"Where is my son?"

Enji Todoroki knew full well he was striking fear into the heart of the young nurse he was looming over. He also knew he didn't care. If she was afraid, then so be it. He wasn't here to make sure she felt comfortable; he was here to learn of his son's condition. She stared up at him, eyes wide, and he willed the flames of his costume to die down ever so slightly. As little as he cared for fear, it would not do to burn down a hospital in his anger.

"Y-your son, sir?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Shoto Todoroki." he said. "My son. He was admitted to this hospital less than an hour ago, from the UA Sports Festival. I would have been here sooner, but there was a sighting of the Hero Killer nearby. Where is he?"

The woman looked down at her desk, fingers fumbling with a binder full of names. It took her a long moment to find the right page, but eventually she nodded slowly.

"Sh-Shoto Todoroki is in Ward three-one-four." she said. "Being presided over b-by Doctor Hiro Hakane. W-will that be all, sir?"

"Yes." he was already walking away. Three-one-four. That wasn't intensive care, so clearly the injuries weren't life-threatening. A good sign, but how long would that hold up? His hands adopted the shapes of fists as he moved. This… this was a familiar hospital. Rei was somewhere in here, on the fifth floor if he remembered correctly.

Rei. He felt that pang of guilt bite as his stomach for a moment, before he killed it with the fires of his determination. What had happened was tragic. She had scarred their son for life, tried to hurt him, branded him. She had hurt Shoto, his legacy, his only worthy son. For that she had needed to be punished. His anger from that night still simmered deep within him some nights. He had been a fool, but…

It was too late for that now. Enji Todoroki's story was just about ended. Shoto was his last chance at victory over that walking cartoon character who called himself the number one hero. Perhaps when his future was secure… maybe then Enji could bring himself to face the mistakes of his past. Maybe then he could search for redemption of a sort. But first, the future. Always look forward, he told himself. Even if all he could see was that damned red cape fluttering in the wind.

He stood alone in the elevator, having been given space to do so when none of the waiting civilians had stepped in with him. He couldn't blame them; elevators got warm when he was around, even with his fires calmed like this. He ran one hand down the length of his forearm, feeling the taut muscle and scarred flesh, and sighed. Fuyumi had wanted to come with him, but he had refused to pick her up. She was likely on her way as he stood there, taking a cab or sprinting down the street. She was more of a mother to Shoto than Rei had ever been.

Enji clenched his fists suddenly, looking up to the ceiling. What was wrong with him today? He wasn't the sort to spend his time reminiscing on his past in such a melancholic manner. He was Endeavour, number two hero of Japan and its most successful in terms of villains caught and cases concluded. If it weren't for the overwhelming nature of his prime rival, he would be number one! He didn't have time to waste dreaming of what could have been!

It was Shoto's injury, he told himself. His son, his legacy, was injured. He was right to be concerned about it; it might risk Shoto's chances of being number one in the future. Even more so than his childish refusal to use his own fire. Perhaps it was Enji's fault, or perhaps it was simply mindless teenage rebellion with no consideration for the future. The latter wouldn't have surprised Enji all that much; he had been much the same as a student, always brawling and arguing with anybody who challenged him. It was natural for a child to rebel, to try and become their own person.

But Enji couldn't afford to let Shoto change too much. His life's work depended on Shoto's success. Because if Shoto was successful, perhaps then Enji could justify to himself his many sins, and perhaps one day forgive himself for them.

He strode down the corridor, a mountain of muscle and fire. Others stepped out of his way; everybody knew immediately who he was. It was impossible not to; he was the number two hero, a title that ate at his pride every day he held it. He watched doctors, nurses and civilians alike all rush to the walls, looking to avoid him. He ignored them after that, reading the placards beside the doors. Three-oh-nine. Three-eleven. To his right, then. Three-twelve. Three-one-four.

He paused, then reached out, taking the door handle in his hand. It opened smoothly, and he stepped inside, ducking under the doorframe. The room was quiet, sterile white all over. But it was not empty. There was Shoto, laying in a bed, eyes closed. And beside him… long green hair tied back in a simple ponytail and a UA sports uniform. He knew this boy; the one who had outclassed his son in two successive events in the past hours.

