- .My Hero Academia: 180 degrees. -
12. Where Dabi Makes His Demands
The atmosphere in the Todoroki study was heavy with palpable tension, almost tangible. Endeavor, standing in front of his desk, turned slowly, his gaze fixed on his son. His proud stance and imposing presence were all too familiar from previous conversations they'd had.
—Is it him? —he finally asked, his deep voice breaking the silence— The one Hawks mentioned: Izuku Midoriya?
—Yes —Todoroki responded without hesitation, his tone firm, though memories of his conversation with Hawks swirled in his mind.
The tension in the room thickened as Todoroki watched his father sit behind his desk, as if the weight of the upcoming conversation demanded that he be more in control. But despite the calm facade, Todoroki could see the small signs of discomfort in his father: the way his hands clenched into fists on the table or how he avoided direct eye contact.
—So far, I haven't been able to disprove his theory —Endeavor finally admitted, frowning slightly—. The signature on the document he showed us is definitely your mother's... but I ask you to assume he's mistaken. Don't tell anyone for now about these absurd assumptions.
Todoroki frowned. The way his father had emphasized the word "absurd" made something inside him burn. He couldn't hold back any longer.
—Absurd? —Todoroki questioned, his tone rising slightly—. Are you saying that because your pride still doesn't want to believe that my power isn't just like yours?
His father scowled.
—I heard you loud and clear at the precinct that day —Todoroki continued—, but if you have doubts, I'll remind you that any Quirk can take the form you want if you push it for years of unrelenting training!
Endeavor straightened in his chair, his voice resonating with a mix of challenge and conviction.
—Shoto. What I did, I did for your own good as well.
The words hit Todoroki like a slap. The familiar phrase he had heard countless times in his childhood, the one that always justified every shout, every brutal training session, every sacrifice he had been forced to endure.
—For my own good? —he repeated, incredulity dripping from his voice. His fists clenched, anger bubbling inside him.
His father didn't flinch, didn't look away, as if his conviction was unshakeable.
—When you're a hero —Endeavor said— everything will be easier for you.
—Have you even asked yourself if I want to be a damn hero?! —Todoroki suddenly shouted, his voice splitting the air like thunder.
The tension escalated in an instant, both locking eyes with that shared intensity. Endeavor's cold, calculated gaze met his son's, filled with pain, anger, and years of bottled resentment.
And in the midst of that silent confrontation, a voice that belonged to neither of them pierced the room.
—Well, well, it seems like the arguments in this house never end.
The words hung in the air, and both father and son immediately turned toward the computer in the study. The screen, which had previously shown a simple spreadsheet, now displayed someone sitting comfortably in a chair, their face scarred, and their arms marked with burns and old wounds.
Silence fell again, but this time not from the family tension, but from the shock and horror of seeing the intruder on the screen, invading their private space, as if they had always been there, watching from the shadows.
—I think we were in a similar situation last time, though I didn't get to introduce myself —said the individual with a sardonic smile—. You can call me Dabi.
Shoto felt a chill run down his spine. That smile was unnatural, as if his jaw might fall off at any moment.
—And no, this isn't a recording if that's what you're thinking —he continued—. This is a live broadcast, courtesy of one of my associates with a Quirk that can transmit to any computer in the world. Lucky for us, it works both ways. Which means we can see you too. And by "we," of course, I mean her as well.
Suddenly, the image shifted. Shoto's heart stopped for a second. On the screen appeared Rei Todoroki, his mother, sitting in a chair. Her hands trembled, and her wide, frightened eyes were filled with tears. She covered her mouth, trying to hold back sobs, but her pain was evident. She was watching them, though no sound came from her.
—Mom… —Shoto whispered, his voice barely a breath.
Endeavor, his face twisted with rage, took a step forward and, with his fist clenched, shouted:
—Where the hell is she?! What are you planning to do to her?!
Dabi laughed, a mocking sound that echoed in their ears like a malicious specter.
—No need to worry about her well-being —he finally responded, turning his gaze back to the camera—. I'll take care of her as if she were my own mother.
The mockery in his words made Shoto grit his teeth, feeling the anger rising in his throat like an uncontrollable flame.
—What the hell do you want?! —Shoto demanded, unable to hold back any longer.
Dabi smirked, leaning back in his chair even further, as if enjoying every second of the emotional torment he was inflicting.
—All I want is to help —he responded with unsettling calmness.
Endeavor and Shoto stood frozen at that answer. The way he said it, without a hint of doubt, left them uneasy, as if he was playing with their emotions on a level they couldn't even begin to comprehend.
