Chapter Text
The first week of working full-time at Endeavor’s agency was already testing Touya’s patience. Apparently graduating from U.A and earning his provisional license wasn’t enough to escape his old man.
He’d simply traded one classroom for another.
Only now the lectures came between patrols.
“…and if you’re going to use Flashfire that close to civilians” Endeavor said, his voice as steady and immovable as bedrock. “think before you ignite.”
Touya didn’t even bother looking up from where he lounged against the conference table, arms folded loosely across his chest.
“I did think.”
“You clearly did not.”
“They weren’t on fire.”
A heavy silence settled over the briefing room.
Endeavor slowly crossed his arms, broad shoulders squaring as he fixed his oldest with the same unrelenting stare that had intimidated villains, sidekicks, and reporters alike.
Touya had long since become immune.
He rolled his eyes with theatrical exaggeration.
“They’re fine.”
Across the room, Burnin let out a undignified snort, nearly sending coffee over the rim of her mug.
“He’s got you there, Boss.”
Endeavor didn’t spare her so much as a glance.
“They’re fine because I intervened.”
Touya clicked his tongue.
“See?” He spread a hand toward his father as though presenting evidence in court. “Teamwork.”
Burnin barked out a laugh.
“You’ve been here four days, and you’re already impossible!”
Touya’s grin came easily, crooked and unapologetic.
“Learned from the best.”
For a split second, the room felt noticeably warmer.
The flames dancing across Endeavor’s shoulders flared brighter, crackling with enough heat to make the air shimmer before settling back into their usual controlled blaze. Without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and strode from the briefing room, each heavy footstep echoing down the hallway.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence lingered for exactly one heartbeat.
Then Burnin doubled over laughing.
“Oh man…” she managed between breaths. “Yeah… I can definitely tell.”
Being a pro hero was… different.
Not easier.
Not harder.
Just… different.
U.A had done its best to prepare him for hero work. Endless lectures about public image, crisis management, media etiquette, paperwork—especially paperwork. Every graduate swore the teachers were exaggerating.
They weren’t.
If anything they’d undersold it.
The last month had been a blur of early mornings and late nights, patrol routes that seemed to stretch across the entire city, stacks of incident reports that somehow multiplied the moment he finished one, and interviews with reporters who all seemed determined to ask the exact same questions in slightly different ways.
Touya had quickly learned that being a hero wasn’t just about catching villains.
It was smiling for cameras after a twelve-hour patrol when all he wanted was a shower and a hot meal.
Remembering the names of reporters who would undoubtedly interview him again next week.
Signing autographs for excited children while pretending not to notice their parents taking pictures from a respectful distance.
Living every moment under someone’s watchful eye.
It was...
Weird.
Really weird.
“You know they’re staring again.”
Burnin’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Touya glanced sideways as they made their way through the crowded streets, weaving effortlessly between office workers rushing for their break, and civilians who instinctively stepped aside when they recognized heroes walking past.
“I have blue fire,” he replied with an easy shrug. “People stare.”
Burnin gave him a look over the rim of her sunglasses.
“That’s not why.”
He sighed through his nose.
“…Yeah.”
He knew.
It had taken less than a week for the headlines to begin.
ENDEAVOR’S SON MAKES PROFESSIONAL DEBUT.
PYRE JOINS THE NUMBER TWO HERO’S AGENCY.
IS THE NEXT GENERATION OF FIRE HEROS HERE?
Every article seemed to begin the same way.
The eldest son of the Number two hero…
Endeavor’s successor…
The Todoroki prodigy…
Rarely did they start with his own accomplishments.
Not that there weren’t any.
Over the last month, Pyre had helped dismantle a smuggling ring operating out of Yokohama’s industrial district. He’d pulled three civilians from a collapsing apartment building before the firefighters had even arrived. Just last week, footage of him diving headfirst though an inferno to rescue a trapped child had spread across every major news station.
People had noticed.
Children waved excitedly when he passed.
Adults stopped asking if he was Endeavor’s son and started thanking him for the rescues they’d seen on television.
Some even called him by his hero name.
Those were the moments he preferred.
Burnin nudged his shoulder with her own.
“For what it’s worth…”
He glanced sideways once again.
“You’ve been doing good.”
For a moment, he simply looked at her.
Then he let out a quiet huff of laughter.
“You trying to get sentimental on me?”
She groaned dramatically.
“Oh, don’t ruin it.”
“I’m just making sure.”
Burnin rolled her eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t disappear into the back of her head.
“The headlines started because you’re Endeavor’s kid.”
He didn’t respond.
She wasn’t wrong.
