shoto blinked several times before answering.

"These are the kind of influential people who hold power in various fields. It's always good to know who you're dealing with. These are the people you meet in places of power, at important events, and they are the ones who will take part in the final decisions. Endeavor likes this political game; he has always known how to pull the right strings at the right time. This kind of relationship, or rather power dynamic, allows him to get out of many situations..."

Bakugo looked contemplative. He and Midoriya had never been attracted to this kind of power and didn't really like getting involved in this kind of story... Although they were aware of the power plays in their circles.

"It's boring to death."

"Necessary and very useful if well used..." Shoto said distractedly.

Katsuki grimaced. Midoriya shared the sentiment. A hero should be above these absurd political games. A hero shouldn't be interested in such things. They weren't there to play politics.

Unfortunately, it was naive to believe that their profession escaped such human considerations... No, they had seen it well during the Great War. Behind the glitter, heroism, courage, and justice, there was a dark side as black and putrid as the surface was smooth and shining with a thousand lights.
The biggest mistake was forgetting that heroes were human. So painfully human. They weren't immune to wealth, power, desire, greed.

Feeling uncomfortable, Midoriya wanted to change the subject.
Seeing this child who couldn't even read dive into this world and be forced to learn its actors and actresses was highly disturbing.

"So, Ilda, Momo, and you have known each other for years!" he said lightly.

Shoto turned to him, biting his lip. Behind him, Kacchan seemed on the verge of tearing his hair out, violently pointing his finger at Midoriya and silently insulting him. Honestly, the effect was the same as if he were shouting.

"I didn't stay long in that school. I didn't go often and missed many days. Little by little, I never went back. I don't remember... playing, with Iida or Momo. So I wouldn't say I've known them since then."

It was sad. 

Midoriya still had the smiling and hopeful face of the innocent and shy child engraved in his memory. His eyes sparkling at the idea of playing with his friends, his brothers and sisters. Under his mother's encouragement, his bright eyes had timidly lowered, his cheeks red and a trembling but happy smile.

"Your father was and always will be an asshole, Halfy."

"Thank you, Bakugo."

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

In reality, he didn't even remember ever seeing his friends.
He had no memory of Momo or Iida.
Nothing.
And his mother's happy face... He had never seen her so radiant. No. He had seen it. But he had forgotten.
Quite simply.
Maybe there were other moments he had forgotten?
Maybe his mother smiled more often than he thought?
Bitter, he pulled himself together. Meditating on such illusions was not like him.
Of course not. Don't be stupid.

 

Chapter 11: Closed discussion

Little Shoto sat up with a start. He had heard the door slam loudly. His father was home.

He began to nervously gather the scattered papers, bundling them into a small pile.
After eating, he had gone up to his room.

Secretly, he hoped that Endeavor had forgotten what he had asked him. Maybe his request wasn't even serious. Just a silly exercise.

Nothing more.

Yes, that must be it. Surely. A recitation exercise.
There is nothing to fear.

He stood straight, body tense, senses alert. On his knees, he held his two clenched fists. Downstairs, there was no more noise either. He no longer heard his mother's light footsteps and soft voice, nor the bickering of Toya and Natsuo or the teasing and clear voice of his sister.
The whole house had suddenly become silent.
One could only hear the regular BAM BAM of Endeavor's footsteps climbing the stairs in his direction.

Without realizing it, Shoto had leaned forward, his head almost resting on the table, as if he wanted to curl up into a ball. Eyes wide open, he forced himself to calm his breathing.

Dad was coming to see him.

That was good.

Good news.

Ahahah, dad is home!

What child wouldn't dream of having a superhero as a parent?! And Endeavor! Number 2!

Ahahah.

Ahahah.

The door burst open violently, making him jump back.

"In my office. Now."

It wasn't a request, it was an order. Every word from Endeavor was an order. He was the law, here and outside.
He was a hero, here and outside.
And he didn't need a response. The hero hadn't even stopped. He was already heading back to his office. His will was absolute. Who would dare defy Endeavor?

Except for a villain?

Not wanting to keep his father waiting, Shoto quickly got up, clumsily taking the small stack of papers in his hands, and left his room, following the same path as his father. When he arrived in front of the room with the door left ajar, he stopped for a moment.

As he was about to push it gently, it burst open in front of him. The force of the opening surprised him, making him lose his balance from the impact. Grimacing, he looked up to see Toya's furious and surprised face. His older brother stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, mouth pinched. His cheek was red, his hair disheveled, his clothes wrinkled. Shoto opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but his brother started breathing heavily, fists clenched, eyes angry.

"Is this why you asked me to leave?!" he shouted towards the office. "I was here first! I was here first!"

Confused, Shoto slowly got up, a bit shaken but unhurt. Hesitant, he reached out to Toya, calling him softly. Surprised by his gesture, his brother pushed him away roughly, looking down at him, teeth bared in a wild grimace.

"Don't touch me," he spat.

And then he stormed out, passing Shoto without another glance but fuming at him.

"You'll never measure up to me. You're nothing, nothing. You don't even have a quirk yet!"

Stunned, Shoto stood motionless at the door, his face turned towards the hallway where Toya had disappeared like a hurricane.

"Shoto," came the implacable voice of Endeavor from inside the room.

Hesitant, he tore his gaze from the hallway, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other towards the office. Inside, his father was already behind the desk, sitting in his imposing chair, holding his head between his fingers.
Not good.

He took a few cautious steps and stood straight in front of his father's large desk, waiting for him to give him his attention.
He had to stand, for lack of a chair.
His father then reopened his eyes and, looking annoyed, made a sharp gesture with his hand towards Shoto.

"Put those papers down."

The child obeyed, and Endeavor took the photo with all those adults and questioned him without waiting, completely ignoring the incident with Toya. Impatient, he pressed Shoto, whose mind seemed to have stayed in the hallway with his brother. Without waiting, he pointed with his index finger at a man in the photo, tall and thin, with slicked-back black hair, dressed in a white shirt and navy blue suit pants.

"Name, first name, profession, family," Endeavor said harshly, tapping the man's face on the photo with his enormous finger.

Still disturbed, his heart skipped a beat. He hadn't really learned the family status of each person. He had already had enough trouble remembering everything else, so his mother hadn't insisted on the couples and the number of children and the family details of each person.
Why do this?
Shoto felt more lost than ever.

"Hurry up. I don't have all day. Short and concise sentences. I won't repeat myself."

So he answered. Concentrated, he tried to answer everything. The titles coming out of his mouth didn't make much sense to him, but it didn't matter. He recited as his mother had advised him. 

Every time Endeavor moved his finger, a rush of adrenaline surged within him and his brain worked at full speed. If he took too long to remember, his father's face darkened, or he grimaced, or his eyebrows furrowed, or all at once.

When he finished, he felt like he had been running for over an hour. He was sweating, short of breath, his face flushed from the effort, waiting for his father's reaction.

"Pathetic."

His heart sank. Defeated, he looked at his father, not knowing what to say.

"I..."

"I gave you the whole day, and this is the result you present to me?"

"Dad, I answered..."

"I didn't give you permission to speak."

He violently closed his mouth, biting his tongue. He hadn't done so badly. He had almost succeeded! Yes, on some names he had stumbled and on some titles he had to add words and maybe add or remove some children from certain people... But he had more correct answers than mistakes!

His father suddenly stood up, and reflexively he stepped back, almost tripping. Before he could say or do anything else, a dull noise reached them.

Rei entered after knocking three clear, sharp knocks. Endeavor frowned, displeased to see her.

"What are you doing, Rei?" he said coldly. "I didn't tell you to come."

She stepped in front of the desk, directly facing her husband. Hands crossed in front of her, she replied politely.

"I ran into Toya. Enji, he was...," she paused for a moment, meeting the gaze of her youngest son. "We'll talk about it later. I came for Shoto. I helped him with the assignment you asked him to do. It's normal for me to be concerned about his results."

What? Shoto looked at his mother without understanding. Had he done so badly? He didn't want to disappoint her too. Did she know he had failed before he even started?
He shivered and turned to his father.
He almost jumped in fear.
His face was twisted in a mask of anger, a vein pulsing wildly on his forehead.
He's furious.

"You 'helped' him? When did I ask you to do such a thing?"

"Did you want him to do it alone?"

"He had no choice but to do it alone! If he can't learn something so stupid on his own, then he'll never be able to do anything by himself!"

"And how could he do that without help? He can't read yet, he's too young, Enji."

Endeavor didn't respond immediately. His eyes rolled over to Shoto, who was standing silently next to his mother. His father's accusatory gaze froze him, his breath caught. Shoto didn't understand why it was so serious. Why this reaction? Had he done something so wrong?

"He can't read?"

His father's tone was sharp, and he looked at him with disgust. Shoto felt his cheeks burn and he felt ashamed, unable to meet his gaze.

"No. As I told you before, he's only five years old," she said calmly before continuing. "Enji, Shoto doesn't need to listen to this conversation. He did what you asked him to do. This conversation should be between adults."

Yes, he wanted to leave.
He wanted to leave this room.

"No. He stays."

"Enji, this is an adult conversation," his mother insisted.

"Perfect! It's the only type of conversation I allow him to have."

Shoto saw his mother's fingers clench over her long skirt. However, she kept her face calm and gentle, never raising her voice, her eyes a calm and steady gray.

"Enji, what's wrong with you? I don't recognize you anymore. This...," she seemed at a loss for words and couldn't help but glance at Shoto. He met her gaze but she quickly looked away. "It's an obsession. You can't continue like this."

"Get out."

Rei seemed taken aback, not expecting that.

"Get out. You can't understand, so get out! Get out and don't meddle in this anymore! Go take care of Toya and the others and don't stick your nose into things that are beyond you!"

He stood there, flames roaring around his angry face. Something flew across the room and smashed against the wall. The crashing noise made Shoto jump, turning pale. Unconsciously, he had moved closer to his mother, almost clinging to her. He could feel the trembling that shook her and the almost unbearable coldness of her white skin.

"You've always known my goal! I've never hidden it from you! Toya is a failure, but I finally succeeded! I succeeded, I succeeded in creating the perfect weapon! I won't let you ruin everything, Rei! If you want a child, I've given you three. Don't dare interfere anymore, this matter is beyond you! Stay in your place."

"This is excessive. We can't live like this! You're going too far, day by day you're getting worse and your demands are becoming completely insane! This obsession is becoming dangerous, Enji! You must..."

"Get out!" roared Endeavor, out of patience.

As he was about to walk around his desk, Rei took a step back and lowered her head, hastily taking her son's hand to leave the room. She was suddenly stopped, Endeavor's enormous hand gripping her delicate wrist, forcing her to let go of Shoto's small hand. She couldn't suppress a small cry of pain, and he pushed her out.

"I'll keep Shoto, I'm not finished."

And he slammed the door shut with a deafening noise, locking it.

Motionless, Shoto could hear his mother banging and shouting behind the door. Endeavor completely ignored her, growling under his breath and starting to pace like a buffalo, eyes rolling, fists clenched, jaw tense.

Hearing him speak, the child jumped violently, his attention drawn back to the man in front of him, turning his back to the firmly closed door, impervious to the assaults.

"Shoto. We will continue your training. I will show you what I did today. This week I will call competent teachers. I won't let anyone drag you down. You will be perfect. No one will stop me. Is that clear?!"

Shoto nodded, speechless, unable to take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"Speak clearly!"

"Yes," he finally croaked.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Shoto was discreetly trying to get Midoriya's attention while internally reciting the alphabet, forwards and backwards, musical notes, counting by 5, 11, 20 in ascending and descending order, humming a song, reciting some text.

 

You're noisy.

 

Perfect.

But even Memoris's voice couldn't tear Midoriya's gaze away from the scene they were witnessing. The hero had his mouth open and eyes wide, troubled and agitated. Shoto grimaced and turned towards Bakugo, who intercepted his gaze.

Cautiously, he brought his index finger to his lips to signal to keep quiet. In response, he received a proudly raised middle finger, but those red eyes remained fixed on him. Shoto then pointed his index finger towards the sky, then to his chest, slowly, and finally directed it towards his head.

Bakugo raised two middle fingers towards the sky, and Shoto forced himself not to think about it. He knew Memoris would hear. He silently recited another article he had learned when he was younger.

Impassively, he watched the hero silently give the finger.

Colors bloom, but they fade. Who in our world is eternal? Today, we cross the high mountains of illusion, And we will no longer see superficial dreams, nor be intoxicated.

Oh, he still remembered that poem? Iroha.

Midoriya was finally distracted from the scene by his companion's abrupt movements and frowned in perplexity. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Bakugo violently slapped his hand over his face.
Reassured, Shoto let out a silent sigh and turned away, focusing again on the memories playing out.

 

What are you doing?

 

He forced himself to think of nothing. This exercise had its complications. It was more difficult than one might think. But he forced himself to regulate his heart, his breathing, his body, into a meditative state.

He will let Bakugo think.
They had to take Memoris by surprise.

 

 

 

Bakugo locked eyes with Deku, still disturbed by the memory that had just ended. He grabbed the firm shoulder of that idiot and forced him to turn his back to Shoto.

"Katsuki? What are you doing?"

He grimaced and leaned towards Deku's stupid ear. They couldn't wait for the other idiot's memories to play out without trying to find a solution to end it as quickly as possible.

"Memoris can't see us."

Deku's green eyes lit up, fixing on his. He could see the gears of his brain starting to turn, thinking at full speed.

"Not at all?" he finally asked, lowering his voice.

"Nope, he doesn't react, and that's what Halfy seems to think."

The two discreetly turned towards Shoto, who was standing still, staring into space. Katsuki suppressed a shiver at the sight of that expressionless, almost idiotic face. It had been years since they had seen that kind of expression on his face. Seeing that impenetrable face again disturbed him greatly, and he turned his back on him.

"Memoris has access to his memories and thoughts," murmured Deku, and Bakugo gritted his teeth to avoid making a rude remark in response to that obvious observation.

"Memoris came prepared," he continued, whispering rapidly. "He has a plan. He's going to use what he sees. He might be looking for something specific. But what? Something in the past interests him."

"We also know he wants to buy time. I doubt he's looking for anything in a memory that's almost 20 years old," growled Bakugo.

"He can't hear us, can he?"

"Obviously not, you idiot," muttered the blond, annoyed at being interrupted in his own reflection.

The air around them suddenly cooled, distorting, and the pressure eased to make way for a new scene.

Memoris could hear what Shoto heard and thought, saw his memories, and perhaps more. That was already good to know. This quirk was a nuisance. But they had to find a way to deal with it and find any weakness.

"And he's not acting alone," added Deku, covering his mouth with his hand. "This costume thing... It's likely that there's someone else behind all this. By locking the three of us up, maybe we're also targets."

He let Deku continue his hypotheses, listening with a distracted ear.
They didn't have much yet. Just vague speculations. What, was it either a personal attack on Shoto or... a strategic attack for a bigger plan against the three of them? Or to distract them, move them away from the scene, and leave an opening for another attack?

 

You all seem very quiet. Is something bothering you?

 

 

 

I... okay, okay Sh... Todoroki Shoto, I understand, but plotting among yourselves won't get you anywhere, you know.

 

In any case, Bakugo couldn't help but smile mischievously, amused by the little torture Memoris must be under.
Under that cautiously cold and extinguished air, Shoto seemed to be giving him a hard time. In fact, he himself would hate to be in his head. Satisfied by the villain's discomfort, he cut Midoriya off in his hypotheses and suppositions about the workings of that annoying quirk to press him for an update on the whole affair. He had been able to deduce a few points from this investigation against Memoris, but he lacked important details to get the full picture of the matter.

In front of them, a new scene came to life, a clear light fell on them, sounds reached them, and a fresh scent filled the space.

Chapter 12: Free Fall

"What are you doing?!"

Toya was standing on the window ledge, his body leaning outwards. Shoto could only see the lower half of his body and without thinking, he grabbed his brother's pajama bottoms.

"I heard a noise..."

"So what?! Go away! I don't want you to wake up the whole company!"

Every night, Shoto heard the same hurried footsteps passing by his door. Much lighter than Endeavor's, faster than his mother's, and more confident than Fuyumi or Natsuo's who never ventured into this wing of the house. That night, Shoto had waited for them, ears wide open, sitting on the floor, motionless in front of his door, ear pressed against the wood, holding his breath.

As soon as he heard the footsteps, he waited a few moments before opening it and following his brother.

"Let me come with you."

"Get lost!" he shouted louder.

His brother's tone made Shoto grimace, but he still held on resolutely, preventing him from jumping out the window to go... to go wherever he wanted to go.

"I won't let go," he said stubbornly.

Suddenly, Toya's head appeared in the window frame. He was angry, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned upside down. Stubborn, Shoto refused to look away and swallowed, tightening his grip.

"I won't let go," he repeated in a small, obstinate voice.

"If someone sees us, it will be over. Do you really want to take everything from me? Ruin everything to the end?! Even this?"

The younger one flinched but refused to let go. He didn't really know why, nor where this audacity came from, but he couldn't do what Toya asked. He couldn't explain it. He wanted to see what he was doing. Was it wrong? He was always left out when the others had fun. At this hour of the night, no one would come to stop him from joining his brother.

Well... Only the brother himself.

"Let me go with you. Please."

"You don't even know where I'm going! Come on, let go and go to bed, you brat!"

He started shaking his leg forcefully, making Shoto let go. But as soon as he lost his grip, he grabbed his other leg. This time, he imprisoned it between his two arms, squeezing with all his might.

"No! Why won't you let me come?"

He could no longer see his older brother's expression since his head was pressed against Toya's dangerous leg, which kept moving violently to free itself.

"Damn it, stop!? I just don't want to see you! Go away! I hate you, do you understand?!"

"Why?"

"You little - ! Get lost! I'm going to hurt you!"

"I don't care."

"When Endeavor shows up hearing you cry, you won't care! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. Why are you doing this? Let go."

Shoto was surprised to hear his brother's tone change. First furious, his last murmurs had almost turned into... a complaint.
But he didn't dare let go, even though his arms were starting to ache.

"You hate me?"

"Yes!!"

"Why?"

He waited a few moments, but no answer came. Surprised, he opened his eyes that he had closed while holding his brother with all his might. Uncertain, seeing Toya silent, he continued.

"You don't even know me."

The leg in his arms had finally stopped moving. They both remained motionless for a while, in silence. Eventually, Shoto loosened his grip. A little.
Suddenly, they heard a noise coming from the hallway. Alert, he stiffened.

"Don't talk like an adult," came Toya's voice. "It's creepy."

His tone was... strange. Angry? Furious? ... No. Shoto couldn't tell.

"You don't want to let go? Okay. Fine. Climb up. Before someone arrives."

Doubtful and wary of this change in mood, he slowly moved away from his older brother, keeping only the bottom of Toya's black pants in his hand.
Just in case.

"Are you deaf? I told you to climb up."

So he clumsily climbed onto the railing chilled by the night, placing one bare foot after the other on it. He shivered as he felt the cool night air on his skin.

They were on the first floor of the house. Above was the roof and below the garden. In the darkness, he couldn't see the green grass and the peaceful water corner he knew was there. He heard the leaves of the trees creaking gently, pushed by the cool night wind.

He had to let go of his brother to grab hold and not fall. Trembling, his knuckles were white, clinging to the frame of the immense window. Heart pounding, breath short, he held on with all his might, slowly straightening up.

He was standing on the railing, just like Toya.

He turned feverishly towards his elder brother, only to see that there was no one beside him. His heart skipped a beat, and panicked, he almost lost his balance but quickly regained it, narrowly avoiding a fall from several meters high.

"Toya?" he let out, breathless and with a trembling voice.

"Up here. Look up."

It took him longer than it should have to lift his head towards his brother. He met Toya's gleaming eyes, who was standing above him with a smirk and narrowed eyes, looking very pleased with the situation.

"You wanted to follow me? Then you better manage it," he sneered, perched on the roof.

"Help me."

"Huh?" he exclaimed, surprised and annoyed. "Figure it out yourself!"

And he disappeared.
Panicked, Shoto tried to move towards the gutter he saw running along the side of the wall. Maybe he could use it to climb up.

"Toya! Wait!"

He was too small to reach the roof and pull himself up with his arms. He had to find a way without losing his balance and risking a fall. All the holds he saw seemed too far and out of reach. There was a solid branch of a large tree that majestically encircled the house, but it was also out of his reach. He would have to at least jump to grab it.

"Toya!"

"Shush! Do you really want to wake them up?! We're dead if they find us here, idiot!"

"Then help me!"

"Help yourself!"

"Toya!"

"Ugh, shut up!"

And his head reappeared in Shoto's field of vision. Clearly unhappy and irritated. Arms crossed, he looked down at him, furious and full of contempt.

"You won't make it," he said with disdain.

"Then help me up."

"Don't tell me what to do. I could make you go back inside."

He crouched, his gaze fixed on the younger one who was struggling to keep his balance, his fingers turning white from desperately clinging to the wooden window frame, looking around for something to climb up. Shoto met his gaze, abandoning the idea of moving. He was trembling too much, and even though the gutter was nearby, he doubted he could let go of everything to reach it and climb up...

He shivered at the sight of Toya's dark expression.

"I could leave you there. And watch you fall. Or even..."

His voice trailed off, not finishing his sentence. His blue eyes shone violently in the darkness, only illuminated by a thin pale ray of the moon.

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

"Great, what is this?" spat Katski.

"My brother, Bakugo," Shoto replied flatly.

"Shut up."

It was the first scene of interaction they saw between the two brothers. As they expected, the atmosphere was tense and heavy.

Bakugo found it absurd that the first real discussion he saw between these two was on a rooftop in the middle of the night... playing acrobats.

"You've never really cared about life, Icyhot. What were you doing following him for no reason?"

Shoto shrugged, impassive.
Idiot.
Internally, he thanked his parents for not having any more children after him. Having a parasite follow him everywhere, even in the middle of the night when he had no business being there... Okay, he could see where Toya's annoyance came from.

"I didn't see him during the day. I knew he didn't sleep much at night and wandered somewhere in the house... I heard his footsteps almost every night passing by my door."

He blinked, looking lost in his thoughts. Or rather lost in his scattered memories. He had a calm expression and almost a smile on his face.
Bakugo turned away, sighing.

Well... Okay, it was already very intrusive what they were doing, he and Midoriya, by meddling in the memories of the other idiot. But in their defense, they really had no choice, and thank you very much, he was having a very bad time in this stupid two-tone head! And they still didn't see how they could get out of there. It's not like the villain was clear in his motivations. They hadn't managed to come up with any satisfactory theories on that front.
They had nothing and nothing made sense in this situation.

According to him, only Shoto had the answer. And either the youngest had already realized it and was hiding something from them, or he hadn't understood yet.

Next to him, Deku nervously watched the two brothers bickering in such a... so unchildish way and with many threats uttered, biting his nails, diverting him from their hypotheses about Memoris' motivations and his connection with the youngest Todoroki.

"Did you think it was a great idea to follow your unstable older brother, alone in the middle of the night, and play acrobats more than 6 meters above the ground?"

"Kacchan, a child doesn't think like that."

"I wasn't talking to you."

And they were just children.

This white-haired kid with his big expressive blue eyes was clearly... agitated. He had never hidden his hatred towards his brother and spat his disgust in his face at every moment. Bakugo was quite surprised that this blatant rejection was so little noticed by the younger one. Stubborn and almost arrogant in his innocence, little Halfy imposed himself without listening to anything.

"Do you think he could make him fall...?" Deku let out, not addressing anyone in particular, just lost in his thoughts.

Bakugo grimaced, arms crossed over his chest. Without thinking, the answer came to him instinctively.

Yes. Of course, damn it. And he would have finished his massacre with a bonfire.

"He's about 12 years old. Of course not," Halfy said with certainty. "He was young too."

