Hi,
I was on tour with the family all day, and almost forgot to update. But here is the next chapter.
Cracking
Enji needed more material. Mostly, he needed a scaffold. So far, he had focused on the repairs on ground level, but trying to put a new window into Natsuo's room on the first floor using just a ladder had shown him just how insane of an idea that was.
Thankfully, he found such scaffolds for rent, and didn't need much. He rented out a single mobile unit that he could move around the house wherever he needed it. On top of that, he also needed some added material for his work after he had ruined some of the new wood panels by accidentally burning a hole into them in a fit of frustration.
On Wednesday, he fetched everything using a trailer he hadn't even known he owned. Maybe Natsuo had bought it for when he moved into the dormitory. He just came from the DIY store on his way to the company from where he rented the scaffold, when he landed in a sudden traffic jam. It was an odd place and time for one. Right on the main road, outside rush-hour with no traffic lights close by. The cars were stuck on all three lanes, and there was not a single car coming from the opposite direction. Like the police had stopped the traffic entirely. He quickly stepped out of the car, trying to see above the sea of vehicles, but couldn't see the end of it. Nothing was moving. It had to either be a massive accident to make the closing down of all lanes necessary, or a villain attack.
He left his car where it was, quickly pulling out his phone and checking the headlines.
Police evacuate buildings around the Nawaki Building in Musutafu Central. Citizens not living in the evacuated areas are advised to stay in their home.
Enji was on the move before he ever stopped to think about it. He was not a hero anymore, just a civilian. He should evacuate, seek shelter in a building or stay in his car to listen to the radio for more instructions... There was nothing he could do, as he was not allowed to use his quirk nor engage any villains without his license. However, he didn't think about any of this. His body moved from sheer force of habit. There was a villain attack close by, and he had been Endeavor for too long to just sit around and do nothing.
While he ran, he dialed the number to his agency, annoyed that he did not have his work phone with him, where all the important numbers would be on speed dial. He got quickly impatient, when the idiot who had phone service that day didn't pick up immediately. When they finally picked up, he was already angry.
"Give me a quick summary of the situation!"
"What?" It was a female voice.
"Musutafu Central! Come on, I'm almost there." Why would she take so long? He thought that he had the best of the best working at the agency, but apparently he was wrong.
"End—" Her voice was confused, then she suddenly stopped. "Todoroki?"
"Who else would it be?"
"I'm sorry, but…"
Enji slowed down, staring at the scene now before him. As he got closer to the action, his brain finally caught up to him. What was he doing here? He had no reason to be here. His quirk had activated on its own, showing both his fiery beard and mask. The sleeves of his winter jacket and sweater were burned off, but he didn't wear his costume beneath his clothes.
Maybe that was the reason why he finally caught up to the fact that he was not Endeavor — just plain old Enji Todoroki, and he had no place here. He shouldn't be here; he should be back with his car listening to the radio waiting for a possible evacuation.
The Nawaki Building was a thirteen-story-building called so, because of the distinct arrangement and design of the windows that gave it the look of a cloud-pruned tree. He quickly deduced that the situation wasn't all that serious. The villain had a ranged quirk, so the police had taken caution and evacuated a bigger area than would be normal for a simple robbery or assault, or whatever the villain had tried.
"Todoroki, are you still listening to me?" The woman on the other side of the line must have tried to get his attention for a while now. He had put the phone away from his ear.
"Yes, I'm still here."
"Good. I, eh… I consulted with my superior Hagane," – of course he knew the name of the head of her department – "I'm supposed to tell you to… ehm, and I quote, 'stay the fuck away from the scene. It has nothing to do with you, and you're supposed to stay wherever you are or seek shelter if you are close to the scene.'"
She sounded so embarrassed and positively terrified, he almost felt bad for her.
"You're not to engage, I mean." With each word she sounded a little more panicked but simultaneously a little more self-confident.
"Yes, I remember. Don't worry." He ended the call without saying goodbye or waiting for any further disrespect from her side.
He ducked his head when a window just above him shattered. Looking around, he saw that people were staring at him. Just four steps away, the police had set up a line behind which a crowd of onlookers and reporters were perched tightly together. They were gawking at him with big eyes and open mouths, and not too few of the cameras were aimed at him.
Of course they had noticed him. If it hadn't been enough that he was hardly to mistake for somebody else with his bulking figure, red hair and scar, he had also come in blazing and showing off his quirk. Even now that he had reigned his quirk in again, his half-burned clothes looked ridiculous and hard to miss.
Several police officers waved at him. He quickly made his way over to one.
"How can I help?" he asked, realizing he could not engage the villain directly, and speaking to Death Arms, who was currently fighting, would only distract the hero.
