Chapter 301- The Hellish Todoroki Family Part 2

Urban areas had descended into chaos. Society hadn't been able to process the destruction from two days earlier, and the small army of villains that had escaped only exacerbated the crisis.

But what the final nail in the coffin had been was the existence of the Nomu. As Hawks had explained to Endeavor, the rumors of the Nomu sightings had spread nationwide, and for a while people approached the topic with unease and skeptical curiosity. The concept of uncanny, zombie-esque beings that could contain more than one quirk being on the loose had been a permanent thought in the mind of society ever since the first attack on U.A. As the rumors grew more and more pervasive, so too did people's fears of such creatures. The frustration had built up so much over time, until it all just exploded at once.

"GRAB THE CASH! THE FOOD TOO!" A familiar water-wielding villain cried. The leader of the Cider House villain team led his men inside a bar, where they broke windows, flipped tables, and destroyed walls to find any useful resources they could. "We get to walk around in broad daylight! Let's use this new gift to build ourselves up!"

"NOT ON MY WATCH!" A gravelly voice called. The bartender had dashed in from a doorway, holding a giant metal machine in one hand, his other hand closed tightly in a fist.

"The civilians're fighting back, huh?!" The leader sneered at the bartender, giving a once-over at the metal equipped to his arm. 'A support item? Didn't think they were so common 'round here!' Before he could retaliate, three more workers had dashed out from the same doorway the bartender came from, each equipped with their own support item. The bartender activated his machine, causing the ends to emit a purple glow.

"We're gonna stand up, and protect our city!" He cried, and soon he and his companions found themselves locked into a battle with the gang.

"Reports of an attack in Shinjuku! It's the Cider House Gang, they escaped from Shian Prison! Get to the scene!" A voice called out on Wash's earpiece. He quickly bolted in the pointed direction, using bubbles on his boots to help him slide faster to his destination.

When he arrived, he immediately took note of the damages. Destroyed buildings, bodies lining the streets with rubble and broken gear. The leader of the Cider House himself was unconscious, leaning against a broken building. If he was breathing, it didn't look like he was getting much air.

Wash approached some gear that was smoking and damaged. He recognized it as one of Detnerat's products- he had been informed of the company's selling of support items for citizens to defend themselves. With their faith in heroes shaken, people had started to take matters into their own hands, and Detnerat was there to help provide. But these were civilians- untrained and inexperienced. Now because of that… The sights Wash took in were sadly not unfamiliar to him. He'd seen it much too often these last couple of days.

"Too little, too late!" A voice called out as a frying pan hit the back of Wash's lid. Quickly lifting the lid to unobscure his eyes, Wash looked as a group of citizens gave him looks of disgust and resentment. Many of them looked wounded, but some were getting others up and off the street from where the fight had just happened.

"We were all just inside waiting it out since we were told we can't leave!" The same voice, belonging to a young man with horns, scolded. There was a mix of fear and anger on his face. "We got caught in the crossfire anyways, and a lot of our people just got hurt! Where were you, Wash?! HUH?!"

Wash almost snapped out a response, but he knew there was no point. These people were afraid, and getting upset with them would only stir their emotions more. Besides… they had a point. If he had just been faster, then he could've prevented all of this. He wasn't a top 10 ranked hero for no reason, dammit! So now he had to do what he could to help these people. Even if they didn't want it anymore.

"Let's disinfect those wounds and get you all to a hospital!" He shouted, collecting soap bubbles from his machine body. There was a lot of work to do… heroes didn't just have to fight villains. They could still rescue others. If he couldn't get the fighting right, he'd be damned if he didn't get the rescuing right. But he knew he was a dying breed of heroes… The number of people who thought like him? Turns out, it was incredibly rare.

"In light of recent events, I see no option but to fall on my sword and resign."

The number 9 hero, Yoroi Musha, had just announced his retirement. He had not been the first, nor would he be the last to do so. However, as a top 10 hero, his retirement especially shook the nation, and the press conference that he had just made his announcement to. Their immediate response was to yell for answers, degrade his character, and throw whatever small objects they could get their hands on at him. Musha just stared out into the audience.

'All I ever wanted was love and respect.' He had built up a small fortune from his younger days, but had continued to serve in pursuit of that love and respect. But those days were over. The threat the world now faced… It was too much for an old man like him.

He was just one of many who had carried out his retirement. Many had wanted to sign up only when a peaceful society was the baseline assumption. But now… for better or for worse, the meaning of the word "hero" was being put to the test.

People even took their resentment out on All Might. Where his famous statue stood in Kamino, where he had taken his final stand against All for One, signs and graffiti coated the monument, reading "I AM NOT HERE". The overwhelming sentiment was no longer that he had done his duty and bowed out respectfully when it was clear he could do no more- it was now resentment for the man who kept everything in line suddenly giving up one day and leaving flawed and imperfect posers in his place. The Golden Era he had worked so hard to create had fallen apart, and somebody was to blame on the hero's side for it.

Walking through the ruined streets, it was almost miraculous nobody stopped him. He was certain people would recognize him on sight, but there was nobody to recognize him. Though given his generic prison outfit, he probably looked like any regular escapee from a distance.

He had been wandering the streets for a while, his bare feet scraping against the ruined streets and rubble of buildings. Perhaps this area had been evacuated already? There were no corpses around, so they probably had a team sweep for survivors and remove any of the dead that may have littered the street.

He had been keeping up with everything since he escaped Tartarus. How the League of Villains and the Paranormal Liberation Front had wreaked havoc on Japan, the many heroes who had died in the efforts to stop a colossal abomination and Shigaraki, and how those who survived were either bogged down by scrutiny from the public or retiring.

