Chapter Text
If he were to describe his current state of mind to an outsider, Shoto Todoroki would simply shrug it off as simple indecisiveness. But even he couldn’t even fool himself with that kind of statement.
Should he dwell on his past or move on from it? Should he forgive his father or resent him for eternity? Was his left side a gift or a burden?
It was this conflict that had continuously replayed in his mind, developing further, further, further, until Shoto didn’t know what to think of himself, the world, or everything and anything at all. He was losing sleep.
His entire world was changing, and said changes were happening too fast--no, too late, and Shoto didn’t know what to believe. What he was supposed to believe. He was just too goddamn done with everything, so he decided to stifle his anxiety until he forgot about it all, and was left with nothing but the lively chatter of his classmates, rigorous training from his teachers, and the nagging feeling of his soul and mind pulling away from his body.
Shove it all down until you forget, he called it,
As an effective but very temporary solution, Shoto knows that, unfortunately, it won’t quite do the trick.
This sad truth is only exemplified more and more as the days pass, where Shoto finds time speeding by before it could register that anything had happened.
One moment, he was sparring Bakugo in class. The next, his opponent was angrily cooking dinner, and he was back at the dorms again. The time in between had disappeared.
Why did he feel so detached from everything?
These were all questions that Shoto, unfortunately, did not have the time and energy to answer. And so, he practiced his age-old coping strategy.
He shoves his feelings down until he forgets about it all.
This strategy had held up right until Shoto found himself facing class B, prepared to put his newfound skills to work.
It was a joint training match between the two classes, which would generally be exciting, but Shoto wasn’t feeling the adrenaline he usually did pre-battle.
His temporary solution that has picked the perfect moment to clock out.
He is left defenseless against the cavalry of his thoughts, and so he has nothing better to do other than try his hardest to drown the memories that were slowly swimming to the surface.
He would have to deal with it all later.
But quite frankly, Shoto knows that his efforts will only be futile in the end.
“We’ve apprenticed under the top two heroes, who fought that last battle.”
He knew that these words from his classmate were meant to encourage, not to destroy. But unfortunately, said classmate was unaware of the fact that Shoto’s mind did not want encouragement; while Shoto himself definitely would not have minded some motivation here and there, Shoto’s brain seemed to act as a separate entity to his soul. Shoto’s mind wanted to deliver the biggest ~fuck you~ the universe had ever known by unloading the heavy personal baggage that he had so carefully hidden away onto his tired, tired shoulders.
Today, Shoto’s mind won the battle, and the house of cards that was his mental stability came crashing down in an instant.
There’s no running from me. And no running from yourself.
And so, his mind decided that now was the perfect time for a vacation to the deserted roadway that was memory lane, to unleash the terrors that plagued his childhood once more. Because why not send Shoto through living hell?
Shoto was a stoic teenager, no matter what the circumstances. In battle, he usually stood tall and bold.
But when it came to the battle he faced internally, Shoto was all but helpless.
It wasn’t the first time he had been through episodes of anxiety. Shoto was always trapped in the confines of his own trauma with seemingly no escape. And of course, every so often, a few words could send him back time, to the days where he was trapped in the dojo with his father or burned the kitchen by his mother.
The smallest reminder, even the slightest mention of something related to his past, and Shoto was back to the place that was supposed to be home. But that wasn’t the word Shoto used to describe it. To the bi-colored teen, that place was nothing other than hell.
“Todoroki?”
Shoto snapped out of his thoughts. He was no longer in the dojo, collapsed by his father’s feet; instead, he was with Iida, Ojiro, and Shoji. They were preparing to face class B--yes, that was it--just some class training exercise, he could do this, yes, he could do this-
“Are you okay? You looked particularly troubled for a moment.”
Shoto sighed. After all the time Iida had spent with him over the school year, of course, his classmate would notice something was wrong. Of course, he would figure out that he was in a daze, reliving his past memories again. But now was not the time for this conversation (and it never would be; unless he wanted everyone to think he’s crazy, that is). It was time to show off his newfound abilities.
And just as soon as the battle had begun, a loud crash!! came from the walls, immediately pulling Shoto from his daze.
Or so he thought.
Looking back, he knows that if he had just been a little more focused, then maybe he would’ve made the practical decision to lead with his fire. But as usual, Shoto instinctively led with his ice quirk instead and was faced with a pang of regret.
He was such a fool.
All this training, and he was still nothing more than a child, nothing more than scared creation cowering under his powerful creator-- no, no, he was not in the dojo with his father! He was careless and stupid , letting a little flashback mess with his head.
As expected, class B’s Juzo Honenuki made quick work of his ice, and as a result of his failed first attack, Shoto Todoroki put the whole match at risk.
But rather than making a smooth recovery and getting his head on straight, Shoto made yet another blunder. He gravely underestimated the power of another enemy, foreign student Pony Tsunotori.
