Enji Todoroki burned. It was a simple fact of life. Of course, there was his quirk, Hellflame. But Hellflame alone didn't constitute even a small fraction of how much passion ran under his skin. Emotions fueled him, just like his flames. His life was a roaring challenge towards tomorrow, and that kind of challenge took fire. He burned today, although different from normal. Today his muscles were lava and his bones were magma. Scrapes, cuts, bruises, and first-degree burns littered his body. It was par for the course for a flame hero to work with firefighters. Rarely, however, did infernos of today's scale occur in the city.

He was immune to just about the hottest flames. Fire danced on his lips, for gods' sake. The heat had never been an issue to him, except in the direst of circumstances. Today, however, a massive factory burned to a crisp. It was a disaster; the fire had been so hot that the supports had turned into little more than puddles. That kind of heat would kill a normal man to just look at it. For him, it made him stumble standing within it.

It'd been a rough patrol; eight hours of straight crimefighting and disaster control took its toll. The only thing keeping him on his feet was the piping coffee in hand and the knowledge of his futon being a two-minute walk away. He was borderline asleep when his front door slid open in front of him, revealing his…eldest, second, and youngest keeping the company of someone he was very familiar with.

"What the hell?"

All parties, his bubbly daughter included, seemed to freeze at his presence. He looked between the five people in his mudroom, drinking in every detail. The children all had a different look on their face, but across the board, he could see their fear. At him, for the most part; although the Midoriya boy seemed more blank than anything. In shock rather than scared.

His oldest son, after a moment, shifted gears. Hostility seeped into every bone in his body, warping and shaping his posture into pure defiance.

"What the hell is right, old man. What are you doing here? It's only seven." Natsuo said. Enji grunted. It didn't fill his heart with joy to see his child acting out, but he couldn't blame him for being angry. Enji was angry himself, after all. Still, for the principle of it…

"Your father is home from work. Show some respect." He said. Enji could see how his entire face shifted, turning ugly as he clenched his teeth. Sipping his coffee, he shooed off his son while looking towards the Midoriyas.

"Be angry somewhere else, boy. What's going on here, Shoto? Finally following an order, huh?" Enji said, giving his youngest a brief look before zeroing in on the Midoriya boy. The kid was a short thing with big, tired eyes. Relatively athletic, if his collarbones were anything to go by. Lopsided posture. His eyes trailed down to the way his arm lay stiff at his side. Prosthetic?

The unfamiliar woman—his mother, by the looks—stepped in, covering her son's left flank. Protective, and unhappy by her expression.

"You weren't supposed to be here," Shoto said, and it was all Enji could do to not roll his eyes. His most defiant child by far, even if not the most outspoken. Also his most foolish, if he understood the situation. Trying to sneak the target of his interests under his nose? Perhaps they might've been successful if they'd accounted for all the variables. Namely, luck. A strong man never forgets about luck.

"Midoriya," he said, allowing his voice to drop an octave or three. "I've been meaning to reach out, but I thought having Shoto do it would be more appropriate. It seems my foolish son has helped me out in that regard."

"I didn't mean to—" Shoto started, but a waved hand silenced him. The room dropped a few degrees at his interruption. Endeavor flexed a little under his suit, returning the temperature to normal—above normal, in fact.

"Of course. Still, for bringing in guests without my permission, I suppose you could've done worse than the Midoriyas." He said, turning his gaze back to the mother and son. Many brats were starstruck by his appearance, but his presence seemed to have the opposite effect on the child. He seemed struck by something, but he doubted they were stars. Their shoes were on; they seemed to be on their way out. His neck itched where molten steel slapped him earlier.

"Mr. Todoroki," Ms. Midoriya began, stepping forward. The woman was tiny, only a bit taller than either of their young sons. Still, standing next to her felt like he was looking at eye level instead of his waist. "I've recently come into the understanding that you've been asking after my son quite often; and if your older son is to be believed, excessively at that. I would like a word."

"Of course," he said. "Fuyumi, you are dismissed. Shoto, head to my study. We'll be having words after this."