Having a hard time believing it, Bakugo turned to him. Young but already far too troubled. It was enough to see those haunted and piercing eyes to realize it. The child followed Endeavor like his shadow, always smiling and trying to convince him of his progress.

Shoto caught his unconvinced expression and took on a serious look, arms on his hips. Immediately, the blond revolted but forced himself to control.

"Don't judge him too harshly. Not at that moment," he added before Bakugo could counter. "He was trying to live in that house too."

"Don't defend him so much when he's about to throw you into the void at the age of 12," Bakugo retorted harshly. "He's contemplating his first murder with his 5-year-old brother balancing above the void."

"He didn't let me fall."

"And you want to give him a damn medal for that!?"

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Shivering under the cold night, his bare feet chilled by the fresh railing, Shoto stared intently at his brother perched on the roof.

"I have an idea," he said cautiously, not breaking his brother's unsettling gaze.

Toya rolled his eyes, exasperated. He lay down nonchalantly, simply observing him with a twisted smile on his lips.

"Go back to bed?" he sang, leaning into the void. "It's not a time for babies, you know."

"No. You have to catch me."

The elder was momentarily speechless, his eyes wide before bursting into laughter. He quickly stifled his laughter by clamping his hands over his mouth. Toya rarely laughed in his presence, so he was happy to see this kind of expression on his face.

"Figure it out," he finally said, laughing. "I'm out of here, don't smash yourself on the ground. Or do it, but quietly."

He got up and was about to turn his back on his little brother when the latter shouted his name. Without thinking too much, Toya turned to Shoto to tell him to shut up, but he was taken aback when he saw the little child focused, knees bent. Before Toya could do or say anything, Shoto had already jumped, arms outstretched forward. In an instant, he threw himself flat on the edge of the roof and grabbed his little brother's icy hand.

The two boys were breathing heavily.
Stunned, Toya's eyes were fixed on his brother's small silhouette swinging in the void. Why had he jumped to catch him? He blinked several times, not understanding, or perhaps refusing to understand. Why had he caught him? His shocked expression turned into a disgusted grimace.

"What have you done?" he growled.

Furious with himself, his heart beating far too fast, he gazed at his brother. Shoto suddenly lifted his head, and Toya saw his face light up with excitement and a huge smile.

"You caught me!"

He saw a worrying flash in his brother's dark eyes. Shoto calmed down in an instant and let his smile fade slightly.

"Toya?"

For a split second, everything around them froze, and without fully understanding, Shoto's heart skipped a beat.

He blinked, and he was on the roof, violently pulled upwards. He breathed again. He turned to his brother, but he was already standing, turning his back on him.

"Never do that again if you don't want to die."

And silently, he went to sit at the other end of the roof.
After a few moments of hesitation, letting the adrenaline pass and finding himself with nothing to do, Shoto finally joined him, looking around with wide eyes. He was on the roof of the house! Excited, he sat next to Toya, swinging back and forth happily, smiling. He liked this game!

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, but when Toya got up, the moon was lower in the starry sky. Without a word and without a glance at the younger one, he headed back towards the window they had climbed through. Shoto followed him clumsily, his legs numb from staying still for so long.

"Make less noise with your feet!" his brother scolded him, speaking to him for the first time.

Before he could agree, Toya was already out of sight, agilely descending from the roof as if it were the easiest thing to do. Worried and not wanting to stay alone here, Shoto hurried to follow him, making sure to keep his steps as light as possible. When he reached the edge, there was no one left.

"Toya?"

Biting his lip, he decided to sit on the edge. Leaning down, he saw only emptiness. He couldn't see the window he knew was just below him. He stayed for a moment, thinking, before deciding to grab the edge of the roof and let himself hang in the air. He was still too small to touch the railing. If he let go, he would undoubtedly end up a few meters below. Not knowing what to do, he looked around in hopes of finding a solution when he felt something grab his legs and pull him down. Surprised and helpless, he let go of his grip and felt himself fall, letting out a small cry of astonishment.

"Shh!"

He didn't fall far. When he opened his eyes, it was to see Toya safely placing him on the ground of the house.

His brother looked him straight in the eyes without blinking, holding him firmly by the shoulders. Realizing at the same time as his brother that it was the same painful grip that Endeavor used, Toya frowned, looking troubled for a second before resuming a contemptuous expression, holding Shoto by the arms.

"You are reckless. A stupid toy that thinks it can get away with doing whatever it wants."

He sighed, running a hand through his wind-tousled hair.

"You're crazy. Natsuo and Fuyumi never did that."

Shoto lifted his head, looking at his elder brother without flinching.

"I'm not them."

Toya pursed his lips and spat, "No, that's for sure."

 

.

 

The next day, Shoto was tired but felt lighter. He had fun last night. Sneaking out onto the roof with Toya was fun. He was definitely going to do it again.

He was now diligently working on the new assignments Endeavor had given him. Toya had gone to school with Fuyumi and Natsuo. Dad had told him he would go back next week. Or later. And he had also left, his flamboyant costume shining. He sighed, one hand supporting his head, daydreaming.

"When am I going to school?" he asked his mother.

She slowed down in her movements before recovering.

"Soon, my snowflake."

He sighed, holding a pencil clumsily in his other hand.
I'm bored.

"Shoto..." his mother suddenly said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I wanted to ask you something."

Surprised, he turned his gaze to his mother's tense back. She was cutting vegetables on the large kitchen counter, already preparing the meal for tonight with careful gestures. There was obviously a cook, but when Endeavor wasn't there, she took it upon herself to make a few dishes, sending the cook to rest.

"Yes?" he replied curiously, seeing that his mother wasn't continuing.

The sound of the knife running on the board stopped, and Rei stood still for a few moments. Finally, she turned around, putting down the knife and removing her pretty white apron. Her face cautiously fixed in a neutral expression, Shoto couldn't tell what she was thinking.

All he saw was a tired, dark-circled face that was struggling more and more to smile.

"I'm going to ask you something very important," she began.

She stopped in front of the chair where her son was sitting and knelt down to be at the same height as him. Gently, she took his small hands in hers, cold and elegant, softly placing Shoto's unused pencil on the table.

"You must promise me not to tell anyone what I'm about to say."

She looked him straight in the eyes. A little worried, Shoto nodded.

"Promise?" she insisted.

Squeezing his mother's hands, he nodded even more vigorously, straightening up to sit up straight.

"Promise, Mom."

"Not even to your father?"

"I won't say anything," he said firmly.

His mother seemed reassured and relaxed slightly.

"Then I want you to promise me one thing. Very important," she said in a soft voice. "You're growing up fast. Very soon, your quirk will probably develop."

Yes, that was true!

He was quite excited to finally have his quirk. According to Endeavor, he already had all the physical signs indicating that he would have a super strong quirk! The strange doctor who had come to examine him at length with a strange, almost excited expression, had congratulated Endeavor for creating a quirk with so much potential. While the two men talked, Shoto stood silently under his father's grip on his shoulder, looking at his hands with curiosity. He hadn't understood much of the doctor's explanations, who wasn't addressing him anyway, but Endeavor. Only that he had an abnormal and unstable body temperature, a body with two halves that were both incompatible and strangely complementary.

Anyway, his quirk would be cool!

"So at that moment, when you have it, I want you to tell no one."

Taken aback, Shoto frowned and couldn't help but recoil. However, he was stopped by his mother's grip, which had tightened firmly on his small hands.

"Huh?"

"When you get your quirk, I want you to hide it and not tell anyone."

"Not even Dad?" he asked, not understanding.

"Didn't you just promise me?"

Yes. He had promised.

But he knew his father was eagerly awaiting the appearance of his quirk. At almost every dinner Endeavor attended, the rare times he spoke were always to ask if he finally had his quirk. Every time Shoto answered negatively, his father grimaced and darkened even more, becoming even more irritable and angry.

"I have to lie to him?" he asked, shivering.

Lying to Endeavor seemed like a bad idea. He was getting angrier and angrier. Sometimes, even Toya stood silently, placing himself in front of Natsuo and Fuyumi. His mother seemed to want to distance herself, taking her children with her, keeping them all away from Endeavor.

His mother's face took on a complicated expression before she quickly regained her calm and serious demeanor. She took a moment before answering, betraying her agitation by biting her already damaged lips.

"Yes. If he asks, then say you don't have a quirk. If he says nothing, then say nothing. If you want to talk about it, then come to me. It will be our little secret, okay?"

He hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding.

Lying to Endeavor...

It's wrong.
I think?

But his mother had made him promise! It must be important. Very important! He couldn't disappoint his mother. Yes, his mother was more important.

But I have to tell Endeavor to become a hero...

He shook his head and met his mother's calm gaze, who was looking him straight in the eyes. Perceiving his attention, she smiled tenderly, raising one of her hands to gently caress his cheek.

"Promise?" she repeated.

"Promise," he replied more firmly.

Chapter 13: And The Sky Will Fall

"Your mother made you promise not to reveal your quirk?" Midoriya blurted out in surprise.

It wasn't something he easily understood.
He had lived a completely different experience from what he was seeing. Radically opposed, even.

Even now, he couldn't help but take this subject to heart. For him, at that age, the idea of having a quirk was so important, even vital, a deeply rooted childhood dream.
Asking a child to hide this part of him, especially in their society, was unheard of.

That one day someone – not just ‘someone’ but the mother of a child who happens to be the son of Endeavor, asks her son to keep his quirk a secret… Simply unthinkable.

Being a hero without a quirk was simply impossible. That's why every day, Midoriya spent his time thinking about the eventual quirk he would develop. Every moment was spent thinking about what kind of hero he could be thanks to his future quirk. Every moment spent without his quirk was painful. So he waited impatiently, relentlessly, without despair, eagerly. What would his quirk be? Would it be for combat? Defense? Support? Healing?
Honestly, he had always envisioned embracing a quirk like All Might's.

When he was told he was quirkless, his world had brutally collapsed.

It was no longer the same.

His generation had proclaimed change. A quirk no longer determined the hero. It was the heart of a person that made them a hero.

"It's not something ordinary," Kacchan murmured, with a cautiously neutral expression. "And it’s certainly not something that Deku or I can easily understand."

They remained silent for a moment.
Shoto kept silent, his eyes staring into the distance.

"React, damn it."

"What do you want me to say?"

Nothing. There was nothing to say.

"Did you hide it from Endeavor for a long time?" asked Midoriya.

"I don't remember anymore," he replied.

Who could blame him? Who still remembered their childhood memories? And who was Midoriya trying to fool? Haha... Did Shoto really remember so few things? Such a decision would have turned anyone's life upside down. 

Any child knew that their quirk was an important, decisive part of who they would become later.

 

Memory is still a very mysterious domain. The memories we no longer have never completely disappear. They are buried in the subconscious.

 

"Great", said Shoto in a monotone voice.

 

They also sometimes influence our behaviors and emotions without us being aware of it! How fascinating, don't you think?!"

 

 

 ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

It was night, the Moon reigned fully in the sky, round, full, and radiant. Without a word, it seemed to watch silently over two small figures lost in the darkness, only illuminated by its soft, pale, and bright rays. It guarded them, enveloping them in its cool breath.

"I'd like a book about the sky," declared the smallest figure in a young and clear voice.

"Are you interested in stars, Shouto? Pfff, it's boring," mocked the older one, lounging nonchalantly on the roof of the family house.

"No, it's not true. It's... intriguing."

"Intriguing, really. What a big word for a small head like yours."

"Yes! The stars, the Moon... it's really beautiful."

"The moon is just a stupid celestial body orbiting the Earth with its stupid little useless stars. If you see it, it's only thanks to the sun. It can't even shine alone. Even its shape depends on the position of the sun and the earth. Stupid celestial body that can't do anything by itself."

"Be nicer to the moon, Toya. It's beautiful. When you look at it, it doesn't hurt like the sun. Its light is soft and gentle," he concluded confidently.

"Seriously? What is this nonsense again?" said the older one, laughing.

"Moreover," continued the younger one, ignoring him, "the Moon is much more interesting than the Sun! It changes shape! It's interesting! It's never the same!"

"You're weird. Why aren't you interested in cars like all the little boys your age, instead of the sky?" he managed to say after catching his breath from laughing.

"Cars? Like Dad's? The big black car? Or the long red one? Or the long black one… Or the one with flames! The tall orange one? I think he has the same in… "

"No, stupid," he interrupted. "I'm talking about toy cars, or something like that. I don't have time for these stupid things anymore. "

"There were some at school… Do you have any?"

"Yes… but I don't play with them anymore. I'm too old for that! "

"Fuyumi?"

"Yes."

"Natsuo too?"

"Yes."

he two brothers remained silent for a moment. One was annoyed, with eyebrows furrowed far too deeply for his age, and the other with wide, mismatched eyes full of incomprehension.

"I don't have any."

They were frozen, letting the nighttime sounds fill the silence that settled in."

"Finally... These stupid stars suit you better. At least, no one can take them away from you."

With these wise words, the elder of the two stood up and after a moment's hesitation, offered his hand to the younger. Without hesitation and with confidence, the latter grabbed his brother's hand and let out a carefree laugh, pulling on it a bit harder than necessary, forcing his brother to lift him into the air.

"Toya! And if I lose my eyes, I won't be able to see the sky anymore!"

"Well, don't lose them! Unless... "he replied with a threatening tone and bringing a flame closer to his brother's young face, "it's a request?"

If a smile began to form on the stern face of the white-haired child and his piercing eyes softened for a moment, no one was there to see it, except for the round silver moon that towered over the sky above them.

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

The scene slowly fades before their wide eyes.

"Did you get along with your brother, Shoto?" Midoriya asked stupidly, unable to help himself.

With pursed lips, he seriously pondered the question. He would have obviously liked to answer yes without much hesitation. But things were what they were. And they were certainly twisted and difficult to understand for everyone.

And they still are, he thought bitterly. At least Toya isn't dead. (Not yet, at least).

"It was... complicated," he finally said with a grimace. "There were definitely better moments than others... Those stolen moments on the roof were probably the best for the two of us."

Bakugo struggled to reconcile the image of Dabi – or even Toya, for heaven's sake! – with the one he had just seen on that damned roof. He had never seen, neither the child version nor the adult they knew, with such a calm expression. Almost peaceful. Content. With Shoto for company. Damn Shoto. Toya would have dropped him from that roof the first time.

"I told you," continued the young hero patiently. "It's not Dabi. Just a child too. Don't make that face."

"You'll excuse me, Icy Hot, it's probably the first time I see an interaction between you without him trying to burn you."

Well, ignoring the young boy's last remark. But was mild compared to everything they had seen.

"Did you often meet up there?" Deku asked curiously.

Shoto let out a slight sigh, pensively running a hand through his already tousled hair.

"I... For a while, I almost came every night to meet him on the roof. I remember having to call him to help me climb up."

His eyes lost in the distance, he forced himself to speak the words, articulating them clearly.
He remembered those evenings.
He could still feel the soft and cold air on his face, taste the air made salty by the pond just below them, hear the nightlife blooming in the absence of human activities.

The moon always seemed to be in the background, always present and high in that black sky illuminated by its rays, when he recalled those memories made vague by time.

"Some nights," he continued thoughtfully, "he didn't come. Maybe he simply wasn't on the roof. But I think there were moments when he just needed to be... alone."

Bakugo grimaced.
It was a nice way of saying that there were moments when Toya simply couldn't bear to see his brother and would have probably thrown and incinerated him in a fit of rage. By simply ignoring him, he was probably showing mercy... Let's not push it.
He forced himself to keep silent, suppressing the questions that were racing through his mind. He didn't need to know more. He would get the answers in due time.

 

 

I wonder what memories your brother keeps from it.

 

 

Are you interested in making him your next victim?

Shoto received no response and promised himself that he would not let Memoris approach anyone in the future. As soon as they were out of here, he planned to arrest this man without wasting any time. He wasn't even interested in his motive. He didn't want to know the reasons for this attack, it mattered little to him.

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

Days passed, filled with his father's extravagant demands, documents, articles, and photos. He often recited things he barely understood but which seemed to satisfy Endeavor.
Recently, he had learned the current ranking of heroes along with their respective quirks.
He had also started seeing a tutor who was teaching him to read.

The only thing that wasn't progressing was the training sessions.

Sometimes, he would catch Toya coming out, face red, breathless but with a fragile smile on his lips. In the best cases, his brother would pass without noticing him, looking completely satisfied. Other times, Shoto could see traces of blood on Toya's pale face or his hands bruised to the point of being completely burned. Seeing him in that state worried Shoto, as the expression of anger and frustration twisted his brother's features, and he frantically pushed away their mother who was trying to help him. When Toya saw Shoto, he would hide, fearing being yelled at, insulted, or even hit in passing. In the evening, he didn't go out to see him on the roof. He knew he wasn't welcome.

Shoto dreaded the day it would be his turn to enter the dungeon room.

And Endeavor seemed frustrated with Shoto. Every day, his father asked if his quirk had finally awakened. With each negative response, he left more angry, more brusque. Every time Shoto answered, he wondered when his "no" would become a lie. Out of the corner of his eye, he always saw his mother, often from behind or with her fine white hair delicately hiding her face.
Each day, her dark circles deepened, and her silhouette seemed more fragile.

She also behaved strangely. Sometimes, she would do the same thing multiple times without realizing it. Once, Shoto had seen her cleaning the same plate for far too long. He had seen her forget what she was doing. When he approached her, worried, he was quickly reassured by his mother's usual smile.

And he saw his brothers and sister less and less. Only when they returned from school or during those rare moments when they came home together. And that was when he was allowed to go to school.

It was rare, and the gap between him and his classmates only grew worse. Sometimes, a sob would escape when he wasn't paying attention, and he forced himself to hold back his tears.

A hero doesn't cry.

If the tears continued to flow despite this, he at least made sure no one caught him.

Chapter 14: Back in school

And today was one of those days when he was allowed to return to class!

He had spent the day at school and was now eagerly waiting for his mother, sitting in a corner of the classroom and quietly playing with one of those little toys scattered around the room. He felt somewhat lonely, as the many days he had missed hadn't helped him make friends. Around him, the children bickered, pushed each other, and the lucky ones who already had their quirks proudly displayed them to the class under the watchful eyes of the adults.

A general murmur surrounded him, and he stared at the little toy that didn't belong to him, fiddling with it between his small fingers. His throat was oddly tight, and when someone approached him, usually an adult, he could only nod without truly understanding what they wanted from him.

"Shoto!"

He stood up hastily, suddenly awakened, dropping the little toy abandoned on the ground. He saw his mother, next to his teacher, whose gaze he ignored, giving him a small wave and a smile as he joined her, returning her smile.
Shoto and his mother said goodbye, and he didn't see the exchange of glances between his mother and his teacher.

"How was today?"

With a bit of forced enthusiasm and exaggerated, clumsy gestures, he recounted his day. He rarely left the house, so when he was in another place, everything was quickly exciting and filled with things to discover. But he was quickly overwhelmed by all the activities around him and struggled to participate and interact. He probably spoke less loudly than the other children, thought a bit more before speaking or acting, and when he finally decided, the moment had already passed. He then remained silent and a bit disappointed, feeling awkward and somewhat foolish.

But he didn't tell all of this to his mother, and he forbade himself from thinking about it too. Tomorrow, if he could return to school, he would do better.

"Shoto," his mother resumed gently, casting a small worried glance at him. "I spoke to your teacher, and she told me that you—"

But she was suddenly interrupted by another voice, and he nervously wondered what his mother might have talked about with his teacher. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, though.

"Madame Todoroki! How are you?"

Shoto felt his mother's hand briefly tighten around his own, murmuring a "we'll talk about it later," before turning completely towards the woman approaching them.

He recognized her immediately. A petite woman with black hair cut into a long bob, a refined suit, and high heels. Large, made-up black eyes and a pink mouth. She was in the class photo, in the second row, placed towards the right.

Madame Yamabe Imari.

"Oh," his mother said, bowing politely. "Very well, thank you, Madame Yamabe. And you?"

Ah! Endeavor would have been satisfied, he thought with a slight smile. At least, the satisfied version of his father.

While his mother politely chatted with the woman who was the director of the city's large hospital, he turned his attention to her daughter, Kiyo. She was in his class. He had already drawn with her. She was kind. Kiyo caught his gaze and gave him a big smile, which he timidly returned.

"Pardon?" his mother exclaimed. "I think I misunderstood you."

"Oh, Rei, please, let's be clear with each other. Let's not behave like our husbands," replied Yamabe with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Let's get along. We are both mothers. I propose an alliance that won't harm your son or my daughter."

Shoto frowned, not understanding what he had to do with this discussion. His mother had a dark expression that he rarely saw on her. Her gray eyes were suddenly clouded.

"My son doesn't need what you're offering."

"Mama, can we go home?" Kiyo interjected, yawning, clearly as bored as Shoto by this conversation.

But her mother ignored her, her gaze still firmly fixed on Rei's.

"Rei," Yamabe carefully articulated in a familiar tone, "I propose an alliance between our two houses. I love my daughter more than anything, and I offer this deal for her. I am no more thrilled than you are. But think about it. For your son, too. I know my husband, and I have my reservations about yours. I give you the opportunity to act before them."

Rei remained silent, and Shoto began to seriously worry.
Suddenly, Yamabe seized his mother's dangling hand and firmly shook it.

"As women, Rei, we can understand each other. I know. My family's name has enough power and money to support yours. With my husband, your family will have direct access to the government. It's an opportunity for both of us. Rei," Yamabe paused for a moment before continuing, stepping even closer and pulling her daughter along, "and with a bit of luck, our two children will learn to—"

"Imari," Rei interrupted sharply, pulling her hand away from the other woman's grip. "Stop. This is neither the time nor the place."

Surprised, Yamabe blinked and seemed to realize that the two children were silently watching her with worried eyes. Kiyo tugged at her hand, her expression plaintive.

"Mama, you're hurting me."

She quickly released her daughter's hand and hastily apologized, her eyes wide.

Finally left alone, Rei ran a hand through her hair and extracted herself from the situation.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Yamabe," she said, resuming a detached air. "I'm going to be late to pick up my other children."

As she turned away, Shoto's hand still in hers, Yamabe stood up abruptly, her eyes fixed on his mother's back, holding her daughter close to her.

"Think about it, Mrs. Todoroki," she retorted. "Our society is not in our favor. If you don't act, you will lose everything one day."

Shoto couldn't help but keep his eyes fixed on this determined woman as his mother dragged him towards the exit.

"Mom, do you know her? What did she want?" he asked curiously.

"No. Forget it. We will pick up your brothers and sister and go home."

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

"What was that, exactly?"

 

A discussion between women, I would say.

 

"Shut up," Bakugo warned.

Shoto shrugged, not really knowing either. He just felt nauseous, but nothing new.

 

Yet I'm not wrong. I didn't expect to come across these kinds of memories.

 

What kind did you expect? the young man couldn't help but retort.
It's not just my memories you're sullying, but those of my family too. What do you want?

"They knew each other, clearly," Midoriya said, thinking aloud. "They knew each other personally. Or at least they shared something between them."

Shoto remained silent, not necessarily wanting to solve this mystery, unlike Midoriya whose mind was racing.
It concerned his mother.

He opened his mouth with the intention of changing the subject and instead focusing on how to get out of here. Maybe there was no way out but he wasn't planning on giving up. He already knew he could hijack Memoris who had access to his thoughts and Midoriya and Bakugo could freely talk among themselves without Memoris noticing. Shoto just had to not hear them. On his side, if he kept on blabbering anything, he might be able to force him out of his head.

 

You're idiots. They don't need to know each other to understand each other.

 

"What do you know about it, huh?! You'd better shut up, bastard." 

I think that's enough -

 

Two women. Married, same generation, same society, same social class. Mothers and wives. Yamabe was asking for an alliance, support that should suit both families. Or rather, for her daughter. The husband doesn't seem like a gentleman. Two difficult husbands. 

