Hi,

I'll be away for the coming week. I think I will be able to post regardless, I already have the chapter written out, but just in case, if I don'T have Internet after all...


What Are You Looking At?

He could swear that there'd never been so many attacks and crimes in Musutafu as there were now, that he was not a hero anymore. At least he had never quite seen those petty criminals as quite so disruptive in his day-to-day life as he did now. It was probably his new perspective as a regular civilian just trying to go about his life without being permanently inconvenienced by a small battle here, a closed off street there, or a robbery going off in the shop he just wanted to quickly buy some batteries or a new pair of shorts in.

Previously, as Endeavor, he had been seeking out both these minor and more major incidents. Fighting villains and preventing crime had been his job. While he and the rest of Japan's heroes surely prided themselves on their low crime rate relative to many other countries – although it had been getting worse – they needed at least some villains, or they'd be out of a job.

Now, as a civilian, he had a different perspective. Really, it was logical. To keep such an enormous system of heroes, sidekicks, support technicians, agency employees, not to mention the police and regular emergency services busy, there had to be a huge amount of crime, villain activities, accidents and natural disasters.

Experiencing a robbery as a civilian witness was different to seeing it from the eyes of the hero swooping in to save the day. Even if he was the same man, even if the villains did not scare him, there was still a sense of helpless fury that rooted him to the spot each and every time he got caught up in such an event. He would always stay close, and sometimes he would be pushed towards an evacuation line, set up by the police. Sometimes a hero would ask him to clear the area in passing, and then he would just be expected to follow the command like cattle. And sometimes he just remained where he was, unmoving and waiting to see if his help was needed. It never was.

A week after the incident in Musutafu Central, when he had just left the house to get the scaffold and ended up in a traffic jam caused by a villain attack, the penalty notice arrived with the mail. It wasn't a lot of money, but as he made the payment, it felt demeaning anyway. He hadn't actually done anything; he'd just tried to help.

If it were anybody else…

But it wasn't anybody else. It was him.

Enji Todoroki, Endeavor… he had just wanted to help, and had all the credentials and skills to actually do so but he was still made to sit on the sidelines. He could still do something, could still save people, could still fight villains… but in his new role in society, he was simply not supposed to.

The more time passed, the more this instinct faded.

There was a fight close by, and while civilians were hurrying in the direction to watch Kamui Woods battle some guy with a mutation quirk with wings, Enji just followed them with his eyes. Then he glanced past the onlookers, at the hero and villain fighting in the air: Kamui Woods swinging on thin wooden vines just a few feet above the ground, while the other was nimbly dodging his attempts of capture.

Enji stepped towards the gawkers, but didn't quite push past them. He had a decently good view of the fight even from the back. And for the first time, he didn't feel the need, or even the incentive, to push further. There was no instinct to stay and wait if he was needed, to hope that somebody would ask for his help, or that the villain would be stupid enough to attack him, so he could possibly defend himself. Instead, he just felt mild curiosity of the battle, and after watching it for a few seconds not even that anymore. It wasn't an exciting fight, and unlike the crowd of young people at the very front of the audience, fawning over the young hero, he was not a Kamui Woods fan.

He assumed Kamui had it under control, even if it didn't look like the fight was in safe hands yet. In fact, Kamui even looked a little desperate, but Enji still thought he would get the upper hand eventually. He turned away after only a few minutes, and left. Nobody noticed him or paid him any attention.

Later, when he would only quickly check the news to see if he was right, Kamui was indeed fine. The incident had only caused two minor injuries, a woman had a broken arm, and Kamui himself had a sprained ankle.

In hindsight, that was how he got here, now.

'Here' was half a step off the curb, just opposite a small café close to his daily jogging route. And 'now', well…

It was almost four weeks into his life as a civilian. While January had started mild and wet, now it was cold, and there was a thin layer of snow over the meadows and the roofs. There was nothing on the streets, though. The municipality's snow plows were taking care of that, ever since the first inch of snow fell on the city. Much more dangerous, he knew, was the black ice on the streets that would form in the morning or during the night, when it was frigidly cold.

