Chapter Text
If there was one thing Todoroki Enji knew he was not, it was a fool.
He had been a fool, once, to be so enamored with her, the woman who had set his life ablaze with her stormcloud silver eyes and flowing, snow-white hair that drifted across her shoulders like banks of shimmering snow in the cheerful gaze of the spring sun. To think that he could save her from the past that she had known. To think that he could keep her grounded and safe with picture-perfect plaits and the comfort of thick wool dresses. To think that his actions wouldn’t have consequences with them.
He had been a fool to claim her for marriage, and even more so to birth those children. They reeked of the same wild, adventurous spirit that their mother had in her youth—their blood simmered just beneath their ice-pale skin with something that Rei had called wanderlust, though Enji knew it better as a death wish.
And it had wrought death.
But as foolish as Enji had been in his youth, he had learned, and he did one thing right, and that was to carve that thirst for danger and death out of his children’s veins.
He had been too late to save his eldest, the perfect, spitting image of his wife, with hair a perfect, porcelain white and eyes so blue that they almost ached to glance into, though he supposed given the boy’s looks, the way that he all but trembled with the weight of the precarious, red-hot danger lust that roared through his bruise-blue veins, the chances that he would be overlooked were slim to none.
Luckily, Fuyumi had been more like him. Her hair was streaked with ruby red, a far cry from Enji’s rust red, but close enough. Her eyes were the same bright silver as Rei’s, but her cautious nature made up for her similarities to her mother. Had she not been a woman, she would have been a fantastic leader—the only one of his children who seemed to be almost completely purged of Rei’s wild, animalistic desires for adventure. For more than Enji had so graciously given them.
He had been overjoyed, at Fuyumi’s birth, at the knowledge that his genes had won out, in the end, at the knowledge that, if he had more children with Rei, he would someday have another son that resembled himself. Unfortunately, that had not been the case.
Natsuo, his second-eldest son, resembled his eldest brother so much that looking at the boy almost hurt. Despite those same ice grey eyes that had frozen over his mother’s face, Natsuo shared his brother’s untameable white hair and unquenchable desire for more, more, always more. He was sarcastic, abrasive, but for some reason pushed his desire to learn to be a healer. He was almost as much of a thorn in Enji’s side as his eldest brother had been, but Enji knew that someday, Natsuo would see the pain that he caused and elect to change. Elect to follow the life that Enji had so lovingly laid out for him in a manner oh-so-clear. The life that would bring the most glory to Enji, Natsuo, and the rest of their family.
Fuyumi would marry soon, Enji was sure of it, once he found the most appropriate match for his most obedient child, his most beloved daughter, one who would most certainly mother a child who would be able to fulfill Enji’s needs, if Shouto failed. But at the moment, Enji was dead-set on convincing Natsuo to marry, once he turned eighteen in July. A wife could mellow a man, Enji knew, and once Natsuo was a father, Enji was certain that he would come to appreciate all that Enji had done and grow that much more obedient to his wishes. Takeyama Yuu wasn’t the most clever match, but she was simple and pretty—sure to be at least a decent mother. And if she wasn’t, well, Enji could most certainly take over the education of Natsuo’s children if it proved to be too much for the boy.
As for Enji’s own youngest son… Shouto was a special case. He was difficult, rebellious, but then again, as Enji had been informed by Sasaki on one of his visits, all teens were bound to be.
Before Sasaki had seen the light and departed to a village without magic, he had cared for a boy in the capital, one with sunshine blond hair and odd, coal-black eyes that glimmered with magic. The boy had suffered rebellious episodes of his own, once venturing against Sasaki’s will to save a young shapeshifter, and worse still, became enamored with the thing and its aura of dark magic. How one could become so infatuated with such a vile creature Enji didn’t know, but Sasaki had maintained that the boy eventually learned to follow orders once he had suffered past his childish rebellion.
Shouto, hopefully, would do the same. That said, Enji dearly hoped that his son knew better than to go chasing after any creatures as repulsive and unnatural as a shapeshifter, and much less to somehow fall in love with the thing. At least, after Sasaki had forced his boy to abandon the creature, his apprentice had apparently followed through.
Enji scowled against his will as a gust of frigid, ice-cold wind, far colder than customary in June, whipped past himself and Endeavor, who huffed loudly.
The odd weather wasn’t necessarily a cause for alarm. These woods were rife with magic. The tree trunks were wide enough that Enji doubted his entire family, even if Touya and Rei were still alive, standing arm to arm could encircle one. According to legend, it had been the land of giants, before the creatures had gone extinct centuries before, and frankly, Enji didn’t find it hard to believe. The remains of the magic that had once flowed through the place like a plague skittered with the dead leaves, so odd weather, strange scents, and even the occasional fleeting, translucent vision weren’t anywhere out of the ordinary.