He’d known exactly what people would see when he debuted.
Not Pyre.
Not the rookie who had spent years learning to master flames that his body was made to wield.
Just…
Endeavor’s son.
Nepotism at its finest.
“But…” Burnin continued, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “…they’ve kept going because you’ve proven you deserve them.”
The words caught him offguard.
Burnin, who was known for being boisterous and unserious, was being sincere.
For a moment, Touya’s usual smirk faltered.
Only for a second.
“Yeah?”
Burnin grinned wider.
“Yeah.”
Touya looked away, scratching absentmindedly at the back of his neck.
She laughed.
“…Don’t tell the old man you said that.”
“As if he’d ever let me live it down.”
The conversation drifted away as naturally as it had begun.
The walk back to the agency settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of footsteps and the distant hum of city traffic.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Touya shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his gaze following the crowd without really seeing it.
There was something he’d wondered for years.
Something he’d never felt was the time to ask.
“…Can I ask you something?”
Burnin glanced over.
“Shoot.”
“Why are you still here?”
She blinked.
“…Here?”
“At the agency.”
He gestured vaguely toward the skyline, where the familiar glass tower rose above the neighboring buildings.
“You’re strong enough to open your own place.”
He shrugged.
“Hell, you’d probably do great.”
“So why stay?”
“Why put up with the old man’s shitty attitude?”
Burnin was quiet.
She didn’t answer right away.
She kept walking, eyes forward, thoughtful.
Long enough that Touya wondered if she’d simply decided not to.
Finally, she released a slow breath.
“… He wasn’t always like this.”
Touya frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“I joined the agency years ago.” Her voice softened, touched with the weight of old memories. “Back when he was still climbing the rankings.”
She smiled faintly to herself.
“He was intense back then too. Competitive as hell. Worked harder than anyone I’d ever met.”
She chuckled.
“And yeah…still a pain in the ass.”
Touya couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.
“Some things never change.”
“No,” She smiled. “Some things don’t.”
The smile lingered only for a moment.
“But…”
She looked ahead, eyes distant.
“…he laughed.”
Touya brows knit together.
“He joked around with the staff. He celebrated big arrests. If one of us got hurt, he’d be the first one at the hospital.” She paused. “He cared.”
The city noise seemed to dull around them.
“Then…” Burnin continued quietly. “… his obsession with beating All Might started consuming everything else.”
“The closer he got to Number one… The more everything else slipped away.”
Every word landed heavier than the last.
“It wasn’t overnight.”
“It was the little things at first. Longer hours. Less patience. Fewer smiles.”
She shook her head.
“Then you were born.”
Touya looked over.
“For a while… I thought getting married and having kids brought him back.”
A sad smile crossed her face.
“And it did…”
She folded her arms across her chest.
“but then…”
She didn’t have to finish.
Touya knew.
The pressure at home.
The impossible expectations.
The family that had slowly begun to crack beneath the weight of one man’s ambition.
Burnin sighed, her expression hardened.
“I’m not pretending he didn’t hurt people.”
Her voice was firm now.
“He did.”
“And he made choices I’ll never agree with.”
Touya stared ahead without saying anything.
“But after…” she hesitated. “…after the fire.”
His chest tightened.
“And after, Shoto’s accident…”
Silence stretched between them.
“I started seeing pieces of the man I’d met all those years ago.”
She glanced toward Touya.
“The one who sat beside your hospital bed every night.”
“The one who nearly worked himself into the ground making sure they’d never be another accident like yours.”
“The one who finally looked at his family and realized what he’d almost lost.”
Touya swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat.
Burnin offered him a small, melancholy smile.
“He’s still an ass.”
A reluctant laugh escaped him.
“Yeah,” Touya muttered. “That’s putting it nicely.”
“But underneath all of that…”
She tipped her head back, looking toward the darkening sky stretched between the city’s buildings.
“…I still think there’s a man who wants to be a good hero. Who is a good hero.”
A pause.
“And maybe…”
She closed her eyes and turned back to look at him.
“…a better father.”
Touya didn’t answer.
He wasn’t sure there was an answer to give.
Instead, he buried his hands deeper into his pockets and continued walking beside her. Wondering if she was right.
By the time they returned to the agency, the afternoon sun had begun its slow descent toward the skyline.
Golden light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching long shadows across the polished marble lobby. The rush of the workday had settled into something quieter. Phones rang less frequently. Sidekicks filtered in and out with the easy exhaustion that followed a day’s patrol.
The receptionist looked up from her desk and offered them a polite smile.
“Welcome back.”
Touya returned it with a lazy wave before making a beeline toward the elevators.
