"Fire doesn't surrender," Enji lectured. He met Touya's eyes across the dojo and gave her an approving nod at the ramrod-straight posture.

"Fire doesn't surrender," she echoed.

"If our flames cannot burn through an obstacle, they will burn around. Block our path; we'll send sparks into the air to begin a blaze anew. Fire will always find a way." Hellflame flickered auspiciously in his iris.

Enji grinned. "That is the true meaning of Endeavor: the life of an eternal flame. My flames nurture life, vanquish evil, and represent an undying example of strength. Tell me, Todoroki Touya, what will your flames represent? Hope? Power? Fortitude? Wit?"

Was this supposed to sound antagonistic? Touya blinked - the braid on her head was much too tight and it pulled the skin around her eyes - but she remained silent. Enji... wasn't looking for an answer. He didn't want her to speak. Not yet, at least.

"I want you to prove it to me." Enji spread his arms. The flames cloaking his shoulders spread across the entirety of his upper body - a challenging dip to his brow. A challenge. An invitation to demonstrate her worth. A trial.

"Prove it?" Touya repeated.

(What are you planning, Todoroki Enji? Failure is not an option. You're challenging my potential? My power? My fortitude? My wit? I will be the victor of your challenge.)

"I want you to prove that you're worthy of wielding those flames."

Not the words she expected, but if fiction becoming reality had taught her anything, it was to prepare for such things.

Her eyes flickered. Everything up until now had been a test. Words in front of Nanami, posture in the dojo, emotions she allowed on her face - all of it was a test. To prove herself worthy of inheriting his power. Enji wanted to raise somebody more powerful than himself and wanted her to pass his final test. Riddles? A fight?

Touya set her jaw. "How do I prove myself, then?"

"I expected you to ask about what would happen if you failed," Enji observed, bringing his hand to his chin.

"Knowing would be pointless," she countered. Had everyone really called Todoroki Enji thick? Perhaps his sharpness fell with age; the Enji she spoke to now was undoubtedly sharp. "I won't fail." Touya glared, mostly to herself - it the first line that came without thought of consequences. "What do I have to do?"

Enji frowned at her either her choice of words or her tone. Touya's mouth twisted when he adjusted his posture to hide the fact - her body was getting tired of standing upright for so long. Luckily, the tension in the room fizzled out when Enji broke eye contact.

"...Walk with me," he said, leading her out of the dojo without another glance.

Any influence on the path of conversation was negated by her literal toddler mouth, and while her Japanese was undoubtedly good for her age, it wasn't enough to change him. Not yet.

A deep breath was all it took for the tension to snap out of her like a cord. "We're not going to fight?"

"Did you think that I would throw fire at a toddler before they even knew what fire was ?" Enji scoffed, and okay, that would've been valid if she were an actual toddler, "your flaunting at the Specialists' Office showed that you must have a scrap of knowledge in advance. You've got a head on your shoulders. I hope you like physics."

It took skill to insult and praise a person in the same sentence. Touya ignored the jab and followed him into the hall. "We're going to study."

"You're going to study," Enji corrected. "Nothing is learned by taking a path another has walked. Your Oka-san and I have already discussed your education." Another turn past the kitchen. "And, for formalities sake, I'm going to ask for your opinion."

Formalities. "You've already decided."

Touya could see how Dabi had cracked under pressure. Enji wasn't trying to soften his words - it wasn't likely that he ever would, either - and, to a child who had done nothing but admire him through rose-colored glasses, it would've been easy to doubt his intentions... or she was overestimating how much he really cared about his children. She hoped that wasn't the case.

It wasn't ideal, but Touya doubted her relationship with Enji would ever be normal. She had to make it work; gain his trust, inherit his power.

She didn't have a choice.

"Correct." Enji stopped outside the door to the library. "The decision has been made with your best interest in mind. We didn't feel the need to ask."

"...Didn't need to ask?"

"Would you like to attend kindergarten?" Enji's that-was-a-stupid-question look burned through her skull. Touya couldn't even be mad - he was just that good at insulting people.

"No," she frowned. "It'd be a waste of time."

"Exactly," her father hummed, looking the slightest bit amused. His somber look had completely disappeared, oddly enough. "We wouldn't have sent you to it if you had shown average development, either."

Touya closed her eyes.

She had faith in her work ethic, but doing nothing but studying for weeks was going to drive her stir crazy. Reading was something she enjoyed, but she itched to move; burning the house down because she got bored was not a good idea, contrary to the voice in the back of her head. It was the same part that wanted to rip her hair out and run away because she didn't want to be a fucking hero -

Enji nudged her into the library. The room, much like the rest of the house, was dimly lit and kept its oriental and neutral-themed colors. She would've appreciated the ambiance more if there wasn't a line of books for her to read and a distinct sting behind her eyes. "Thank you, Otou-san," she managed, watching his shadow nod in the candlelight. The door slid closed and Enji's footsteps faded down the hallway. It was the first moment Touya had alone in weeks and her legs gave out on reflex.

She took a shaky breath and ignored the distant cackling in the back of her head.

Failure is not an option.