What was out of the ordinary, though, was the odd passage of time. Time loops were uncommon, usually only appearing when knotted up with the magic of ghost, when the strands of fate were rewritten by a sorcerer. This wasn’t a time loop, though—almost the opposite. Enji had departed early enough in the day to get to Sasaki’s village by early evening, but by the looks of the distant, blurred moon that glimmered high above the trees, it was now close to midnight.
Endeavor huffed again, soon coming to a complete halt.
“Go.” Enji clicked his tongue sharply as he dug his heels into the beast’s sides.
Endeavor shifted from foot to foot, until suddenly, a bone-chilling howl swept through the woods, and the horse bolted.
Enji clutched the reins for dear life as he pressed closer to the beast’s back. The howling morphed into growls, barks, snarls as it approached closer. He dared not look down or around, his father’s warnings about the creatures who could turn you to stone with a single glance echoed through his ears.
His blood sprinted ice-cold through his veins as slithering, chirping, and roaring joined the medley of grunts and screeches behind him, and something dug its claws into his back with a yowl.
Enji barked out a cry as red-hot pain sparked through his nerves and blood splattered to the leaves. He jabbed his heels harder into Endeavor’s sides as the horse screamed and hurtled over a fallen tree, the tar-black of the bark blurred by the movement.
Suddenly, a bucket of ice water was dumped over Enji. It was the only rational explanation for that—that sensation, that fleeting cold that clung to his bones like wet clothes to a body—
Immediately after this first realization, Enji came to a second. All of the noise that had surrounded him not two minutes before was gone. Evaporated.
He turned his head as slowly as could be, blood still roaring in his ears as he glanced behind himself.
There was nothing behind him. He had known—he had felt—hot blood coursed from the wound in his back, so something—something had—
His breathing was ragged, pained, as he turned back ahead. The creatures would be back, he was sure, just disappearing to get his guard down. “Go.”
Endeavor started again, though considerably slower than before, no matter how harshly Enji dug his heels into his sides or yanked on his reins. Suddenly, he stopped short.
“Go,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at the reins. When he glanced up, the breath was promptly knocked from his lungs.
One of them glimmered just in front of him.
A will-o'-the-wisp.
The sight of one wasn’t too unusual—they hovered in the woods just outside of the village, glimmering a ghostly white, just barely blue within the shadows that clumped beneath the trees. They avoided people, when they could, rumors abounding that they were scared of light and noise, but when they did approach humans… the tales were never good. Some said they were an omen of death, others said they brought disease or misfortune to any who wandered too close. Enji didn’t believe any of it, not really, but one thing was clear, in all the tales that he had heard.
To follow one meant death.
“Leave, beast.” he snapped, his breathing still ragged from the chase.
As the wisp tilted its head, a blast of bone-numbingly cold air washed over Enji.
“Go,” he spat, his teeth chattering now. “Go, you vile creature.”
The wisp made a sound that sounded almost like a mix between the chirp of a bird and grinding, rust-coated gears as something deep in Enji’s chest froze solid at the sound.
“I said go,” he roared, clamping down on the tendril of fear in his chest. “Disgusting creatures like yourself have no business with me.”
“Disgusting creatures, huh?” An unfamiliar, airy voice called out suddenly, as bright and warm as the June sun glimmering on the river. The malice in it was slight, only perceptible if the listener was on their guard, and even then, chances were slim. “Not very nice. Dontcha think maybe you should apologize?”
Endeavor whinnied nervously as Enji scanned the shadows of the forest for the voice. It sounded human, but that was no guarantee—some sort of shapeshifting creature would explain the noises that he had heard. Such creatures were barbaric, inhumane—toying with their food didn’t at all seem unrealistic.
Enji was no fool, but he was a proud man.
“I don’t apologize to such beings as that,” he sneered. “Monsters like that don’t deserve my time.”
The unfamiliar voice hummed. “Hm. Ya know, I make it a habit to patrol around here. Keep a lookout for potential dangers. Honestly, you don’t strike me as much of a danger, but damn if you’re not disrespectful. You ever hear of basic manners, or…”
“Who are you, boy? Stop toying with me,” Enji snapped.
Another voice, this was far higher and distinctly feminine, giggled. “He’s one of your monsters, of course!”
“Shut up, Himi.” A third voice, this one low and rough as charcoal, washed over Enji. It was familiar, chillingly so, but Enji couldn’t place how he knew it. “I’ll enjoy this.”
Blue flashed in front of Enji’s eyes, and the last thing he registered was the heat.