All he wanted was to get changed, head home, and forget paperwork existed for the rest of the evening.
He’d barely taken three steps.
“You’re late.”
Touya stopped mid-stride.
Of course.
With an exaggerated sigh, he turned on his heel.
Endeavor stood near the entrance to the briefing room; arms folded across his chest. Gone was the imposing hero costume that usually made him seem larger than life. In its place as a crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, and dark slacks.
It should have made him look less intimidating.
Somehow…
It didn’t.
“For what?” Touya asked, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice.
“Your mother expects us home for dinner.”
Touya blinked.
“…Dinner?”
Endeavor regarded him with the same expression he reserved for particularly obvious questions.
“At six.”
Touya drifted toward the oversized clock mounted above the reception.
It was 5:42.
“We’re eighteen minutes early.”
“You still need to drive home.”
“… You timed that too?”
“I estimated.”
Touya stared at him for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“That’s somehow worse.”
Burnin covered a laugh behind her hand.
Endeavor ignored the exchange, his gaze shifting toward her.
“Be here tomorrow at six.”
Her posture straightened instinctively.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll be leaving here to U.A”
“The sports festival?” she asked, curiosity immediately replacing the amusement on her face.
Endeavor gave a single, curt nod.
“I want to review this year’s pool of future heroes.”
Touya frowned.
That was… unexpected.
As far as he could remember, his father had never shown much interest in U.A’s Sports Festival. There had always been highlights on the news, reports from scouts, rankings to review after the fact. He’d never needed to sit in the stand himself.
The only exceptions had been Touya’s three years competing. Having never missed a single event.
Touya had always assumed it was because he was his father.
Now, listening to him speak so matter-of-factly about evaluating future heroes.
Maybe there had been more to it than that.
Or maybe the old man had simply decided to start taking scouting more seriously.
Either way…
It was strange.
“Touya will be joining us as well.”
The words pulled him from his thoughts.
The young hero groaned loud enough that several nearby sidekicks looked up from their conversations.
“Do I have to?”
Endeavor met his gaze without the slightest hint of sympathy.
“Yes.”
“I’ve already graduated.”
“I am aware.”
“I’ve seen the Sports Festival.”
“You competed in it.”
“Exactly.”
Touya spread his hands dramatically.
“You’ve seen one Sports Festival, you’ve seen them all.”
“No.”
Endeavor’s answer was immediate.
Touya blinked.
"...That's your argument?"
"It is."
He frowned.
"I could be doing literally anything else."
"You'll be observing."
"I can observe from my couch."
"No."
"You know, most people ask before making plans for someone else."
"I already have."
"...When?"
"I'm asking now."
Touya let out a long, theatrical groan that echoed through the lobby.
"This feels less like asking and more like kidnapping."
Burnin snorted.
“I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
She offered Touya a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as she headed towards the locker rooms.
“Try not to complain the whole drive home.”
He offered her a crooked grin.
“No promises.”
Burnin shook her head, laughing to herself as she disappeared down the hallway.
The silence inside of Endeavor’s car lasted a total of three minutes.
Not because neither of them enjoyed it.
Because they were both stubborn enough to see who would crack first.
Touya lasted exactly one traffic light.
“This is stupid.”
Beside him, Endeavor didn’t so much as glance away from the road. His hands remained steady on the steering wheel as the evening traffic crawled through the streets of Musutafu, the rhythmic clicking of the turn signal filling the brief pause between them.
“No,” he said evenly. “It isn’t.”
Touya slouched farther into the passenger seat with a exasperated sigh, letting his head rest against the cool window. The city blurred past in streaks of amber and glass, the setting sun catching against skyscraper windows until they burned like mirrors.
“I already went to UA.”
“I am aware.”
“I don’t need to spend my day watching a bunch of teenagers punch each other.”
“You’re nineteen,” Endeavor answered without missing a beat. “You’re hardly far removed from them.”
Touya clicked his tongue.
“Semantics.”
“And they’ll be doing considerably more than punching each other.”
Another dramatic groan escaped him.
“I could be sleeping.”
“You could.”
“Or training.”
“You can afford to miss a day.”
Touya turned so quickly he nearly pulled something in his neck.
“What?”
For the first time since they’d left the agency, Endeavor spared him a glance before returning his attention to the road.
“You heard me.”
Touya stared.
Several years ago, hearing those words from his father would have been unthinkable.
There had been a time when missing a single afternoon of training would’ve been treated like a wasted opportunity. Every hour had mattered. Every drill could be refined. Every weakness corrected.
Now…
Endeavor was telling him to take a day off.