The police officer stared at him incredulously.
"Step out of the way, Todoroki. What are you doing here?" He pushed against Enji but didn't quite have the strength to move him.
"I can help. Just tell me what to do." Sure, he couldn't engage the villain, but he knew how this worked. He could do first aid or help with the evacuation effort. Just because he didn't have a license, didn't mean he had to stand around and do nothing.
"What's going on over there?" Death Arms had obvious trouble reaching the villain who was throwing some kind of invisible projectile at him. From what Enji had seen, he had no doubt that Death Arms would ultimately reach the villain, but he was only making slow progress, getting closer one small step at a time. Now, he was minutely distracted, looking over at the evacuation line. It was quite a bit away and he had to yell to be heard by Enji and the police officers.
The villain's eyes followed Death Arms line of sight, and only seconds later a projectile hit the pavement just a step before Enji's feet. The evacuation line was clearly drawn just outside the villain's range.
"You should increase the evacuation parameters," Enji instructed the police.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Todoroki!?" Death Arms yelled from where he engaged the villain again.
"Please, Todoroki, you have to step behind the line. Let us do our job!" The officer shoved at him more forcefully, another officer now coming to his aid.
It was only then, that Enji realized what he was doing.
"Last warning, or we'll have to arrest you for hindering the operation." The second officer pulled at his shoulder much more forcefully than the first, sounding clearly annoyed.
It wasn't necessary to spell it out. Enji had just realized it himself. Numbly, he let them push him behind the line into the crowd of onlookers.
"There are no exceptions for former heroes, Todoroki. This will have consequences." The second officer eyed him suspiciously, but apparently both officers decided that he was now compliant enough, so they didn't go the extra mile to also arrest him. After another warning glare, they moved on to continue to do their job.
Enji hung his head in embarrassed anger. He only let the frustration linger for a second, then began to shoulder past the crowd back to where he had left his car. What had he been thinking? He was like one of those onlookers he himself had been annoyed at for so many years, who got themselves, or – worse – others in danger, and only made the hero's life more difficult, just because they wanted to get a good view of the battle.
No, worse… He wasn't just an annoying onlooker, he had actively hindered the operation, had breached the evacuation line, distracted the hero, trying to…what? Play the hero himself? He wasn't a hero anymore! He finally had to get that into his head. If he had taken just one more step, before he had realized his colossal mistake, he would have already stepped the line from nuisance to vigilantism. Enji could've gotten himself into jail for that, and he was already in enough trouble as it was. He already had an investigation for reckless misconduct pending against him, trying to decide whether he had negligently caused the death of Inari; he didn't need to also get charged with vigilantism.
Stupid. Stupid. What was he thinking!?
He ignored the people he bumped into all the way back to his car. On his way to the crime scene, he had run top speed – good thing he hadn't used his quirk for that, or he'd be in even bigger trouble. On his way back, he took a lot longer.
He barely realized he was still trailed by multiple cameras. Enji was pretty sure he'd get a penalty notice in his mail sometime next week. If his stupidity hadn't been picked up by half a dozen cameras from just as many different channels, perhaps the police would have let his interference slide. The way they had spoken to him, at least at first— there had still been some respect and understanding. But one did not break the law on TV and got away with it. Not him, at least. He didn't have that sort of leeway with the public anymore.
Enji sat in his car after that, leaning back against his seat as he waited. There was nothing he could do. He was a civilian and the heroes and the police were already at the scene taking care of it. Nothing for him to do. He wasn't even supposed to be there. He sat and waited for many long minutes that dragged out endlessly.
The last time he had been a civilian was when he was still a child. He didn't remember how it had been. How boring it was, how demeaning that he was just made to sit the action out, even if he could do something. He'd forgotten all about it, or maybe as a child, he hadn't perceived it that way. Death Arms, the police, the public, they all knew he could do something! And still. He was made to sit around uselessly.
He was Endeavor!
Had been, at least.
Once. But not anymore.
And that was precisely the reason why he now sat here in his car, listening to the radio narrating what was happening. He got giddy from listening, his feet moving restlessly. Not being able to interfere and take a piece of the action felt wrong, even if he knew he wasn't needed. From everything he had seen, from the information he got over the radio, the situation was well in hand.
It didn't take long at all for Death Arms to take down the villain. Once Enji Todorki, the distraction that he was, was out of the picture, it only took fifteen minutes to apprehend the villain alive, unharmed. He only listened to the last five minutes of the fight-that-was-barely-a-fight on the radio.