Izuku Midoriya. He had committed the name to memory, curious that he didn't recognize the name or face. The name struck a chord with him, something he recalled from his past, but he couldn't quite say why. This was the boy who had come out of nowhere, the ace of Class 1-A, the one some labelled the hero of the USJ incident. Word of mouth told that he had fought off the selfsame monster that had nearly killed Eraserhead, at least until All Might arrived to deliver the killing blow.

Enji stared down at him, and noted that he was staring back, meeting his gaze. Curious. There was no fear in those emerald eyes; only a quiet confidence and a touch of something that looked like anger. Was the boy upset with him? Had he done something to incur his wrath? Odd. He had never seen the boy before today. He still had never spoken with him. Where was that anger coming from?

"You're late." Izuku Midoriya declared. "He's been here alone for twenty minutes. You were at the arena. Where were you?"

Enji's anger flared, but he bit it back.

"The Hero Killer was seen nearby." he declared. "I was asked to investigate."

Why was he justifying himself to this child? He had his reasons, and this boy had no right to question him this way. And yet… there was something in the severity of that gaze, something that made him hesitate in his desire to call this child out for criticizing him. There was weight there, and power. This boy was stronger than Enji knew.

But he was still a boy. Enji stared back, and let his own determination show. The boy held his gaze for a long moment, before nodding down to Shoto's inert form..

"This is your fault, in a roundabout way." Izuku said. "Had he used his fire, he wouldn't have aroused Bakugou's anger, and he wouldn't have clung so much to the power of his Gently Weeps. Bakugou wouldn't have gone so far."

"Watch your mouth, boy." Enji spat. "My son's stubbornness is his own choice."

The boy stood up. He was shorter than Enji by a good foot and a half, but in spite of that he looked as tall as Enji. That confidence, that power… where was it coming from? What had this boy done that had left him so firm in his own convictions? What life experiences could have tempered him this much?

'More than you could know.' answered a phantom voice that sent a shiver down Enji's spine.

Was that a reflection of a man in the window behind Midoriya, standing behind him? Enji whirled around. Nothing but a closed door. He turned back toward Midoriya, who hadn't moved. He stood tall and proud.

"To think that I once looked up to you," Izuku said, voice low, almost… tired? "I thought you were almost on par with All Might. I thought you were a hero."

"I am a hero." Enji retorted, taking a step forward.

Midoriya shook his head.

"Heroes don't scar their wives' bodies and their children's souls." he replied, and Enji felt that same shiver go down his spine again. "Heroes don't scowl and growl as they save lives. Heroes don't inspire fear."

The boy shook his head.

"You aren't a hero." he said, voice as cold as ice. "You're a bully with a superpower."

Enji opened his mouth to retort, but the boy stepped back, grabbing the curtain wear it sat next to the window. He pulled it toward himself, spinning on the spot and wrapping himself up in it. The curtain fell back, and the boy was gone. Enji stared for a long moment, and then narrowed his eyes. Damned warp quirks. His eyes fell to his son, as he put the conversation he'd just had in the back of his mind.

Shoto was asleep, breathing slowly. He looked well… but there were bandages over his ears? What was that about? Had the explosion burnt him? His hair looked untouched…

Enji's eyes went wide. No. Surely not. It couldn't be… but it made sense. Wretched, awful, horrible sense. The bandages, the way he didn't awake during his argument with the boy, the explosion...

'Your fault.' he heard the voice again, whispering in his ear. 'Your sins. Your legacy.'

Enji shouted in rage, and his newly deafened son didn't hear a single word of it.

AN:

Explosions are really dangerous.

Yes, Todoroki is deaf now. This isn't a red herring or a setup for a twist; Bakugou just maimed somebody in a fight. What does this mean? I'm not telling. Just know that this will be the first major departure from canon. It will not be the last. Not by a longshot.

Hope you all enjoyed. See you with the next chapter.