 

"We don't need to know more, you can -"

 

It's easy to understand. Yamabe was replicating the only pattern she knew. The only way to ensure a happier future for her daughter, without letting the father have a say if possible. Even if it was naive to think she could deceive her husband so easily.

 

Enough.

 

"What are you implying?" 

"Idiot, don't provoke him!" Bakugo exclaimed, grimacing.

 

Pff. You can't really understand. The rules and norms of the traditional elite are not the same as in our world. And you are men, that doesn't help.

 

"And what are you, asshole?!"

Shut up. I know you can hear me, so shut up.

Shoto was breathing deeply, his hands discreetly joined in front of him, his fingers gently pressed together, facing the ground. His eyes were cautiously lowered. He didn't want to invade his mother's life. He didn't want to endure more. And especially not twenty years later. It no longer mattered.

For a few minutes, everyone remained silent, the dark space around them lazily stirring.

"An arranged marriage," Midoriya whispered.

Despite these barely whispered words, a faint murmur escaped by a brutal realization, Shoto received it like a punch in the gut. His breath caught, he had to stop himself from jumping. Of course, Midoriya had to rationalize and understand everything. 

"What are you talking about, Deku?"

 

Bingo.

 

Shoto sighed inwardly. There was no point in hiding anything. Saying nothing would be worse.

"Yamabe probably suggested to my mother... to unite our two families," he explained slowly. 

"Forced," spat Bakugo. "The right word is a forced marriage on children." 

"In this milieu, unions are rarely left to chance," Shoto replied in a neutral tone. "It's a network of alliances. Yamabe comes from a very old family, just like my mother. Endeavor reached this sphere on his own by becoming a hero. My mother was always destined for an arranged marriage. It's the same for Mrs. Yamabe. With each union, political, economic, social, and symbolic stakes are considered. The quirk is a plus but it's not the most important thing. Otherwise, it's called a quirk marriage."

"It's still a forced marriage," Bakugo insisted. "Don't play with words."

The quirk marriage... A taboo still present.
After Dabi's revelations almost ten years ago, society was torn apart on this subject. He himself had become an argument for demonstrators against this practice. Shoto grimaced, uncomfortable and frustrated not to feel his quirk trembling under his skin. He felt like he was reciting an old lesson he had learned younger while answering them.

After all, Endeavor had taught him everything about their society. You had to know it to get ahead in this political chessboard. Because that was it, being a hero. Having power. Influence. A public life he had to control.

"It's not seen that way. It's a way to maintain your name by giving it prestige and relationships in line with your rank and thus increase the influence of your "house," your name, your family, call it what you want, represented by the spouses. It's old and clearly outdated, but it would be naive to think it doesn't exist today."

"But... I don't understand," Midoriya said nervously, fidgeting. "Why make this proposal now, for children?! She said she wanted to do it for her daughter, but there must be another way to protect her!"

Tired, Shoto shrugged.

It didn't concern him, the reasons of this woman. Twenty years later, she was still the director of her hospital. Only daughter from a very old lineage, she had to fight just to be able to work. A woman experiences arranged marriage very differently from a man. Her husband would never have understood her concerns and she wanted to take the lead for her own daughter. And making such arrangements when the spouses are still children is not uncommon either. It's better to plan such a decision before they understand what is happening to them and try to rebel. And then, it leaves time for both parties to accept it without too much reluctance. 

"Abject. It's illegal, damn it!"

 

So we can say that Mrs. Todoroki saved her son from an arranged marriage then?! What a brave woman, Memoris mocked.

 

"Anyway," Shoto continued, ignoring them, "Endeavor would never have let that happen."

At that time, the hero's obsession was clearly elsewhere. He had only one goal, which animated and galvanized him. A single reason for being, a single suffocating desire to create a quirk that could defeat All Might.

Everything else was superfluous.

Nothing else mattered.

It was really not the time to marry off his descendants while his son had not yet secured the legacy left by Endeavor. Endeavor lived for this single mission which made him more and more ruthless and impulsive, impatient. The idea of marriage would have come to him, of course... His quest for power was endless, it had only rather recently calmed down when he himself reached the number one status. But the marriage would have come.

Endeavor would have found him the perfect woman with a powerful quirk and strong, robust genes... He would probably have acted in the same way that allowed him to find Rei Himura. Shoto felt like vomiting, and forced himself to think of something else. Once again, he forced himself to unclench his fists and release the tension in his jaw.

The Himuras... Of course, his family would have been involved. Maybe they could have even suggested a cousin?

 

Depressing.

 

I know. But you didn't need to know. 

Notes:

Sorry, honestly, I'm not really sure about this chapter, but I still wanted to address this topic which seems important in the story of the Todorokis (and Himuras). Especially in such an elitist and corrupt society with this need for control and power.

I hope it remains entertaining and that you enjoy it! :)

Chapter 15: To warm the heart or chill the soul

Today was one of those days when he was alone.

His mother had gone to accompany Natsuo on a school outing. She had asked him to be good and to call her if there was a problem. Her tired face had made him promise not to get into any trouble and to call her at the slightest issue.

She was eventually pulled outside, a worried look on her face, by Natsuo, who was complaining that they would be late if they didn't leave immediately. Rei had turned on the television for him in their little secret room. Endeavor didn't know it existed. Shoto was convinced of that and was very proud of himself and his mother for keeping this little secret.

Before leaving, he and his mother were watching All Might's latest heroic feat. He was on TV, fist raised, radiant smile, proclaiming his usual "I am here!" under the relieved and joy-filled gaze of the people, who were thrilled to see the greatest hero of all time. The defeated villain was forgotten somewhere in the shadows as people lifted their heads, their fear transforming into bliss at the sight of the luminous figure before them.
Soon, everyone began to chant his name.

With his face almost glued to the screen, Shoto watched with his mouth open and his eyes shining with admiration.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I want to become a hero."

She didn’t respond, her caresses halting.

"I want to save people", he insisted, still following All Might with his eyes.

"Yes, that's what heroes do", she replied distractedly.

"I want to save them," he pressed on. "I want..."

He stopped, searching for the right words.
Determined, he turned toward her with all the passion of a young child, all the innocence of a pure heart. Unintentionally, Rei flinched as she met his clear gaze—those blue eyes, so blue, incandescent, burning, vivid and determined, locked onto hers, insistent, as if piercing through.

She shivered, her heart pounding, unconsciously stepping back, her hands clasped protectively at her chest.

"I want to protect you."

His mother retreated even further, settling back onto the couch.
The look she gave him was impossible for Shoto to comprehend. She suddenly seemed very far away and out of reach.

Surprised, he moved closer to her.

"Mom?"

"Protect me from what?" she asked softly, her hands delicately placed on her knees.

Shoto hesitated for a moment, suddenly uneasy, before straightening himself, regaining his resolve.
Behind him, All Might spoke into a microphone thrust under his nose by a journalist. The cheers of the crowd and the joyful cries of children echoed. It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago, the street had been a scene of destruction.

"I don't know. From whatever you want."

"Isn't it my role to protect you?" she murmured, not looking at him, a smile fixed on her lips.

"We can do it together then," he replied with all the confidence of a child.

"If you say so, my little boy," she responded, resuming her gentle touches with a trembling hand through his fine hair after a moment of silence.

 

 

But now that his mother had been taken away by Natsuo and Fuyumi, he felt full of energy with nothing to do, deliberately ignoring his responsibilities... Whether it was his school duties, which required catching up on missed activities, or those of Endeavor.
He would regret it later.

But it was for later.

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

It's sad. Your mother can't even touch you anymore.

 

Watching from the outside, Shoto could see the signs he missed as a child. He saw his mother losing herself, slowly destroying herself, exhausting herself, and bending under the effort. Day by day, the dark circles under her eyes deepened, heavy, increasingly dark, beneath a lost, often disoriented gaze.

He saw his mother suffer, unable to find an escape from that house. He saw her suffer when she looked at him without truly recognizing him. He understood the horror in the gaze she cast upon her ignorant son.

He turned away from the scene, closing his eyes.

It was Endeavor's fault. Not his own. He knew it. Objectively speaking, he knew it very well—better than anyone else. His family had been destroyed by the hero's unhealthy obsession. His birth had marked the beginning of the end for his family. But it wasn't his fault.

He knew that.

And yet, sometimes, even today, he struggled to fully believe it.

A feeling of guilt still resided within him, taking root long ago. His family had never truly known what it meant to be a family. But his birth had shattered the fragile stability they had managed to find. And despite all the efforts in the world, nothing could repair his family.

He had to find and build his own family, find his own place. He did it with his class, 15 years after his birth.

And since then, he had decided to leave the rest behind, visiting his brothers, his sister, and his mother with the simple hope of starting anew, of building something together despite everything. To weave new bonds without snags, without expectations, without the stains of the past. It was both simple and complicated.

Simple because they were strangers to one another. Complex because they shared violent and bitter origins.

A house that had made his sister an adult far too early, forcing her to grow up without parents to guide and love her while protecting her brothers.
A house that had treated his brother like a replaceable, worthless object.
A house that had killed another brother.
A house that had drained his mother to the point of madness, leading her to disfigure one of her children.

Shoto chuckled inwardly, mockingly, thinking it would be more accurate to replace 'house' with 'Endeavor.'
Endeavor had worn Rei down until she cracked, broke, and committed the irreparable. And to ease her torment, she was sent to a hospital, isolating her from everything for ten years.

None of this had been fair.

"Hey, you okay?" Bakugo's deep voice snapped him out of his daydreams.

He met those two red eyes that seemed to be searching for something in his own.

The absence of his quirk frustrated him, looking back at his memories exhausted him, the presence of his friends weighed on him, and this unknown man in his head irritated him more than anything.

"Yeah, and you?" he replied stupidly, unable to find anything else to say out loud.

Bakugo blinked once before bursting into uncontrollable laughter, bending over under Midoriya's horrified gaze.

Strangely, observing his friend laugh, he felt lighter and responded with a mocking pout. After his fit of laughter, Bakugo leaned heavily on him with a sigh.

"Yeah, great, thanks for asking, IcyHot. What a fantastic day, huh? Remember that monster we were chasing in the first place?"

"I wonder how they dealt with him," Midoriya murmured thoughtfully. "And don't call him a 'monster,' Kacchan, it's not nice; we don't know the circumstances of the person with that quirk."

And to think he was only there as support... He sighed as well.

Midoriya gave him a small smile, and it was with a definitively lighter heart that he returned it. Today was just another day in their hero lives. Nothing too unusual. He would worry about what they would see later.

Oh well, never mind; worrying wouldn't help if he couldn't find a way to save himself from some memories. If he could avoid inflicting painful thoughts upon himself, he would. He had already done enough to make peace with all of it.
He wondered, perhaps for the hundredth time, if he could one day truly move forward and think about those moments without grimacing, without shuddering, without feeling his body tense painfully. He wouldn't say no to a break, right now.

 

I obviously cannot pause.

 

Shoto gritted his teeth, annoyed at having someone constantly probing his thoughts on top of rummaging through what absolutely didn't concern them.

"No one asked you!" exclaimed Midoriya, hands on his hips. "Let us out or be quiet!"

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

So, he had the house all to himself.
He knew his mother would be back very soon, despite the irritated tone Endeavor had taken when she mentioned the possibility of leaving Shoto alone at home—because Natsuo needed to be accompanied by a parent for his school activity—he had reluctantly waved his hand in annoyance. He had sternly reminded Shoto of a few house rules while throwing angry glances at Rei.

Now, Shoto was sitting, looking for something to occupy himself with, when he felt gentle tingles spreading through his whole body. His little fingers began to twitch, and instinctively, he turned his palms upward, observing them with a curious expression. A sudden energy seemed to flow through his veins, making his skin tingle as it passed—hot and rushing through his small body, causing him to startle slightly, shocked by the suddenness of the sensation.

He suddenly inhaled, shocked to see a faint smoke rising into the air from each of his hands. Wide-eyed, as if fascinated, he noticed that the two smokes were different.

One was white, lazily resting in his palm and escaping through his fingers, gently falling toward the ground. It left a cold but gentle sensation on his small hand as it passed.

The other was darker, thinner, and more animated, quickly rising toward the ceiling, leaving behind a pleasant warmth in the palm of his hand.

Mouth agape, he then saw the smoke give way to tiny flames that joyfully danced on his skin, meeting and growing before detaching and continuing their dance.

He turned his fascinated gaze to his other hand, seized by a sudden chill that gave him goosebumps. Small icy shapes slowly rose under a white smoke that delicately fell to the ground. He thought he saw snowflakes forming delicately, tiny pearls of ice floating calmly around his palm.

He couldn’t help but let out a small exclamation of surprise, and still captivated by this vision, he raised his arms toward his face to get a better look at this power. A trail of smoke followed his movement—one white and drawn toward the ground, the other grayer and quickly rising toward the sky.

The spectacle took his breath away; he couldn't believe that something so beautiful had come from him. A huge smile spread across his face, flushed with excitement, and instinctively, he encouraged the small flames to grow, caressing his fingers and gracefully leaping into the air. Laughing, he moved his right arm, watching as white smoke accompanied by small flakes followed him, eventually drifting delicately to the ground.

For a long moment, he stood there, his eyes fixed on the growing flames and the flakes falling higher and higher. His shining eyes, where warm and blue reflections danced, were wide open, and laughing, he began to spin around, arms outstretched.

Fascinated, he watched the flames swirl around him, mingling with the chill of the icy pearls floating in the air, creating a mysterious and enchanting atmosphere.

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Midoriya smiled, both touched and impressed.

In front of them, the child was free and happy. His alter swirled around joyfully, unrestricted, uncontrolled, filling the space and gently settling on both the floor and ceiling. It was the pure and unrestrained expression of a Quirk—simply allowing this power, dormant but always present for years, to finally come to life.

The atmosphere was light, the room radiant, with warm and cool colors complementing and completing each other.

"What a truly magnificent Quirk," he murmured in admiration.

Witnessing the birth of a Quirk was always something extraordinary. To see, for the very first time, the blossoming of an innate and unique ability—it was a one-of-a-kind experience.

Joy. In most cases, that was the emotion defining such an event. After years of waiting, children would finally discover their Quirk—a vital and inherent part of their character, at last unveiled. This revelation filled a void, making the child feel whole.

It was a part of oneself finally coming into being, with thousands of possibilities emerging along with it.

What to do with this quirk?
The majority enthusiastically responds: 'Be a hero!'
But thousands of other answers are possible, and as they grow, this majority discovers them. Because only a minority can become that hero.

And the worst possibility is to see no future for this quirk.
Dangerous. Unsuitable for society. Madness. Disgusting. Odious. Monstrous.

Some people will say that's worse than not having a quirk. That not having one is a blessing. That it means an individual without a quirk is always born whole, without expectations, and without predestination. A being totally free to choose their own strength.

These claims are debatable.

"Flashy. You look like a princess!" Kachan shouted with a toothy grin.

"Mmh, I'm curious to know how your quirk behaved the first time," Shoto countered.

Remembering it perfectly, Midoriya let out an exasperated sigh, not devoid of fondness, while turning his head. It was, indeed, a memorable day.
Kacchan hadn't stopped creating explosions. All day long, they echoed throughout the neighborhood.

Still very proud of that day, Kacchan wore a triumphant smile, and Midoriya couldn't help but smile in turn, nostalgic.

"Your little princess act is so pale compared to all those damn explosions I made!" he boasted.

"The whole street still remembers it," Midoriya remarked.

"I couldn’t have guessed," Shoto said with a mockingly admiring tone.

Midoriya stifled his laughter as he moved slightly away from Katsuki, who shot him a dark look.

"Are you messing with me, Halfy?"

 

 

  ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

Boom.

Too absorbed by the warm draft that made dozens of tiny frozen stars flutter, Shoto didn't realize he was no longer alone in the room, now covered in a thin, glimmering layer and droplets of water falling onto the tatami.

Surprised by a flake larger than the others that landed on the tip of his nose, he couldn't help but burst into laughter. Tiny flames, as big as his small fists, also floated around him, like will-o'-the-wisps.

"Shoto."

Still laughing, he gently welcomed one of these beautiful, intensely orange-glowing wisps onto the back of his small hand and turned to his mother, a radiant smile lighting up his face.

"Mom! Look!"

The little wisp suddenly plummeted to the ground.

Rei was on the floor, knees folded beneath her, looking at her son with a horrified expression. Shoto froze in the middle of the room when he caught his mother's gaze. Only then did he notice the wet floor, small clusters of ice and snow, the subtle stalagmites that had formed all around, some shattering onto the ground like tears. Nearby, tiny sparks and thin grayish wisps of smoke were rising toward the high ceiling. Blinking, he absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair, leaving behind a faint trail of flame. A thin layer of ice had formed on his long white eyelashes.

"Mom?"

He took a hesitant step towards her but stopped abruptly as he saw his mother retreat sharply, crashing violently against the wall she was leaning on.

"Do not come closer!"

The child obeyed, too frightened to even breathe.

Everything around him faded away. His alter vanished, letting out a final sigh before falling asleep beneath his skin.

They both remained motionless for a long time.
Breathing heavily, Rei shrank into herself, running a trembling hand over her face as she struggled to stand, leaning against the wall.

"Do you remember your promise?" she then asked in a weak voice.

Without giving her son time to respond, she continued, her face turned into the shadow.

"Go up to your room."

His mother had never spoken to him like that before.
Shaken, the child slowly walked towards the door, his head lowered. With a slightly trembling voice, he tried to apologize, but his mother immediately interrupted him.

"Please. Go quickly to your room."

She hadn't raised her voice, but it was firm and uncompromising. Shivering, not knowing if he felt hot or cold, feeling frozen yet with a smoky taste in his mouth, he moved away.

As he passed by his mother, he hoped to meet her gaze, but she kept her head turned, refusing to look at him. Lost and confused, the child left the cold and damp room, filled with a warm gray smoke swirling amidst a cold white mist. The ceiling and floor were no longer visible.

Chapter 16: Steal my blood

"Mom is losing her mind."

Shoto curled up on himself, eyes sunk deep into the dark night, nestled against Toya. His brother bore vivid, fresh burn marks—the red, irritated skin hidden under pajamas.

Gradually, the elder brother had allowed his sibling to stay close, his right side soothing Toya’s burning, aching skin. Toya had noticed that the coldness emanating from his brother had grown more intense over the past few days.
He clenched his teeth, suppressing the sudden urge to get as far away from the child as possible. He ignored the other equally violent impulse to hold him tight and not let him escape. Torn between these two paradoxical forces, his quirk roared, bubbling with frustration and uncontrollable emotions.

The tension in their house had escalated. Observant and attentive, Toya felt the pressure in the air grow, suffocating the family and crushing everyone. He just wanted to burst this nerve-filled bubble.

Rei looked even more haggard than usual. She was absent, exhausted, taking longer to emerge from her room.

Nothing happened, yet the air was unbreathable. Everything seemed to be waiting, frozen in place, awaiting something that threatened to shake everything.

"We should leave."

"When?"

Toya flinched slightly, then abruptly turned to the small figure beside him. The moon’s silver reflections illuminated his profile, its rays blending into his white locks, brightening his silver iris that mirrored the color of the satellite.

He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud but was too surprised by Shoto’s response to get angry.

"You want to leave?" he asked, curiously. "Why?"

Shoto turned fully toward him, revealing his clear blue iris. His younger brother’s expression startled him even more.

"I don’t know. You said it first."

Brat.

Toya furrowed his brows and composed himself.
If he wanted to be a hero, he needed Endeavor. He wouldn’t flee. Running away was for cowards.
This house was his.
His dream remained unchanged. He would become a hero. He would stay here.
He didn’t quite understand why he felt this unease and growing pressure, but he wouldn’t give in.

"Forget what I said," he spat, turning his back on the younger one.

He could still feel his brother’s icy skin, colder than usual. The cool night air couldn’t explain the cold atmosphere surrounding them, a faint white mist with every breath.

"There’s nothing to run from," Toya muttered softly, his eyes lost in the void.

 

 

 ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

Then the secret was uncovered.

And the child was powerless.
He was dragged by the painful grip Endeavor had on his forearm, pulling him away from his observation post where he could see Toya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo playing football. He didn’t want to follow his father. Heart pounding, nearly stumbling, he cast one last glance behind him, but his brothers and sister were laughing and didn’t see him.

They never saw him.

"Don’t look at them, Shoto. Your brothers belong to a world different from yours."

And in the blink of an eye, he was unceremoniously thrown inside the dojo. Staggering, he stood in the middle of the tatami mats, observing the large room around him. It was his first time entering the dojo. But he had no time to examine the place as Endeavor loomed before him, fists clenched.

"Shoto. The first thing you’re finally going to learn."

His father stepped toward him, and awkwardly, the child recoiled, frightened by the intensity of the hero.

"Don’t ever try to lie to me again."

His flames erupted violently, unforgiving and brutal. Endeavor’s flames.
Shoto couldn’t move, dazzled by the hero. His flames were far brighter in reality than on television. The heat made the air unbreathable. Endeavor, terrifying—a raw force consuming all the space around him, leaving no escape.

Trembling, the child took a feeble step back, his face stricken.

What he felt—had villains felt the same when standing before the hero?

Under his skin, his quirk seemed ready to respond and emerge, but the child stood paralyzed, completely suffocated by the hero’s overwhelming power.

And without warning, he received the first blow, sending him flying to the ground. The strike had come too fast for him to see, and he found himself face pressed against the tatami, his cheek aflame, before he could even comprehend what had just happened.

"Stand up. Guard up. In front of your face."

His father towered over him. He couldn’t see him, but he could feel him, dominating with his sheer height.
Seeing that he was taking too long to get up, his father’s powerful grip descended on him, pulling him to his feet. The child staggered, still dazed, his cheek burning, unable to react, his eyes brimming with tears.

"A hero doesn’t cry! Raise your elbows. Stand tall. Keep your footing firmly rooted to the ground."

And Endeavor roughly positioned him, Shoto letting it happen, like a puppet, trying to see through his tears and the gray smoke, forcing himself to breathe, mouth open. The hero stepped back when satisfied and shouted something Shoto didn’t understand, only able to hold the position. Paralyzed, not daring to move an inch.

And the hero’s harsh face. The veins pulsed on his father’s face.

His heart raced. He felt like he had to do something, or another blow would surely land.
A hero always had to fight back. That’s what Endeavor must have expected of him.

But the next blow, identical to the previous one, sent him flying to the ground in the same way, though this time it was his forearm that burned and not his cheek, which wasn’t directly damaged.

"Get up!"

He received a heavy shock to his ribs that sent him rolling to the ground, knocking the breath out of him. Coughing and struggling to regain his breath stolen by the assault, he was on all fours, tears streaming profusely, the tatami burning his skin.

It hurts.

He was vomiting, making ugly noises, trying to breath, bent over, trembling all over his body.

He couldn’t breathe anymore.
He stayed there, suffocating, dazed, overwhelmed by the pain radiating from everywhere. Terrified.

"Enji, stop! He’s only five years old!"

Oh.

His mother stood between him and Endeavor. When had she arrived? He could vaguely see her feet through the tears. Curled up on himself, his throat raw after vomiting, his mouth dry, he still struggled to breathe. Each breath was painful; everything hurt.

Was this what training in the dojo was like?

Why was Toya so attached to it?

"He’s already five years old, you mean! If he can’t endure this little, he’ll never survive against villains!"

He trembled, his heart pounding. He wanted to leave, to stop. He wanted to take his mother’s hand and leave this room, far away from Endeavor. Far from his fists, his words, his flames, his gaze.

"Now step aside, Rei. Don’t stand in my way."

Sounds of struggle, a slap, a body falling.

Just sounds, only sounds, but they painted a far clearer picture than his tear-filled eyes ever could. He cautiously lifted his head, wide-eyed, his throat painfully tight.