Enji downed the last of his coffee before they even reach the kitchen; he makes a perfect throw into the nearest trashcan as he passed. He'd been waiting on this conversation for months, and deep-tissue fatigue wasn't going to stop him. It never had before.

Izuku Midoriya, the boy who All Might sacrificed himself for. The boy who destroyed the Musutafu Park. A brat who'd jumped a live gunman, had a panic attack on a train, and was studying quirk theory unofficially at the second biggest quirk university in Tokyo. Really, the fact no one besides Nighteye had noticed the kid by now surprised him. An almost perfect candidate, minus his arm.

He takes them further into his home, not bothering them to take off their shoes when he himself hadn't. Fuyumi could handle a bit of scuff on the tatami mats. With Shoto and Fuyumi accounted for, he led them to where he knew Natsuo wouldn't loiter.

The doors to the training grounds slid open, revealing a spacious, stone room on the ground floor. He stepped over the occasional red stains, encouraging the Midoriyas to avoid them. On the opposite wall to the door were a table, chairs, and a refrigerator. Another chamber held the weights. He sat at the head of the table, furthest from the fridge, while mother and son sat next to each other opposite him.

Easing himself into his mahogany seat, he let out a mute sigh. It was the first time he'd sat down since noon. His spine felt like lead; heavy, poisonous, and cumbersome. Rolling his neck elicited six distinct pops. Worst of all, his shoulders felt like charcoal, and someone had held a match a little too close. Enji's age had never felt more apparent.

His overcoat sat on the back of his chair, relieving him of another layer. He rolled up his cuffs and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. No soul would blame him for getting more comfortable in his home, even with guests. He leaned into his elbows, threading his fingers together.

"So. My sons have notified you of my interest. Anything to offer that before we continue?"

"S-s-sorry." The younger of the two said, mumbling into his chest. Izuku Midoriya, the project of Sir Nighteye. The only sidekick of All Might to ever live. The only man worthy to stand at his rival's side had taken on a student. To what extent did Nighteye and Izuku Midoriya's relationship extend? Did it exist before the fallout of All Might's death? If it did, what would that mean for Midoriya's relation to All Might?

"What are you apologizing for, boy?" Enji asked. Ms. Midoriya put a hand on the boy's shoulder, steadying him like Enji's word had shaken him.

"We ate your food and entered your home without permission. P-please d-don't punish Shoto. He w-was just being nice…" Izuku said, voice cracking. Ah. A logical deduction, that he was mad. A right one, at that. The only problem being his anger's target.

"I could care less about eating dinner in my home. Shoto's fate does not rest on a dinner invitation."

"O-okay." The boy said, his eyes still locked on the table. His mother coughed into her fist.

"I think we deserve an explanation, sir. It was a shock to learn that Izuku had grabbed your son's interest, let alone your own. Especially as it seems the two are independent. So, Mr. Todoroki. Please explain." She said. A bandage on his waist pinched his abdomen. He scratched it as he recalled how he'd come to this situation.

His lust for recognition had led him to terrible places. Places he still visited, at times, but never at which he stayed for long. Of course, the most important of which were long gone, but there was room for improvement in what remained. What could be salvaged. Fortified.

The world needed that; fortification. Japan more than anywhere else. Izuku Midoriya just so happened to be what he was looking for, alongside his son. All Might had been a smug bastard, but he did a damn good job at keeping the peace. With him gone, the heavy hitters needed to find kids like Izuku and Shoto to make up for it. It was only down from here, after all.

"Being the number one hero affords one luxuries that are unexpected. One of which is having free reign over any classified information. I first heard of your son upon his accident; a civilian quirk exerting that amount of energy by accident is a big deal. Following that, I discovered his involvement with Mirai Sasaki, as well as a few… other details in the meantime." He said. He omitted how the boy had been the one on the news with All Might, and his more recent incident at the train. Just about every run-in the boy had with the hero world was on record somewhere. All it took to find it was to throw his weight around.

Ms. Midoriya seemed to roll that around in her head. He could feel how her foot tapped against the leg of the table; she was nervous, but he couldn't tell from what. Enji didn't give a damn about the train incident; he understood accidents happened. He wouldn't give a brat shit for poor quirk usage; wouldn't that just be the most hypocritical thing? The woman leaned into her son, whispering in his ear. After a silent conversation where she seemed to be the only one communicating, she turned back to him.