Snap out of it, Shoto, snap out of it!
But as his god-awful luck had it, his efforts were fruitless.
He didn’t notice Tetsutetsu seize his face until it registered that he was being talked to, no, yelled at by his enemy. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t a scolding; it was a declaration of power… not his father .
Out of instinct, he prepared to defend himself. Despite reminding himself that he was on school grounds fighting class B, he didn’t feel there . He wasn’t present. And his heart began to race.
He would call it a daze, an out-of-body experience that he wasn’t unfamiliar with. But why did it have to happen now?
He struggled to breathe, struggled to think , so he used his ice once more. It was more of a reminder to himself to snap the fuck out of it!! rather than defeat the enemy. Nevertheless, it was clear that Tetsutetsu was utterly unfazed by his attacks. He needed to think of the battle ahead.
Use your left side! Do it, Shoto!
Even though a chill went down his spine, and fear coursed through his veins (though he didn’t even know what it was that he was afraid of ), Shoto switched to his flames.
“You handle Tsunotori!” Shoto shouted. His ally, Shoji, got the message. At least he was good for something .
Meanwhile, Shoto put as much focus as he could into his fight with Tetsutetsu (although in all honesty, there wasn’t much focus or energy to work with). He just needed some distance, some space for him to collect himself and figure out what to do.
“Do you have any clue as to why I decided to take you on?! Figured it out yet? Cuz your stuff doesn’t work on me!!”
More exclaims of superiority from his opponent.
Today was the perfect day to be stuck in a match against a tough opponent who placed him at a significant disadvantage. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Tetsutetsu rambled on and on, but Shoto was sent away into the depths of his memories once again, only vaguely aware of his opponent bashing his face with iron fists.
One punch.
Raise your body’s heat up to the limit!
A second.
You just haven’t tried!!
A third.
I don’t wanna be the kind of guy he is…
Why did he have to remember that now ?
He just needed something, something to bring himself back to reality.
It’s yours! Your quirk, not his!
Midoriya. Obviously, it was he who would bring him back to the present, always meddling where he didn’t belong. They’d been friends since the Sports Festival, where Shoto was all but saved by Midoriya and was finally able to use his left side.
If it hadn’t been for Midoriya that day, Shoto would have probably been the isolated, lonely boy that he always was, the boy that was cold, angry, and filled to the brim with resentment.
He should thank him sometime.
But thank all the stars above for small mercies, because now, Shoto is able to put aside the demons once more, at least for a few moments.
Feeling somewhat lucid, he raised the temperature of his flames, hotter, hotter, hotter , until he was sure he’d melted the place and fried the cameras.
These flames were not Endeavor’s. They were his own. He would not think of Endeavor.
He would not think of Endeavor.
He grabbed at Tetsutetsu and was suddenly aware of the fact that Tetsutetsu wasn’t just blabbering; he was talking to him . Something about dying during training…? Shoto didn’t know. Or care.
“Listen up! This will end a whole lot worse than just a few burns for you,” Shoto remarked. He knew his words meant nothing. Based on Tetsutetsu’s earlier comments, it was clear that his opponent would win the battle, or die trying.
And of course, Shoto would have to do the same. But the continued exertion of his firepower was too much. His movements were slow, just like when he overused his ice before. Shit .
It had come to the point that no matter how many times he forced his body to stand, it decided not to cooperate. He was so drained of energy and just so damn tired . Dizziness overwhelmed him… that’s right, he needed to cool off. And fast.
But of course, his mind had other plans.
Surpass that limit!
No, not now. He did not need more memories now, of all times. He had to forget about it and fix himself. Faster ...
...too late . The ground beneath him disappeared, and Shoto felt his legs sink deeper, deeper, deeper.
Was this reality? Or was his mind playing tricks on him? No, this was most definitely reality…
His suspicions were confirmed with a shout from Honenuki… what did he say? It didn’t register until he felt a massive, metallic object slam into the back of his neck.
Shoto’s vision swam. His fire was gone, and he felt his eyes slip close, only briefly seeing Iida bolt to intervene. But it was too late. The gnawing exhaustion and fog that played with his mind finally pulled him into the abyss, leaving his vision dark and body limp.
He had failed…
His father was going to be angry…
He didn’t want to train… no more training… please…
Without control over your flames, going all out is dangerous.
If you get hurt that easily, you’ll never be able to surpass All Might!
And Shoto, that child’s side sometimes looks… unbearable to me...all I can see is his father!
Where’s mommy?
Mom?
Shoto’s eyes snapped open with a gasp, and he bolted upright immediately.
“Eat a snickers. Ojiro already had one and is headed back.”
Recovery girl? How did he get here?
That’s right… he passed out earlier. He failed .
“Todoroki!”
An exclaim from Tetsutetsu. Why was he here? The match… was that real? Or just a dream?