"Mom…?"

The image of his mother’s motionless body, right in front of him, would haunt him forever. Fixing his gaze on her still form, he tried to stand. With a sob of pain, he managed, barely, and threw himself beside his mother.
She was crying. That sight was unbearable to him. 

"Don’t hit her!" he shouted, catching sight of Endeavor moving out of the corner of his eye.

His mother on the ground, subjected to the violence of this man towering over her. His mother, crying, defenseless against this raging monster and his enormous fists.

A barrier of ice suddenly appeared between his mother and Endeavor. Shoto blinked, surprised. But he quickly recovered, placing himself in front of his mother’s body, determined to protect her from the hero.

"Get out of the way, Shoto. And, my boy, this is your fault! If you could just listen to me, we wouldn’t be here!"

"I’m sorry," the child sobbed. "I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I promise. Just don’t hurt Mom anymore."

The ice wall was already melting, and Endeavor was already standing before him, his face twisted with anger. After a moment of silence, during which he observed Rei, Shoto, and the fragile remnants of the ice, he turned away.

"Toya! Make yourself useful and take your mother out," Endeavor’s voice thundered toward the dojo door.

His father’s loud voice made him flinch. Shoto forced himself to turn his head toward the entrance and met the gaze of his older brother, who was watching the scene, frozen. His eyes were wide, his expression horrified.

He slowly entered the room, his eyes nervously shifting between Endeavor and Rei. Without a word, the elder brother knelt beside their mother, sliding a small arm under her frail shoulders. Shoto noticed the hesitation his brother had before touching her. A look of disgust appeared briefly on Toya's face before vanishing just as quickly.

"Come on, stand up, Mom," he murmured. "You can’t do anything."

Without a word, the younger sibling watched his brother support their mother.

"Hurry up and get out! And don’t come back to this room—I forbade you from stepping foot in here! I don’t want to see you here again. And you, Shoto, don’t just stand there like an idiot—reposition yourself! I’ve wasted enough time already."

Endeavor’s authoritative voice echoed through the dojo.

The youngest child took his place at the designated spot, trembling, hoping to calm his father and reassure his mother, who slowed Toya by turning toward her youngest son. His eyes still filled with tears, he ignored the vomit covering the tatami and forced himself to breathe through his mouth to avoid the smell. His face must have been smeared with tears mixed with vomit and snot. He tried to ignore the sharp pain in his sides that made him hunch over.

Cautiously, he lifted his eyes toward Endeavor. Arms crossed, he looked satisfied. On the other side, Toya had regained his erratic demeanor.

"I don’t care what you think, Dad," he suddenly murmured, still supporting his mother. "I’m going to become a hero. I’ll keep training, with or without you! I’ll show you that I-"

"Enough! Get out!"

With a defiant air, Toya held his sharp gaze on the hero.
Shoto watched the duel, silently admiring his older brother for daring to oppose Endeavor so openly. The latter seemed ready to explode at any moment. His flames had grown even larger, threatening to suffocate the family. Shoto couldn’t see his father’s eyes, but he had no trouble imagining those two blue slits filled with threats, promising repercussions for this disobedience. He couldn’t help but tremble.

Sensing the danger, Rei suddenly intervened, standing up and pulling her eldest son toward the exit, casting a heartbreaking look at the youngest she left behind.

"Now, redo the ice wall. And make it melt yourself using your flames."

A dangerous glint danced in the hero’s eyes, an intense and vibrant hunger fixed on the child. An unpleasant sensation made Shoto shudder violently, his fists painfully clenched, his wet face still turned toward the door through which Toya and his mother had escaped without him.

 

 

 ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Ther's nothing to run from.

The doors were closing one by one.
The windows, too, were being sealed one by one.
It grew darker inside. Some rooms were completely black.
The smell of sweat and blood seeped through the doors.
A deathly silence hung over the house, unless it was broken by screams, collisions, and the sounds of struggle.

 

In this luxurious residence of the Flame Hero, the Number Two, there was a large family. To the public’s great disappointment, little was known about this family, undoubtedly one of the most popular in Japan. Endeavor was one of the rare heroes to have founded such a large family, secluded from the media.

His wife, renowned for her beauty and elegance, but also for her name, was a daughter of the ancient and powerful Himura lineage. After marrying the hero, her appearances became increasingly rare. One day, during a break in a secluded hallway, a story would be told of a delicate woman with cold beauty, apparently driven to madness after attacking her son. It was just a theory shared by the most fanatical, as no one knew what had become of the Number Two’s wife.

The first child of this couple was undoubtedly the one who made the most public appearances, though still rare. After the birth of his first son, Endeavor had, for several years, an almost happy and fulfilled glow on his usually stern and closed-off face, much to the delight of his fans. He brought his prodigious son to events and proudly proclaimed that he would be the nation’s future hero. A boy full of promise, a genius, a future Number One.

Then, a few years later, the young family suddenly became more discreet. Endeavor withdrew and became much more violent in his missions and as a hero, and even more secretive about his family life. In the media, no more photos, videos, or names of the mother and son were seen. The latter would even be forgotten over time. Only a rumor and a vague story linked to a fire and a tragic death would be vaguely associated with the so-called prodigious first son with incandescent flames, who became a blurry memory.

Of the other two children, there was nothing extraordinary to tell. Neither hidden nor exposed, they sparked very little interest. Fans didn’t know their names and had never sought to find out.

As for the youngest, only whispers and rumors echoed with excitement.
An impossible child.
An incomparable quirk.
A lineage worthy of the Flame Hero.
At his young age, the child was said to already be capable of neutralizing villains. Some claimed that the young boy’s power could already place him directly in the hero rankings.
It was even said that the HPSC had already approached the child to support his future as a hero. 

Behind the towering elegant doors of the residence, the Todoroki family had always fascinated and drawn the gaze of the curious.

An exemplary and admired family, a great hero and a great father. Children destined for exceptional futures, and a future hero expected to take up Endeavor’s mantle.

Crowds of envious and jealous people drooled over such opulence. Children and parents dreamed of being in the Todoroki family's place.  A family that had everything.

 

 

 ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

"Does it still hurt?"

"I don’t know. It’s been a long time since he stopped training me now," the child quietly replied.

"Did it hurt before?" insisted the youngest, absentmindedly running his fingers over the bandage Rei had applied earlier.

Beneath it, the skin was red and scraped raw from the rough tatami.

Under the starry sky, Toya stood on his hands, leaning nonchalantly backward, his face turned toward the moon. He remained silent for a moment.

"Yes," he eventually replied.

Shoto, his heart pounding harder at the thought of what had happened in the dojo, couldn’t help but shiver, his hand tightening painfully around his injured arm.

"Why do you insist on going back there, then?" he whispered, his voice strained.

"To be a hero," Toya shot back immediately. "I’ll be Number One."

They stayed on the roof for a long moment, savoring the fresh, pure air that caressed their aching skin and filled lungs accustomed to smoke. The crisp scent of nature cleansed their senses, overrun by the smell of burning; the gentle sounds of nocturnal animals replaced the nightmarish screams of the day. Their eyes finally rested, illuminated by the soft moonlight that soothed pupils burned by the intensity of the sun and flames.

The two brothers remained silent.

When it was time to get up and go back inside, Toya still hadn’t turned directly toward his brother or his bruised, scratched face, with his cheek carefully bandaged.

Chapter 17: Save your tears

How does one react upon witnessing a past version of a loved one being beaten and mistreated by a family member?

How does one react when, on top of everything, they already knew?
They knew because, one day, the supposedly deceased brother decided to resurrect himself for revenge and coldly revealed everything to the world. And his intervention had the impact of a bomb, once again affecting that same child caught in the explosion.

And now, there is nothing left to do.
Because it happened more than ten years ago.
Because the child they see bleeding and suffering before them is merely an old echo of the past. A twisted and dark memory that they glimpsed without even the loved one's consent. Something that has already happened, carefully concealed from the media, hidden behind the doors of a luxurious mansion and overshadowed by an even more illustrious name. And no one ever stepped in. Everyone is  ten years too late. And that child survived alone in a world full of heroes.
There is no one left to save.
Today, they know well that the house is empty and dark, abandoned, haunted only by old memories of a broken family.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The three adults stood motionless and silent.

Bakugo wanted to dig a hole and disappear, blow up that bastard Memoris, and put an end to this hellish day. Out of the corner of his eye, his companions seemed to share the sentiment. He stood straight, arms crossed over his chest, hiding the faint tremor that had seized his painfully clenched fists. He felt powerless—and Bakugo hated that feeling more than anything. He had always been repulsed by Endeavor. And that wasn’t about to change. He realized that his aversion had only grown over the years.

It was rare for him not to know what to do. And now, at this moment, he had no idea how to get everyone out of this situation. He suspected that only Shoto could do it—if only that quirk had an escape route.

As for Midoriya, he felt as if he were looking at Eri standing before him. The accuracy of the comparison violently took his breath away. He had never made the connection so clearly.

As the memory played out, he instinctively moved closer to his friend, but even without his quirk, he could almost feel the icy air enveloping him. And Midoriya did not want to insist. He simply remained available if needed, at a reasonable distance. He sensed that stepping in now might not be the best solution.
Perhaps words had served their purpose back then. But now they were adults, and some things were more complicated to address than when one is fifteen.

 

Shoto breathed calmly, his feet firmly planted on the ground, his eyes closed and hidden beneath his bangs. Memoris was a real menace. A true, absolute menace that he would take great pleasure in crushing. He had had time to think since the beginning of this… interesting projection. Yet nothing seemed to work.

Distractedly, he wondered if he could simply stop breathing in order to lose consciousness. Perhaps, unconscious, Memoris would be unable to access his memories. All he had to do was hold his breath.

 

Your friend is seriously considering asphyxiation as a means of escape.

 

Before he even registered that Memoris had just announced it aloud, he felt a strong blow to his skull, enough to make him step back. Vexed and surprised, he lifted his head while rubbing the sore spot, only to meet Bakugo’s red-eyed glare.

"Don’t make me bash that empty head again, or I might just blow up the last damn surviving neurons."

As he was about to retort to the insult, his brows furrowed, a friendly hand rested on his shoulder. Midoriya smiled at him, murmuring an apology on Bakugo’s behalf, while Bakugo huffed loudly and turned away.

"I don’t think that’s a good solution," Midoriya said thoughtfully, one hand supporting his chin. "Memoris can access your memories, even the ones you don’t remember..."

"Memoris needs memories in order to see them. Memories require an active brain to exist," Shoto argued coldly. "It’s easy to slow brain activity, I just—"

"What? Let yourself die?!" Bakugo spat, ignoring Shoto’s furious glare. "Alright, then come on, let me land the final blow, IcyHot! Did you even consider what would happen to your body—the interface between the real world and this fucking place?"

"Like unplugging a wire, we should end up back in the real world, Bakugo."

"Or you just end up trapping Memoris in your fucking brain, leaving Deku and me stuck in this hell, holding your unconscious body. Ready to take that risk, Half-and-Half? Heads or tails, the bets are on. Let me do it!"

Without breaking eye contact with Bakugo, Shoto prepared to extend his hand, accepting the bet, a determined and defiant expression on his face. But before he could, Midoriya swiftly stepped between them, his expression serious.

"No one is strangling anyone, so calm down," Midoriya exclaimed, casting a pointed glance toward Bakugo, who was still locking eyes with the younger hero in defiant silence. "And you, Shoto, please, give us a little more time to find another solution, okay?"

Before anyone could reply, a scream cut through the air.

Suddenly, the idea of being strangled or knocked out by Bakugo was becoming more and more appealing, the young hero couldn’t help but think. He stood frozen, breath short. His pupil was split. His heart pounded wildly.

 

 

 ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

Rei was on the ground, her arms weakly lifting her battered body. Above her, Endeavor was shouting, having violently thrown her across the room.

"Why didn’t you stop him, huh, Rei?!"

Between the two adults, young Shoto flailed his arms clumsily against his father, using his small, trembling body to shield his mother.

"Damn it, that’s all I ever asked of you!" the hero roared, fists clenched, ignoring the child's screams.

Behind him, Shoto could hear his mother struggling to breathe, her head lolling between her shoulders. Her long white hair hung lifelessly around her pale face, dampened by tears.

"Don’t go near Mama!" the child shrieked, swinging his little fists in the hero’s direction. "Stop it! Don’t be mean!"

Rei struggled to sit up, revealing tear-filled eyes, strands of hair stuck to her face. Her body felt heavy, frozen to the floor. She knew Fuyumi and Natsuo were hiding somewhere. She hoped the children were far enough away not to hear Enji’s rage. Far enough not to feel the walls shake with every blow, every impact, every burst of violence.
She knew her hopes were just that—hope.
That the truth was far crueler. She knew her children heard everything. They had probably seen it all, too.

Her youngest son was the first witness.

"Get out, Shoto!" Endeavor bellowed. "This doesn’t concern you!"

His blue eyes were streaked with red veins, his face twisted in fury, his neck tense.

Rei was unable to move, her gaze fixed on the monster before her. Seeing only him, beyond the small silhouette desperately waving its arms.

That small shadow was suddenly hurled across the room, flung with force by the hero. Now, there was nothing left between her and him. Her husband was less than a step away.

She saw his massive arm move toward her neck at alarming speed. He grabbed the collar of her shirt, ignoring the sharp tearing sound caused by his grip. Her face was forced against his, his crazed blue eyes glaring into hers as he spat on her, shouted, and shook her so hard that her neck ached.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The scene stopped just as abruptly as it had begun, leaving the three heroes frozen in horror, their previous discussion completely forgotten.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bakugo noticed Shoto’s pale, shattered expression. It was the least guarded he had ever seen him today. His bright eyes were locked onto the shifting scene, which was changing faster and faster. He didn’t seem to have noticed Deku’s protective arm around his shoulder or the way his free hand was crushed beneath the other hero’s grip.

This wasn’t good.

And when Bakugo met Deku’s dark, threatening gaze, he knew—he was just as ready to explode.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The two children found themselves once again under the starry night. Both of them wrapped in the crisp evening air, which would have been biting and unpleasant for anyone else seeking warmth.

But this time, the air was heavy. The atmosphere, suffocatingly silent.

The two young boys stood farther apart than ever before. And yet, the same exhausted expression marked their youthful faces, dark circles hollowing out their tired eyes.
At that moment, the resemblance was striking.
Two brothers.
No one could mistake it.

"Why are you doing this?" the younger one whispered, his voice barely audible. He was curled up, absently searching for the moon, hidden behind dark clouds.

His big brother’s skin was still burned and charred in places. Red patches covered other parts of his body, itching horribly. Only the freezing air of the night—and of his younger brother—soothed him, calming his anxious, destructive energy.
He stared for a long time at his burned fingers, nearly necrotic. The tips were black and hardened. He flexed and unflexed them slowly, the sensation dulled, almost numb.

"Shut up," he replied. "Don’t question me."

Shoto straightened, a surge of anger suddenly seizing him.

Toya felt the air around him lose the last few degrees of warmth, turning visible. A thin white mist appeared, and Toya simply watched, not minding the feeling against his wounded skin—marked by his own quirk. He grimaced at the thought, frustration overtaking him in an instant, as a black haze this time, rose fiercely toward the overcast sky.

"Mama barely leaves her room anymore. Why—"

"She’s weak!" the eldest suddenly exploded, turning sharply toward the youngest, who couldn't help but flinch at the scream that tore through the night. "She’s weak! Useless! She won’t save you!"

Us.

"I don’t want to see her like that," Shoto retorted just as loudly, his wide eyes brimming with tears. "Then—"

He stopped.
He pressed his small, trembling hands over his face, ignoring the sting of his cheek wound.

The air was slowly becoming unbreathable.

"So what, Shoto?" his brother asked coldly. "Are you going to ask me to stop using my quirk too? Are you going to tell me it’s my fault that Rei is pathetic?"

"No!" the child abruptly exclaimed, forcing his quirk to cool the surrounding air.

But Toya kept increasing the intensity in response. Shoto forced himself to look his brother in the eyes. His white hair was tangled, its stark contrast against the electric blue of his gaze.

Between the two brothers, the air vibrated strangely, oscillating between two extreme temperatures, unable to stabilize.

"It has to stop."

He wasn’t sure exactly what needed to stop. But Toya was the only one who could know. The only one who could understand.

"I won’t stop, Shoto."

"Why?" His voice cracked—pleading, almost imploring.

"I’m going to become Number One. I’m going to surpass All Might!"

Shoto remained silent, watching his brother breathe heavily, his fists clenched in pain, black streaks rising from his increasingly heated body. The younger boy wetted his lips and hesitated before continuing, ignoring the tingling sensation in his ice-covered hand.

"You told me we could run away."

"No! I never said that," the eldest refuted with a growl.

"We could… With Mom. Fuyumi and Natsuo," Shoto persisted. "We could—"

"Shoto!" Toya cut him off, his breath short. "There’s no way out. There’s no escape."

There was a moment of silence.

"There’s no way out," he insisted, locking eyes with him. "I don’t want to leave. I want to keep fighting to become a hero. Shoto. There’s no way out."

A loud thud echoed from the house, making them both jump.
The brothers exchanged glances, and the air between them began to hum—before exploding, sending them tumbling several meters away.

Toya landed deftly and wasted no time in launching himself toward Shoto, grabbing the younger boy before he could fall off the roof.
Silently, he descended with ease, hurrying to return the younger one to his bedroom, ignoring the suffocating feeling that gripped him the moment he stepped inside the house.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Neither of the brothers climbed onto the roof for more than a week.

Adults came and went from the Todoroki house. Endeavor trained him almost every day. When the hero wasn’t there, Shoto ran on the treadmill and used other training machines. When his father returned, he checked the results they displayed.

(Shoto. There’s no way out.)

A doctor, a man who seemed to be around his father’s age, had come to examine Toya’s injuries. This man—with salt-and-pepper hair—was one of the parents in the beginning-of-year photo. An influential doctor. One of the best in the country. He had a quirk that allowed him to heal all types of injuries and illnesses.
He spoke often with Endeavor, and the child saw him from a distance, carrying his briefcase, his notebook, and his long white coat, taking notes or conversing with his teachers or the cook.

Under the hero’s watchful eye, the doctor examined him more and more frequently. The child shook his head, grimacing, silencing his thoughts to focus on his lesson but a commotion from outside the window caught his attention. Outside, his brothers and sister were returning from school.

When Shoto saw his brother from afar (always so far, separated by the distance of the hallways), Toya stood straight and proud, still determined to prove his strength. He stood up to their father. No, he stood up to the Number 2 hero. To Endeavor.

From a distance, Shoto admired him, but unease crept in whenever he remembered the argument between Endeavor and their mother. The hero had completely lost control upon learning that Toya had injured himself training alone in the nearby forest.

Many lessons were taught by the powerful fists of the Number 2 hero.
Shoto quickly understood that he was not Toya. That he was likely not as strong, not as brave.

Were the training sessions always like this?

He always ended up on the ground, unable to rise, his body riddled with pain, struggling to hold back the tears—tears that his father despised.

Weak.

It was his second lesson. He was a masterpiece—but still incomplete. He had to become stronger.
He wasn’t strong enough.

He had to learn. A diamond had to be polished to have value. He had to make more effort, work harder, push himself further. Stand for at least one second longer after each session.
He had to surpass Endeavor and defeat All Might. He had to understand quickly, apply his lessons even faster, grow rapidly, listen attentively. Rise without hesitation.

Every mistake was unacceptable, disgraceful, corrected. He had to remain silent, endure, become strong. Stay standing. Ignore the burns and the cries of his exhausted, battered body.

He hated returning to this dungeon.

He covered his ears when his father yelled. He did the same when Toya’s pleas became desperate cries—begging Endeavor not to forget him.

"Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be stronger than your little prodigy!" Toya shouted, one hand tearing at his hair. "Look at me! I’m still capable! Everything we said—you can’t just take it all back! You took everything from me to give it to your creation!"

The look he finally threw at Shoto was full of hate. The child instinctively stepped back. His father’s voice rumbled through the room.

"He has a name, Toya," the hero sighed, turning away from the child, his expression bored.

Toya laughed—a sharp, bitter sound—his two dark, smoking hands spread wide.

"Does he? I can’t remember, since you never call him by it yourself. He’s just your masterpiece. Your precious creation!"

Why his brother wanted his place so badly—Shoto still didn’t understand.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Like a glitch, the images suddenly sped up, playing at double speed.

Midoriya held his breath, brows furrowed as the memories flashed too quickly for him to comprehend. The ones he caught were disjointed, with no clear connection between them. Yet all of them were intense.

Jumping from one scene to another was dizzying—he barely had time to process any emotion before another equally horrifying moment took its place.
Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on his silent friend. He could feel Shoto’s tense body beside him.

"What’s happening now?" Katchan grumbled.

The blond hero leaned toward Shoto, trying to meet his gaze, which was hidden beneath his hair and fixed on the ground.
With his head tilted, Bakugo could only see a clenched jaw, a thin mouth, and pale skin, gleaming slightly under a fine layer of sweat.

Midoriya, with a gentle squeeze on the young hero’s shoulders, was about to softly draw his attention when he was abruptly interrupted by Memoris.

 

Todoroki Shoto. I need you to focus. Endeavor never liked it when you did that. It makes you look like your mother.

 

Midoriya and Bakugo flinched as the surreal scene before them suddenly vibrated violently, sending a blast of air in their direction.

Just as abruptly, the images slowed, freezing on a new memory.

Chapter 18: Mother's side

He only had his mother left.

But she could never fill the void left by Toya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo as he watched them play together with toys he had never been allowed to hold in his own hands.

Not everything hurts, you see, she seemed to murmur to him. She seemed to say it to herself.

"Mom, I hate him," he sobbed on her lap. "I... I don’t want to be like Dad."

Tell me everything is okay, Shoto thought.

Her touch was gentle and painless. She absentmindedly stroked one side of his head, a cool hand running through his white strands, making him drowsy. Her whispers felt like soft caresses against his skin, worn raw by hours of training. Her sweet words soothed him, her presence lifted the dark veil that clouded his view of the world during the day.
He adored his mother.

Sometimes she would show him her quirk, letting it gracefully glide along her thin, colorful arm to the tips of her damaged, almost non-existent nails, conjuring pure, clear crystals. She shaped them, crafting frozen statuettes, drawing and sculpting in the transparent ice. He would try to imitate her, his small hand clumsy. She encouraged him, smiling as she guided him with expertise and precision. Her movements were gentle when she adjusted the gap between his fingers or corrected the angle of his wrist. Her gray eyes resting on him were reassuring. One gray eye, accompanied by another vivid and luminous blue one, watched attentively, determined to replicate this ice flower. A calm voice. Shoto’s ears did not ring at the end of the lesson. He did not bleed. And he never hurt.

At the end, his childlike face lit up with a smile, his small hands—so often aching—felt cool, and his little body, always marked with bruises of all colors, suddenly felt lighter. He turned toward her, a big, innocent grin on his small face, which she returned, resting her damaged hand against his rosy, plump child's cheek. She applied gentle pressure, and he nestled against her, half of his joyous, happy face hidden behind that cold hand. His one visible eye, gray and shining, met his mother’s gaze.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Shoto dragged himself toward his room, already grimacing at the thought of climbing the stairs.

Endeavor had increased his running time on the treadmill again, and the child was exhausted, his legs trembling. He had nearly fallen three times before the session ended, and as soon as he saw the timer finally hit zero, he had collapsed, not even waiting for the treadmill to fully stop.

For a long moment, he remained on all fours, panting, his mouth wide open, his vision blurry—almost blinded by the tears of exhaustion and relief rolling down his cheeks and pooling onto the dark tatami mat. Eventually, he rested his elbows on the floor, his head heavy against his clasped hands, avoiding the unpleasant contact with the tatami.