"Understood, sir. However, I'm still confused about the actual motive. You've explained the how, and now I want the why. Izuku, you're welcome to excuse yourself." She said, gesturing for her son to leave. Enji couldn't understand why the boy would leave, but had he decided to, Enji would've done nothing to stop him. The boy somewhat complied at first, standing into a half crouch before freezing. A million things seemed to go through his head before he slowly lowered himself back into his chair. Ms. Midoriya appeared surprised and concerned.

"That is simple, ma'am. We," Enji began, glancing at Izuku and then back to her. "Are in poor times with me at the helm. The Era of Peace is over, meaning everyone up top has to keep their eyes peeled for fresh talent. Blowing up a forest on accident was strong evidence in his favor."

Ms. Midoriya recoiled like he slapped her. Izuku actually looked up, surprised.

"My son lost his arm in that accident, and all you see is "fresh talent!?" She said, standing to her full height. She only barely meets his eyes despite him sitting down. It felt like he was craning his neck to see her.

"The classified information I read skimmed over that aspect, I admit." Enji turned to the boy, whose look had warped from borderline fear to something far more subdued, even allured. "I'm… sorry for your loss. Your spirit seems fierce, however. Tell me, are you Nighteye's apprentice?" He asked. At being addressed, Izuku turned his whole body to Enji, straining against the limits of the stiff chair. A light seemed to gleam in the boy's eyes, which'd remained hidden under his bangs until now.

"I… uh… I-I guess you could call me that. You aren't…?" The boy said, trailing off before he could finish his question. Enji waited a moment, but when the boy wasn't more forthcoming, Enji continued.

"Interesting. You could call Shoto my apprentice. I don't have as much… time these days, " or ruthlessness, he thought, "but I still train him personally most days of the week. Ultimately, I wanted Shoto to invite you to one of those sessions. If only to confirm your power." He said. It seemed his statement, a grand offer to most, send the mother and son in opposite directions. Ms. Midoriya seemed to tense up, becoming tighter and tighter in her posture till she was borderline stone. His words scared her, he realized. Of what, he couldn't be sure.

Izuku Midoriya was the opposite. He seemed to unravel, his core wound so tight that it only became apparent after he relaxed. Every millisecond Enji had seen Izuku, the boy had been on the brink. All the way up until his last words, the boy seemed like he was about to fall apart, and it was only clear because Izuku suddenly seemed like he wouldn't. His eyes softened, his shoulders slumped, and a sigh escaped his lips. Even a grin had snuck onto his face.

"Is that really it? I'm not… in trouble?" He asked, his voice light. Enji nodded; really, the boy should've expected this. Blowing up a forest on accident was exactly the kind of firepower the country needed without All Might. Logically, even if people had been in danger, no harm came to them. The country desperately needed that kind of firepower with the Symbol of Peace, and sacrificing a bit of forest to find it was a fair trade in Enji's books.

Still, the boy's previous misgivings and obvious apprehension spoke volumes of his experiences. Putting the pieces together was simple for a man like himself. Terrible trauma, physical, spiritual, and emotional; all of it intertwined and rooted deep in the boy. He could tell at a glance. Enji, however, was different than many men like himself. He was intimately familiar with these terrible feelings. He'd spent many years under the same roof as them, to his chagrin.

"Are you worried that I'd… hold some sort of grudge? For what happened?" Enji said, waving his hand in a vague manner, as if gesturing to the boy's memories themself. The loose Izuku Midoriya reverted for a moment, returning the boy to the brink.

"M-m-may-mayb-be…" Izuku said, his eyes a little too cold for a boy his age. Enji, as a citizen and as a hero, had seen that look a thousand times. Haunted, paper-thin, on the edge. He'd seen the look in survivors of terrorism, on those the deceased left behind, on officers who'd been on the force for too long. He'd seen the look on Rei after Touya fell apart. Survivor's guilt.

