"We will fight without quirks. I want to test your physical abilities only," Endeavor declares in his typical commanding voice that brooks no defiance.

Arano – Madara – doesn't seem to be intimidated by it, though; instead, he appears anticipatory.

On a rational level, Shoto understands why Madara would be excited to fight Endeavor. After all, he is the number two hero for a reason; he is a capable combatant with and without his quirk. Many would jump at the opportunity to spar with him, though most of those who actually do learn quickly that there is nothing desirable about it. Endeavor does nothing halfway, not even in friendly spars. He is brutally efficient and intense, regardless of the circumstances, and his fists always hit hard and relentlessly. Madara, no matter how skilled, is only a child and will learn that lesson soon enough, as did everyone before him, and his excitement too will turn into trepidation and cowering respect.

Shoto says nothing of it out loud, gives no warning; it wouldn't make a difference anyway. In the training rooms, Endeavor is the sole authority. He dictates whatever happens; his commands are to be followed, and Shoto is only here to observe.

"Are you ready?" Endeavor asks tersely with his arms still crossed.

Madara simply nods and glides into a ready stance on his side of the mats; feet slightly behind each other and ready to spring into action, arms raised in front of him, and fists loose. There were no nervous twitches or hesitant pauses in his movements; they are smooth and precise, executed with an air of effortless grace that Shoto hasn't seen on some fully minted pro-heroes.

Huh. Shoto blinks, taken aback. The boy is only a few years older than himself, but more than comfortable in his current stance, at home almost. He faces Endeavor with an ingrained confidence that must have been gained through hours upon hours of grueling practice, or is the result of an abundance of arrogance; maybe a mix of both.

Endeavor's cold eyes roam over Madara in a critical assessment, not giving away his thoughts, but clearly scrutinizing Madara's every minuscule movement or lack thereof.

A tense silence quickly settles over the training room, as both Endeavor and Madara remain standing unmoving before each other. Shoto knows this tactic of his father; it's meant to unnerve his opponent, to make him squirm under his heavy judgment and become clumsy and awkward as a result. Though, Madara remains still and steadfast as a rock, his gaze unyielding and calm, meeting Endeavor's own unintimidated, which most sidekicks in this agency don't even manage.

Shoto tilts his head in growing confusion, frowning. The fight hasn't started and yet, he's not so sure what he is supposed to think about Madara anymore. Though it's safe to say he is not what he has been expecting. Not that Shoto has a lot of experience with what twelve-year-olds are supposed to act like, but he is pretty sure this is far from it. Madara is too unruffled, too composed for someone who has no prior experience as a hero.

In hindsight, the way Madara had stormed into Endeavor's office without a shred of respect should have been evidence enough, but Shoto had thought that was merely the unabashed audacity of a newly licensed hero riding the high of their recent success. Thinking about it now, though, Shoto had never before witnessed Endeavor being so deliberately looked down upon; in a subtle way, he couldn't even say anything about.

Madara hadn't even acknowledged Endeavor upon entering, was unfazed by his reprimand, and completely ignored him to stare at Shoto instead with those night-black eyes of his - It had taken every bit of Shoto's self-control not to avert his gaze from Madara's, to not hunch into himself in an attempt to hide himself away. Again, he had dismissed it as a rude gesture, but maybe it wasn't simply that, maybe it was something more. Maybe this overconfidence of his is backed up by some skill.

Shoto briefly wonders whether Madara grew up like him. If he is so unimpressed by Endeavor, so self-assured, because he had a father like he does, who had thoroughly beaten every hint of weakness out of him – figuratively or literally. The thought is neither consoling nor comforting to Shoto in any shape or form. The possibility that there is another father, perhaps even another hero, like Endeavor out there, does nothing but fuel the despair constantly corroding his heart and rotting his bones.

Endeavor harrumphs, at last breaking the tension and finally readies himself a few feet across from Madara.

"Start," he announces without warning, and both of them move simultaneously, meeting each other in the middle of the mats in a fury of vicious attacks.

Endeavor is holding back, Shoto observes. As he expected, he only exerting a fraction of his strength and speed. However, he is still relentless in his strikes, steadily pushing Madara back without giving him time to breathe yet recover in between his attacks, but Madara's face remains calm through it all. He is still not panicking, and that causes Shoto to look closer at what is happening, and to look beneath the first layer of appearances.

