MHA – Shoto Todoroki : Modern-day Terrorist

Paralyzed.

Even if he woke up, Touya would be paralyzed for the rest of his life.

The doctors had said he'd used his Quirk too much : they said his organs were slowly melting away and there was nothing they could do about it.

They gave him three months, maybe two.

Then his body would shut down completely.

His skin, parchment-like, was a striking contrast to the clean white sheets of the clinic, burned and stitched amateurishly.

The doctors had admitted that any attempt to forcefully wake him up would be nothing short of suicide.

Touya, hair dyed black, was nothing like the child Enji remembered.

He looked dead.

He was dead

Killed on the roof of an abandoned building by Keigo Takami.

What Enji saw before his eyes was a corpse, nothing more than a fleshy shell that held nothing.

He would never wake up again - never.

But Enji kept hoping that he would.

Was it wrong of him to hope that, by some miracle, he would open his eyes and live ?

Was it wrong to hope that he would live a normal life like every other kid out here ?

Enji knew that Touya had caused harm, far too much harm to be allowed to live unpunished. If he woke up, he would surely be sent to Tartarus to atone for his crimes, regardless of the few months he had left.

He wished so much things were different.

Enji remembered how blissfully happy he'd been when he'd found him at the police station.

He remembered the tears on Rei's cheeks, the disbelief on Natsuo and Fuyumi's faces.

He remembered the anger in Shoto's eyes.

Enji had ignored his displeasure, hadn't tried to figure out the reason for such a strong feeling.

He'd been far too happy for that.

Touya coming back to life meant that Enji could redeem himself. Touya's return meant that they could all start over - maybe even become a real family again.

Enji shouldn't have ignored Shoto's anger.

Because soon after, Touya and Hawks had found themselves at the same place at the same time in the middle of the night.

And they had resolved to kill each other.

Enji stopped cut short his thoughts, unwilling to think about it any further, even though deep inside he knew.

He knew Shoto better than anyone else - hell, he could even say that he knew his son better than he knew himself.

When Shoto had remained behind for Hawks while Enji had run towards Touya, alarm bells had gone off in Enji's head.

When Shoto had frozen when he saw that Touya was still alive, Enji had understood.

He should have been angry.

He couldn't.

Enji knew Shoto better than anyone else.

Looking in his eyes he'd felt his confusion, his anger, his frustration and his fear as if they were his own.

Enji couldn't find it in himself to blame him.

He understood his son better than he understood himself.

He knew exactly why he did what he did.

Enji had begged him to save his brother and despite all his hatred and resentment, Shoto had knelt in his blood and obeyed.

He'd knelt down and nursed him back to health because his father had asked him to.

Enji couldn't blame him.

He loved him far too much do to so.

The envelope crumpled in his clenched fist.

Enji tore himself away from his bedridden son for a moment to look at it.

It contained everything about Hawks whereabouts.

Enji could kill him for murdering his son.

But Shoto was already far too worried about all the civilians they hadn't been able to rescue - Enji didn't feel like making him any sadder.

He was too tired of fighting, too tired of catastrophic revelations, too tired of life.

Slowly, Enji opened his fist, smoothed the letter's folds and put it in his pocket.

His eyes flicked back to Touya.

His pale fingers dangled lightly from the edge of the mattress.

Enji took his icy hand between his and squeezed it between his palms as if to warm it.

He remembered the day Touya had been born.

It had been spring, the first flowers of the year were in full bloom : Rei had called him in a hurry to tell him that she was on her way to the hospital, that the labor had begun and that he had to meet her there.

He'd been so panicked that he'd fumbled on arresting a random villain and had flown all over the city, Hell Flame blazing. Many civilians had panicked when they'd seen him rushing by, believing that there was an actual disaster.

He remembered the first time he'd held him in his arms. He remembered the softness of his skin against his, the way his tiny hand had wrapped around his finger, the little blue hat he'd worn. He remembered Rei's amused look when he took him in his arms and his panic when he repeated over and over that he would drop him.

He remembered how much he loved soccer. He also remembered the silly fairies cartoon he'd loved.

Then Shoto was born.

From then on, Enji's memories of his other children were hazy.

Their birthdays were just blurry memories that blended into each other, their smiles and faces merging into one rough 'failure'.

Shoto, however, was perfect

He'd had both his wife's and his Quirks, the body to back them up, and the right mindset. Shoto was intelligent, not whiny. Shoto didn't feel sorry for himself, he moved forward and looked for solutions within his reach. Shoto was different from his other children ; Enji had known that from the moment his eyes had first met his.

Shoto would be strong, Enji was sure of it.

The others didn't have the gifts, the ambition or the strength to live up to the perfect being Enji had envisioned, the one who would surpass him - who would surpass them all.

Shoto had needed Enji like no one else had ever needed him in his entire life.

Therefore, Enji had disregarded his other children.

Touya had disappeared for over ten years.

He and Fuyumi and Natsuo had drifted apart until it was awkward to greet each other. They didn't need him anyway ; they had Rei.

Enji had truly believed he loved all four of his children equally.

It was weird it took him so much time to realize that he was deluding himself.

He smiled bitterly.

Rei had been right all along, but he'd been too stubborn to acknowledge it.

If she'd realized it, then Touya did too.

Enji wondered how much it had hurt him.

He wondered how alone he must've felt, knowing his father saw him as a failure, as less worthy of his time, as less worthy of being loved.

And wasn't it ironic ?

Enji had spent his own chilhood trying to live up to the expectations of his mother, to be a worthy son of the powerful Teka Todoroki. Her love had been conditionnal on Enji meeting her expectations : he had to be stronger, smarter, faster, always two steps ahead of what she'd ask him to do next.

He'd shed sweat and blood for her to merely quirk a lip in approval, acknowledging his existence for the barest of moment before she looked elsewhere.

He'd craved her love, craved her time, craved her attention.

Having children had always been difficult for the Todoroki : their Quirk rendered difficult fertilization. He’d remembered how happy he’d been when he understood he would have no sibling : he wouldn’t have to compete with anyone for crumbs of her affection.

He wondered if Touya had been annoyed at seeing baby after baby come in their household.

He wondered how differents things could've been if he'd listened to his wife and tried to understand his son, rather than punishing him for hurting. He'd wondered if Touya would've been normal if he had had another father.

Enji imagined Touya opening his eyes, groggy, asking where he was.

He tried to picture his eyes holding neither disgust nor loathing when they settled on him, but rather sparkling with joy and mischief, just as they had when he was a pure, innocent child.

Enji wished that Touya would stand up and hit him, he wished he would hear how much he hated him, he wished he would see anger lighting up his eyes the way it always lit up Shoto's ; Enji would have liked him to wake up and hate him with every bone of his body, telling him what a lousy father he'd been, cursing him until his throat hurt.

Enji wanted to apologize.

He wanted to apologize for being a pathetic father, too obsessed with his work to recognize the scope of the suffering that was eating away at his son.

He wished he'd been fifteen years ago so he could have plucked out the anger gnawing at him, held him in his arms and told him that he loved him, that he had nothing to worry about, that he loved him as much as he loved his brother.

It would've obviously been a soothing lie.

And wasn't it worse, in some way, this cruel honesty that Enji had only learnt after irreparable had happened ?

Enji would've given anything for one last chance to talk to him, to try to sort things out, to discuss things. He would've given anything for him to open his eyes one last time.

Enji wanted anything but that smothering silence.

He wasn't ready to let his son go.

Thus alone in a room with his child who would never wake up, Enji Todoroki cried.

*

A/N : If you like the story, want to support it/read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

And see you saturday in the next update everyone !