In a burst of, perhaps inappropriate, fatherly feelings, Enji stood up and walked to Izuku's side, placing his large hand on the small boy's free shoulder. Ms. Midoriya leaned in, as if he would hurt the boy. It was clear to Enji now why the boy seemed so jumpy.

"He may be gone, but nobody will ever forget him. You least of all. You want to be a hero, yes?" Enji started, a smidge blunter than appropriate. He weathered Ms. Midoriya's glare. Izuku gave a single, sharp nod. "Thought so. Then remember this. The world needs more, stronger heroes, and fast. I will keep this country afloat until your generation is ready. Should Nighteye permit it, I would have you join Shoto for a session. What say you, Midoriya?"

The fog lifted from Izuku Midoriya's expression, and that was that.

[x]

Enji let his head rest against the door to his study. He could hear Shoto pacing in the room, bored and agitated. The Midoriyas had left a few minutes ago, draining much of the mental stimuli he was in desperate need of. It'd been a good talk, if unexpected. His body was closing in on total shutdown; every inch of him was begging for sleep, but he cast his body's protests aside. He still had things to do tonight.

Turning the knob, Enji slipped into the room. Shoto froze, standing near a lamp he must've been fiddling with. Both males walked to their respective seats, with Enji careful not to get too comfortable in his; he couldn't risk falling asleep. Both boys gave each other stern stares, neither happy about the meeting. Shoto, because agitation dripped off him coming in and he disliked sharing a space with his father. Enji, because he felt like he'd already gotten his lashings today and Shoto's actions today couldn't be left for tomorrow.

"You invited the Midoriya's here. I'd tell you "good job" if you hadn't tried to pull a fast one on me." Enji said. Shoto shifted in his seat, his hands gripping his pantlegs as he glared at Enji.

"Whatever. What is this about?" He asked. Enji let the question hang as he considered it. It'd become more and more apparent, at least to Enji, that he had no idea what to do with his son. Without All Might, his desire to forge a warrior to beat him had dwindled to nothing.

Perhaps, one of the reasons he'd been so interested in Izuku Midoriya was that very reason. His life had flipped upside down ever since the man's death, and discovering the boy had been the catalyst of that change drew his attention.

Another could be the obvious hero material. The boy's quirk was still a mystery, but whatever it was, it had some high horsepower. It was the kind of power that the Commission was lusting after, the kind of power that Japan needed in the coming times. He doubted it came close to Shoto's potential, but if the boy learned to channel his strength, he'd certainly crack the top ten, maybe even revolutionize it.

Finally, maybe a small part of him was reminded of his youngest son. Wildly powerful, scarred, and prepubescent were the first to come to mind. If the two maintained a track to heroism, it was entirely possible that they'd end up in the same class.

In him asking Shoto to become acquainted with Izuku, he'd been doing many different things. Sticking his nose into someone else's business, firstly. The boy was Nighteye's project; he had no right to swoop in and cultivate him, nor the time to do so. He couldn't help himself, however. What could he say? He had an eye for power.

Second, he'd been trying to give Shoto the push he needed to change. Enji wasn't a moron; he had millions of things to atone for, chief of which was his youngest. He'd forced his child to slave away for a dream that died before he even had hair on his balls. Vast corrections needed to be made to set him straight. He would not lose another son.

Shoto needed to be a hero; he was built for it, atom by atom, but Enji was tired. Tired of forcing his son to do his bidding. Tired of lying to the world. Shoto needed to be a hero, but on his own terms. Enji hoped reaching out to a peer of his would be the right kind of push; indirect, but calculated.

"Well? Are you gonna say anything?" Shoto asked. Enji started, brought out of his musings much too abrupt. Flames flickered on his lips.

"I invited Izuku Midoriya to a training session. He seemed pleased by the invitation." Enji said. Shoto scoffed, his upper lip curling in a way that reminded Enji of a mirror.

"Why?" Shoto asked. To what, he couldn't care less.

"It doesn't concern you, boy. Izuku will tell you his answer two days from now, next you see him. One more thing." Enji said, pausing to study his disgruntled son. "You will not lie to me again. I do not care if it is a cover-up or a white lie, you will tell nothing but the truth under my roof. Dismissed."