Even though Madara has been pushed back from the beginning, his movements are still controlled, not rushed or desperate. There is a steady rhythm to them Shoto realizes, a rhythm set by Madara strangely enough. How can that be though?

It takes another minute of observation, but then it suddenly clicks for Shoto. It's possible because Madara is the one actually in control of this situation, not Endeavor, regardless if he is being the one on the defense, busy redirecting and evading. He takes a step back because he wants to, not because he is forced to, he is getting hit because he allows it, and he doesn't strike back because he chooses not to. No, not Endeavor but Madara is leading this almost dance-like performance.

Shoto knows this to be true because he has seen what it looks like when someone is in control of a fight, knows authority when he is confronted with it, and right now Endeavor is not the one pulling the strings, and he doesn't even seem to know it – he would be fuming with rage if he was.

Endeavor is not stupid, far from it, and not easily deceived, however, he is also prideful and egocentric. He is too assured and settled in his strength and abilities to look for dangers at every turn anymore, to be paranoid of everyone and everything on principle alone. Unlike Shoto.

Endeavor is not weary of the underhanded, least alone in the presence of a child. He is not scared of being caught off guard because it doesn't matter in the eventuality that he is; he can steamroll over any threat with brute force if he has to. He doesn't stop to consider that perhaps he is not the best in the room if All Might himself is not present.

Shoto's eyes widen the longer the fight continues before him, the longer Endeavor is led on a leash he doesn't see, but Shoto sees, and that silly little detail, that small, insignificant achievement ignites something inside Shoto he cannot name, bright and warm, and uncontrollable. His gaze trails Madara as he tricks Endeavor, and Shoto's limbs start to shake with a giddiness he never experienced before. It feels like a layer of ice is thawing off of him, making his skin prickle and his heartbeat quicken, exposes him to the sun shining down on him after being frozen for an eternity.

Meanwhile, Madara continues his dance as if he did it a million times before, as if it's instinct more than conscious thought, and it's something beautiful to witness, there is no wasted energy, no spoken words, no grand show; there is only callous calculation and a quiet purpose.

And then the air shifts with the force of a thunderclap. Madara's whole demeanor changes so abruptly Shoto gets whiplash. Gone is the shadow dancing in Endeavor's wake, replaced by a beast that's howling and glaring, its presence alone demanding attention.

Time crawls to a stop and screeches to a halt. Everything seems to move in slow motion, while Shoto's blood alone roars loudly in his ears.

Endeavor's right arm is still outstretched from his last punch, and with a speed he hasn't displayed so far, Madara grabs onto it with both hands, locks it in place and jumps. Endeavor doesn't so much as budge an inch despite the child hanging onto his limb, but Madara is unfazed. He flips midair like he is born an acrobat and uses Endeavor's arm like a springboard to dart into the air. The force of it has Endeavor stumble forward ever so slightly with a perplexed expression that leaves him stunned for just a fraction of a second that feels like an eternity to Shoto.

Madara is suspended in the moment, midair like a bird of prey coming down on its target, leg extended and aimed at his opponent. He is looking down at Endeavor from his position above him, vicious and bloody, while Endeavor is still slightly hunched over, arm outstretched and wide-eyed.

Shoto doesn't dare to breathe, to blink; afraid to break this illusion, to wake up from this dream. He doesn't want it to stop, he decides, he doesn't want to return to reality if this is not part of it.

The frozen image breaks, and time suddenly flows again. A sickening crack echoes through the room like an iron hammer shattering the sky itself; the black, starless firmament that loomed over Shoto for all his life blows apart in a rain of countless shards.

The moment is over when Endeavor catches a smug Madara by his ankle with a white-knuckled grip, dangling him in front of him upside down like a fish out of water. However, Shoto can only stare with pure childish wonder at his father's other hand, clutched over his nose; dripping blood between his fingers, red flowing over his mouth and down his chin, smearing all over the training mats. Because Madara broke Endeavor's nose.

Hope, Shoto thought. He is feeling a glimmer of hope, looking at Madara, who is grinning like a feral beast.

Because Madara made the demon bleed, he clipped his horns. He proved that it's possible, that the demon is not invulnerable.

There is hope on the horizon, a tiny light shining in the far distance; through the cracks of Shoto's prison.

Madara, he decides, is a hero, his hero.

.

.
All in all, the first day had not turned out as bad as it could have been, Madara muses as he exits Endeavor's agency.

