The key to putting out a fire is to contain it: as long as it doesn't have a continuous supply of fuel, then it'll burn out as soon as it uses up all the oxygen in the immediate area. Shouto normally followed this policy when it came to his father. If Enji ever walked into the dining room, kitchen, or living room in a blaze, Shouto simply had to tough it out and wait until his tirade was over. Endeavor's flames only added to Shouto's own fire, and Shouto understood that if both of them lost it, the entire house could burn to the ground. However, ignoring his father wasn't as easy as ignoring Katsuki—especially when Enji disparaged his mother.
"How could you fail the provisional hero license test? You're now months behind those students with useless quirks! On top of that, you got a yellow slip from the principal regarding your grades? If you don't get your act together, you'll never be able to climb to surpass All Might and fulfill your duty. I have enough on my hands as it is, but now I need to find out if there's any loophole regarding long-term internships we can work around." Endeavor bellowed.
Don't give him what he wants, don't pay attention to him, don't be provoked, Shouto repeated to himself, praying this mantra would help him endure his father's bloody harangue. Shouto sat at his desk, trying to block out the venom his father was spewing. Just when he had found a little closure from his inner conflict with Yoarashi, Enji had to find out about his test score and reopen the wound. In the background, he could hear Fuyumi trying to cool off the Flame Hero to no avail. Shouto clenched his fists under his desks, shaking subtly as he did. You can ignore him like you always have, Shouto thought to himself unconvincingly.
"You see, this is why I can't have you sneaking off to that damn hospital again! If a couple months of hearing that moronic woman's insane rambling has already led you to become this delusional, then imagine what could've happened if I never found out." Endeavor bellowed.
"Otosan, please, let's talk it—" Fuyumi nervously interjected before being cut off.
"What! How am I the delusional one? You locked our mother up in asylum because she was a nuisance to you—not because she's actually crazy! You're a grown-ass man who takes out his frustration on his kids! Everything that's happened in the past couple weeks has been because of you—not me or mom!"
Shouto felt both halves of his body flare up again before being rammed in the side by a fiery blitz. He felt the heat scorch his left ribcage—which thankfully would heal quickly—and pain jar through his right shoulder as he landed on the ground. Shitty old man, he cursed to himself as he regained his composure. Resigned, he hoisted himself back into his wooden chair, which had barely been charred by the flames. As much as he detested his father's insolent and abusive nature, part of him also wished he could control his quirk that well. It was the first time in many years that his father assaulted him at home, and Shouto had a hunch it would keep on happening in the foreseeable future, given his recent "betrayal" and his father's newfound stress. Although Shouto didn't look his father in the eye, he could feel Endeavor's glare burning into the side of his head, waiting to see what Shouto would do next. Calmer now than minutes ago, Shouto slowly pulled out his chemistry textbook and began reading the bookmarked section on intermolecular bonds, paying the remaining two Todoroki family members no heed.
While Endeavor had a short fuse, he was still a top hero, which meant he was quite perceptive. He could tell his son's silent shift towards homework was a tacit flag of surrender—for now. With his point made clear, Endeavor extinguished his body flames, gruffly asked Fuyumi to move out of the doorway, and made his way to the partially-restored training hall. When his heavy footsteps were no longer audible to the two siblings, Fuyumi let out a sigh of relief.
"Shouto, let me throw that thing into the trash," she offered.
It wasn't until then that he realized the gaping hole in his shirt. The edges were charred black and smelled of smoke. Swiftly, he slipped the ruined article of clothing off of his body and tossed it towards his sister, who caught it mid-air. Curse that excuse of a dad, Shouto thought to himself, I feel like I'm taking one step back for every two steps I take forward. He didn't move, and neither did his older sister. Shouto loved Fuyumi deeply, for when his mother was whisked away, Fuyumi filled the shoes of housekeeper and the hole left in his frozen heart—well, as much as she could. However, he couldn't agree with her apparent unwavering obedience to their father.
"Why? Why do you just stand there and take his shit?"
"I know it's hard for you to understand, but I just don't want to create any more tension. I know you can't forgive him for what he's done you wrong—and neither can I—but he hasn't put me through the wringer like he has you."
"He didn't put Haru or Yukio through the wringer either, but they both left as soon as they could. Remember? They 'couldn't take his yelling and bullshit' anymore. You could've gone years ago. I doubt he would've put up much of a fight, so why are you still here?"
"Because you are. I can't just leave you here…I swear, sometimes, you can be so dense."