His last word sent Shoto straight to action, ripping free of his seat and storming out of the room. The boy only slowed at the threshold, where he hesitated while looking down the hall to something Enji couldn't see. After a moment, the boy continued his angry march out.

Enji leaned into his seat for the first time since sitting down, allowing his shoulders to hit the cushioned back of his expensive furniture. His vision swam, warping enough that his depth perception felt awkward. Sleep was a seductive mistress, but he was a married man.

Hobbling to the door, he turned the opposite way Shoto had gone—straight to his chambers. Turning to the hall, however, proved a more intense task than he imagined. At the end of the hall was a sentinel, white-haired and angry. Natsuo leaned against the door to Enji's room, his fists clenched like loosening them spelled his death. Enji straightened, taking the challenge head-on.

When he was face to face with his oldest living son, he stopped. Enji said nothing, just crossing his arms and waiting. Natsuo was his mouthiest child, and he doubted he'd be kept waiting. That assumption was correct.

"What the fuck did you do to that kid? I saw the way you touched his arm. You aren't a dad, Endeavor. Especially not to that Izuku kid." Natsuo said through gritted teeth. Enji grunted. So, Natsuo had done a bit of spying.

"I am your father, boy. Do not patronize me under my own roof." He said, low and with a hint of Endeavor slipping through. Natsuo's balled fists pointed down as he got into Endeavor's face. He wasn't as tall as him yet, but he was getting close.

"Quit playing the good dad. You're fucking not." Natsuo said, before storming away, not unlike his brother. Enji, or maybe Endeavor, watched his son walk away until the man was out of sight. Only then did he open the door to his personal room and relax. The bed tugged at his soul, begging and screaming for him to lay in it, but Enji denied it once more.

Methodical and slow, Enji Todoroki slipped off his watch, placing it on the counter. One by one, he put his outer clothe away and his under clothes into a hamper. Now in a bathrobe, Enji slipped to his knees before his bedside table. The cushion kept his knees from aching, but helped little to steady his posture. Still, he was careful and controlled as he unfurled a piece of reed-paste paper and uncapped his inkwell.

Enji Todoroki burned, that was a fact of life. Another fact was that he was a mediocre man and a bad father. One more fact? He missed his wife.

A fine-tipped brush dipped into his inkwell and danced across his paper as he wrote Rei another letter she'd never read.

[x]

"Roll that by me one more time, Midoriya. I didn't have my glasses on; I couldn't hear you." Nighteye said. Izuku had burst in this morning and headed straight for him. It'd been a surprise; he'd been radio silent for a few days. Usually, they kept in touch often enough, but this week he'd been surprisingly quiet. All he'd asked of Nighteye was to give him a free day so he could go to a dinner.

So, when the boy had come in and splurged about every thought in his head at once, Nighteye had slowed him down. Putting a steadying hand on Izuku's shoulder, he leveled him with a calm look. Izuku took in a big breath, before letting it all loose again.

"So I went to Endeavor's house because I'm friends with his son and he invited me to dinner but I didn't want to go because Endeavor's been kind of stalking me apparently but I couldn't really say no so when we went we had a good dinner but Endeavor showed up as a surprise and we talked and it turns out he didn't want to thank me for his promotion or blame me for the thing and he actually invited me to come again do a practice session with his son my friend and I kind of said yes so how would that work?"

Gran Torino whistled behind him.

"I—uh, I think we could figure something out." Nighteye muttered, dragging a hand down his face. It was too early for this shit.

[x]

AN: Yo. This is the last of my bulk-written chapters again, so expect another slight delay. Sorry for any poor quality, my temper has been short with this chapter ever since I began thinking about my Eragon fanfic again. As it turns out, I've lost dozens and dozens of thousands of words worth of work on that thing, and the fate of those lost words rests in the hands of a technology department I have no faith in. I'm kinda bitter about it. It was fully outlined, thought out, and I had been several chapters deep at the time of losing it. This is free writing, which is my worse skill. I was very proud of that fic, given it was within my favorite style of writing.

Review.