He had lost all sense of time, and after long minutes in which he could hear his heart pounding furiously in his ears, he finally collapsed onto his back, lying motionless, the only movement coming from his chest rapidly rising and falling. He stared at the ceiling without seeing it, letting his body regulate itself once more. He felt his blood alternating between freezing and burning. Thick, stagnant smoke surrounded him, growing denser with each passing moment.

When he finally felt capable of standing without passing out, he made his way back to his room, one hand cautiously raised before him, ready to brace against the wall if he felt himself falling.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, his mother’s voice rose, and without thinking, he turned around. He was too tired to make sense of what was being said, but he noticed another voice—one he didn’t recognize.

While he debated between ignoring the commotion and collapsing directly into his bed, a figure appeared at the end of the hallway. Dazed, he blinked, wiping the sweat from his damp face with a heavy hand.

It wasn’t his teacher, he slowly realized as he observed the woman approaching. His teacher, who was supposed to arrive later, was a man.
He should still have time to lie down for a moment before he came.

Lie down and change, he thought absentmindedly, feeling his clothes stick unpleasantly to his skin.

"You have no right to be here," his mother’s urgent voice reached him. "You are overstepping your bounds."

His mother’s voice was unusually sharp and hostile, making him sit up suddenly, shaking him from his dazed state.

Yet, he was startled to see the woman right in front of him, leaning down to be at his level. Confused, he stepped back and nearly fell when his foot hit the step behind him, only managing to stay upright by grabbing onto the wall.

"Hello," the blonde woman smiled lightly. "You must be Shoto, right? I’m delighted to meet you."

The child remained uncertain, staring hesitantly at the hand extended toward him. Unsure, he clumsily wiped his sweat-dampened palm on his shorts and was about to shake the pristine, manicured hand being offered to him.

"Shoto," his mother intervened brusquely, her tone making him freeze. "Go to your room, please."

She took his hand sharply and pushed him toward the stairs without looking at him.

"Now."

Shaking off his daze, the child started climbing the stairs, unable to make sense of what had just happened. Once upstairs, he slowed down near his bedroom door, instinctively straining to listen.

"I’m going to have to ask you to leave my home, madam," Rei stated coldly.

"Mrs. Todoroki, I’m not sure you understand the situation," the woman with stern features replied. "The Commission is concerned about your child."

The dry laugh his mother let out unsettled him, and cautiously, the child slipped into his room, still listening.

"I’m relieved to hear that the Hero Public Safety Commission cares about children's well-being," Rei said in an odd tone. "I will pass on your concerns to my husband. Endeavor will know how to reassure you."

Shoto suddenly felt exhaustion crash down on him, and, completely drained, he shut the door, too tired to care about whatever was happening downstairs.

Wasting no time, he collapsed onto his futon, not bothering to undress, unwilling to make any additional effort. His head had barely touched the futon when he already sank into unconsciousness, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his dry lips.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

A coward. He was a coward.

The only thing he could do was distract the hero, draw his attention toward himself. Keep him away from his mother, who was covering the lower half of her face with a trembling hand. Between her fingers, blood flowed profusely. Beneath her sparse, bloodstained bangs, her eyes were wide with shock—tears falling, mixing with the crimson streaks.

But he was weak, and all he could do was watch his mother protect herself, curled up on the floor, beaten down by the screaming hero who loomed over her with his sheer size and weight. The child remained motionless against the wall, stunned after his father had viciously hurled him through the air.

He could do nothing but listen to his mother’s sobs and cries, drowned out by Endeavor’s deafening shouts.
He could do nothing but watch the blood pooling beneath his mother, the splattered crimson streaks exploding across the floor, walls, and furniture around them.

It was his fault. His fault. Because he was born.

He saw the unspoken reproach in Rei’s eyes when she was too exhausted to mask her expression with a smile. When, timidly, trembling, apologizing, she asked him not to look at her. When she distracted his gaze by pointing at something else. When her hesitant touch only grazed one side of his face, avoiding the other.
He saw it in Toya’s hateful stare.
He saw it when Natsuo’s laughter abruptly stopped the moment their eyes met.
He saw it when Fuyumi hesitated to approach him, suddenly uncomfortable, unsure of what to say.

Maybe if he was better, if he became stronger, if he became a good person, one of them would finally reach out a hand and invite him to play.

For now, the cold settled deep in his body, numbing his limbs, wrapping around his heart in silent frost.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Bakugo’s mouth was dry, his hands still trembling. He shook himself, refusing to let this shake him, forcing himself to stay focused.

Shoto had endured all of this. More or less.
But the worst was behind him now. That was a good thing.

He needed to think logically. Getting emotional would only make things worse for everyone. So he took a deep breath, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and turned to Midoriya. He didn’t trust that idiot to keep his head cool.

That’s why he was surprised when Deku was the first to break the silence, his voice neutral.

"Who was that woman?" he asked.

It was simply because he had known Deku since they were children—the same age Shoto had been in the memories they were watching... He repressed a shiver and forced himself to focus on the hero, pushing that thought aside. Because he knew him so well, he could hear the faint tremor in his voice, the suspicion hidden beneath it.

"The Hero Public Safety Commission," Bakugo replied curtly, trying to mask his unease. "You heard her, Deku."

Before he could respond, Bakugo turned to Shoto. He was pale.

"You never told us the Commission messed with you when you were a kid."

He wanted the younger man to snap out of the daze threatening to swallow him, even if it meant bringing up an unpleasant subject.

Midoriya was watching carefully, waiting for his answer. He must not have known either.
Feeling the weight of their attention, Shoto straightened up, running a hand along his neck, seemingly thinking.

"I don’t know when that topic would have come up."

Bakugo scoffed, stunned by the absurdity of the response.
But at least, he remembered that.

"There were plenty of chances—especially after the Great War, Icy Hot. Damn it, the Commission screwed up big time, and a portion of its practices got exposed to the public. 

Midoriya remained silent, biting his lip before finally speaking.

"Did they try something? Who was that woman?"

Shoto turned slightly away from them, avoiding their gazes, searching for what to say.

Growling, Bakugo stepped forward, ready to grab the collar of his uniform, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to shake him—when they were interrupted.

 

How many times are we going to see this same scene? Was it really that common? No wonder Rei ended up in a psychiatric hospital. She can consider herself lucky she didn’t die.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

Exhausted, his body aching, the young child woke up shivering, his throat dry. He turned over and saw light creeping into his room through the small gap between the tatami and the door.

He got up, wincing as his body protested. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the soreness and silently made his way to the door. He glanced at his window and saw the round, luminous moon hanging high in the sky.

Stifling a yawn, he followed the light, deciding to get a glass of water to soothe his throat—raw from hours spent in a dungeon filled with smoke, ash, and heat.
He knew that only his mother or Toya ever moved around at night, and his brother had been avoiding him more and more. The nights spent under the moonlight on a grand, sturdy rooftop were becoming rare.

He deduced that it had to be his mother who was awake. Hearing whispers from the kitchen, he was relieved to find he had guessed correctly.The hurried murmurs were muffled by the sharp whistle of the kettle, signaling that his mother was making tea.

Relaxed and reassured by her presence, he couldn't stop himself from yawning, a tear of exhaustion threatening to escape. If his mother offered, he wouldn’t say no to one of her teas. They were warm and sweet.

He suddenly froze before the kitchen door, paralyzed by the distressed murmurs reaching him.

"Mom… I… I think I’m losing my mind. I—I can’t take it anymore. Every day, the children look more and more like him…"

She was trembling, her voice thick with sobs, close to panic, her body hunched in on itself, her thin shoulders pulled up to her ears.

Shoto stood petrified behind the door, his heart hammering.

"And Shoto… The left side of that child… Sometimes, it looks unbearable to me. All I see is his father! I… I can’t take care of him anymore," she exclaimed harshly. "I can’t raise him anymore."

The raw tone of his mother’s voice startled the child, his heart dropping. Trembling, he forced himself to push the door open slightly.

"I want to run away from this place."

"Mo…," Shoto swallowed hard, forcing his weak, trembling voice to come out. "Mom? What are you saying?"

His mother froze, her breath caught in her throat.

For a moment, time was suspended, and the only sound filling the room was the rising, shrill whistle of the kettle. A piercing noise, and an impossible distance between mother and son.

Shoto hesitated at the doorway, afraid to step in. He watched his mother turn slowly toward him, his body hidden behind the door, only half of his face daring to be seen. When their eyes met, everything happened at once.

She turned away—and the last thing he remembered was pain. The sound of flesh burning, tearing apart. And sharp, unbearable screams.

The last image was the look in his mother’s eyes. Pure horror—branded into his mind like fire.

He was on the ground, a searing pain tearing through the side of his face, but his brain couldn’t process anything. All he could see were his mother’s wide, panicked eyes. The terror. The disgust.
Unbearable.

"I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Shoto! What have I done?"

Terrified, Rei threw herself at her son, pressing both hands against the burned side of his face, trying at the same time to pull him close—her touch frantic, lost, unsure.
Somewhere on the floor, her phone lay shattered, its screen cracked, voice crackling through the speaker.

"No, no, no, no!"

She apologized again and again, screamed, and without thinking, pressed ice against the burned skin. The kettle lay somewhere across the kitchen. Ice spread through the room without her noticing.

Her son’s forehead was burning. His eye—

Heart pounding, she did everything she could to cool the wound, never stopping her frantic apologies, horrified by his screams.

She had never heard him scream like that before.
What have I done?!

She held him as tightly as she could in her trembling arms, praying to go back, praying for this to be a nightmare.

When she was suddenly torn away from Shoto, violently thrown aside, she thought she was finally going to die—unable to breathe properly, blinded by the endless stream of tears. Her head struck a hard surface, but she felt nothing. She couldn’t distinguish the furniture from the floor, the ceiling from the walls.

She suddenly realized, on all fours, that she was repeating his name—"Shoto"—over and over again. She moved, stumbling, dizzy, desperately trying to find her son by following his cries.

Her blurry gaze fell on her hands, frozen by the ice, pressed against the ground to support her trembling body. Her breath hitched, and with her heart lodged in her throat, she lifted one trembling hand to her eyes—seeing, tangled in the frost between her fingers, strands of red hair.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

It was too much.

Panting, Shoto bent over, his eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the nausea to pass. I’m going to vomit.

He felt the weight of Midoriya against his back and the warmth radiating from Bakugo at his side. Maybe they were talking to him—he had no idea. The shrill whistle of the kettle still echoed, and a deafening buzz roared in his ears.

He needed to breathe. Now.

His heart pounded wildly, threatening to burst from his chest. His scar itched. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his face, pressing it heavily against his left eye.
Pull yourself together.
Weak. You’re weak, Endeavor would have spat. Beaten and finished off by a villain.
Disgusting. Unbearable.
Not worthy of Endeavor’s son. Ah.

A pressure on his wrist. Warm, but painless. He focused on it, trying to draw air into his lungs without throwing up.

Then, for a moment, his eyes lost focus, unable to land on anything. A shiver ran through him before he slowly began to calm, embracing the quiet settling over him little by little—the darkness enveloping him, a familiar old blanket he had wrapped around himself many times before.

Numb but able to breathe a little easier, he was crouched, his head tilted forward, supported by clasped fingers, his elbows resting on his knees. It was a familiar posture.
When did I end up on the floor?

Blinking lazily, his gaze settled on the hand gripping his wrist, though he couldn’t feel it against his skin.

 

Wake up. Do you remember the doctor?

 

His breath hitched suddenly, his own hand gripping his scalp. That voice—it was loud and unpleasant, reverberating inside his skull, oddly deep and rough.

 

Doctor Doi. Doi Senzo.

 

How do you know?

And with his head between his hands, he suddenly heard himself laugh—exhausted, ripped from his state of numbness, overwhelmed by the urge to destroy something.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

He was lying in a bed. Exhausted, he barely opened his eyes, only to be immediately blinded by the light. But only in one eye.

Without thinking, he lifted his hand to his other, sightless eye and discovered a bandage covering half of his face. His breathing suddenly quickened, and the child stiffened with a whimper, remembering his mother’s gaze, the boiling water cascading down his face, and the freezing sensation that followed immediately after.

He barely had time to turn onto his side before vomiting.

Panting, a cold sweat washed over him, his eye throbbed, his cheek burned. Drained, he barely caught a glimpse of a man rushing into the room before losing consciousness again, his head hanging off the bed.

 

 

He was woken by Endeavor’s unpleasant voice.

"What do you mean you can't do anything for his face?!"

He was lying in the center of the bed again, his body aching, his face raw. The room smelled of disinfectant. He could taste vomit on his tongue.

"Endeavor, I don’t recommend performing surgery on such a young child's face. The risks aren’t worth it—especially in such a sensitive area around the eye."

"Doctor, remind me why I pay you?"

"Please, listen. I’m telling you it’s more reasonable to let his injury heal naturally. The nature of his wound is too uncertain, due to your child’s quirk. If this… accident happened to another child, rest assured they would have completely lost their eye function."

Shoto shivered, pulling the thin blanket over his head, curling into himself, hands pressed against his ears. He tried to ignore the tingling on the injured side of his face.

"It covers half of his face," his father growled. "How am I supposed to explain this to the public? That stupid woman—how could she do this to me?!"

"It looks striking on a young child, but as he grows, it will be much less noticeable once he reaches adulthood," the doctor muttered. "What concerns me more, Endeavor, is his vision. I wasn’t able to repair the already damaged nerves. He will—"

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The memory ended abruptly, and once again, the images sped up.
I won’t let you dig so easily anymore.

Chapter 19: Hey brother

Memories were still flashing by in fast motion, and cautiously, Midoriya leaned against Shoto, who remained crouched, his forehead resting on his clasped hands.

"Is he the one doing this?" the hero whispered, addressing Katsuki.

"I suppose so. At least I didn’t have to knock him out," he grumbled. "Maybe we’ll get out faster—no complaints from me."

 

How did your family react to your mother's disappearance after she disfigured you?

 

Grinding his teeth, Midoriya could feel the stiffness seize his friend's body again, and he watched as the memories slowed down little by little, almost hesitantly.

"It’s when that bastard mentions a specific event that he forces the memory to resurface," Bakugou spat, arms crossed in front of him.

Midoriya, too focused on Shoto, hadn’t noticed him sit cross-legged beside the younger one. In the end, it was reassuring that the three of them were together. He wondered once again why the villain had trapped them together, why he wanted to reunite them. It seemed like a strategic mistake.

From what other victims had testified, they had always been alone.

What was different? Why change?

"Something’s off," he let slip.

Kacchan shot him a sharp look, his vivid red eyes narrowing.

 "Got any more obvious observations to share, genius?!"

And finally, the scene slowed, froze, and settled into place. Once again, they found themselves in front of the same child.

Beside them, Shoto gritted his teeth, a light sheen of sweat appearing on his furrowed forehead. It was harder than usual to dissociate, because of that man inside his head—who always seemed to know just the right words to dredge up old memories.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Shoto applied the ointment the doctor had given him.

He carefully avoided looking too closely at the vicious red scar that consumed half of his face. It was immense.

Repulsive. Unbearable.

As quickly as possible, his throat tight and his hands clumsy, he struggled to once again hide the scar beneath the bandages, awkwardly replicating the gestures the doctor had shown him.

His single gray eye met his gaze in the mirror.

It was imperfect. Strands of hair were caught under the white bands, some pulling painfully on his scalp. It was too tight behind his ear and too loose along his jaw.

But he could no longer see the hideous mark that clashed with the blue of his eye, the one that made his head ache. He could no longer see that cursed blue iris either. The darkness was a relief. Not seeing that skin and that damned eye calmed him somewhat.

He still remained motionless in front of the bathroom mirror for a long time, ointments, bandages, and scissors overturned in the sink and scattered on the floor before him.

Slowly, he emerged from his daze and cleaned up the bathroom before quickly stepping out without a backward glance. He wandered through the corridors, searching for his father. Endeavor had returned from a mission just a few minutes ago.

Since the accident, the hero had been absent more often. Shoto heard him speaking to all sorts of different people, but he refused to answer his son’s questions about what had happened to his mother.

Instead, he issued orders curtly, structuring his son’s days with a precise and demanding schedule.

"That idiot."

Shoto suddenly froze upon hearing his father’s voice from the room next door. The child watched as Endeavor passed in front of him, his flaming beard and mustache flickering on the furious hero's face. Endeavor noticed him and threw a frustrated glance his way, pausing on the freshly changed bandages before turning away with a grumble.

"During such a crucial period of your development, of course…"

The child stood paralyzed, his wide eye locked onto Endeavor's broad back, his small fists clenched.

"Where is Mom…?" he heard himself ask through gritted teeth for the umpteenth time.

"Because she hurt you," his father finally responded after a long silence. "I sent her to the hospital. To keep you safe."

I hate Dad.
I hate Endeavor.

On his young palms, his nails had left four crescent-shaped indentations, marking his skin.

 "It’s your fault…!" the child burst out, trembling with rage. "It’s your fault she did this to me."

I hate him.
His mother hated him. Because of him. Because of Endeavor.

The adult cast him a curious glance before walking away, grumbling, his phone in hand. He coldly sent him back to the kitchen, where his meal was already waiting, before continuing his lessons.

That night, after returning from training, he collapsed onto his futon, motionless.
Dark circles weighed under his grave eyes, but sleep evaded him. His body was aching, but his mind was racing ever since his mother had been sent away, making his nights unbearably long. After every training session, his heart pounded too fast, too painfully for him to fall asleep. He had to wait until his breathing steadied, until his trembling hands calmed, until his mind silenced itself. Feverishly, he clutched his pillow tight against him.

Much later, once he regained control over himself, he would realize that his bedroom door no longer opened.

Rubbing his tired, red eye with his scraped fist, the child felt on the verge of fainting, overwhelmed by exhaustion and the heaviness of his body. It must have been late in the evening, past the hours permitted by Endeavor. He was thirsty, his bandage itched. When he tried to leave, his mind blank, driven only by the thirst… his door wouldn’t open.

Perplexed, his brows twitched. He turned the handle once more, pushing and pulling for long minutes. But the door wouldn't open.

Confused, Shoto tried to use his quirk, his breath growing shorter. Just as he was about to set the door (and the walls of the house) ablaze, against all caution, it suddenly swung open. He lost his balance, stumbling back with the little energy he had left, failing to notice Endeavor standing there, arms crossed, still clad in his heated hero costume.

His eyes widened as he turned to face the door, his stunned gaze locking onto the massive metal latch placed outside, out of reach, fastened to the frame.

"It’s for your safety," Endeavor said before roughly grabbing his arm and tossing him back into his room. "I don’t want anyone else hurting you."

Dazed, Shoto lifted his head just in time to meet Endeavor’s intense gaze before he slammed the door shut, the hinges trembling from the force. Immediately after, the sound of the latch clicking into place rang through the space.

He remained frozen, shocked—his dry throat forgotten, his itching eye neglected, and his heavy body forcing him to slump against the wall. His hand instinctively rubbed his sore arm, where he could see the crude imprint of his father’s fingers.

 

Endeavor then forbade him from entering the wing of the house where his siblings stayed. A section was reserved for him alone. And for Endeavor.

The others, he never saw them anymore.
Only his teachers and the doctor kept him company. His teachers eyed him, pretending to stay focused on his lessons: letters, mathematics, physics, law, history, English, Japanese, etiquette… Their gazes hovered over the bandages, then the same eyes avoiding the scars, suddenly blind to the wounds.

Doctor Doi visited often. He entered, his briefcase always in hand, his white coat always on his shoulders. He spoke kindly to Shoto, sometimes vaguely mentioning his son of the same age or his youngest daughter while tending to whatever he could after Endeavor’s sessions.

One day, as he left, Shoto heard him speak to his father.

"Endeavor, the child should rest after an accident like this."

The hero grunted, furrowed his brows without slowing his pace, guiding the doctor toward the exit.

"Shoto was injured in the eye. He still has one left. That doesn’t prevent him from moving. It’s beneficial training for him. A hero must know how to fight, even in a state of handicap. This is good training."

"I understand, Endeavor. But I’m not only talking about physical recovery… Although losing the use of one eye can be disorienting. As I told you, his depth perception and visual acuity must be monitored," the doctor quickly added upon seeing the hero’s displeased expression, then continued more cautiously, carefully choosing his words. "This scar… It’s also a mental healing process he must go through."

Shoto, still seated and unmoving in the dungeon, could not see the two adults, but he heard a violent impact. He couldn’t stop himself from jerking upright, senses on high alert. The adrenaline woke him up after the long hours spent alone with Endeavor, followed by the doctor’s quirk, one that always left him exhausted, his body overwhelmed with horrible tingling sensations.

But he preferred the tingling to the scorched skin, the neatly broken bones, the torn tendons, or the shattered flesh spilling rivers of blood.

 "Doctor, I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but my son is perfectly fine. He will not end up like his mother. He is my heir. He is the one who will save the world tomorrow. He is the future Number One. Everything I do is for you. For the world, the country, the city. For you and your family, your friends, your wife, your children. Do not compare Shoto to an ordinary child. What I pass on to him is my entire legacy. It is heavy. That is the price to pay to be Number One, to save everyone, to maintain peace in our society."

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

"Natsuo, where is Toya? What’s going on?"

He had heard panicked movements in the courtyard. Taking advantage of his father’s absence, he quickly made his way toward the commotion outside, finding his brother facing the forest, his gaze unfocused.
(He was disobeying...)

Suppressing a shiver, he followed his brother’s gaze and saw a massive black cloud and an equally dark mist swallowing the area. He blew away a cinder that was about to land on his face. Fuyumi was beside them, frozen in place. Shoto searched for Toya with his single eye and was disappointed not to find him.

His other older brother slowly turned toward him. His eyes were red and swollen. His clenched fists trembled. He stared at the youngest for a moment, his lips pressed together, his chin quivering.

"He's dead."

"Huh?"

Shoto froze. He hadn’t seen Toya in weeks. Since their mother had left, since every one of his actions had been carefully watched and controlled by Endeavor.
He had tried to climb onto the roof through his bedroom window, but without his brother’s usual help, it was impossible for him to climb without risking a fall. And with only one eye, he still struggled to find his balance or correctly judge the distance between objects and himself, making him clumsy.

He suppressed another shiver, thinking of the countless punishments Endeavor had already imposed for his missteps.

Suddenly, Natsuo grabbed his little brother by the shoulders, making him violently jolt. His single eye fixed on Natsuo’s face, distorted by emotion.

"He’s dead! Toya is dead, do you understand!?"

Dead...

The word echoed in the young boy’s head. Dead. He felt sick. His body still trembled, ignoring the discomfort of his injuries. He blinked his single visible eye several times, searching for Toya despite himself.

How?

Liar.

His shoulders ached under Natsuo’s grip. This wasn’t possible. Toya was strong. He was unshakable.

The two boys sat on the ground in silence.

Only Natsuo’s choking sobs echoed through the garden.

"How?" Shoto whispered, his voice trembling.

No. It was false. It had to be false.
He couldn’t lose both his mother and his brother.

His small hands clutched at his older brother’s shirt, gripping it with all the strength he had left. A guttural sound escaped his throat. He searched for his brother’s gaze, but Natsuo’s eyes remained fixed on the ground.

"It’s not true."

The last time he had seen Toya was before the accident in the kitchen. That had been weeks ago. Months ago.

 "He’s dead, Shoto! He burned himself with his own quirk!" Natsuo burst out, sobbing. "He told me everything. He told me what he was going to do! He was waiting for Dad in the forest!... To… to show him his…", he struggled to breathe, his voice cracking between words, "his stupid special move."

Shoto barely heard the explanation.

Toya could hate him, despise him, hit him, burn him if he wanted. But he just had to come back home.
At night, in secret, that same Toya would hold him and help him apply the creams. And he, discreetly, would activate his own quirk to cool the air, soothing the ever-burning skin of his older brother.