He was just finishing his morning jog today, a little later than usual. It was already bright daylight and the streets were increasingly busy. He didn't mind it that much anymore. The media had progressively lost their interest in him, and while he was still often recognized on the streets, the public didn't seem to care anymore either.

Some still gawked at him, still called him 'Endeavor', and sometimes – though only rarely – children would even still ask for an autograph. Sometimes he would find the stray offer for an interview in his mailbox, but ultimately, there were other heroes – active heroes – much more interesting than the former number one. He would still often wear his sunglasses and ball cap, but he didn't need it to feel incognito anymore. At least, not all the time.

Of course, there were flashes of recognition, and the consequent insecurity, when he wished he had brought his measly disguise, but all in all… he thought it was progress.

Because he was so lazy, he decided to jog a little further towards the next café to get breakfast and coffee to go. In the house, he had pushed a lot of the furniture around, and he had dragged some of the equipment from the dojo into the kitchen and living room, just to get it out of the way for the repairs. Needless to say, the kitchen wasn't quite inviting to cook, prepare meals or dine in. He just hoped he'd be done in the dojo before Monday so that Irina could come and cook for him without all that stuff blocking her way into the kitchen.

He was running at a fast pace, not quite sprinting. The pedestrian lights went green just in front of him, so he gladly continued, sensing that he was lucky, that he wasn't forced to stop.

An audible squeal of tires and breaks, a loud honking, and then…

He didn't know how he had just saved himself. Somehow, he had managed to stop his run and stumble backwards just in time. He tripped, but didn't fall, as the grey Mazda raced past him.

He hadn't seen it coming, hadn't heard it coming, hadn't been prepared. Thirty years of honing his instincts, and he had just barely managed to avoid getting hit by a car. There was a collective gasp all around him, as the Mazda driver crashed into a light post. Then, somebody screamed, and suddenly people were rushing past him, as somebody begged for help.

He just stood there, just one step off the curb, staring at the back of the Mazda, where the force of the crash had cracked the rear window.

"We need help! Somebody, call the ambulance!" a low male voice ordered. "Oh god, he's not moving!"

After an eternity, his eyes turned from the cracked glass to where a young man was starting to give somebody CPR.

"Help! Where's a hero?" a female yelled, her voice echoed by so many others. "Somebody, call for a hero and the police. She's trapped under the car!"

He didn't see her, nor could he see whoever was under the car. All he saw were two people who were now getting the front door open, dragging the only semi-conscious driver out of their seat and checking them over for injuries. Enji couldn't get a good view on the driver, as they were shielded by an increasing number of people standing around the car. They were all screaming, yelling, and pleading for help, yapping around uselessly.

And him, the most useless of all.

He hadn't been the only one trying to cross the street. They had all been within reach. If he had been more careful, if he had paid attention, if he had just tried, he could have pushed them out of the way. It would have been easy. But instead, he had only saved himself. He hadn't even thought about it.

Where are the heroes?

He was right there.

There is somebody trapped below that car!

He couldn't see it. He hadn't even gone the two extra steps to be able to look around the car, to check for the two pedestrians that had been hit, or for the health of the driver who was now sitting next to his car.

Somebody has to lift it up.

It would have been easy for him. But the thought never crossed his mind.

I just want a cup of coffee.

He felt careless and apathetic when he finally turned around and moved away from the scene. The traffic had halted all around him. Some had stopped and left their cars to help, some to gawk, some out of courtesy or shock. Some, he assumed, had just halted simply because everybody else around them had stopped as well. Many people were rushing towards the scene, and others just remained away, glancing over curiously.

Enji could only take a few steps, trailing the street with his eyes. He looked up, just for a moment, when he saw it… them. There was a family on the other side of the street. A young boy of maybe ten was held back by his parents, stopped from crossing the street. What the boy would do if he had reached the other side of the street on time — if he just wanted to watch or if he wanted to help, Enji could not say. But for a second, their eyes met.

What are you doing? The boy's eyes seemed to ask. Where are you going?

Enji stared at him. He was perfectly still, stopped in his tracks. Then, he dragged his eyes away from the kid, to his parents. They were glaring at him too.