—The way I see it —Dabi continued, with the same relaxed attitude— the central problem here is that Endeavor never knew how to balance his hero work with his family life. And by failing to become number one, he passed that responsibility onto his children. Big mistake.
Shoto felt his rage boiling over, and before he could stop himself, the words spilled from his mouth:
—What the hell does that have to do with you?!
Dabi looked at him with an even wider smile, leaning forward with an expression that bordered on the macabre.
—Oh, it has everything to do with me. —he responded—. I've thought a lot about this issue, Shoto. How to resolve this conflict... and I realized that if Endeavor finally achieves his dream of being number one, he wouldn't have to pressure you to do it. Then, at last, he could focus on being a good father to all his children.
Endeavor let out a low, threatening growl, interrupting Dabi's monologue. He was on the verge of losing control, his fists clenched, his eyes burning with a mix of fury and helplessness.
—I believe in you, Endeavor —Dabi continued, mockingly—. I've always believed you have the necessary power, and you've only lacked the right motivation. That's why I had to resort to such a theatrical kidnapping.
Dabi leaned back even further, relaxed, as if reveling in a masterpiece he had crafted himself.
—And as for the second act, I want...
He began, as the screen changed to an image of a devastated forest, ashes still visible on the ground, as if the place had once burned with fierce flames.
—...you to bring All Might's dead body to this location. I know you recognize it, Endeavor. If you don't, I'd be very disappointed.
Shoto turned to his father, whose eyes were locked on the screen. The recognition in his gaze was unmistakable. He knew exactly where that place was.
—And just to add a little pressure... —Dabi reappeared on the screen, sitting back in his chair with that carefree smile— you have one month. Otherwise, you'll find Rei Todoroki's body there instead.
Dabi let out a laugh that echoed through the room like a sinister echo, and Shoto felt his blood boil. Hatred consumed him.
—You sick, twisted monster! —Shoto shouted, but Dabi simply stopped laughing and looked at him with a serene smile.
—The only monster here is the one who prefers to remain a hero at the expense of his family's integrity —he said seriously, his eyes locked onto Endeavor's, before the screen went dark, ending the transmission.
The silence that followed was overwhelming.
...
Deku stopped scrubbing one of the dishes and let it slip back into the soapy water, watching as it slowly sank.
—Killing All Might... —he murmured, his hands trembling, barely conscious of the weight of those words.
—Are you okay, Midoriya? —asked Todoroki, his voice calm and steady, like an anchor in the midst of chaos.
Deku blinked, shaking his head slightly as if waking from a bad dream. His gaze shifted to Todoroki, filled with deep concern.
—Are you okay? You're the one going through all these terrible things —Midoriya said, his voice trembling with anguish, his hands clenching nervously.
With his characteristic calm, Todoroki reached into the water and retrieved the dish that had sunk. He lifted it slowly, his cold, calculating eyes analyzing the situation almost mechanically.
—As bad as things are right now, —he began, continuing to scrub the dish— it's a relief that Dabi finally communicated and expressed his demands. That gives us clues to continue the investigation.
His tone didn't waver, as if he were talking about something routine. Once he finished washing the dish, he placed it neatly in the drying rack.
—And at least we confirmed that, for now, my mother is still alive —he added, with a calmness that unsettled Midoriya.
Deku stared at him in silence for a moment, his thoughts spinning chaotically. The serenity with which Todoroki spoke was so at odds with the gravity of the situation that Midoriya felt overwhelmed.
—I've always thought it, Todoroki, but now more than ever I admire your ability to stay calm in such a demanding situation —Midoriya admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He lowered his head slightly, as if those words weighed on him—. I could never do that...
Todoroki observed him, and for a brief moment, his gaze softened.
—If this were happening to you, Midoriya, it wouldn't be the same. —His voice was steady, but his words were laced with a bitter truth—. Your relationship with your mother is much closer than mine with mine. I spent many years without seeing her... and while I'm worried, I can't say that I truly know her. Especially now, after discovering she might have done something terrible.
Deku's head shot up, disbelief in his eyes.
—Something terrible? —he asked, incredulity lacing his tone.
Todoroki nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing.
—That's what I wanted to talk to you about…
Before he could say more, the kitchen door opened softly, interrupting the conversation. Fuyumi walked in, holding the phone in one hand.
—Sorry about that. I can finish the dishes now, Shoto. I just got off the phone with Natsuo —she said, then noticed Deku—. Oh! Midoriya, are you staying the night? The last train is leaving soon —she added, glancing at her watch.