“Our teams might’ve tied, but I’m taking this as a loss!”
So it was real. But a tie ?
If Shoto had just been more powerful, if only…
He was too dazed, too stuck in his own head, too out of it to even put up a decent fight. He was an idiot. He needed to train.
If he was going to be a real hero, he couldn’t let personal matters get in the way of his training. He was weak .
A thought had only crossed his mind for an instant, but it left Shoto reeling.
Endeavor had trained him to be more reliable. He was bred to be the cream of the crop. Without that training, Shoto is going downhill.
Now, his father was trying to atone. But what if… his father was right?
No, it couldn’t be, it absolutely wasn’t, but what if he was ?
Maybe he really was a weakling. Perhaps he needed such intense training to even be on par with the others. He was certain Bakugo didn’t undergo quirk training like he had, from childhood, and yet he was just as strong as Shoto himself.
His father had no right to abuse his mother and neglect his siblings. There was no question about it. But what if he really did deserve it?
No, of course, he didn’t. That’s why he was rejecting him. That’s why his stomach twisted into knots just thinking about it. He felt his body pull away again…
It was all… too much. He didn’t want to think about it. And yet, one way or another, he would have to decide.
Forgive his father? Reject him forever?
Did his father have to apologize? Should Shoto be delivering an apology himself?
He wanted this to all go away forever, so he’d never have to think so much, and he could just focus .
He hated his father, but even more so, he hated himself .
“Essentially, if I’d been faster, we could’ve won,” a voice said.
“Iida…” Shoto said upon recognition, slowly pulling out of his thoughts.
“I was still too slow. And utterly helpless against Honenuki’s softening tactics!”
“I vaguely remember you saving me, though?”
As always, helpless little Shoto was not the one doing the saving; he was the one being saved. Not a hero, a victim. Just like he was as a child. He should be ashamed of himself for doing so poorly.
Shoto was filled to the brim--no--drowning in self-loathing. He messed up. He was a screw-up . Another failure.
He didn’t know what to think of himself. About anything. He was exhausted .
No, it was not Iida’s fault. It was his own, for starting with his ice instead of his fire, for getting too distracted and lost in his own thoughts, for daydreaming in battle just as any other neophyte would. He could not afford to bring everyone else down because he was too screwed up in the head.
If you’d come at us hell-bent with your fire, I wouldn’t have been able to fight back!
Failure.
“No, you were plenty fast. I was too slow,” Shoto murmured, realizing his friend had still looked down and dejected. He peered at his left side.
That child’s left side sometimes looks… unbearable to me!
He continued. “I was too slow and it wound up being your problem. I’ve got to become a hero who’s actually reassuring…”
“Nonsense! You? Unreliable? I won’t hear of it-ouch!”
But he is unreliable.
“I’m meant to run towards those in need, whenever, wherever.”
So is he, and he failed.
“Especially since I’m determined to inherit Ingenium’s mantle!”
Another reminder that he, too, must inherit his father’s last name, and his reputation with it.
He was pulled out of his thoughts once again with the swipe of the infirmary curtain nearby.
“Your fire? And your recipro? Those are challenges I’ve yet to overcome. How about a rematch someday?”
Shoto and Iida agreed, and after being kicked out of the infirmary by Recovery girl, the students made their way back to the battleground to observe.
They had just missed Bakugo’s apparent annihilation of Class B, garnering him a devastating 4-0 victory.
And as he watched Midoriya’s match, despite some strange, black electricity seemingly taking him over midway through, his team emerged victorious as well.
Two people he was once on par with have now completely blown him out of the water. He was always failing at everything he tried. He hated everything, and he hated himself.
Because up until that moment, his first year at UA had him faced with one disaster after the other.
He failed to win the Sports festival.
He failed to rescue Bakugo from Dabi.
He failed to earn himself a provisional license.
He failed .
And it hurt to watch the two classmates who he was once on par with ultimately surpass him.
Well, isn’t that a tragedy? Poor little Shoto Todoroki…
The words of the villain replayed in his mind over and over and over again.
It didn’t even register to him that Aizawa had already finished going over the results of the final round of battles. As the remaining students went their separate ways, it finally occurred to him that he too should be going along with them… but his legs were already moving. Where was he going? Where was he ?
He felt his legs give out beneath him as his palms made contact with the floor. All of a sudden, his lungs began to seize and malfunction; he couldn’t breathe. He hastily clawed at his chest, desperate to try something--anything--to make this go away, but his efforts were fruitless. He was going to die.
I can’t raise him anymore .
No, not now.
I want to run away from this life .
Please, make it stop.
And Shoto, that child’s side sometimes looks… unbearable to me...all I can see is his father!
This was his punishment for rejecting his father. This was his punishment for losing the match. This was his punishment for being a failure.
He was going to die, just like he deserved.