It felt like forever, though. Every single minute felt like cruel eternity. The police took their time to clean the crime scene and dissolve the mob of reporters and onlookers after the fight. The traffic only started moving again almost an hour later.
Another hour later he had his scaffold and arrived back home, but had lost all drive to continue working on the house at the moment. Instead, he vented his anger against a punchbag he hung into the still ruined dojo.
The media had a field day laughing at him. His little embarrassment didn't quite make it to the news, but various talk shows and comedians made fun of it for the rest of the week. He didn't watch such shows, usually, so he probably wouldn't have noticed it, if Natsuo hadn't sent him one of those clips on his phone. Enji watched the video, thinking that if Natsuo messaged him, it had to be something important. After only three minutes, he stopped the clip. He didn't respond to Natsuo, not knowing if his son was just trying to annoy and frustrate him, or if it was meant as a joke.
Enji finally found a certain routine. He would wake up at six, not much later from when he would normally wake up: 'normally' being when he was still working as a hero. After that, he would go running along the riverside in the early morning. He would spend most of the day working on the house, and he would try to eat regularly and at regular times. He couldn't wait until Monday when Irina would hopefully bring a little variety into his life.
It wasn't the type of healthy new routine he had been hoping for when he first lost his license, but it was better than the sad and useless sitting around from before. He dreaded the time when the house would inevitably be done and there was nothing left for him to do. Enji was not a professional and he wasted a lot of time doing things wrong the first time and only managing it by trial and error, or reading up on things he didn't know or had already forgotten again. But ultimately, he worked for ten hours a day from seven in the morning, all the way until it got too dark outside sometime after five. Even with the time he lost in between, he made good progress. He was already done with the lower floors and it was only a matter of a few days until he would also be done with the façade on the upper floors — leaving only the roof and then the inside. How he would do the roof, he didn't know yet. He had already realized that the more damaged parts of the roof wouldn't hold his weight.
Part of his routine was leaving the house as little as possible, so that he didn't need to meet anybody. That was probably the main reason he still woke up so early, if he was being honest. He could do his morning jog when the streets were still empty, with the sun just beginning to rise. He never met anybody on his way. Sometimes a reporter or the paparazzi would still occasionally wait outside, though. They'd see him and Enji could see the telltale flash of a camera, but he guessed pictures of him on his daily jog were not worth much, because quickly they lost interest in that, and then soon after, interest in him entirely. He could only hope that meant they lost interest in his children too.
Well, not Shoto, in any case. Now that he was out on the streets, heroing under Gang Orca's tutelage, he made the headlines more often than Enji himself. While there was nothing interesting happening in Enji's life anymore, Shoto was just starting. He saved a girl out of a burning car, helped rescue two hostages from a villain, prevented a small yacht just off the coast of Yokohama from sinking, caught a thief, helped Gang Orca smash a drug ring, saved two students from a wild bear… There was no end to his list of good deeds.
Enji had forgotten all about it: those first few weeks as a hero when there was always somebody reporting on every minor deed.
His son was thriving without him. Of course he was. At first, he read those articles with interest, pride and a sense of longing. He had stopped reading when a particularly exciting article about when Shoto saved those hostages had filled him of all things with resentment. Jealousy.
He knew he had no right to feel that way. And no reason, considering… Wasn't this what he had wanted all along? He had done what he did to make Shoto a great hero. One to defeat All Might. Of course, that second part of his goal was impossible now, his actions futile and – really – asinine from the start. But the first part, making Shoto a hero? Why was he resentful, now that Shoto was exactly what Enji had forced him to become all those years ago?
He would never dare speak this out loud, talk to anybody about it. What type of father…? What type of person…? Enji wasn't even sure what part he was upset about. Did he begrudge Shoto for his license, his fame – he was clearly liked by the public – or his piece of the action? Was he angry how little of a role he played in Shoto's rise to power? Or was he maybe even despairing now that he saw his son slowly catch up to him?
While his son got stronger and thrived in this new environment, Enji was falling apart, and he could clearly feel it. He had lost his drive, lost his strongest attacks – still unable to use Flashfire for real – he had even stopped training, because there was no purpose. Shoto would catch up to him. It was only a matter of time. He could clearly see it.
And how messed up was that? Would he really resent his son for his power? Wasn't this why he had had him in the first place, trained him at such a young age, forced him through all this suffering, so Shoto could surpass him and All Might and everybody else? Now, though...
Now that it seemed increasingly inevitable, now that he was seeing his son catch up to him by leaps and bounds at such a rapid speed… There was a sense of despair that was strikingly, shockingly familiar. Shoto would surpass him. He had the perfect combination of quirks, devoid of any weakness that Enji still had to deal with. It was unavoidable. There was nothing Enji could do against it.