Touya folded his arms across his chest.
“I could be literally anywhere else.”
The corner of Endeavor’s mouth twitched.
Barely.
“You’ll survive.”
“Oh, now you’re making jokes.”
“I made an observation.”
“Sure you did.”
The comfortable irritation settled between them like an old habit.
Not hostile.
Just familiar.
Touya watched pedestrians drift along the sidewalks outside, their conversations muffled behind the closed windows. Office workers hurried toward the train station. Parents walked hand in hand with children still wearing tiny yellow backpacks. A pair of middle school boys argued animatedly over a hero ranking magazine while waiting for the crosswalk to change.
Normal.
For someone whose childhood had revolved around training schedules and recovery sessions, normal still had a way of catching his attention.
“I don’t even know why you care so much,” he said after a while.
This time, Endeavor answered without hesitation.
“Because it is my job to know about the next generation of heroes.”
“Every year,” Endeavor continued. “the sports festival introduces students who will become tomorrow’s heroes. Some will disappear after graduation. Others will become names everyone in the country knows.”
He paused only long enough to change lanes.
“My job is to know the difference.”
Touya remained unconvinced.
“So?”
“So…” Endeavor finally glanced at him. “Whether you choose to remain at this agency or build on of your own someday, you’ll need to learn the same.”
Touya raised an eyebrow.
“Learn what?”
“How to recognize potential.”
The answer was simple.
Yet it lingered in the quiet car long after the words had been spoken.
Endeavor’s gazed remained fixed on the road ahead.
“A strong hero isn’t measured solely by their own ability.”
Touya frowned slightly.
“They’re measured by the people they surround themselves with.”
The words caught him off guard.
He’d expected another lecture about strength.
About discipline or responsibility.
Instead this sounded suspiciously like advice.
“You’ll spend your career working alongside heroes you’ve never met before,” Endeavor continued. “You’ll lead teams. Coordinate rescues. Trust strangers with civilians’ lives.”
His voice remained calm, carrying none of the sharpness it once might have.
“If you can’t recognize capability before it’s obvious, you’ll always be reacting instead of preparing.”
Touya rested his elbow against the door, propping his chin against his fist.
“Sounds boring.”
“It isn’t.”
“No?”
“No.”
Touya studied his father’s profile in the fading light.
He’d noticed something over the past month.
Endeavor still spoke with absolute certainty, but the certainty had changed.
It used to sound like commands.
But now.
More often than not.
It sounded like experience.
It was hard to argue with.
Still…
He wasn’t about to admit that.
“So I’m spending my Saturday watching first years and second years beat each other unconscious because it’s educational?”
“There’s one second year who’s caught the attention of several agencies.”
Touya blinked.
“Oh?”
Endeavor gave a slight nod.
“A fire quirk.”
That earned his attention.
“Another one? Don’t we have enough of those?”
“Burnin has taken a liken to this one, and even I have to agree last year they showed potential.”
Touya rolled his eyes and huffed, thought this one lacked the bite of earlier complaints.
“Well… I guess I can spare one day.”
A low huff escaped Endeavor.
It wasn’t quite a laugh.
But it was close enough that Touya noticed.
He smirked to himself before looking back out the window.
“Guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
The familiar iron gates of the Todoroki estate rolled open with a quiet hum, revealing the long stone driveway beyond.
The house sat exactly as it always had, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Golden light caught against the broad windows, turning the exterior almost amber, while the carefully kept gardens along the walkway swayed gently in the breeze.
Home.
Touya climed out of the car, rolling one shoulder before the other as the stiffness from the day’s patrol settled into an ache between his shoulder blades. He reached for the back of his neck, stretching muscles that had spent the better part of twelve hours carrying civilians, chasing villains, and listening to Burnin complain about paperwork.
Before either of them reached the front steps, the front door swung open.
“There you are.”
Rei smiled from the doorway, one hand still resting against the frame, the other smoothing absentmindedly over the apron tied neatly around her waist. The smell of dinner drifted out to meet them, rich with simmering broth, roasted vegetables, and steamed rice.
For a moment, Touya simply stood there to breathe it in.
There were some things about home that never changed.
Thankfully.
“Good Evening,” Endeavor said as he stepped inside.
The sharp edge that had clung to him throughout the workday softened almost completely. His shoulders lowered just enough to notice, the rigid posture of the Number Two Hero giving way to something closer to a husband returning home.
“Welcome home,” Rei replied, her smile softening.
Touya didn’t bother with formalities.
He slipped past his father and ducked his head just enough for Rei to wrap him in a quick embrace.