Yes, Toya would always hate him, but that was better than this.

At least he was there. And that was better than absence. Better than his absence, better than Fuyumi’s tears, better than Natsuo’s cries. Better than this suffocating feeling.

"He was waiting for Dad up there. I know it! I’m sure! He… he told me… before… before he left."

Shoto was stunned, and Natsuo was crying, both boys clutching onto each other tightly now.
Fuyumi ignored them, frozen like a statue, her expression blank, her gaze locked onto the dark sky.

"Endeavor… he never came. And Toya… something happened up there! And Endeavor wasn’t there!"

Shoto was familiar with the hatred reflected in someone’s eyes. He had never seen it from Natsuo before. He met his older brother’s gray gaze.

"He didn’t come!" Natsuo screamed.

"Why?"

His small voice sent a chill down his brother’s spine. Natsuo abruptly pulled away from the embrace, and Shoto’s arms fell limp at his sides. Then, Natsuo seemed to see again, his thoughts suddenly clear.

As if he had returned to himself, past the violent flood of tears. His breathing was still uneven, but now, he was truly looking at Shoto.

"...Because of you."

"Huh?" the child asked blankly, deafened by the pounding of his heart in his temples.

He felt frozen to the core. A numbing cold. He could feel the bandage clinging to his sore skin. His small, clenched hands were tucked against his chest. He was unbearably cold, rendering his limbs insensitive.

"He was with you!" Natsuo suddenly shouted, accusingly.

His brother’s eyes darkened as he looked at him. Unbearable.

Shoto lowered his gaze, unable to hold his brother’s stare.

"He was training you, instead of being with Toya."

He had the marks on his body to prove it. And the pain carved into his flesh to confirm it.

"With me," he stupidly repeated.

His brother straightened, towering over him completely. It was nothing compared to Endeavor, and Shoto had been trapped beneath him constantly. So he watched, unflinching, as Natsuo’s demeanor shifted. The name "Toya" spun endlessly in his mind. His body trembled.

The eldest opened his mouth. Then, he hesitated.
Without another look, he turned on his heel, leaving Shoto alone.

"Mom… then Toya," Fuyumi suddenly murmured, breaking free from her trance, warm tears rolling down her pale face.

Something disappeared within Shoto at that moment, and likely within Natsuo and Fuyumi as well but he would never know what.

And Endeavor became even more ruthless.

Fuyumi and Natsuo grew closer, perhaps.

He avoided the new room where an altar had been erected for Toya, a framed photo surrounded by the heavy scent of incense. Endeavor had mentioned something about the remains of a jaw, but Shoto preferred to forget, to deny it. If he entered that room, he felt as though he would collapse suffocating under the weight of injustice. The feeling of heaviness and oppression clung to his skin.
We should have run away.

And there was already the cold night. Alone in his simple bedroom, with the dim, silent glow of the moon filtering through the window to remind him of his brother’s death.

But Shoto still waited for Toya to return. Stubborn.

At night, sore, bruised, and bearing the fresh wounds of the day, he would turn toward the window, listening to the sounds outside.

He waited for a restless boy to return and help him climb up there once more.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 "Is it almost over, or what?!"

Endeavor was shouting again.

Shoto sat at the top of the house’s stairs, his expression closed off, his face resting against his left hand. His other arm, carefully kept in a sling after being broken, lay motionless as he observed what was happening below.

At least it’s not directed at me this time, he thought bitterly.

By reflex and habit, he glanced at the large clock hanging on the wall, silently thanking these unexpected visitors for interrupting his lesson.

Endeavor had decided to lecture him about his own missions so that Shoto could study and apply everything he had learned in law, forcing him, in turn, to refine his vocabulary and improve the way he wrote and expressed his reports.

In short, the surprise arrival of the guests had ended his session 37 minutes early, giving him a brief pause before the next lesson.

He sighed silently and strained to listen.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

Midoriya watched the new scene closely, his attention lingering despite himself on his friend’s young face. It was fully exposed, the scar visible, dominating that side of Shoto’s childlike features. Chewing his lip, he then glanced at the Shoto beside him,rigid and focused, while replaying the doctor’s words in his mind.

Hesitantly, he opened his mouth, unable to stay silent any longer. He had known this man for almost ten years. He was his best friend, and as a hero, Deku had long since analyzed and categorized him, a remarkable hero, with no apparent weaknesses. And yet… was this scar only aesthetic?

 "Shoto…," he began softly.

A few years after they had graduated from U.A., Shoto had started wearing glasses at home. Midoriya had never seen him wear them, but he had noticed them left on a piece of furniture. Surprised, he had pointed it out, but Shoto had merely smiled and shrugged, offering a vague response before guiding Midoriya to the kitchen; so subtle that the hero hadn’t even realized it at the time.

How could he have been ignorant of this?

But he had likely waited too long before deciding to speak, because Kacchan, his gaze locked onto the memory, ended up interrupting him.

"Why the sudden jump in time?"

Midoriya couldn’t answer, still preoccupied, twisting his fingers nervously.

And with his usual gruff tone, Kacchan continued.

"Half ’n’ half, your age?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shoto’s form flicker for a moment, before the youngest suddenly lifted his head, exhausted, fixing his unreadable gaze on the memory without showing a hint of emotion.

"Eight."

Midoriya jolted, surprised, straightening as he observed the young boy more closely. The child, looking bored, had finally stood and descended the stairs in silence. Watching him move, the young hero felt a stab of unease creeping in, but he was also somewhat impressed by the way the child moved with silent steps, not a single creaking board, his footsteps as light as a feather.

 "Sure?" Katsuki pressed, frowning.

And Midoriya couldn’t help but share the doubt as he looked at this child who seemed so young.

"Within a year, probably," Shoto muttered.

They remained silent, watching the scene unfold, still preoccupied by the previous memories.

 "Why this time jump?" repeated the blond hero, his piercing gaze fixed on the youngest.

Midoriya thought rapidly, hesitating to intervene. To be honest, he had initially agreed with Shoto’s deduction. Memoris definitely needed access to the hero’s brain to retrieve the memories. He could also, in a way, force the memories to play out by making the person recall them. So, the key to the quirk’s effectiveness was the person it worked on. More specifically, their brain. If their cognitive activity could be slowed, then Memoris would struggle.

They had suddenly skipped about three years of memories. Memoris hadn’t interfered. Meaning Shoto was the cause.

"I just need to take a step back from all of this," the youngest finally answered in a neutral tone, sitting down as well.

"Can you do it again?" Midoriya cautiously asked, cutting off Katsuki before he could respond.

He ignored Kacchan’s disgruntled growl.

"Yes. It’s just complicated, with the pressure Memoris exerts. It’s…" He seemed to search for his words for a moment, leaning back on his hands, his eyes lost in the blur. "It’s like two opposing forces. My will against Memoris's, in a way"

"You mean dissociation," Katsuki bluntly stated, leaning forward.

"Mmh," the youngest hummed, turning away.

Midoriya suddenly jolted upright, startling his friends, who tensed, ready to react. But the hero ignored them, his gaze locked back onto the memory. Out of the corner of his eye, he had observed the wary child spying on the Number Two’s conversation. The small boy held his injured hand carefully, glancing regularly at the clock on the wall. Furious, Midoriya had noticed the bruises spreading beneath his jaw, extending along the side of his neck above the collar of his shirt.

It was only when he saw a young woman appear from behind the wall that he refocused his attention on the scene.

 

Oh? I didn’t expect that…

 

Ignoring Memoris, he could hear the young woman approaching and introducing herself, a warm smile directed at the child. She was from the HPSC. Caught off guard, Midoriya suddenly shifted away from the other two, his gaze locked onto this woman, speaking to the child alone while his father, Endeavor, the Number Two, was elsewhere.

But the child was guarded, his expression blank. So icy that it sent a chill through Midoriya, who struggled to recognize such a cold look on a child’s face.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The child cautiously watched the stranger who had emerged from behind the wall. She must have been waiting for Endeavor to finish his exchange with the other person behind the closed door of the Number Two’s office. She could be an assistant or a rookie hero. Not important enough to be in the room, but useful enough to be brought into the house of the Number Two, stationed by the door.

She extended her hand to him, which he ignored, scrutinizing this stranger with violet eyes. It had to be related to her quirk. She was with the HPSC. Potentially dangerous.

Without knowing the person’s quirk, he must neither touch her nor speak too much. He had to keep his distance. Endeavor would have advised striking first: a decisive and fatal blow, regardless of the opponent’s quirk.

Seeing Shoto’s impassivity, she withdrew her hand with a shrug, her smile unwavering, before casually sitting on the floor. This surprised the child, who was used to strict formality… Sitting on the floor in front of Endeavor’s office was certainly unacceptable. But now, she was at a more comfortable height for the child, though he still refused to let his guard down. He kept his ears strained, but Endeavor had lowered his voice, and no further sound could be heard.

Just as he was about to cautiously return to his room, the young woman, her dark hair falling to her shoulders, spoke again.

 "Do you know what they’re talking about in there?" she asked playfully.

He froze, then after a few seconds, shook his head in silent denial. For Endeavor to receive someone who had arrived uninvited, they had to be important. Otherwise, he would have simply dismissed them gruffly and returned, even more irritated by the interruption.

"What do you think about your mother’s disappearance, followed closely by that of your older brother?"

Shoto’s reaction was immediate. His heart skipped a beat. He jolted, unable to conceal his flinch, which made him recoil again, bracing instinctively for the correction that naturally followed such an obvious display of weakness.

Immediately, the air around them turned icy, a faint white mist following each exhale.

Still calm, she raised her hands slowly, as if facing a wild and unpredictable animal.

"If you use your quirk against me, you could very well kill me. My quirk is harmless, it’s useless in combat. Not that I want to fight a child. No matter how powerful he is," she finally said, her violet gaze steady on Shoto.

Who is this woman?

He forced himself to stay calm, breathing deeply, just as he had read in a book he had found and kept hidden in the house, unknown to the Number Two.

No one had spoken to him about his mother since she left. No one seemed to remember Toya since he disappeared.

"What’s your quirk?" he asked curtly, heart pounding, buying time, avoiding the sensitive subject of his mother and brother.

She raised a thin eyebrow, unconvinced by Shoto’s weak attempt at deflection. Her strange gaze lingered for a moment on the child’s frozen hand, observing the icy streaks, nearly blue, spreading along his fingers.

"Nothing particularly interesting," she replied nonchalantly, shivering slightly from the cold air. "I’m like a projector. I can project images. I can bring ideas to life! I can build a world full of colors and beings! Hehe, curious?"

Her violet eyes crinkled playfully, and she continued. Shoto relaxed, ever so slightly.

"I could have had a career in film, I can tell you that. Producing a movie, maybe even a series... Directors would have loved me! With a quirk like this, the film industry was wide open to me," she sighed, her tone wistful as she closed her eyes. "But well… life can be surprising. Turns out, a quirk alone doesn’t define a person’s career."

She cast a quick glance at the clock and stood up slowly, smoothing her already flawless black suit.

"Endeavor will never tell you, so let me shed some light on the situation," she continued, her tone turning serious. "Rei Himura, locked away somewhere. And her son, Toya Todoroki, most likely dead despite what your father claims as he tries to mislead everyone. Years of silence"

She spoke quickly, raising a finger for each event she mentioned.

Shoto recognized Endeavor’s tactics. He knew the hero was hostile toward the HPSC. Indeed, he had kept everything concerning his family a secret, distancing them from the media. Endeavor liked to act on his own, hated seeing his power and image controlled by any force other than himself.

By constantly defying the commission, a growing tension had developed between the hero and the organization and it only escalated over time. He had never liked them anyway, being condemned to remain Number Two because of their system.

After all, no one dethrones the Symbol of Peace so easily.

And the commission didn’t like shadows.

"Who knows if you aren’t in danger yourself?" she continued, observing the child carefully, though he betrayed no reaction.

Before she could go on, the door suddenly swung open, and Shoto quickly stepped back.
No matter what this woman had said, he wouldn’t trust her.

"I’ve heard enough," the deep voice of Number Two thundered. "Get out of my house."

He watched as a tall woman stepped out, exchanging a glance with the younger one, who had straightened, rigid. Her once cheerful expression now an emotionless mask.

Then, the woman, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, set her scrutinizing gaze on the child. Upon seeing him, her thin lips curled slightly, and Shoto deduced that it must have been a smile.

He clenched his lone fist, fixing his stare on those cold, calculating eyes.

But then Endeavor entered his field of vision, and, like a puppet with its strings cut, his expression (likely tense upon seeing the woman) became blank, his body relaxing into an impassive stance.

"Endeavor, you’re making a mistake. What you’ve created is, of course, remarkable. But a potential like this, without any apparent limits, you can’t manage it alone. We have the experience and resources to offer you our help. You have succeeded where we have had... less convincing results, as you have pointed out. However, you’ve made too many mistakes. You will keep making them," she said in a smooth tone.

Then, her gaze landed on Shoto’s scar, trailing down his neck to the visible sling.

 "Are you even able to do what you want? A power poorly controlled can put all of us in danger."

The hero didn’t hide his fury, and the child couldn’t suppress a shudder of horror upon seeing Endeavor towering over the more petite woman, who had to tilt her head upward to meet his gaze.

His breathing began to quicken, and he had to concentrate on his quirk when Endeavor shot him a vehement look, making the child realize that his quirk had started lowering the hallway’s temperature.

But Endeavor had had enough. Out of patience, he gestured toward the exit.

"Get out of my house."

With a glance at his son, he ordered him to stay put, forcing the two women outside.

Shoto remained still for a long moment, barely breathing.
He looked out the window, and the surprise that overtook him upon seeing the numerous black silhouettes outside snapped him out of his daze.

There were three large black cars with tinted windows parked in the driveway. Then, he recognized Endeavor heading toward one of them, stopping just in front of it. One of the smaller figures halted before him, seemingly exchanging a few words.

He then glanced at the clock and decided to head toward his next lesson.

Almost against his will, he couldn’t stop himself from taking one last look at the scene outside, and his gaze met, one last time, two intensely violet eyes.

She made a small gesture with her hand before disappearing into one of the vehicles, followed by nearly a dozen others. They silently vanished from the driveway.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

"Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t even remember," Shoto said to Bakugo.

He let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes, ignoring the other hero’s response, which he imagined would be blunt and biting.

Chapter 20: Cold heart

“Get up! Stop pretending to be so weak!” his father roared, flames howling around him, one hand tightly gripping the wooden sword.

Shoto was on all fours, dazed, struggling to breathe. His body was overheated, smoking, and beaten down by blows.

“Toya's case is unfortunate. He had a firepower even greater than mine. And yet… he inherited Rei’s frail constitution.”

The mention of his brother’s name made Shoto grimace. He hated hearing his father talk about Toya like that. The only time he ever heard his brother’s name was in this dojo, when he was gasping, on edge.

There was regret in Endeavor’s voice when he spoke that now-taboo name. Not for the child he had lost—but for the potential he had lost.

And Toya would have liked to hear that, Shoto thought bitterly. He would have liked to hear Endeavor admit Toya’s power was stronger than his own…

“He was... almost perfect. Almost.”

Shoto curled up, head low, taking advantage of the hero’s distraction to catch his breath.

“But you are the one, Shoto. It’s for you. Only you can I pass on my technique. With it, you can achieve my ambition.”

Another kick to the ribs sent him rolling to the other side of the room. Coughing, head bowed, the child lit his flames in hopes of pacifying the hero. As he panted, he heard the man’s grunt of satisfaction, and wrapping an arm protectively around his waist, Shoto forced himself to stand on shaky legs.

Hearing Endeavor’s heavy steps approaching again, he struggled against the urge to retreat and instead stiffened, bracing for defense. Heart pounding, he drew desperately from his last reserves, and the flames erupted violently around him with a dull roar, until his extremities burned and ached, until the moisture in his eyes evaporated, leaving them dry.

A thin white smoke, a sound of evaporation, and a deep laugh just above him were the signs he had succeeded.

“Again. Do it again.”

Shoto reflexively caught the object the hero had thrown and recognized the bokken he’d lost moments earlier. It felt heavy in his hand. When he looked up, eyes clouded by thick smoke, he only had time to glimpse a blurry shape before collapsing under the powerful blow.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

Shoto closed his eyes, weary, still refusing to meet his friends’ expressions.

He didn’t have many memories of his youth. He barely thought about it anymore and had long since decided to focus on the present, especially after his mother disappeared, followed by Toya. From then on, the days began to blur and blend together.

He let out a loud sigh. His head ached.

For years, his schedule had been finely tuned, controlled and monitored under Endeavor’s expert eye. Every minute was timed, everything meticulously planned. Nothing was left to chance. His meals had a precise calorie count. Every minute was calculated to prepare Shoto to become the future Number One.

The only unscripted moments came when Endeavor burst in unannounced in the middle of the night or at dawn, violently tearing him from restless sleep. But that too was part of the training. A hero didn’t follow a clock. Emergencies could strike at any moment.

And Shoto had to be ready.

If he had dark circles and trembled after those late—or early, depending on how you looked at it—sessions, no one was there to say anything. If he stood still, eyes vacant, blood stuck to his sweaty skin, no one was there to guide him back to bed, tend to his wounds, or keep him company until his first lesson delivered by one of his father’s chosen tutors.

Shoto shivered, jaw clenched. He looked around once more, ignoring Midoriya and Bakugo, letting his gaze drift through the dark space they were trapped in, lit only by the images of his memories playing before them. There was nothing else. No exit.

Only the image of his younger self, surviving the Number Two hero.

The little boy he had been wasn’t allowed outside, wasn’t allowed to interact with anyone except the hero or the few teachers selected by his father. But he didn’t know those people. They came to do their job and left without a word once the lesson ended.

"They didn’t do anything?"

As if reading his mind, Bakugo was watching the fleeting memory of the man questioning the child about current events while explaining the stakes and influence of various players.

Shoto swallowed hard. "No," he answered quietly.

“Did you say something?” Midoriya asked gently.

He bit his lip.

“No, sorry,” his friend corrected quickly, waving his hands in front of him. “It doesn’t matter. You were just a child. They turned a blind eye.”

“They were complicit,” Bakugo spat. “Cowardly bastards. They disgust me.”

Back then, Shoto hadn’t known anyone, except Endeavor.

And even now, Shoto was painfully aware that isolation had left its marks. He’d gotten better thanks to his class, to his friends. He had taken time for himself, paused for a moment, to better become the hero he wanted to be. The man he hoped to be.

But he knew that, still, from time to time, the simplest things in life could escape him, pass right over his head, leaving him confused. Sudden obstacles that froze him up, as he failed to understand the meaning of a phrase or a certain behavior. He’d then try to cover it with a blank mask or a smile, while watching others’ reactions.

He was grateful if he has his friends with him during those uneasy moments.

While Shoto was lost in thought, Midoriya remained frozen, watching the adults interact with the often-injured, docile child with his expression empty, silent.

And it was that silence, those darkened eyes, that face gradually hidden beneath an ever-growing fringe, that left Midoriya horrified and sick to his stomach. He had never known this version of his friend.

The memories jumped rapidly from one to another.

The hero clenched his teeth as he saw one of the adults timidly,almost fearfully, ask if the child could still write his lesson, his entire right arm immobilized in a cast.

The child sat still for a moment, staring at the adult, before simply taking the pen offered with his left hand and writing without showing the slightest discomfort.

Midoriya noticed the silent sigh of relief that escaped the teacher visibly reassured. The hero had to turn away abruptly, gripped by a violent urge to vomit.

He couldn’t comprehend it. It was beyond him. He couldn’t understand how these people, aware of their position, aware of what was happening in that household, could choose to look away, doing nothing. Becoming accomplices.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The blows from his father rained down on him. He tried as best he could to shield himself, to dodge the devastating fists, but the towering figure of the man before him completely overpowered the small child. He could no longer see or feel anything—every one of his senses was consumed by Endeavor’s brutality. His arms felt like they might break with each hit.

Inevitably, he was thrown to the ground, lungs burning, the air forced from them.

“Get up! You’ll never defeat anyone if you’re this weak!”

The same refrain, again and again and again, for all eternity. He curled into a fetal position, silent tears trailing down his cheeks. He didn’t lift his head. He couldn’t. It was too heavy on his shoulders. At the same time, he was hiding those traitorous tears. His father hated it when he cried.

“You’d be dead in a real fight! Get up! A hero fights to the end!”

He wanted to vomit, apologies on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to beg, to cry out, to scream, even if it wouldn’t change anything.

It would only provoke him. Endeavor despised any form of excess and would make sure to erase such behaviors from his creation, render him mute, if need be. Any trace of weakness had to be eliminated.

So he held one arm over his aching stomach, and with the other, he covered his mouth to stop himself from making a single sound, or worse, from throwing up. He was nearly choking, risking suffocation, his breath short and ragged. In front of him, just inches from his face, stood his father. His heart pounded wildly, the frantic rhythm thundering in his ears.

“I’ll give you five seconds, Shoto. Five.”

He was on the verge of passing out. A violent sob broke from him—one he hoped was drowned out by the roaring flames around them if his tiny hand wasn’t enough to muffle the sound.

“Four.”

His forehead rested against the coarse tatami mat. His body trembled with spasms. Could he even move without throwing up? Could he shift without shattering ribs already battered for hours? Did he even have a choice?

“Three.”

He shut his eyes, kept his head bowed, and tried to rise to his knees. Better that he get up on his own.

He had no choice.

“Two.”

The child brought one trembling leg forward.

He just had to stand.

He forced one hand to press against his knee for support. In doing so, he noticed the blood trickling over his small hand, which trembled just as much. A patch of red was forming on his leg.

He had to stand. Now.

“One.”

The giant, firm grip dropped onto his shoulder without warning, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching violently at the contact. That hand then grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, lifting him off the ground. His body stretched painfully. He held his breath, his hands instinctively clinging to Endeavor’s thick wrists that held him in the air, his legs flailing helplessly. The Number 2 was nearly choking him. Gritting his teeth, he refused to look at his father.

“Open your eyes, Shoto.”

He shook his head. A massive hand gripped his cheeks brutally. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.
I don’t want to obey him.
Listening to Endeavor… His already-tense muscles twisted at the very thought of bending, like all the others, before the so-called hero.

“A hero doesn’t cry, Shoto. Stop that. Look at me. I made you to be strong! So act like a hero!”

Then his head was thrown backward violently. The shock made him open his eyes with a small cry. He met his father’s flame-ringed gaze. Those eyes looked like they were devouring him. Then he realized his cheek was burning—an intense pain slicing through the entire right side of his face. Shoto raised a trembling hand to his eye.

“That’s better. You need to learn to listen. I know what’s best for you. I know you better than anyone.”

He was released without care, and the child crumpled to his knees like an old, broken doll, struggling to breathe. His father was already walking away.

“We start again tomorrow. We’ll work on controlling your quirk.”

Only the heavy sound of his footsteps echoed.

Curled over, holding himself tightly, Shoto imagined—just for a moment—being held by his mother. Alone in the dojo, the tears spilled silently, visibly. They seemed to carry away that special glow found in children, abandoning it on the coarse tatami mats. That glow, so rare to see in adults. That part of childhood that never truly dies neither—but can, sometimes, vanish far too fast, far too soon.

And in those cases, children without their childlike eyes are beings without age. Beings dispossessed.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Bakugo had turned toward him, blinking his red eyes, fixed on him. Fists clenched, Shoto realized he'd just said that out loud. A vein bulged in his neck, anger simmering beneath his skin.

Midoriya was still beside him, silent. Being so close to him sent cold sweat down his spine. Shoto pulled away, ignoring the pained look on the hero's face.

It felt like he’d been struck in the ribs every time he caught one of their gazes. He was sickened to see horror, disgust, or confusion painting their expressions. But the worst—the thing that nearly made him ill—was reading pity.