The fight with the hero was mildly disappointing, but at least in the eventuality of a future spar, Endeavor won't hold back and underestimate Madara anymore - the broken nose should have ensured that. It also earned him Endeavor's ire and a bruised ankle, but he can handle that. What he cannot and doesn't want to handle is being coddled and looked down on for the next six months of this internship. So, he will call this outcome a win.

"Madara!"

Madara slows his steps, looking over his shoulder, only to see Todoroki Shoto rushing out of his father's agency, running after him.

"Please… wait!" Todoroki shouts again, his short legs carrying him as fast as possible.

Curious, Madara halts and turns around completely to confront the boy, who comes to a stumbling stop before him, panting and flushed with a red hue on his cheeks. It takes a few greedy gulps of air until he composes himself enough to speak up properly. When he does, Madara has to give it to the boy - he doesn't waste time mincing words.

Todoroki bows deeply, right in the middle of the sidewalk, his back ramrod straight, and he nearly shouts, "Please teach me how to fight!"

The sheer intensity of the child's tone surprises Madara. It's not so much the child's capability for such intensity that catches him off guard, but the fact that he is displaying it to Madara of all people, someone he met not an hour ago. Then again, Madara already suspected that there is a rift of animosity between the boy and his father, whose nose he had just broken. So, it was bound to cause a reaction from Shoto. Perhaps his resentment for Endeavor reaches deeper than Madara had initially thought, as there are practically stars shining in the child's eyes as he glances up hopefully at Madara.

It makes his insides twist. Madara is not used to being the one such looks are directed at, at least not from strangers. From Izuna, yes, but he is about the only one who has any admiration for Madara left, and that is a remnant of their shared childhood more than anything else - Obito's expressions are mostly neutral in Madara's presence these days, and he is more than grateful for that development.

Hope and this kind of naive childish admiration directed at him now had always been reserved for others, Hashirama, Mito, and even Tobirama, but never him, and that was fine. Madara's job had been to be the monster lurking in the shadows, to keep everyone in line with his looming presence alone. His task had been to rule the shadows with fear and terror, and he had accepted that – at least for a while. He is not the kind of person you would trust your hopes and dreams with; he is the person you trust if you want to get a mission done by any means necessary.

And yet, this child is bowing in front of him.

"Why?" Madara asks. "Why do you want to know how to fight?"

Todoroki straightens up tentatively, but there is determination burning in his mismatching eyes, a force that had not been there before. "Because I want to be a hero like you!"

"A hero like me?" Madara parrots, nearly bursting out in laughter at the absurdity of it all. The stubborn brat only continues to stare up at him, dead serious, and that has Madara sobering up quickly.

He sighs, deciding to take mercy on the kid and burst his bubble now before he can delude himself further. "I am not a hero. You should find yourself a better role model."

Todoroki frowns deeply offended, balling his fists at his sides. A hint of the fiery temper shimmering inside him leaks into his voice, "That's not true! You are a hero!"

Madara raises an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure? You don't even know me."

"Because I just know!" Todoroki explodes, his volume rising with his righteous anger, earning curious looks from people passing by. "You're not like the others who always smile and look away, or those who are scared of my father and act like cowards around him. Heroes are supposed to help, but they never do, except for you! I've never seen anyone break Endeavor's nose before, and you didn't even use your quirk. You are strong and brave, and I don't care what you say, you're my hero!"

Todoroki is red-faced by the end of his tirade and shaking with the wild torrent of feelings that seem to overwhelm him more by the second.

"I doubt I helped you in any way by breaking your father's nose," Madara deadpans. The scowl on Todoroki's face turns downright murderous, the boy ready to object again – his expressiveness when riled up is rather impressive. Madara continues before he can get back into it though, "However, I suppose I can show you a few things during my working hours if Endeavor agrees."

Anything to reduce his time cooped up in some office. Madara would rather teach this boy than do boring paperwork and useless tasks interns are usually forced to do, and Todoroki seems like the quiet, attentive type; he can work with that – It has nothing to do with the sick dread spreading in his gut the longer he is confronted with those hopeful eyes.

Todoroki's face melts of any negative emotion, replaced by a shy smile that is probably the equivalent of a boisterous laugh for him. He bows again, even deeper this time, "My father will no doubt agree. Thank you, Madara-shishou."

Then the sly little shit is gone, running back to the agency before Madara can protest the title.