Maybe it was the realization that Shoto was not his proxy, not his creation and thus not his power, that brought the familiar sense of anguish.
He hated himself for it.
In a fit of rage, he burned the newspaper, trampled the ashes, and did not seek out any new articles about Shoto after that. It should be different, he knew. He should collect the newspapers, cut out any article or picture or tiny little mention of Shoto, put them all on the wall or the fridge — or at least into an album as a keepsake. He should be proud of him and not feel this ugly despair and resentment. The right thing to do would be to cherish every word in these articles and not burn them to ash. What was wrong with him!?
He stood atop a hill. Down below just under the bridge at the riverside, there was a fire burning. Blue flames, high into the sky. He watched in silent wonder. What a magnificent display. With this power, nobody would stand in his way!
"Do something!" It was the obnoxious voice of a child. "Stop it!"
Why would he stop it? What was there to stop? This was exactly what he wanted. He felt delighted, when the flames turned from blue to almost white. Such power!
"Why are you just standing there!?"
The boy ran down the hill, as fast as he could. The father watched with some amusement. What did he think he could achieve?
"Touya! Touya!"
Touya?
Right…
It was only now that he saw the hair in the flames, spikey red – or black? – the burnt face – or burning? He watched calmly as the other boy reached him, still screaming his brother's name. This one was barely a teenager, white hair, tall for his age.
Natsuo… The father watched in apathy, as the whitehaired finally reached his brother, until the flames engulfed them both.
No, that wasn't right… Natsuo didn't like the heat.
The scream. Screams! Two voices. Why had he not heard it before? Shocked, he stared at the scene, his lame body refusing to move. Come back here! Natsuo! Touya, stop! But his voice did not follow his command. Just like his legs, it was utterly useless.
"Have no fear!" The booming voice made him turn around in fury. Suddenly, his body was working again. "Because I am here!" He rammed his fist right into that dreaded grin.
"ALL MIGHT!" Anger made his voice feral and rough. Like a roar of utter despair.
He beat him again and again, blindly punching where All Might just appeared out of nowhere. He was kneeling over him now. Somebody was trying to push him away, drag him away from All Might. He pushed the person away, then continued pounding against All Might's face with all his might. He knew it would not be enough. He could still see the man grinning below him, not even taking him seriously, as Enji poured all his despair into his attacks. Touya… Natsuo… He had to succeed! This was his chance to make it count, to make their sacrifices not be for naught.
He was again pushed away from All Might. Furiously, he hit the person behind him. His fist smashed into a round face, a soft jawline, a fragile figure… She lay there unmoving, bleeding and with blistered skin. She had crumpled the second his fist hit her face.
Shouldn't have interfered, he thought angrily, if she was so fragile. Her own fault!
It was only at the second glance, that he recognized Rei.
What?
He turned back to All Might, but it was not All Might: just a young boy of five years with red and white hair like the two who had burned earlier. Just a little child: his face caved in bloody and unrecognizable if it weren't for the unique hair coloring.
He stared at the boy, disbelieving. His body was frozen solid, unable to turn away, unable to move a single muscle, unable to even only avert his eyes. He couldn't breathe! The father heard his heartbeat in his ears, a constant rhythm, way too fast. Then finally, he was able to breathe again. It all came out at once, and then he couldn't stop, breathing so hard he almost lost sight of the kid in front of him and his pale bloodied knuckles, as his whole world started shifting and turning.
"Are you happy now?"
He twisted around, still kneeling over the lifeless body, his head snapped back to stare at the girl standing just out of reach. He stared at her, still not able to breathe regularly, his heart running a mile a minute.
What had she said?
"Are you happy now?" She repeated it in this same voice, deadpan, but almost kind, almost understanding.
"Happy?" He was in utter disbelief. Happy? Why the hell would he be happy? The word sounded foreign on his tongue.
"You made it. You're number one. The strongest hero in all of Japan, now." She looked honest, but sad. So sad. She was crying. He could see himself mirrored in her shiny grey eyes. He could see his own eyes reflected back at him there. Burning blue orbs – the eyes of the damned.
"That's all you ever wanted." She came closer to him, just one step, but while she came closer, he seemed to drift away, putting more distance between them. He didn't move. He still knelt there over the corpse of his son, but he could still see the girl simultaneously step closer to him and drift further apart. "Are you happy now?" The girl… Fuyumi had her arms wrapped around her body, hugging herself.
He shook his head. His hands were itching as the blood dried on his skin.
She twisted and turned, moving as if she was leaning into somebody, a warm embrace maybe, but there was nobody and she was so utterly alone. They were now so far apart — he wouldn't be able to reach her anymore; he could hardly make out the details of her face.