“Hey, Mom.”
She laughed softly, squeezing him once before letting him go.
“Long day?”
“You have no idea.”
“I think I can make a few educated guesses.”
“I got lectured.”
“How am I not surprised?”
“Twice.”
“Now I am impressed.”
Touya couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
His stomach growled loudly enough that all three of them heard it.
He looked down at it as though betrayed.
“…Okay, maybe I’m starving.”
“I thought you might be.”
Rei’s smiled widened as she turned toward the dining room.
“I’ve made enough for seconds.”
“You’re my favourite person.”
“I certainly hope so.”
She had barely taken a few steps before Endeavor spoke again.
“Where’s Shoto?”
Rei paused.
“He finished with his tutors about half an hour ago,” she answered, nodding towards the back of the house. “He’s in the training room.”
Endeavor gave a single nod, already turning toward the hallway.
“I’ll get him.”
Touya watched him disappear without another word.
Then he sighed.
Of course.
He loved his little brother. More than anything.
But sometimes…
It was hard not to notice the difference.
Things had changed after the accident.
The fire in the forest had forced everyone to confront a truth none of them had wanted to admit. Touya’s body had limits, and no amount of determination or training would change that. Instead of demanding stronger flames, Endeavor had done something Touya never expected him to do— he’d looked for another answer.
Doctors. Quirk specialists. Researchers from across the country. Anyone who might understand why Touya’s body burned itself apart every time he pushed too hard.
It had taken years of trial and error before they finally discovered a solution. Not a cure, not a miracle, but a path forward. By learning to regulate the temperature of his own body rather than simply increasing his output, Touya had eventually awakened the dormant ice within his quirk. It wasn’t nearly as powerful as Shoto’s, but it didn’t need to be. It gave him balance. Control. For the first time in his life, his flames felt like something he commanded instead of something he survived.
Shoto’s story had unfolded differently.
He was still the prodigy. Still the child born with everything Endeavor had once dreamed of—a perfectly balanced fire and ice quirk that should have eclipsed every hero who came before him. His days were carefully divided between private tutors, combat lessons, and hours of training with their father.
The pressure wasn’t what it had been years ago. Endeavor no longer barked impossible demands or pushed until exhaustion became routine. He explained. He encouraged (in a roundabout way of course). He listened more than he used to.
But expectations had a way of lingering, even after they softened.
Touya had lost count of how many times he’d argued Shoto deserved a normal childhood. Afternoons making friends instead of perfecting combat drills. Every conversation ended the same way.
“I’m preparing him for his future.”
Maybe Endeavor believed that with every part of himself. Maybe he was right.
Touya still wasn’t convinced.
Rei stepped quietly beside him, her gaze following his toward the now-empty hallway where Endeavor had disappeared.
“You know…” she said gentely, a knowing smile tugged at her lips“…he enjoys training.”
Touya nodded without looking away.
“I know.”
“And your father has gotten better.”
“I know that too.”
Silence settled comfortably between them, broken only by the quiet clatter of dishes in the dining room and the soft hum of the kitchen fan. Rei studied him for a moment before speaking again.
“…You still worry.”
Touya let out a slow breath through his nose.
How could he not?
Shoto genuinely enjoyed training. He loved improving, loved mastering techniques and testing the limits of what his body could do. That had never been the problem.
The problem was that, even now, he still refused to use the fire side of his quirk.
Not because he lacked the ability.
Because he was afraid.
It was a fear that settled somewhere deep inside him, stubbornly clinging on despite the passing years. Time had softened many of the would their family carried, and Endeavor had worked harder than anyone to become a better father than the man he used to be. But some scars weren’t so easily undone.
Touya new exactly where this one had begun.
The forest.
Even now, the memories came back in scattered fragments rather than a complete picture. The oppressive heat pressing against his skin. Smoke so thick it stole the air from his lungs. The deafening crack of burning trees collapsing around him. Then the chaos that followed—heroes rushing through the flames, desperate voices shouting his name, and the crushing realization afterward of just how close he’d come to never coming home.
Shoto had witnessed far more of it than anyone had ever wanted him to.
He’d been too young to truly understand what was happening, but old enough to remember the fear. Old enough to watch the flames swallow the forest and believe they were swallowing his brother with them.
Touya had survived.
But somewhere in Shoto’s mind, fire had become something to fear instead of something to embrace. It wasn’t just a part of his quirk anymore—it was a reminder of the day he almost lost the person he admired most.
And Endeavor, for all his changes, hadn’t yet managed to undo that association.
Touya finally tore his eyes away from the hallway and looked at his mother.
“Someone has to.”