Chapter Text
In a society where superhumans exist—beings with a Quirk that make up nearly 80% of the world's population—there are those who use their Quirks to fight villains, and that is how the profession of hero was born. It is also known that 20% of the world's population is born without a Quirk. But what no one knows is about the percentage hidden within that 20%.
Of that 20%, nearly 0.10% are born without a Quirk. The other 0.09% are born with a supernatural ability that has existed long before Quirks themselves, and therefore before heroes and villains. These people are known as sorcerers, and they hide from hero society.
And finally, there is the 0.01%—a rare anomaly in which a person is born with both a Quirk and a supernatural ability, one that even to this day remains hidden.
Unfortunately—or fortunately?—I am one of those people who belong to that 0.01%.
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Touya tapped his foot repeatedly against the tatami floor. The five-year-old was upset; his scarlet-red hair with small white streaks on the left side swayed frantically.
"But why, Dad?! It's your day off—why won't you help me train my Quirk?! What could be more important than that?!"
While Touya threw his tantrum, Enji Todoroki—better known as Endeavor—finished putting on a formal jacket, ready to leave the house.
"I already explained it to you. It's for your own good."—his stern voice made Touya stop kicking the floor and look up at him with a frown—"I'm leaving now."
Enji left, leaving his son alone.
Touya stood staring at the spot where his father had been, and with frustration, he turned around and strode toward the backyard.
His sister Fuyumi was asleep in her room, and the nanny was busy trying to put Natsuo to sleep, so he could go train on his own without anyone interrupting him.
When he reached the door leading to the yard—which had a child safety lock on the sliding mechanism—he frowned even deeper than before and raised his arm, closing his hand into a fist and pointing his index finger at the lock. He closed one eye, concentrating as hard as he could on the lock.
He took a deep breath, and a small flame shot from his index finger straight toward the lock. The flames touched the plastic, and in less than a second, the lock melted and pooled onto the wooden floor, slightly smoking.
"Ow! That hurts."
Touya looked at his index finger, which now had a small burn, but he didn't care. He had managed to get rid of the lock without causing collateral damage—neither to the house nor to himself. It was something he could be proud of, and his father would congratulate him when he found out.
He approached the door carefully, making sure not to step on the melted plastic, and slid it open with all the strength his small body could muster.
The fresh air hit him square in the face. He walked to the balcony and grabbed his shoes, putting them on with a skill that belied his young age.
With his shoes properly on, he began walking toward the boundary that separated the yard from Sekoto Peak—the place where his father always trained alone.
As his feet crunched over dry leaves, he turned his head in every direction, using every landmark he knew to avoid getting lost.
With each step, the creatures of the forest watched him with curiosity and a hint of fear.
At first, Touya thought they were simply people with Quirks who liked being in the woods, but he quickly realized that wasn't the case.
Mainly because, apparently, he was the only one who could see them.
When his father had first taken him to Sekoto Peak, he couldn't stop pointing at all the creatures hiding and fleeing among the underbrush and foliage, thinking they were running away because they knew his father.
He had talked nonstop the entire way, but his father paid him no attention. And when he demanded that his father look at one of the creatures, his father would turn his gaze toward where Touya pointed—but in his eyes, there was nothing. No recognition, no surprise, nothing of the sort.
He saw those creatures all the time, everywhere. On the street, in the forest, in supermarkets, hospitals, schools, parks.
Every. Single. Place. All. The. Damn. Time.
He had even once told his mother that there was a creature that looked like a snake wrapped around her head. He had told her the snake was white with red spots and had small antlers like a deer's on top of its head. It had been there ever since Natsuo was born.
His mother hadn't taken him seriously and had only patted his head, telling him he had too much imagination—which made him feel indignant.
He wasn't making anything up, and he didn't like being treated like an overly imaginative child one bit.
It wasn't his fault he saw those things all the time, and it definitely wasn't his fault if the rest of his family couldn't see them.
That wasn't his problem.
But back to the matter at hand—he had to train.
If he became stronger and could learn to withstand the pain of the burns caused by his own flames, his father would want to train him again.
He just had to learn to endure the pain and prove that even with his defective body, he could meet his expectations.
After all, that was his destiny.
To become a hero and surpass All Might—just as his father had told him so many times he would.
That was what he was born for. That was why his father had trained him, before he realized he was defective.
Touya didn't care that his father told him it was "for his own good." He didn't believe it for a second.
When his father looked at him and said that, there was always disappointment and disgust in his gaze—as if he couldn't believe he had fathered someone as useless as him.
Once, he had overheard his father say he had "failed in creating him," and although he didn't fully understand what that meant, he understood that he had to work hard to prove he wasn't a failure.
He would make his father proud that he had been born. The weight of that desire rested on his shoulders, and he was determined to fulfill it.
It didn't matter how many burns, injuries, or scoldings he got—if he could make his father feel happy and proud of him, even just once, then it would all be worth it.
He just had to learn to ignore the pain his flames caused him. If he could do that, the rest would be a piece of cake.
Pain was the only thing holding him back.
So his plan was clear.
Use his fire until he could tolerate the pain well enough to use it for longer periods.
He had a lot of work ahead of him.
But everyone had to learn to push past their limits to become heroes.
After all, that was what it meant to be a hero.
Right?