Why are you leaving?

There were two men sitting in a car a few feet to his left, staring at him.

Why aren't you helping?

One of the waiters from the café across the street, that had just opened for breakfast, was stepping out of the establishment, looking right at him.

Why are you running?

The ambulance finally arrived. Enji heard its horns blaring as it slowly made its way across the street. At the same time, finally, the heroes arrived. It was one of Death Arms' sidekicks, who Enji hardly knew, but even from where Enji was – outside the crowd already on his way home – he could hear the metal squeaking, as the car was finally lifted up. The people in the crowd of onlookers turned around to let the paramedics through. As they did so, their eyes met.

You didn't do anything!

Coward!

He couldn't bear it anymore. Instead of going to buy his coffee, instead of waiting for the police to give his statement, which he probably should do, he turned to run back home, as fast as he could.

Even before he arrived back home, Enji already regretted that he hadn't stuck around, for the inevitable police interview. He was a witness, after all. But it was too late to turn around, he thought. At home, he took a bottle of sake, and quickly drank three shots, just to calm himself.

His hands were shaking.

Why?

He didn't turn on the TV, didn't want to see the outcome of the accident. Truth be told, Enji didn't even know if the story made it to the news at all. It had just been a traffic-accident, after all, and as he had neither stuck around nor cared to check, he didn't know if anybody had been seriously injured or even died.

One of them had needed CPR, he reminded himself, but still. He could've just been unconscious, and the first aider might've been unable to find the pulse.

It didn't take long until his phone rang, but he had already been expecting it, anyway. It was an officer of the Musutafu Police Department. The officer quickly recounted what had happened.

"I would ask you to come in to give your statement."

Enji's first instinct was to ask how the man even knew that he was there, but of course, so many people had seen and recognized him.

"We found a person fitting your description close to the scene on the phone videos made shortly after the crash. Can you quickly confirm if you were there?" Maybe the officer had guessed what Enji was thinking. The information surprised him, however. He would have thought they had enough witness accounts placing him on the scene. There could've been no doubt that he was there, so why even bring up the video to confirm it was actually him on the footage? Everybody had seen him. They had all recognized him; each one of them had witnessed his cowardice.

"No, I was there," he quickly responded, feeling dazed. "When do you want me to come in?"

"As soon as possible."

"I'll be right over."

He took a cab, not feeling safe to drive, though he wasn't sure if it was just because of his still shaking hands and dazed state of confusion, or because of the sake.

As soon as he arrived at the department, they beckoned him into a more private space. It wasn't one of those bleak and sterile interrogation rooms, just a somewhat scattered-looking bureau. There were two desks and a police officer in uniform sitting behind each, but only one was asking the questions.

It was a young female he didn't know. Although he often got involved in stopping traffic accidents or dealing with their consequences as Endeavor, these cases were normally not so high profile that he would personally cooperate with the police. If there were any questions left, his sidekicks were equipped to deal with the police or he would give a written statement. He simply didn't have the time to personally follow up on all his minor cases. (How times had changed. Now, here he sat with an empty schedule.) If she primarily worked on these types of cases, it would explain why he didn't know her. Her colleague seemed slightly familiar though, but he didn't do the questioning.

She was polite enough. Her questions were direct but in an amicable tone, and she always gave him enough time to respond. When he didn't have the answer immediately or when he couldn't remember a detail, she was patient and understanding. And still…

"You say you heard the squeal of the tires, what happened then?" she asked.

"I don't know. I must have managed to get out of the way. I just remember that I was back at the sidewalk, and the car zipped past me."

Her brows furrowed slightly in concentration, as she typed his response into her computer. Then she looked back at him.

You're Endeavor! Couldn't you have pushed the other two out of the way as well?

"Did you notice the condition of the street?"

"I was running, and I didn't slip. So, the street was fine where I was, at least. I didn't check, though."

"You mean you didn't check after the crash?"

He nodded.

Why didn't you check? You should have checked. That's just incompetent!

She continued questioning about what happened after.