It was about time. He knew from the beginning that this backwards society that worshiped heroes like celebrities would suffer at their own hands. The hands that made these people into gods, and the people who abused that worship for their own selfish gain. Now he no longer had to hunt out the phonies. They were all already exposed.

Entering a weapon's shop, he scavenged for anything that could be of use to him. Many of the blades had been taken, no doubt by civilians now wanting to protect themselves. Behind a counter lay a katana, still in its sheath. He picked up the blade and unsheathed it, grinning as he saw part of his reflection in the rusted metal. It had many cracks, but with some proper cleaning it would serve fine as his purging weapon.

Hero Killer Stain let out a low chuckle as he returned the weapon to its sheath. He couldn't give less of a damn if it was Shigaraki or the heroes who won this war- he had his own targets. The many who had turned in their capes and masks, the many who showed no real desire to help souls in need even in the face of great danger- they were now his targets, and there was no shortage of them.

They would pay dearly to return the debt to those who they refused to save.

For as much as the world was angry at hero society in general for everything that had happened, there was one man who was shouldering the most blame- Endeavor.

Enji Todoroki sat in his hospital bed, an oxygen mask and bandages wrapped to his face, and IV drips were being inserted through wires in his arm. His doctor sat next to him, giving him an empathetic look, but Enji only stared down at his lap. He hadn't said a word since he awoke.

"Your son and his friends are mostly out of the woods." The doctor spoke. "Soon you'll be in a good enough condition to move around again too." If Enji heard the doctor, he made no acknowledgement of it. The doctor sighed and sat up from his seat, making his way out the room. Before he left, he gave Enji one last look. "Endeavor… I'm rooting for you." He then walked out the door. Enji continued to gaze at nothing in particular.

'I'm breathing.' He thought to himself. His mind had been blank for the past hour, but he finally allowed himself to think once again. He could tell the anesthesia from his earlier operation hadn't worn off yet, since his mind was still in a fog. Moving his hands, opening and closing them, helped to wake himself up a little. He was alive.

'LET'S TANGO! A DANCE RIGHT HERE WITH YOUR SON, IN HELL!'

Enji shook his head, trying to remove Dabi- no, Toya's- words from his head. The thought had come unprovoked, but he knew that this is how it would be for the rest of his life. He had to think of it more objectively to keep it from paralyzing him.

'He must've known I'd survive this because he knows the sort of man that I am.' He analyzed. He remembered how he froze in place, breath short and panicked, as his youngest son, Shoto, begged him to worry about it later and focus on what was happening. His youngest son… being gripped in a deadly hug by his oldest son… trying to burn him up as he stood and watched.

For the second time in Enji Todoroki's life, his son was in mortal danger at the hands of a villain.

For the second time in Enji Todoroki's life, he stood paralyzed watching as his son nearly died.

For the millionth time in Enji Todoroki's life, he had failed as a father and a hero.

Best Jeanist had managed to disprove part of Dabi's overall claims about the top heroes- Hawks had in fact not killed another hero in cold blood- but that was one of many allegations. The rest of it… it was all true.

'But alas, I was a failed creation. It didn't take long for him to reject me. I was tossed aside and forgotten. Endeavor doesn't have an empathetic bone in his body; at his core, he's addicted to the limelight, a man who wallows in his own small-mindedness and self-importance.'

It was true. Too true. He was reaping everything that he had ever sown.

"I might get to live on…" Enji spoke to nobody in particular, his voice barely above a whisper. He could hear the cries of people desperate to know the truth outside his window. He could barely hear himself, tears welling up in his eyes and he began choking on his own words. "But Endeavor died back there. My son's a mass murder, yet I can't fight him." He tried to blink away the tears, but he could already feel some rolling down his face. A choked sound alerted him to a new presence at his room's door.

"Da-" Shoto choked out, a look of horrified shock on his face. Fuyumi and Natsu stood behind him, similar looks of shock on their faces. An awkward silence followed, save for Shoto's heavy breathing and Enji's hiccups as he held back sobs.

Shoto quickly slammed the door shut.

"SHOTOOOOOO!" Enji cried out, sitting himself up in his bed.

After Fuyumi had managed to drag an awkward-looking Shoto and Natsu into the room (Shoto still refused to look at Enji), they began to speak.

"You're up!" Fuyumi said, her voice slightly wavering. She was trying to stay positive for the family's sake. "We're all together here now, dad!"

Enji coughed, quickly wiping his face before facing his children. Even though he had never felt more scared and vulnerable than he did right now, he still didn't deserve to show that vulnerability to his children.

"Are you all okay?" He choked out.

"What're you, crying? Over what?" Natsu grunted. Fuyumi lightly smacked his arm, but Enji nodded.

"Sorry…" Enji mumbled. "I'm so sorry… I'm sorry…" All three kids started to look at him now, even Shoto. Enji kept wiping at his face, but it didn't matter. The tears had started flowing… he needed to make it stop. But he found himself just letting it spill out anyways… "I didn't realize until now… These regrets, these guilts… it's too late to matter! My heart… It's…"

"What's this about your heart?" A new voice called out. Enji knew that voice. He quickly looked to the door, the wet tears on his face forgotten. A familiar person stood in the doorway, giving him a look of pure determination. She was holding a blue flower. "Those regrets and guilt, the rest of us have held that burden much longer than you have."

"R-Rei?! Why are you h-here?!"

Rei Todoroki moved past her children, marching up to Enji's bedside. The determination in her face never once wavered, her eyes cold and hardened like diamonds.

"I'm here to talk about our family, and about our son Toya."