He wanted to ask her what had happened. Where were her brothers? Where was her mother? But instead, he just knelt there. "
Help me," he asked, not knowing what he needed help with.
"Save me," not knowing what he needed saving from.
"I can't," she answered. "I'm not a hero. Just a useless girl."
No… no… He was getting too far away! He was losing her! "SAVE ME!" he yelled, but she was too far away and he was too far gone.
She did not hear him.
He knew he must have looked like a mess when he left the house early in the morning – it was barely five – for an earlier-than-usual morning run. But he could not stay inside any longer. He could not stay lying in bed trying to fall asleep again after he had woken up crying, but hardly remembering the details of his dream. His knuckles were itching, but he didn't know why. His lips felt parched and his throat felt sore. After drinking a glass of water, he had decided to go running. He was shaking.
Enji made it past his kid's old elementary school, to the Nabu River. It was a scenic little place. The river itself wasn't anything special — just a small stream. In the driest months of the year, the water would barely reach to his knees at the deepest parts. At least here, where the river separated the two districts Nasadaa and Nabu.
A few miles further south where the Nabu River would flow into the Oui River, there was a small part where it was deep enough to swim almost all year round. The riverbed meandered quite a bit, taking up much more space than such a small river should rightfully need.
The city of Musutafu had set up a nice park area around it. There was a lot of greenery, some flower beds and some picnic benches. There was also a network of small sand and gravel trails. On the other side of the river, the Nasadaa side of the park was in much worse shape. Teenagers and young adults left empty beer bottles everywhere, and there was graffiti on every bench and trash can. There was also a part more secluded where they would sometimes deal with heroin, meth, and other drugs. Enji had had several calls to work out there.
His feet crunched against the gravel. He had set a fast pace. Fast enough to send his heart running and his breath heaving until he couldn't say anymore, if the pounding in his ears and the pain in his lungs was from the exhaustion or from the terrors of the night.
It was so dark he could barely make out the pathways in front of him. The moon and the lights from the nearby city were his only sources of light. The water reflected the moonlight pale grey. He knew this path by heart, so he did not need the light to orient himself.
Suddenly, there was a movement on the other side of the river. Out of the corner of his eyes when he quickly glanced over, he saw a child playing at the riverside there. What time was it? It was still very dark and that was the Nasadaa-side of the river. It was not safe for children in the night— least of all in Nasadaa. He would know; he had grown up there.
Enji stopped abruptly to ask the child what it was doing there, already thinking that if it truly was alone, he could surely walk through the shallow water. But when he turned, it was gone. There was only a big trash can in its place, about the same height as the kid had been.
He looked left and right, but there was nothing and nobody there. Just the dark of the night, a few bushes, a bench, the river, and himself on the other side of it. He stared back at the trashcan. There was something dark smeared across the shiny metal, but he couldn't read the graffiti. Had he just imagined the kid?
Suddenly, he remembered. A kid on the other side of the river, red hair. Himself? He had played here a lot as a child. Something was wrong about this memory. He didn't remember himself, of course, it was Touya. He had always been so much smaller than Enji had been at his age. So much lither in stature. He remembered a sudden flash of blue fire, remembered seeing him burn.
No, that couldn't be right. He had seen Touya play here if rarely – on the Nabu-side of the river, of course, not over on the other side – but he had not seen him burn here. He hadn't been there when Touya had supposedly died. Of course not, or he could have stopped it and saved him. But he had been at work. He had not seen it.
But he imagined it must have looked like that, this sudden flash of light. It had happened here at this river. Much further down at the bridge, though.
He shook his head forcefully, trying to remove this fake memory that he did not have. Then, he started jogging again, at a somewhat slower pace. Maybe he was overdoing it, maybe he had run too fast, and the exhaustion made his brain fantasize and imagine things.
He listened to the sound of his steps against the gravel. Normally, it would help calm him down. Now, though, it was eerie and too loud. The way his soles slit just a little over the gravel, made him almost believe he heard a second set of feet. It unnerved him. He didn't run the whole round. Instead, at the next chance he took a turn and headed back home, arriving just as the sky began to brighten. He felt unnaturally relieved at the beginning of the day. It was Shoto's birthday.
Huiuiui. He's really not in a good way. I really am way to entertained writing Enji angst. Now, however, it's time to continue with the family drama. I think this might be the last chapter of Enji just rolling aroud alone in the car.
Also I still haven't gotten around to writing the Todoroki New Years Dinner Party... and I already want to write another chapter for I'm Watching! Sorry, that this takes so long.
