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The path diverges in front of Todoroki Enji the first time Touya is admitted to the hospital for overdoing his quirk. He hears the words “more ice resistant than fire resistant” and everything else turns to white noise. The doctor keeps on talking, but Enji doesn’t hear him. He turns to look through the window into the room where his oldest son lies completely prone in bed, bandaged near head-to-toe, unconscious in a medically-induced sleep.
He only had children with the intent of creating a masterpiece - the perfect combination of his quirk and Rei’s in order to counter where he lacked. His flames are hot and, if used to their full ability, can burn even him out. He can overheat. At a mere four-years-old, Touya’s flames are even hotter, but instead of a body that can tolerate such power, he inherited Rei’s constitution instead. While his quirk is even stronger than Enji’s, his body is not. He can’t take it. He will never be the creation Enji desires.
There are a few ways he can go with this: one) have another child, as Fuyumi also proved fruitless; two) continue to train Touya in hopes that he can at least do something with that powerful quirk of his; or three) give up and try something else. The third option is not allowed. Enji has never given up in his life, and he’s not about to start now. He’ll have to think of something.
At any rate, he can’t simply let this go. Even if Touya can’t become a hero, he will have to learn how to control his quirk. It’s too strong to leave untamed. If he doesn’t hurt someone else, he’ll continue to hurt himself. His son repeatedly hurting himself isn’t a good image for the Number Two Hero. He’ll need to keep this under rap somehow - hire a family doctor, sign them to secrecy, only let him push his limit to places he can easily wrap and hide under clothes.
He’s considering how to manage option two while working on one when Touya’s fingers begin to twitch at his side and his eyes flutter open. Rei has vanished to take Fuyumi to the restroom, leaving only Enji to watch as their son struggles to return to consciousness. He should still be out after all the morphin, but what he lacks in strength he makes up for stubbornness. It’s a Todoroki thing. Enji was much the same way at his age, even if he was nowhere near as frail.
To be honest, he’s content to stand back and watch until Touya falls back under without tending to him, but then he sees Touya’s lips move, and every path is laid out before him. Enji stares. His son’s lip move again, the same as before, repeating a single word. It must hurt him to speak - his throat dry, his body flaring in pain, his mind foggy - but he keeps trying.
The path is there and the options are gone. There are only two things he can do now: one) turn and leave, pretend he saw nothing; or two) step into his son’s hospital room.
Enji is not a man prone to kindness or mercy. For however hot he runs, he’s not warm by any means. He is not someone to comfort another person at their bedside. He won’t hold a hand to give them strength. The idea of platitudes irritates him more than anything. Out of all the people Touya should want in that room with him - out of all the people who should be in there with him - it’s not him. He might be Touya’s father, but it’s only by blood and quirk, nothing more. He doesn’t have it in him to be anything else.
If he turns and leaves, the path taken will be easy. He will try again with Rei. They will have another child, and either it will prove to be correct or it won’t and he’ll try once more. She can take it. He will push Touya as much as he can to gain control over his quirk and then set him aside with Fuyumi. As long as he can make sure his oldest son isn’t a complete disgrace to the Todoroki name, he’ll have done some sort of good. This path is understandable. It makes sense.
But if he steps into the room… He doesn’t know what will happen. That path is fraught with uncertainty and confusion. Touya’s lips move even as he closes his eyes and grimaces in pain. His fingers dig into the thin blanket resting over his legs and clench the fabric tightly. What will he do? What will he say? If he steps into that room, will he come out the same man? Change is a beast of its own. He has no time for it. He has goals to accomplish. He’ll already be forced to waste time trying to teach Touya control. Doing more seems absurd.
He doesn’t have to do more. He doesn’t want to do more. He doesn’t need to do more.
He doesn’t need a son; he needs a goddamn successor.
Enji takes a step to the side, fully intent on walking away, when he glances at Touya one last time. His lips have stopped moving and he’s gone utterly still, but his eyes are staring at the ceiling, dimmed like he’s half-dead, not a single tear in them. He knows that no matter what he says - no matter how much he fights and struggles - that door will never open. A hero will never come to save him. His father will never walk through that door like he begged. He will suffer through this alone, as he has since his training started and he tried to hide his weakness to flames.
The door opens seemingly on its own, but Enji’s hand is on the doorknob. He opens the door and he takes the path he can’t possibly understand. There’s a brief moment when he thinks he can back out and pretend like he’s only here to make sure Touya keeps his story straight, but then his son’s head turns and his eyes land on him. He doesn’t cry, but the surprise in his gaze is strong enough to twist a knife in his gut. Touya truly believed he wouldn’t come. He mumbled his name, knowing in his heart it wouldn’t be enough.
What kind of hero ignores the call of a helpless child? Enji wouldn’t pass one up on the street, but he would his own son?
Before Enji can explain away why he’s in the room, Touya fights to push himself upright. The monitor beeps frantically while it registers his rising heart rate and he grimaces in extraordinary pain when he puts too much weight on his heavily bandaged arms, but he doesn’t stop, and Enji doesn’t stop him. Doing so would only humiliate him further. That’s what he sees the most on the boy’s face. It’s not pain or sadness but embarrassment and shame.
“Dad,” Touya says in a raspy voice. The banadages go all the way up his neck. There won’t be any permanent damage to his vocal chords, but it’s possible if he tries to use his flames on his body the way Enji does his. That powerful fire of his is capable of burning right through him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad. I won’t do it again. I’ll be better. I promise. Don’t be mad at me, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be really good. You’ll see. I can be strong.”
Enji stares blankly at his son as he rambles. The shame on his face is hard to look at, but the fear in his weak voice is painful to take. It’s the fear of being abandoned, hated, forgotten, punished. He believes he will be punished for his failures. Now that he knows the extent of Touya’s abilities - of his limits - Enji can train him and push him without landing him in the hospital. He won’t be his successor, but he can still burn like a beacon.
He can still burn.
Touya’s chest rises and falls pitifully as he struggles to breathe through the pain. “Dad?”
He should never opened the door. He should’ve walked away. This child… He doesn’t want to see this. Caring was never a part of the plan. He didn’t have to care in order to train his successor - in fact, it could even be considered detrimental - but to be a father, an actual father…
To be honest, he can’t remember the last time anyone compelled him to do something without asking or showing their worth. By all means, Touya hasn’t done that - he’s proved quite the opposite - but instead of the worthless attempt, the first failure, Enji sees a boy fighting with every last bit of him. He sees a child that was on the brink of death just half a day ago proclaiming to burn brighter.
“You should rest,” Enji finds himself saying, something he’s never suggested before. Touya’s blinking and slightly gaped mouth confirm his own shock over the words. “You need to regain your strength before we can return home.”
“Okay.” Touya slowly eases himself back in bed. He swallows and turns his head away. “Are you mad?”
He should be. He was a while ago. He was brimming to the rim with rage over his son’s lack of strength and the fact that he would need to try again.
“Rest.” It’s not an answer and yet it is more than Enji has ever given Touya. He’s never let the boy rest before, going so far as to make him use his quirk until he passes out on multiple occasions. The fact that he’s allowing it now speaks volumes. It’s only when Touya finally relaxes that Enji realizes he’s held himself tensely this entire time, even before he walked in the room. He was prepared to never rest again. He was prepared to burn.
Enji can’t do it. He has to be better if his son was prepared to do the same. He’s a goddamn hero. He can’t be the villain in Touya’s story, not for anything.