Shouto felt his heart drop. He loosened his grip on the highlighter he didn't realize he was clasping. Realizing how insensitive he'd just been, he apologized promptly. Although he didn't verbalize it, he cherished this type of selfless maternal devotion. Even though a voice in his brain still screamed at Fuyumi to get as far away as possible from this miasma-filled home, he also acknowledged that if it hadn't been for his sister's loyalty and solace, he likely would have also gone insane.
"Just promise me, that you'll take care of yourself too," he entreated.
"Of course," she replied with a genuine smile.
She strolled over to his closet and tossed him a new T-shirt before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Shouto slipped the shirt on. This is probably the hundredth one by now, he reflected. It was clean and freshly-ironed, but it wasn't fire-proof.
Shouto returned his attention to his textbook. As he skimmed the pages, he noticed notes in the margin Momo had left. Written in a bold red stroke, they were mostly conceptual corrections and diagrams she thought would help him understand the material. It's a bit too doting of a you to annotate for your shitty peers, he mused. Pages 45-60 were assigned for the weekend, but Shouto was unable to read anything but the red notes. While the tutoring sessions started off as a mandate he grudgingly obeyed, they turned into an excuse to stay away from home, and then, into a respite that he looked forward to.
When she popped the first question out of the blue, Shouto's gut reaction was to clam up. There were two main reasons why: security and confusion.
After the Sports Festival, Shouto concluded that outside knowledge about his past should be restricted to as few people as possible, for information in the wrong hands could be used as a weapon. Shouto just happened to be lucky that Izuku used it for good, but luck was nothing but chance, and like his father, Shouto didn't like to rely on chance. Given the incessant media attention on recent events and his father, Shouto wanted to do whatever he could to stay out of the already blinding limelight. For this reason, Shouto didn't bother telling the honest but loud-mouthed Yoarashi how he hated Endeavor's personality as much as Yoarashi did. If Shouto had simply explained, perhaps it would've ended their spat sooner, and neither of them would've failed the exam. In the end, Shouto decided that it was simply too risky.
Then, there was his confusion in why Momo wanted to know so badly. After all, she never was one to pry into people's personal lives. Whereas he voluntarily gave the bare skeleton of information Izuku, it was only because he found it necessary for their match. Today, Momo pushed for the full flesh of his personal life, and she wouldn't relent. Caught off guard and in the heat of the moment, he thought that the tutoring and gym exercise sessions were part of some elaborate social scheme, perhaps some grand plan the girls had come up to dig up more information on the quiet "pretty boy" of the class. Shouto didn't appreciate meaningless social schemes, especially ones that ripped open healing wounds and came too close to home. Too close? Was that the real reason I got mad? Shouto speculated. Now that he reexamined her actions and history, Momo seemed more like the type to get roped into social schemes, not initiate them.
Shouto sighed and grasped the ridge of his nose, a habit of his when he was flustered off the battlefield. This shouldn't be worth my time, yet I still want an answer.
After his mini-argument with his sister, Shouto needed a second opinion—one that he strangely hoped would confirm his sister's claim about him being "dense." He pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and dialed the one person he blamed and thanked for screwing up his psyche: Izuku. He hesitated for a second before pressing the giant green icon. He tapped his fingers nervously on the desk, hoping the boy was still awake.
"Todoroki-kun? Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?" Izuku asked, concern evident in his voice.
"Yeah, I just have a question. But first, you're one of my few friends, so please keep this conversation confidential."
"More like you're only friend…" Izuku mumbled to himself, barely audibly.
"What was that?"
"Ah! N-Nothing? Did I say anything? I think the T.V. was—"
"Midoriya!"
"H-hai?"
"If I didn't tell you about my old man at the Sports Festival, would you have asked?"
"Huh, where's this question coming from?"
"I had a spat with him. Nothing out of the norm. Just answer my question."
"I-I'm not sure. Until then, I thought you were just a little irritable by nature—of course, not as much as Kacchan! But, during your match with Hanta-kun, you just looked so sad. Even if you hadn't said anything to me before then, I think, if you had looked as sad as you did to me back then, I would've at least approached you to see if you were alright."
"I see…I'm sorry to bother you. Arigato."
"Wait, Todoroki—"
Shouto pressed the red icon. He leaned back in his chair, phone in hand. I never learn, do I? he thought. Concluding that his brain was too fried for the night, he closed the textbook, turned off his desk lamp, and lay down on his tatami bed. Before sleep could crawl into and overtake his battered body, he pulled out his smartphone and opened the Messages app, sending one to Izuku assuring him that everything was fine, and one to Momo which—although it had only been a couple hours—he felt was overdue.
Meet me tomorrow at 4? Usual spot. I.O.U. an explanation.
I intend to go all out with the feels in the next chapter ;)
