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Todoroki Enji does not consider himself an overly dramatic man.
And yet what else is there to do when his son doesn't make it home after school one day besides to fly straight to UA with the force of his flames alone and blast straight through the teachers room window bellowing “SHOUTOOOOOO!!!” all the while.
It is a powerful image he invokes, he is sure. What with the rain of glass and the roaring flames of his facial hair, and his impressive glare besides.
“WHERE!” he shouts, his flames rising and falling with his every inhale and exhale like the badass hero that he is. “IS! MY SON!”
Present Mic looks up from his computer screen and cups a hand around one ear. “Sorry? You say something?”
Eraserhead lets out a world-weary sigh and silently reaches over to turn Present Mic’s hearing aids back on for him.
(Somewhere behind Enji, a conversation starts taking place between Thirteen and Cementos about the tiny cracks in the wall left behind the window being blasted inward.)
Enji pays it no mind though like the proud number two hero that he is.
“Todoroki isn’t here,” Eraserhead gruffs, turning to glare at Enji with gleaming red eyes that immediately extinguishes his distinguished facial hair of flames. “He left the school grounds shortly after school ended.”
Enji immediately moves one of his large hands over the bottom half of his face. If anyone were to see the similarities between Eraserhead’s homeless aesthetic and Endeavor’s own bare-bones scruff, he would never live it down. If only he were capable of growing a beard!
(“Even cracks as small as these can weaken the structural integrity over time,” Cementoss murmurs to himself as he studies the minute fractures with an air of seriousness at odds with the severity of it all.)
“What do you mean Shouto isn’t here!” Enji snaps at Eraserhead, the words slightly muffled behind his hand but still loud enough to drown out the unimportant words coming from behind him. “He was supposed to have returned home hours ago! If he’s not here then he must have been kidnapped! How could you let this happen!!!”
An emaciated blond man that Enji has never seen before in his life ducks his head down into his paperwork as if trying to appear smaller. Naturally Enji zeroes in on him like a hound on a scent.
“You! You know something don’t you! Shouto is–”
“Oh Todoroki?” Present Mic cuts in, head tilting to one side as he taps one finger to his chin in thought like the overly dramatic man that Enji is not. “Didn’t he leave with some of his classmates today?
(“They’re just tiny little chips in the paint aren’t they?” Thirteen murmurs back, studying the remains of the window instead. “They don’t need to be treated half as seriously as replacing the glass. That’s the real pane.”)
Enji scoffs. “Shouto would never skip out on training! And certainly not for his classmates!”
“You gotta chill out man,” the overly dramatic blond draws, flashing double finger guns Enji’s way with an ostentatious wink behind his sunglasses. “The listeners are probably hanging out, detoxing from the day. Hero training is killer enough, what kid would wanna go straight home for more?”
Enji narrows his eyes. “If Shouto were indeed to have lapsed in judgement and gone out as you say to ‘hang.’” The word drips from his mouth in clear disgust. “Then answer me this. Why have my calls gone unanswered???”
He holds up his phone to reveal the call logs screen, where no matter how long he continues swiping, the repetitions of unanswered calls to a contact named SHOUTO never run dry.
“Is that… all from today?” the strange blond whispers.
(Cementoss finally looks away from the minute fractures in the wall to stare at his colleague with a solemn expression. “My dear Kurose. Cracks… Must always be treated seriously.”)
Eraserhead yawns, long and pointed, before fixing Enji with a dead tired look. “Maybe he fell asleep.”
Enji scoffs so hard this time he chokes on his own spit. “F-Fell asleep!” he splutters through a throat that burns. “As if he isn’t getting the exact amount of sleep he already needs!”
The hero teachers don’t say anything else, staring at him evenly until even the great number two hero Endeavor starts feeling uncomfortable.
Enji coughs once to cover it like the smooth guy that he is.
“Fine then. Since so many esteemed heroes such as yourselves are assuring me of his wellbeing I shall take your word for it.” He turns to go like the magnanimous man that he is before turning back one last time. “Mark my words! If anything happens to Shouto…”
He leaves the threat hanging to inspire a sense of dread and not because he couldn’t think of a suitable threat that wouldn’t get his hero license revoked.
He also leaves through the door this time– out of consideration for Cementoss and his efforts to fix the window like the considerate hero that Enji is– and not because Eraserhead hasn’t blinked yet and subsequently returned his quirk to him, thank you very much.
Silence falls once the flame hero leaves.
It is Present Mic who finally breaks it, because of course it is.
“So uh… should we be concerned? I mean I did see Todoroki get yoinked off his feet on his way off grounds today…”
All Might chokes on his drink, rapidly inflating to his hero self even as he continues pounding on his own chest. “Wh-Why didn’t you say anything sooner???” he yelp-rasps like the big lovable hero that he is.
“It’s fine,” Eraserhead cuts in, taking a long noisy sip from his coffee thermos like the exhausted teacher that he is. “It was just Sero’s tape after all.”
As one they all nod knowingly and get back to work.
(Save, of course, for Cementoss who is far too busy taking his crack seriously.)
Shouto wakes slowly feeling languid and warm and better rested than he’s ever felt before in his entire life.
There’s a warmth against his back, fingers carding through his hair, and for a moment Shouto is so damn comfortable that he can’t even remember how he got here.
Just a single moment though, because how could he forget drudging his way home through a haze of all-encompassing exhaustion, the rising dread of needing to somehow find the energy for training making his steps heavy and slow until they’re practically dragging audibly against the ground.
And then.
The tug of a familiar wrapping of tape around his waist as he’d been all but lifted off his feet to snap back into a familiar set of arms.
Shouto had blinked up at him dumbly like the exhausted hero student he was. “What are you doing Hanta?” he’d murmured tiredly.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Hanta had grinned. “I’m kidnapping you.”
It’s the same grin that he has on his face now as he notices Shouto’s eyes are open.
“Hey there sleepyhead,” he murmurs, leaning forward to nuzzle their noses together. “Had a good nap?”
“Yeah,” Shouto hums, lifting his own arm lazily so he can ruffle Hanta’s hair. “A kidnap.”