He moved away again, as if struck by another blow. He was losing focus, feeling control slip from his fingers. He’d managed to leap through his memories, skipping ahead by a few years. Now, he didn’t know if he could keep going.

He couldn’t stop the rage from rising, and idly wondered if that had been Memoris’s goal all along. The fury was familiar, pulsing thickly through his veins. He felt like a cornered animal, hunted and trapped.

Bakugo opened his mouth, but Shoto beat him to it.

“You already knew. So don’t make that face.”

The hero frowned and stepped toward the younger boy abruptly.

“Knowing and watching it unfold like some twisted documentary, those are two different things. Knowing, and then having to stand there while a kid gets beaten until he passes out, and finally seeing, for one second, a bloodied face gone eerily peaceful in unconsciousness, that’s a fucking nightmare,” he said with venom in his voice. “All of that, without being able to step in and rip apart the bastard who did it.”

Shoto held his ground, lips curled back, seeing red. He didn’t even notice Bakugo raising a hand toward him, meant as comfort, maybe, and instinctively dodged the touch.

Shoto was breathing hard and felt himself slipping. He shoved the thought away, forcing himself to hold on.

“What you’re seeing,” he said through clenched teeth, trying to bring clarity, “happened over ten years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. That’s all done and behind me. Forget it.”

“It’s still you!” Bakugo burst out, grabbing the younger one’s wrist forcefully, ignoring his indignant expression. “It’s you we see getting thrown to the ground…”

“Bakugo!” Shoto cut him off, raising his voice—but the hero paid him no mind.

“It’s you we see getting hurt before you even said your first word, being—”

“Katsuki!” Midoriya interjected, his expression grave.

But before he could say more, Shoto went on.

“That’s enough,” he growled. “I’m right here. That”—he gestured toward the place where his memories played—“is a mirage. It’s over. So stop yelling.”

Both of them were breathing heavily. Midoriya stayed silent, face dark with emotion. Then Shoto turned his back to them, running a hand through his hair, which had grown a little longer than it had been when he was a boy or a teen.

“Go to hell, Shoto.”

But the young hero didn’t seem to hear Bakugo, his mind lost in shadows.
I’m not that anymore.

A new scene began to form, but he ignored it, unable to focus on anything around him. He didn’t see his two friends turn away reluctantly.

He didn’t see their startled expressions when, just as suddenly, the image shattered, a wave crashing violently down upon them. He didn’t see or hear the scene tear apart, nor the deafening sound that ripped through the air.

But Memoris’s voice echoed in his skull, erupting through the fog.

 

Wait.

What would All Might say, seeing his protégés tear each other apart so easily?

 

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

 

“Is that your son I’m looking at, Endeavor?”

All Might leaned forward toward him, bowing at a full 90-degree angle. Shoto instinctively held his breath, his heart pounding harder. The towering silhouette of the Number One hero wasn’t unlike that of Endeavor. Side by side, the two figures dominated the entire space, their charisma and presence commanding everything around them.

Shoto didn’t take his eyes off All Might’s gaze. And in that vast room, every person had their eyes just as fixed on the Symbol of Peace. As was always the case wherever he went.

His father’s grip tightened painfully on his shoulder.

“This is my son. My heir,” boomed the fiery hero’s powerful voice. “I advise you to remember him.”

All Might’s smile was even more overwhelming than it had ever been on television. Shoto felt his heart beat at a different rhythm. It wasn’t ice pulsing through it, but an old, familiar warmth, pulling him back to the days when his mother sat beside him, watching a dusty old TV. It beat for something new. For something he had forgotten. Hope.

He remembered watching the television with his mother in secret, gazing at the Symbol of Peace. He remembered her words. He admired him. Even now, he clung to that hero. To those inspiring words.

You are not a prisoner of your blood.

All Might was a hero. A true one. He could save his mother, his sister, his brothers. He could help him find his mother again. A hero saved those who needed saving.

With a tight squeeze in his chest, he knew it was too late for his elder brother. It was probably too late for Toya. But even so, he promised himself he would try. Just as he would try to do something for his mother, rendered unreachable by Endeavor.

He could do it. The answer was right there, standing before him.

All Might.

“What’s your name, young man?”

Shoto remembered to breathe. He wetted his lips, mouth dry. He was speaking to the Symbol of Peace. The greatest hero of all time.

He was saved. All Might would help him.

But before he could open his mouth, Endeavor cut in:

“Todoroki Shoto. You’ll meet him soon enough out in the field, All Might.”

The Number One hero straightened up. Shoto could barely stop himself from flinching, his tense, aching muscles reacting almost instinctively, pulling at his bandages. All Might’s presence took up so much space, his sweeping gestures almost overwhelming.

Still, Shoto forced himself to maintain eye contact, even if he couldn’t speak. He felt the unspoken threats looming above his head. He didn’t want to suffer Endeavor’s wrath without knowing it was worth it. He would only speak as a last resort, his father had strictly forbidden him from speaking without permission.

And besides, he wasn’t sure he even could. What would he say, with his father behind him, his hand still gripped tightly around his right shoulder? He could feel the heat radiating from that heavy palm through the fabric, making his stomach churn.

No, he had to be smart if he wanted to catch All Might’s attention and make himself understood. This wasn’t just any hero. This was All Might, the Number One. The only one Endeavor could never defeat. The only one who might be able to help his family.

He saw his mother’s smile. Felt her gentle hand in his hair. Heard her soft voice, admiring that hero. He was the only one she ever liked to talk about. The only one who stood up to his father.

“Oh! A future hero? I’m not surprised, coming from Endeavor’s son! Looks like the future’s already in good hands! I’m starting to feel a bit old now. But hey! With a father like yours, your path is all laid out for you, Shoto!”

All Might turned his head toward Endeavor, taking his gaze off the boy. That blinding smile never left his face. All around them, Shoto could feel the eyes of the curious and fascinated. To see those two giants standing side by side, the two greatest heroes in Japan, face to face, was a spectacle. He heard the camera shutters clicking, the murmur of the crowd, was vaguely aware of the flashing lights.

No, no, wait… Look at me. Please.

The two men continued their conversation high above the child’s head. The venom in Endeavor’s hostile tone seemed to go unnoticed by All Might, who spoke cheerfully, happy to be speaking with a fellow hero.

“I’m glad to see fatherhood suits you so well, Enji! I’m impressed! How do you balance being a top hero and a parent?! Hahaha! You’re the only man I know who excels in every area like that! I could never.”

“Don’t worry about me, All Might,” his father replied, and Shoto could hear the hate and contempt behind the words. “I’ll do everything to make him perfect. I’m teaching him everything I know.”

“What a remarkable father you are! That’s what I call dedication!”

Shoto barely caught the image of All Might giving Endeavor a friendly pat on the shoulder. His father violently shook off the gesture, tightening his grip on his son in the process. Shoto let out an imperceptible whimper, buried beneath the ambient noise and the booming voices of the two giants.

Despite everything, the pain in his bruised shoulder was nothing compared to the weight of oppression crashing over him. All Might’s words were far more devastating. He endured them, feeling his awareness of the world fade, little by little. He must be misunderstanding.

His eyes remained locked on the Symbol of Peace. Look at me. I need your help. Please. Just look.

“I didn’t expect you to be the protective father type! Hahaha! Take good care of your family, Enji—I wish you all the happiness in the world!” All Might called out with his signature radiant smile.

Protective...?

All Might. Look at me. My family needs a hero.

“I don’t need your advice! You don’t know anything.”

“Clearly! Well, I have to get going, unfortunately! It’s been a pleasure seeing you! Seeing you as a father is so heartwarming, and surprising, my friend! It’s great for our nation to know that one of its top heroes is also a loving family man.”

Loving...?

Was that love? Shoto’s throat tightened, his fists trembled, his mouth fell slightly open.

Is that really the image we gave off, me and my father? He nearly wanted to laugh. Or throw up. He’d laugh, then cry, then curl up in some dark corner and hope to vanish.

He hated his father. He hated Endeavor. He despised him.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, young Todoroki! I’m sure we’ll see each other again in the future! Make us proud!”

At last, the Number One lowered his eyes to meet the child’s, placing a heavy hand atop his two-toned head. At the contact, Shoto couldn’t help but flinch, though the movement was dampened by the crushing grip still on his shoulder.

His eyes widened, body locking up. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move. He hoped his face was expressive enough. That his eyes would speak for him. That his scar could serve as a signal the Number One, the hero who saved hundreds every day, could read.

I can’t save my family. Toya is dead. Mom has been far from me for years. Fuyumi is somewhere in the house, comforting Natsuo, alone. Natsuo is somewhere, angry—also alone.

With every blink, he saw the dojo, burning, its many machines, its weapons, its instruments. He heard his father’s commands echoing in his ears, felt his blows on his skin, lived through the fatigue and pain every single day. His skin was red, blue, and yellow. He could hear the cracking of his own bones, feel the pain they produced.

All Might.

“See you next time!” the hero called cheerfully, waving with a grand farewell.

No. No. Why...?

His mother had told him All Might was a true hero. A hero who saved people. A real hero.

His breathing grew shallow and erratic.

“We’re going too, Shoto.”

All Might already had his back turned.

He felt on the brink of panic. This can’t be happening. He was supposed to save them. That’s what heroes did. That’s what All Might did. He must’ve failed to show the right expression. This was his fault. It was Shoto’s fault. If he spoke, used his voice, he could still save them.

But the hero was already walking away. Endeavor was pulling him in the opposite direction.

He had to act. Now.

He saw his mother’s smile. Felt her touch. Heard her tender voice.

“All Might.”

Everything froze. He no longer felt the burning in his shoulder. No longer felt his body trembling with fear, or despair, or...

The Symbol of Peace had stopped, now looking at him with curiosity.

“You called me, young man? Ah! Want an autograph, maybe?” he shouted, cheerful as ever.

“No, he doesn’t. Come on, Shoto,” snapped his father’s threatening voice.

All Might was still looking at him. Waiting. Could he see his father’s grip? Was this normal? He’d called it love.

But this… This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be.

Couldn’t he see?

He felt the weight of the attention from these two towering adults, two pillars, the most powerful beings in the country, perhaps even the world. He felt crushed.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. The words escaped him. He didn’t understand what he was trying to run from. He didn’t understand why his father hurt him, why he had struck his mother for years, why Toya had died, nor why Endeavor completely ignored Fuyumi and Natsuo’s existence.

He no longer knew how to form words. Whispering All Might’s name had already drained all his strength. Endeavor was going to make him pay. He’d be angry, furious. He would punish him. Hate him even more.

Suddenly, shame crept in. Shame devoured him. Here he stood before All Might—appearing as nothing more than a weak child.

He didn’t know how to pull all those feelings from his darkened heart and transform them into coherent words, or even into sounds that could be heard.

The words were locked inside his charred chest, stuck in his throat.

“Well, young man?”

“It’s nothing. We’re leaving. Now,” came the voice of the Flame Hero.

My mom.

His eyes locked onto All Might’s. No sound came out but he still shaped the words. A silent cry hurled at the Symbol of Peace as he watched him drift away.

Endeavor yanked him roughly in front of him. His legs trembled, barely carrying him. With each step, his heart crumbled a little more.

He could feel All Might’s sharp blue gaze piercing into his back. He could still call out. Could still tear himself from his father’s iron grip.

They reached a door.

Shoto felt strangely hollow.

All Might was now out of reach. He wouldn’t do anything more.

That night, he lost something, one thing among so many others. He had already lost his mother and brother. What did one more thing matter, no matter how small it seemed?

He realized no one could help him. Hope was useless. He could only count on himself.

I’m sorry.

To him, All Might had lost some of his shine. Yet, each time he saw him again, his heart would still race, his eyes still lit up just as brightly.

He had simply come to understand that he was not like the others. His father had told him this hundreds of times.

Shoto wasn’t like other people.

So he couldn’t be saved like them. He couldn’t ask for help from the Symbol of Peace the way they could.

More at peace with himself after finding that explanation, it felt lighter to admire All Might. It wasn’t All Might’s fault. It was his. And he alone could be held responsible.  He ignored the sad, guilty part of himself that knew, because of him, his mother, his brothers, and his sister couldn’t be saved. Someone else should have asked All Might for help that night.

He regretted realizing it too late, despite his father’s warnings.

 

Chapter 21: Blood boiling

Midoriya had never imagined he would one day curse All Might. The thought alone felt like betrayal.

His chest tight, it was hard to watch his mentor walk past the child without understanding. In the end, like everyone else, the Number One hadn’t seen anything either.

Endeavor had acted for over a decade without ever facing consequences. He hadn’t even hidden it that well. He was the least discreet public figure in the world, and no one had noticed. His status as a hero, as Number Two, had protected him. Even the few who had caught wind of his actions either didn’t dare believe it or chose silence.

It was… infuriating.

"That’s enough," Shoto suddenly growled beside him.

Midoriya bit harshly into the inside of his cheek, the metallic taste flooding his mouth. He forced himself to relax, unclenched his fists, rolled his tense shoulders gently, and straightened up.

"All Might was blind," Kacchan commented, and Midoriya quickly turned his wide eyes toward him. "Just like society, he got played by that flaming bastard. He’s always had that naïve side and—"

"Stop. I was young, I didn’t know what I was saying," Shoto interrupted coldly. "It’s not his fault, nor anyone else’s. So drop it."

The two men locked eyes, and Midoriya sighed. The icy tension was fraying all their nerves, it was suffocating.

"All Might made a mistake," he heard himself say, surprising the other two heroes.

It wasn’t his first mistake, and it wouldn’t be his last. The symbol of peace was still a man. An exceptional man, but a man nonetheless. And humans falter. Midoriya had long since understood that he wasn’t infallible. And it was unfair to think otherwise.

Shoto took advantage of the distraction to turn away, slightly hunched over, a trembling hand raised to his face quickly obscured by his fringe. His eyes were lost in the distance, and he allowed himself to sink and let go.

The next scene appeared suddenly after a few seconds, the air around them blurring and crackling. Finally, Bakugo was surprised to see an older Shoto, sharper features, colder and harder eyes on a darkened face. 

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ 

 

 

“Get up! Stop pretending to be so weak!” roared his father, flames screaming around his body, one hand holding him still by the collar.

After a few seconds, which felt like hours to the child stared at by that demonic gaze, Endeavor let go. Shoto fell heavily, his face red, almost purple from the pressure on his trachea, and he could breathe again. You never realize how precious and how delicious air is until you’ve felt its absence. Busy filling his lungs, he didn’t notice his body burning in places, his skin turning black, scorched by the intensity of his Quirk.

“Toya’s case is unfortunate,” growled the hero.

Shoto could barely hear him. The man seemed far away, beneath a layer of water, distant from him, his words drowned somewhere.

“He had firepower even better than mine,” he continued, pacing back and forth. “And yet… he inherited Rei’s weak constitution.”

The name of his brother made Shoto grimace. He hated hearing his father talk about Toya. The only time he heard his brother’s name was in this dojo, when he was at his limit, beaten, under Endeavor’s apathetic gaze. And there was regret in Endeavor’s voice when he said that now-taboo name.

Not for the child he had lost. But for the potential he had lost.

And Toya would’ve liked to hear that, Shoto thought bitterly. He would’ve liked to hear Endeavor admit that Toya’s power was stronger than his.

“He was… almost perfect. Almost.”

Shoto curled up, head tucked in, taking advantage of the hero’s distraction to try cooling his body again. But even his ice seemed powerless against such extreme heat. He felt no relief on his bruised skin and tense muscles Only immense exhaustion.

“But you are the only one, Shoto. It’s for you. Only you can inherit my technique. With it, you can fulfill my ambition. You will defeat All Might. I’ll make sure of it. That’s why I created you.”

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ 

 

 

“Great,” Shoto muttered ironically, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “This is getting repetitive. I’m bored.”

He shook his head and raised a hand in front of him, stopping his companions from approaching or saying anything.

He drew in a deep breath, and with his head still bowed, his fringe shadowing his face, he repeated the action that had allowed him to leap forward in time by a few years.

And just like before, the air crackled, grew more violent around them, and time passed.

He thought he heard Memoris, that constant, pressing presence beneath his skull, but he was already wrapped in that heavy smoke, that thick, opaque curtain that dulled his senses.

And as he had done for a long time now, he welcomed that calm void and let himself go.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ 

 

 

The teenager stood, panting, eyes squinting to see through the smoke, while cooling his overheated body.

I did it.

He had finally managed to use the techniques Endeavor had taught him. He had finally mastered them all. A feeling of triumph nearly choked him as he saw, through the smoke, his father’s massive body thrown to the ground.

He suddenly felt the urge to laugh. A hysterical laugh he wished he could allow himself, fueled by the adrenaline still racing beneath his skin. But Endeavor had long since crushed any desire to laugh, and Shoto doubted he was even capable of it anymore.

Instead, a darker emotion threatened to suffocate him as he saw Endeavor on one knee. He felt immense satisfaction, a sadistic joy. Under his half-closed, unmoving eyes, his pupils had narrowed into thin slits. He felt ready to strike again. And this time, it was icy air that emanated from his hand, a thin layer of frost quickly falling onto the tatami. Head slightly tilted, a lock of hair falling heavily over his uniquely glowing blue eye, he was thinking, his body tense.

Deafened, his ears filled with a sharp ringing, he was aware of only one thing: the finally defeated silhouette of his father. Gripped by dark thoughts, something rotten and black rose from deep within his gut. This foreign sensation felt like touching a black hole—bottomless and nightmarish—making his bones tremble, twisting his insides.

He wanted to be cruel too. He wanted to give in to temptation.

I want to kill him.

That realization made him release the tension he’d been holding in his body. It was thrilling. It was… His eyes widened slightly. It was right. Yes.

He had to pay. With his own hands.

It was a very particular thing to feel nothing except that irrepressible urge to hurt. To be completely consumed by that desire. To finally dominate, to strike back. It was addictive. The metallic taste in his mouth no longer seemed unpleasant.

And knowing he could never make him suffer as much as he had suffered only fueled his rage. Even if Shoto could hurt him, he would never make him feel even half of what he had endured his whole life. Endeavor would never receive even a fraction of what he had done to their family.

Lost in this bloody, intense contemplation, his eyes failed to catch the massive body hurtling toward him at full speed. That daydream may have lasted five seconds. For Shoto, this brand-new world of sensation had offered him the lightest moments of the past few years. This moment—still vivid behind his eyes, still present in his gut shaken by this new darkness—existed outside all earthly space and time.

Even Endeavor’s blazing fist, buried in his stomach, couldn’t extinguish those bloody sensations. Folded in half, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, he was thrown back but the hero’s other arm stopped him cold. And the last thing he saw were red, terrifying flames before they engulfed him.

On the ground, lying on his side and curled up, he felt blood dripping from his chin, flowing from his stomach, from his hands. He wanted to breathe, but even the smallest gulp of air got stuck in his throat, and he nearly choked. So he coughed, and fresh spurts of blood stained the dark tatami once again. It felt like his organs had exploded from that blow, like his bones had shattered beneath his skin.

Shoto forced his eyes open, with great difficulty, groaning and whimpering. Endeavor was standing again, and a wave of immense frustration, injustice, rage, and so many other emotions he didn’t dare name overwhelmed him. His vision blurred with tears, and he thought he was going to lose his mind. Right here, right now.

“Make sure your enemy can’t move before you start showing off,” came the hero’s deep voice. “Villains will take advantage of that tiny moment when you drop your guard. And they won’t be as kind as me. You won’t get away with just a bruise.”

Ha ha ha…

“Don’t look at me like that. That expression doesn’t suit you, my son.”

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ 

 

 

 

Again, Shoto was suddenly a few years older.

This new scene must have taken place shortly before his entrance into U.A. The teenager wore a sharp black three-piece suit, his hair neatly styled with a side part. He had spent a little over an hour in the hands of stylists before arriving by limousine at this luxurious reception. It wasn’t rare for him to have to dress for the occasion, but he always found his clothes too tight, and he hated the tie wrapped around his neck.

As he passed through the large white doors adorned with majestic golden moldings, he and Endeavor were quickly greeted. As usual, he let his father lead the various conversations with the guests, letting himself be guided. His face expressionless, he spoke when necessary, answered only if required, and simply observed the scene unfolding before him with a cold gaze. He saw many heroes, the elite of society.

Hours likely passed without him noticing. From time to time, he felt the urge to loosen that cursed tie, and he suppressed the desire to undo the hateful buttons of his collar that choked him.

Endeavor was speaking with a woman he identified as the hostess. She was one of the president’s advisors. His attention was drawn when she invited the Number Two hero to join her to discuss a “sensitive” topic in private.

“Come, Shoto,” she said with a falsely kind tone, placing a hand with delicately manicured red nails on his arm. “I’m borrowing your father. Look over there, people your age are on that side.”

Indeed, in the vast reception hall, there were many tables, each generation having one dedicated to them. Children with children, teens together, adults gathered here, and seniors a bit farther away. That was not that unusual. Some banquet were organized like that. This one would be no exception. And as always, Shoto would be one of the few not seated where he belonged, following Endeavor.
No one held it against the hero. He was very protective of his son, you see.

Gracefully, Shoto moved naturally to free himself from the woman’s hand. Without realizing it, she withdrew, her golden bracelets clinking at her wrist, her red lips still stretched in a smile meant to be warm.

“No,” said his father, drawing a surprised look from the woman.

Shoto turned his head slightly to the side, not at all surprised by Endeavor’s firm refusal. Ignoring the two adults, his gaze naturally fell ahead of him, toward the disorganized table cluttered with plates, some more empty than others, and overrun with alcoholic glasses. At that table, where many people his age were laughing and chatting joyfully while drinking and snacking, he recognized most of the faces, all familiar.

He came back to himself when the weight of the hero’s hand on his shoulder guided him toward the center of the room. The music was in full swing, the orchestra playing each piece to perfection. Overhead, a grand chandelier reigned, and one had to crane their neck to properly marvel at the height of the walls and the vastness of the paintings, gilding, and decorations.

“Shoto. Who should we be most wary of?”

A familiar question.
Expressionless, the teenager remained silent for a moment. He had stayed alert, observing these richly dressed and oh-so-powerful men and women. A pressure on his sore shoulder, and he forced himself to unclench his jaw to answer, his tone neutral and brief.

“The president of the Commission.”

At least the top 50 heroes were all present. Everyone was there, except All Might. But it wasn’t unusual for the symbol of peace to skip this kind of reception. He was an exception in absolutely everything.

As for the president, he had quickly noticed her current absence. He had seen her a few minutes after arriving. She had slipped away into a side room, accompanied by a few others. He could name three of them, if Endeavor asked who she had been dealing with.

“Mh,” was the hero’s only response.

It was a good answer.

Movement made him turn toward the other end of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her, surrounded by heroes and ministers, entering the vast hall. The hostess was guiding her to her table, at the center, right beside the hosts of the reception.

Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her presence commanded those around her. She sat down, and everyone followed suit. A bottle was brought over, and when she raised her glass to her lips, the guests did the same a moment later.

“Who else?” Endeavor asked.

They were now standing beside the long marble bar, slightly apart. The hostile air of the number two ensured a certain peace, away from the guests, for a limited time. Who knows why or how, but the violent aura Endeavor gave off had never repelled anyone in this society.

Pushing away useless thoughts, Shoto let his gaze slide to the left of the Commission President. The country’s president was speaking with her, a small man with graying hair.

“You,” he replied quickly.

The president was a bought man, carefully kept under the Commission President’s thumb. And besides, the people had long shown their clear preference for heroes and heroines.

The symbol of peace, the number one, All Might, wasn’t there. The next in line was naturally number two. Endeavor.

“Why?”

Shoto suppressed any urge to sigh or rebel. It wouldn’t get him anywhere here. A few people had started dancing, quickly joined by others.