"A man was administering CPR to one of the injured. And a woman said somebody else was trapped under the car." He recounted the story in a calm voice.

Why didn't you do anything? You could have helped lift the car!

"I didn't see, though."

"So, you didn't call the ambulance, or the heroes, or helped with treating the injured?" she checked in a professional tone, looking at him, then back at what she had already noted down on her computer. He had already told that part.

Her colleague looked up at him. Glanced at Enji with the same judging, damning eyes.

"I…" Enji didn't know how to respond to that. What could he say? He knew it looked bad, especially for him. He was Endeavor! He had been Endeavor for so long, and now he couldn't even help two pedestrians in a car accident. "No," he finally admitted.

"You went home right away?"

He could basically taste the judgement in her voice. She knew as much as Enji himself, that he should've done better than this. Her colleague knew it too. Either he was incompetent, or he just hadn't cared to help those pedestrians. What other explanation was there?

"Yes," he admitted, his voice only barely above a whisper. "I don't know why." This last part, he quickly added in shame.

The officer looked up from her keyboard where she had typed while he was answering. The skin around her eyes crinkled a little, as she smiled at him. "Todoroki-san, this might be difficult to accept, but sometimes, after a traumatic event, our body and mind don't do what we maybe want them to do. It's easy to say that we would do this or that in such a situation – that we would be ready to administer first aid, or that we would step up and help others – but we never know until it happens. You were almost hit by a car. That can be frightening."

Enji stared at her incredulously. Then he snorted. He couldn't help himself. "This was hardly…," he started, then stopped himself. "I mean, it's not the first time…" Frustrated, he dragged his hand across his face. "I know how to handle difficult situations." He finally settled on that.

Who did she think he was?

But she simply continued to smile at him. "Of course," she relented, but he knew he hadn't convinced her. Finally, she turned to type his last few words onto her computer.

For a moment, the silence was only disrupted by the constant clicking of her keyboard. Then, she stood up and bowed respectfully. Both himself and her colleague followed suit.

"Thank you for your statement. We will call if we have any follow-up questions. Also, I would suggest that you write your own account of the events down for your memory's sake. You might be asked to testify, when this goes to court."

She made to go around her desk to walk him to the door, but he quickly told her that he could find the way himself.

Another half hour later, he paid the cab driver in cash, and turned to walk up the driveway to his house. However, there in front of his house, right below the sad and leafless cherry tree, was where a stranger's car was parked.

He stared at the washed-out blue Fiat. It was a tiny old car, but not quite antique, and it was in bad shape. For a moment, he was hung up on how out of place this pile of metal looked in this upper-class neighborhood. Then, he went back to his initial thought.

What was his stranger's car doing in his driveway? There was nobody around.

Irritated, he opened his front door and slipped inside the house, listening quietly. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't the mild cursing from the kitchen area.

"Damn, what with this chaos? I can hardly turn around here. Give me a second, Sensei."

"Don't bother. I said there's no need." The response came from the living room right next to the kitchen.

He immediately recognized both voices. The second voice was very deep and calm, belonging to an adult man, while the first voice belonged to a much younger boy; much breathier. It was Shoto and Cementoss.

Of course. Shoto still had a key to the house.

Quietly, Enji slid the door to the living room open. There, he could see the UA teacher sitting on one of their armchairs, stuck between the furniture and equipment from the dojo, that Enji had stored here. Cementoss looked up at him.

"Shoto, your father is here," he called out into the kitchen, before standing up and walking around the treadmill to greet Enji.

Enji had no eyes for him. Instead, he was distracted, when Shoto appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.


So, this is the absolute lowpoint. We're finally here. After so many chapters of grinding him down, we're finally at the lowest point. Again, like when he failed to safe Inari, this was something I had to work towards. Going from being a hero willing and able to react at the tiniest incentive to becoming a civilian who's not just begrudgingly accepting that he should not do anything, but also just... not caring to do anything. This is him at his lowest.

I've been told, he needs a hug. So startin next chapter, it will get better! I've gone through a lot of work to deconstruct and grind this man down to his very pathetic and sad remains. Time to put him back together.