—Ah! No, I can't. —Midoriya shook his head nervously— I promised my mom I'd come back after visiting you since I got into that fight at the construction site. If I don't, she might not let me come back—he explained, feeling conflicted. Then, turning to Todoroki, he asked—. Do you think this can wait at least until tomorrow?
Todoroki's mind replayed the memory of his father asking him to wait, and for a brief moment, he felt trapped in the same cycle of decisions that had kept him distant from his family. Had he been too quick to accept Hawks' theory? Had his urgency to distance himself from his father clouded his judgment?
With a serious expression, Todoroki nodded.
—Yes, it can wait —he said firmly.
A few minutes later, both of them were at the front door, seeing Midoriya off as he hurried toward the train station.
—Thank you so much for everything —Midoriya called out, waving as he ran down the path.
—Thanks for coming! —Fuyumi called back from the doorway—. And don't forget what you promised! —she added jokingly.
—I won't! —Midoriya responded energetically, his figure disappearing into the distance.
Todoroki watched the scene in silence, his mind still swirling with turbulent thoughts.
—What did he promise? —he asked his sister, genuine curiosity in his voice.
Fuyumi only smiled and let out a small laugh before heading back inside, leaving him with the sense that, despite everything going on, there were still simple moments that could bring a small spark of light in the midst of so much darkness.
...
—So, you've been bullying the poor quirkless kid again?! —Bakugo's mother yelled, her voice booming throughout the living room—. What the hell is wrong with you?! How hard do I have to smack you for it to sink in?!
Bakugo clicked his tongue in frustration, turning his head away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, while his mother glared at him.
—Like you could actually smack me, you delusional woman! —he shot back, arrogance dripping from every word.
—Actually, it seemed to us that Bakugo took most of the hits —Kirishima chimed in casually, popping another cookie into his mouth, enjoying the chaotic atmosphere as if it were an everyday occurrence.
Bakugo whipped around to face him, eyes blazing with fury.
—Shut up! And who the hell let you into my house?! —he shouted, swatting the plate of cookies from Kirishima's hands, as if that would somehow solve the problem.
Unfazed, Kirishima just smiled. He simply shrugged and grabbed another cookie from the pile on the table.
—I invited him —his mother replied, sighing in exhaustion as she surveyed the mess her son was causing—. You should appreciate what a good friend you have, Katsuki, and invite him over more often. —She rubbed her forehead with a finger, as if dealing with Bakugo gave her constant headaches—. I guess I'll have to call the doctor tomorrow to increase your dosage and try lowering your testosterone again —she added with a smile only a mother could have, laced with a touch of irony.
Bakugo visibly tensed, but before he could protest, his mother continued.
—Now, Kirishima, tell me more about how he kicked my son's butt.
The carefree smile that accompanied her words almost made Bakugo explode.
Kirishima, as usual, kept his relaxed demeanor and, with the same easygoing smile, began recounting the events.
—Well, ma'am...
—The only butt getting kicked around here is yours!
...
—Sorry for the delay, it's just that a lot happened —Midoriya said as he entered his house, still weighed down by the events of the day. He didn't have time to take off his shoes before his mother wrapped him in a warm, yet worry-laden hug.
—W-what's going on? —he asked, surprised by the intensity of the gesture.
—Izuku... —his mother responded, pulling back just enough to examine his face with a maternal scrutiny that missed no detail. Her fingers gently traced the marks on his skin, the scratches on his arms, and the slightly swollen eye that was beginning to turn purple—. Did you really get into a fight today?
Midoriya looked down, suddenly feeling like a child caught doing something wrong.
—Y-yes... —he admitted quietly, unable to hide it from his mother.
She turned away, walking toward the kitchen with a worried expression as she began to speak in a low voice, almost as if talking to herself.
—Oh dear. I thought it might have been a mistake... You've always been so good that I don't know how I should react. At first, I thought I should scold you, but surely you had a good reason or were defending yourself... —she continued, her voice full of doubt—. But on the other hand, I don't want this to become a habit... I don't know whether to downplay it or if I should be more concerned...
Midoriya smiled as he watched her. At that moment, he realized he had inherited from her the habit of murmuring, of reflecting quietly on every little detail. That same ability to analyze every situation, to look for the reasons behind every action, was so deeply ingrained in him that he could now see clearly where it came from.
—Maybe we could use this as an opportunity to talk... —he suggested, walking toward the dining table, his tone calmer, though still somewhat tense.
His mother nodded, continuing to look at him with a mix of concern and affection. They sat down across from each other, the dining table serving as a neutral space where words could flow more calmly.
Author's Notes.-
Your comments are always welcome! Thank you so much for reading, following, and liking. It always makes me smile.