“You’re the most powerful hero here, and the most popular. The president is useless. And you’ve managed to keep some independence from the Commission.”

Proof of that lay in the few visits from the president to their home. The countless phone calls. The president was trying to keep the number two under control. The symbol of peace was out of reach. She wouldn’t let Endeavor slip away so easily. Shoto wasn’t sure of the details of this story between Endeavor and the president, but he had understood long ago that a war had been declared between them.

“Exactly,” he growled.

“Do you know what she’s trying to get?” he continued, without waiting for an answer. “My family. She’s trying to get you too, but I stopped her. Especially you. You’re my greatest weapon against her, and to her deepest frustration, she can’t have you in her personal arsenal.”

Shoto couldn’t help but frown, suddenly uncomfortable. Part of him wondered if Endeavor was imagining things. But another part had goosebumps and the urge to vomit. He avoided thinking again about the many visits, the countless limousines parked in front of his house, the piercing gaze of the president on him.

What was clear, however, was that Endeavor was right about one thing. Neither the president, nor anyone else, had ever had any control, any power, never knowing anything about what happened inside the Todoroki family.

“One day, you’ll officially be my representative, and later, my heir. You’ll take my name. You’ll become the Number One. And on that day, you won’t be under the Commission President’s thumb. No. You won’t be one of her pawns.”

The hand tightened even more.

“You’re like me. You’re not a pawn, nor any other pathetic piece in this rotten society. You’re the damn hand that plays the game, just like I am. You’re a Todoroki.”

His vision had blurred, and around the young man, the noise had faded into a distant hum. His stupid tie was choking him, and just as he was about to give in to the urge to loosen the knot, regardless of Endeavor’s scolding, his gaze, still vaguely directed toward the president’s central table, met another. The violet eyes of the president’s assistant were curiously fixed in their direction.

Shoto blinked and came slightly back to himself, noting the new presence of a couple and a younger boy speaking with Endeavor.

He had grown familiar with this woman. With every visit from the president, every time he saw her, her assistant was never far behind. And always, she would stop just as she had the first time he saw her at his home, guarding Endeavor’s office door, and speak to him in a familiar tone, slightly teasing, but in good spirits.

She gave him a small friendly wave, and seated not far from the president, just a few chairs away (placement is always very important; that’s how one identifies each person’s level of power) she tilted her head slightly to the right, with a questioning, almost concerned look. Shoto ignored her, keeping his face impassive and refusing to look away. She may have taken that as a positive response, because she gave a faint smile and only turned away when her neighbor drew her attention again.

It was rare for him to have someone’s attention truly fixed on him. Of course, wherever he went, he was the center of attention, thanks to his striking appearance and his status as the son of the number two hero. But rarely did people look at him. Shoto. 
To others, he was only Endeavor’s son. And that was enough for all eyes to stick to the young man, watched by admirers, by fans of the hero.

And everyone was a fan of the flame hero.

So that violet gaze, resting innocently on him, with no apparent reason, seemingly without expectations, sent a chill down his spine and for a moment, he felt lost.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ 

 

 

A new scene unfolded, and Midoriya felt dizzy, unable to take it all in or process everything.

“Damn it, this is going way too fast,” Katsuki growled, echoing his own thoughts. “What the hell is going on?”

Midoriya also found Memoris’s silence strange and wondered if Shoto was behind that too. The two friends had clearly identified the youngest as the cause of the rapid scene changes, watching his tense figure curled in on itself, almost folded inward, his face obscured either by his long bangs or by his hands, sometimes by both.

Chapter 22: Cold in this World

It was exhausting.

Like holding back from exhaling. Remaining underwater in murky, restless currents. Feeling the weight of an alien consciousness, a voice whispering to take a breath of deadly air. Being pulled toward the surface. A harsh ray of light piercing through the surrounding darkness. Unpleasant, yet so comforting under normal circumstances.

He knew this terrain. The calm that comes once the turmoil has passed, always present but kept at bay.

The consciousness of another person shattered that fragile balance. He felt on edge, invaded. It was impossible to reach his usual level of detachment. He was disturbed to the very core of his being.

Uneasy. Parasitized.

Regaining awareness of the outside world was far too easy. As if he had never truly left it, as if he were tethered to it by that parasitic presence. Memoris.

He opened his eyes with a grimace. Shoto felt as though his brain had turned to mush, struggling in vain to ignore the ringing in his ears and the unpleasant tingling spreading through his body.

He blinked slowly, as if waking from a restless sleep.

"Are you okay?"

It took him far too long to realize the question was meant for him. That it came from Midoriya. That he was asking something, his wide green eyes turned toward him, questioning and worried.

Absentmindedly, he pressed just one nail, his index, into the skin of his thumb. Hard. A bad habit he had abandoned years ago. He used to dig in all four nails along his thumb. Sometimes he even let small, sharp ice spikes grow at the tips of his fingers, solid and pointed, before clenching his hand into a tight fist.
A good way to stay grounded. One that also helped him smother his rage.

 

"You need help."

 

"You’ll need it too, once we are out," he replied without thinking.

"Where is it?" Bakugou cut in abruptly.

Shoto lifted his eyes toward that strange screen replaying scenes from the past. He was satisfied to notice that his past self was a few years older, and he couldn’t suppress a small, triumphant smile.
He could sabotage this quirk.

 

"It’s not that simple."

 

Oh, but it was.
All he had to do was to detach himself from what was happening.
Easy.
He knew it well.

"Can you jump back in time again?" Bakugou asked.

Shoto turned toward him, surprised to see him so close, his face right next to his own. Still trapped in that state of confusion that hadn’t left him for what felt like forever, he stepped back. To his dismay, he was caught by the wrist and pulled toward the blond hero.

"Stay here. Can you. Make. These damn. Memories. Jump. Again."

He punctuated each word firmly, one finger pointing at the place where the memories played, the other hand gripping Shoto’s shoulder. Absentmindedly, Shoto saw his younger self stepping out of the armored vehicle into a panicked crowd. He was being dragged along by Endeavor, the hero pulling him without a single glance in his direction, eyes scanning the sky, a phone pressed to his ear, shouting unintelligible words.

Oh, he remembered that moment.
Crazy memory, that one.

He turned back to Bakugou, who was still waiting for an answer. He was surprisingly patient. And Shoto realized, with intense confusion and embarrassment, that he hadn’t responded to his friends. Not once.

He swallowed and forced himself to stay focused.

"I can," he finally said and noticed how those few words had drained him completely.

It made no sense. What was happening?

The sound of an explosion made him almost flinch, and the three heroes instantly turned toward the blast, fully on alert.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

Endeavor had abruptly thrown him into a wide, shadowed alley, abandoned. He quickly straightened and turned toward the hero.

Behind him, he could see people running and screaming, rushing past the dark passage without noticing it, too busy fleeing for their lives. The hero was shouting hastily into the phone before hanging up and putting the device away. He stood there in his costume, imposing and self-assured.

"You stay here. Watch. Learn. I’ll come back for you once I’m done with this villain. Understood?"

Before he could answer, Endeavor gripped his shoulder painfully. Shoto forced himself not to flinch, his face impassive, eyes locked on the hero’s. He would never lower his gaze before this man. Never.

"Don’t move," Endeavor insisted. "I want you to understand what I do. I want you to see what I expect from you. What you will do."

He released him abruptly, sending the young man stumbling. The hero cast him one last warning look before leaving with a roar.

Shoto allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, leaning slightly forward, calming his racing heart. Just ahead of him, chaos raged. The screams and guttural noises shattered the relative calm of the alley where he had been so unceremoniously thrown.

Everything had happened so quickly. An emergency call breaking the icy silence of the car in which Endeavor had taken him, without explanation. A sharp order barked at the driver. A dark, expectant glare cast in his direction. Something about confronting him with reality, far from the lessons of teachers or the cold, distant reports he had been forced to read over and over.

One turn, one street later, and a war scene had unfolded in the heart of Japan. Screams, collapsing debris, cars exploding into one another, a disjointed body falling several meters away.

He had only a moment to recover from that vision before the car stopped abruptly, throwing him outside, Endeavor shouting into a phone and dragging him deeper into that war zone.

In the midst of the chaos, he saw men, women, and children slowing down, their eyes shining with tears, relief evident on their damaged faces, sometimes bloodied, sometimes blackened with soot, as they turned toward Endeavor. He saw motionless bodies. He watched paramedics rushing in, the first reinforcements pulling victims from the wreckage of buildings and cars.

Then everything was muffled. Suddenly, he stood alone, the sounds distant, a clear view of the chaos before him, heroes and all kinds of reinforcements quickly flooding the scene. And he stood motionless, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, forcing all his senses to remain alert and to analyze everything, heart and mind cold.

This was reality.

The very thing he would one day fight against. It was a lesson. He was on the field. Confronted with the truth of a hero’s work. The dark, rotten, bloody side. Far from sponsors, galas, and media. Hands in blood and flesh, horror, evil, and death. If the light cast upon heroes and heroines was so intense and glorious, then the shadow it projected had to be just as black and putrid.
Two sides of the same coin.

Hidden in the shadows at the entrance of the alley, he watched what he had been made for. And deep within, overwhelmed by the horror and terror that reigned, he felt himself tremble, ready to intervene. To fight against all these injustices. The destruction, the violence. Always and forever that vile violence. Humanity always had to destroy, to damage, to explode, to break bones and everything that could be broken, to make flesh ooze, to draw blood from anything that carried it.
Animals, children, it didn’t matter the age, it didn’t matter the species. As long as death could be delivered with a single well-placed blow, humanity would do it.

Endeavor streaked across the sky at full speed, a blurred, blazing form.

His light cast sharply the dark silhouette of the villain, who went crashing down several meters away, dragging with him chunks of buildings and infrastructure. The shock of the landing impact made the ground tremble beneath Shoto’s feet. He saw debris raining down into the streets, a heroine urging the group she had taken with her to seek shelter. Something solid struck one of the women she was guiding. A dull sound and she collapsed without a word, crumpling before the heroine. Half her face was already drowned beneath a flood of blood, tearing screams of terror from the group, now uncontrollable despite the heroine at their side.

She gathered the woman into her arms and, with a sweeping, forceful gesture, bent the few lampposts still standing into an arc above their heads. It wasn’t much. Not a shelter, not a roof. But she wrapped them around several times, protecting the civilians as best she could.

Shoto stood leaning against the grimy wall.

He couldn’t just do nothing, standing still, relatively sheltered. He could at least pull a few civilians to safety here.
It went against Endeavor’s directives. If someone saw him, one of the many heroes or other backup, then he would be forced away. Endeavor would be enraged to learn that Shoto had disobeyed him, forced to search for him among the many civilians being taken care of, compelled to explain his son’s presence, rescued by some hero who had saved Endeavor’s child. A favor that could later be claimed. A stain on the Todoroki name, saved by an unknown colleague.

Shoto grimaced, already bracing himself for the punishment that awaited him. But he was incapable of staying idle, aware as well that he would not be of significant help.
Yet he could not stop himself from acting, hating his own helplessness. How much longer would he remain powerless? How much longer would he be nothing more than an insignificant spectator, too weak to act?

Above the city, the battle raged with Endeavor, and he couldn’t help but feel curious, and perhaps even impressed, by the villain who had managed to hold out so long against the Number Two.

He could feel the impacts flying, the shock of blows shaking the city’s air and its very foundations.

Just a few meters away, a young girl collapsed to the ground, nearly knocked out, the crowd almost trampling her. She was lifted by a man, a paramedic, who was already moving away to help an elderly man further on. He did not see the little girl turn back, her eyes dazed, searching for the stuffed toy she had lost. He did not see her turn again to retrieve it. He did not see her crouch at the edge of the hole in the road, at the brink of a precipice where her dirty toy lay precariously balanced.

Shoto stepped forward, making sure at the same time that he would not be seen, checking one last time if any hero might notice the child. He ignored the debris flying around him, unaware that the alley had never been secured, never a safe shelter, and that an impact had already split his cheek slightly.

Focused on the little girl, he was about to run toward her when he was suddenly yanked backward. Losing his balance, he stifled a cry of pain and surprise as he was slammed against the uneven wall, his head striking hard against the solid surface.

Black spots began to dance before his eyes. His first thought stopped on Endeavor. The hero had come to retrieve him. He had seen him ready to disobey. And now he was preparing to punish him.

A cold hand was strangling him, and he realized that the weight holding him down was far lighter than the hero’s mass. And Endeavor was many things, but never cold.

He still turned his head toward the little girl. He saw her leaving with an older girl, her stuffed toy crushed under her arm. He let out a sigh of relief before losing sight of her. The street was suddenly calmer.

"What are you looking at?"

The feminine voice made him turn his eyes toward her, unable to move his head under her grip. He forced himself to relax. The situation seemed clear to him, and he felt calm. This woman could do nothing to him. He shrugged, forcing what little air he could into his lungs.

"Not a civilian, you’d be running like an idiot with those terrified fools. Not a villain, you’d be helping to spread the chaos. Not a hero, too young. And too still."

He couldn’t help but tense, and without warning, he sent the woman flying several meters away, deep into the dark alley, with a block of ice he materialized between them. He heard her laugh, an unpleasant sound, close to madness.

"Perhaps a villain then!" she cried out as she rose nimbly. "Such coldness, at your age already!"

Still silent, Shoto cast a glance toward the street, now almost deserted and strangely peaceful.  Endeavor was nowhere to be seen. The villain subdued.

"Hero or villain, only the point of view is different, in the end!" continued the woman hidden beneath a dark mask. "Tell me, you’re not here just to observe Endeavor, are you?"

Crazy. She was crazy.

"And what if I said yes?" the young man finally replied, feigning nonchalance.

The woman was suddenly right in front of him, taking him by surprise.

"Then I’d be disappointed if your observations weren’t meant to kill him."

Stunned, he let her place a finger on his scar, tracing an imaginary line from his brow down to the edge of the mark on his cheek.

"A burn. You’re seeking revenge, aren’t you? Is that what our heroes are today? They should all die, every last one of them. Their status alone protects them. The mere name of ‘hero’ is what sets them apart from villains. All the same. All violent men!" she spat.

Shoto was completely taken aback.
Wasn’t she just a civilian, a little more disturbed and masked than the others? A villain?... Without really knowing why, he felt uneasy at the thought of placing her in that category.

"What do you want?" he finally asked, uncomfortable.

Still close to him, she did not answer. Then she appeared without her mask, and Shoto swallowed hard, carefully making sure to keep his face impassive.

The little skin that remained on her face was red, almost purple, almost black. The bone structure of her nose and the right side of her jaw was visible. Her skull was scattered with holes, patches of missing hair. Her black eyes were fixed on his, scrutinizing him, searching for something.

And Shoto understood why he felt uneasy at the thought of hurting her again. He perceived her as a victim. That was the category in which he had placed her.
Heroes. Villains. Civilians. Victims.

She blinked, with only one eye since she lacked an eyelid. Her eyebrows were gone, her eyelashes missing.

"Not pretty, huh? You know who did this to me."

Not a question, but a statement. A severely burned woman. No doubt seeking revenge.

"They counted me as collateral damage. An accident tied to the villain, one victim among the hundreds there were. A day just like this one. Can you believe it?"

Shoto absentmindedly bit the inside of his lip.
The operation was over, the villain apprehended if the silence was to be trusted. The area had been evacuated. Above, media helicopters had already been filming the destruction for several minutes. Endeavor had to make sure the villain was truly rendered harmless, ready to be sent to a cell. The usual preliminary reports to fill out, the journalists to satisfy afterward.

The attack had been violent and massive, entire streets decimated. It would take some time before Endeavor came back to fetch him. An assault of such magnitude had to be carefully managed so the hero could draw the greatest possible benefit from it, despite the damage, the wounded and the dead, the collapsed buildings. Implicitly, he also had to justify his own violence. Justify the victims he himself had caused, all in the name of stopping a bloodthirsty villain.

"Why not believe it?" he finally said.

He blinked, and the woman was suddenly at the other end of the alley, curled in on herself, what remained of her face hidden in the shadows.

"I was so close. I was hiding behind a car. I heard a noise behind me, a loud noise. I turned around. I lifted my head and I saw the hero. Endeavor. Oh, the relief I felt! I was saved! I was going to live, continue my studies, and go back to see my parents!"

She began to laugh, and a moment later, she was slumped against the wall beside him, her face turned toward the sky. Part of her lips were missing, her words almost clumsy, spoken with a strange cadence.

Shoto listened, telling himself it wasn’t so unusual to come across someone in a dark, narrow alley. He knew that villains were also drawn to turmoil, as well as other humans approaching with a morbid curiosity for chaos.
He knew Endeavor, had read hundreds of reports. He had learned many procedures from the hero, had listened to him explain how to shape a report, a speech, how to justify destruction. He had seen countless victims. Not only of villains, but of heroes.

The risks of the field, his teachers and Endeavor said. You couldn’t save everyone. To save the majority, sacrifices had to be accepted. They couldn’t afford to tread lightly when a villain threatened to blow up an entire building, a street, a district, the whole city.

"He ignored me, his eyes fixed somewhere in the sky. I stood up, my hand outstretched, gratitude already on my lips! What an idiot! Hahaha! What a fool! I stepped closer!"

She turned toward what remained of the street and its infrastructure, her eyes glassy.

"He completely ignored me. As if I didn’t exist. An insect. Nothing. Suddenly the world was burning! Incandescent! I was melting."

She stayed silent for a long moment. Shoto said nothing, simply watching her. This woman, with her strange quirk that allowed her to appear and disappear, was a broken being.
He refused to think of his mother. This had nothing to do with her.

"When I woke up, I was disfigured. Nothing left of my face, of my beautif…" her voice broke. "Nothing. They gave me money. Men in suits from the hero came, I think. I don’t remember."

She was now just a few centimeters from his face, and Shoto remained still, his gaze calm.

"I can’t show my face anymore. I can’t go out. I have no friends. No job. Nothing. Just a little money left. HAhahaha."

She was far away now, humming a cheerful tune.

"Your mark is cute. If one day you feel the urge for revenge, think of me. I deserve it too. A burn for a burn?!" she exclaimed as she walked away. "See you one of these days, kid! Or in hell, most likely! Pfff, we’re already in hell, aren’t we? How would it be any different?"

Her voice slowly faded away, and Shoto simply watched her vanish into the shadows. What could he do? Hand her over to the hero? He grimaced. That sounded cruel. The police? For what reason? The doctors? The paramedics, backup to have her evacuated…
Hadn’t she evacuated herself already, he thought with dry irony.
He imagined them all running from one injured person to another, disorganized.

Arms crossed, he leaned against the filthy wall and decided to simply wait for Endeavor’s return, just as he had been told. Refusing to think of his brother, burned alive in the woods. Alone. The fire that had decimated the forest. Was it cruel to regret that he hadn’t survived, no matter the damage?

Absentmindedly, he raised his hand to the back of his head and looked at the blood left on his palm with a sigh.

 

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

 

"I wonder what became of her," Shoto murmured thoughtfully.

Strangely, that memory seemed to be the one that had disturbed him the least. He didn’t seem aware that his two companions stood rigid, looking almost disgusted. Their familiarity with such scenes spared them from horror, but it was not pleasant.

"Damn it, have you ever lived even one normal day?" Katsuki growled, and Midoriya could only nod in support.

"I don’t think Memoris’ quirk cares about my boring days," Shoto replied dryly. 

Before the situation could escalate, Midoriya intervened with a reassuring smile, though more subdued than his usual one.

"Yep, stupid question, Kacchan. It happens even to the best, haha!" he forced out with a strained grin.

The atmosphere shifted once again, and surprisingly, Katsuki didn’t react. He exchanged a glance with Midoriya, who furrowed his brows, curious. Behind his sharp, red eyes, something seemed to have taken root.

"Shoto," he continued, drawing the younger one’s distracted attention. "Can you do it again? The jump?"

Midoriya clenched his teeth, uncertain and above all frustrated. He suspected that the jump had something to do with the young hero’s dissociative state. He doubted it was anything healthy. Anything worth encouraging.
And it wasn’t just that.

"I can. Do you think I’m not trying to do it again?" he replied sharply.

It had exhausted him. Midoriya could see it in his guarded eyes, in his tense yet slightly slouched posture. The dark circles. The disheveled hair. That distracted, almost dreamy attitude, lost, of their friend. That slight pause he took to organize his thoughts before answering them when he usually was sharp. When he answered at all.

"Memoris is stopping you?" Midoriya deduced.

 

Pfff, leave me out of this. I’m as much a spectator as you are now.

 

"Yes," Shoto replied with a bitter smile. "It’s… rather heavy, having someone inside your head."

In a way, Midoriya could understand.

 

ΨΨ.ΨΨ

 

The tatami was almost melting beneath him.

His skin was raw and burning, his quirk not fast enough, not strong enough, not reactive enough to cool all his nerves on fire. It wasn’t enough. Never.

He felt two or three ribs displaced, fractured, or cracked. Not yet broken. But he knew they were damaged. Every breath was painful, and he panted, mouth open, on all fours.

"Use your fire."

Hadn’t he been using that scorching fire for hours now? Hadn’t he? One of his hands no longer responded. Unable to close. Unable to move. Were his nerves finally all permanently damaged?

The urge to laugh suddenly seized him, as it often did. Suddenly, without any reason. What would Toya say if he saw him like this?
The same refrain.

Rage surged from deep within him. An uncontrollable rage.

One moment he was on all fours, the next he was slammed against one of the walls of the room, struggling to breathe under the pressure on his neck. The smell of burning made him almost vomit, but he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.

"Good. Do it again."

He didn’t know what Endeavor was talking about, the words sounding distant, as if he were hearing them from the depths of the water.

Groaning with the effort to break free, to protect himself, it was his ice, cold and calm, that split beneath his skin, a deathly calm. As so often over the years, it anesthetized him. He felt his ribs lock under the cold pressure of ice within his chest. He felt his bones freeze, but becoming solid, unbreakable. They could endure anything.

An anesthetized, unbreakable body.

The entire room was frozen. The grip on his neck immobilized. Unable to release the pressure, yet restrained from pressing harder.

"Your fire, I said."

Never could a flame come to life in this state. Never again.
He knew that each breath betrayed him with the icy smoke escaping. He knew frost was snaking across his numb skin. He knew strands of hair were frozen stiff by the ice.

Then an explosion. Sudden heat. The pressure on his neck vanished. A crash, a heavy body falling, and his own still standing because all his bones were frozen. Made to remain upright. Sculpted never to fail again.

"Your fire. Now."

No flame had ever been so far out of reach as in that moment. No fire could ever again be born in a frozen body.

Ignoring Endeavor, feeling light-years away from this room inflamed by the explosion and the fire he knew Endeavor emitted, he looked at his hand, eyes half-closed. His left hand, entirely covered in ice.

Out of curiosity, felt like an echo, something distant as everything reached him now. Everything was distant. Nothing touched him anymore. Everything was faint and barely perceptible. So, feeling absent from everything and from his own body, he used his fire as he had hundreds of times before. But for himself.

Nothing happened.
Terror, icy and sinking its roots deep into his being, overwhelmed him, always from afar. But heavy and cold. Immensely cold. No life could escape from it. No flame could ever again be born in this body made of polar frost.

He tried again, completely numb to the powerful steps and the threatening flames advancing toward him. And nothing answered.

His hand was suddenly completely covered,  crushed within Endeavor’s flaming fist. The flames licked at his hair. His skin might have been melting, and his bones were undoubtedly breaking. And yet he felt nothing but an icy void.

He tore his gaze away from where his hand was trapped beneath that mass of flesh and fire, slowly lifting his eyes until they met Endeavor’s face, torn apart by rage.

Shoto smiled, revealing teeth stained red by the blood flowing from his mouth, and simply said with a smile:

"I can’t anymore."

Notes:

Sorry it took me a while to post. Thanks so much for the kudos and comments! :)