MHA – Shoto Todoroki : Modern-day Terrorist

I clutched the sink with both hands, jaw clenched, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I had exactly eleven days left to kill Touya before he tried to contact his IT guy to check if everything was alright.

The fact that he hadn't noticed what was going on was a stroke of luck : the 'gas leak' had barely been mentioned on television, with the Winter Olympics taking up more screen time.

Still, one of my clones had partially filtered all the newspapers, news videos and TV channels that Touya had had access to over the past few days, in order to avoid an impromptu panic attack.

Concentrating on my task, I applied layer after layer of genjutsu to my face.

Each layer was thinner than a hair and together, they were barely as thick as a sheet of paper.

When a genjutsu was applied - to an environment or in a person's mind - the summoner would see a mirrored version, ghostly, greyish and full of smoke, superimposed on their own vision of the world.

This was done so that the caster could keep track of his construction and avoid doing anything that might tip off his victim.

First I applied a pale, almost greyish filter to my skin, which made me look sick.

Then I added some light purple circles, which made my gaze look burdened. I reddened the outer corner of my eyes and the part under my eyelashes to give the impression that I'd been crying.

I widened my eyes slightly, increasing the surface area of my pupils to make myself look more harmless and downcast.

I worked slowly, my chakra humming softly under my skin, filled with a calm I hadn't felt in a long time.

Scarcella had told me to confide in someone, but I'd found something better : intense physical exercise - or hitting someone - was cathartic, so much in fact that I always, always felt better afterwards.

I could try to be a better person and discreetly purge my violent excesses without feeling guilty. It was a compromise I liked - and it was a win-win situation, wasn't it ?

My father was happy, Hawks was happy, I was happy.

My index finger brushed against my cheek.

The skin around my scar swelled up, making it look red and irritated, as if I'd scratched it violently... there, perfect.

Just a little bit of purple veering on green on my temple to hide the bruise Hawks had seen last time.
I ruffled my hair with one hand, releasing a few strands awkwardly to make a curtain over the bruise. It had to be discreet enough for Hawks to think I was trying to hide it, and visible enough for him to notice it.

I made a mess of my eyebrows to give the impression that I'd slept on my hand or shoulder.

I put on a long-sleeved black compression t-shirt with a turtleneck that doubled as a mask. Next came a pair of clean, pressed grey jogging bottoms and trainers.

He had to get the impression that I had deliberately prepared for our meeting, that I was trying to hide my pitiful state from him, even though his visual acuity would allow him to pick up all the little clues that would tell him that, no, I wasn't well.

Hawks saw me as a withdrawn teenager who preferred to solve his problems alone, rather than have the world pity him : I'd pretended to be confused the other time, now I had to look as if I'd decided to do something terrible.

I didn't let my esteem for Hawks or my guilt cloud my judgement.

Even if he is the only person besides dad who has given me a second chance...

No. What I was about to do was a necessity, not something superfluous. Hawks was just a tool, a means to an end : it was nothing personal.

Hawks had the motive and the means : he was the perfect scapegoat.

I covered myself in one last genjutsu, one that would give me the smell of someone who hadn't washed in days, but not really that of sweat.

It had to be a very strong smell, at least as potent as a strong alcohol, for Hawks to notice it.

I put on my watch and glanced absently at my hands, the reddened and irritated knuckles of my right hand obvious, as if I'd struck something violently in a fit of rage.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror, admiring the picture of contradictions and half-truths I had painstakingly painted.

It's showtime.

*

Hawks stretched, hand on his left ankle, leg extended.

The patrols were dull and repetitive at the moment : Hawks knew the vilains didn't strike as often in winter as they did in summer, but he still had energy to spare and wasn't about to make his adrenaline levels dwindle from one season to the next.

What did the villains have to do in winter that made them less prone to crime ? Maybe they got together with their families around some turkey ? Or maybe the snow and cold made them grumpy and they thought that if they were going to end up in prison, they'd better not miss the Christmas movies.

A scientist should take a serious look at this.

Anyway, it was winter, the first snow was falling, and Hawks was bursting with energy. He had enough trouble sleeping as it was, let alone when he had the urge to jump and run as he did now...

Hawks liked the idea of training in the evening.

It drained his batteries and allowed him to keep an eye on Shoto outside of their mentoring hours.

Keigo had been worried ever since he'd stormed into his office, but since nothing had happened since then...

Besides, he liked the kid. Sometimes he was taciturn in a "my life is a tragedy" kind of way, but most of the time he was downright funny - often in spite of himself, of course, but funny was funny and Keigo certainly wasn't going to complain.

So these night training sessions were a good thing, especially now that the internship was about to end.

Keigo hoped that by offering to see each other from time to time under the guise of training, it would encourage Shoto to come and visit him from time to time. That is, if he didn't prefer to hang out with the moth who (according to Hawks) was his best friend.

Nah, what was he on about, of course he was going to see him again : even if the kid decided he was done with him, Keigo would take every opportunity to drop by Yuei.

Hawk smiled and automatically switched to stretching his other leg.

He could already picture the look on his face when he pulled out the photos of him in his construction kit to embarrass him in front of all his friends...

And wasn't his birthday coming up soon ?

Keigo could make him a kind of photo album of shame, a kind of gift that would not be a gift, which he would accept by looking at him scornfully. Then Keigo would drag him off to one of the HQ bars to celebrate in style, ordering lots of booze and blowing all his cigarette smoke in his face.

When he would get angry, Keigo would smile and tell him in a condescending way, like an older brother rehearsing his siblings, that it was to train his patience and that he should be more humble.

The glass door clicked.

Hawks, legs crossed, still sitting on the floor, raised his head happily as his favourite kid walked in.

- A bit later and I'd have fallen asleep

The first thing he noticed was that Shoto didn't look him in the eye when he came in.

- Be thankful that I came

Yet his voice was as calm and collected as usual.

Hawks brought his legs up to him in a butterfly position and continued to warm himself as he watched curiously as he placed his things against the wall.

His hair was slightly dishevelled, falling oddly over his face.

- You look like a mop, Hawks remarked

Shoto had just taken off his motorcycle helmet.

- Yeah, 'course I do

'Yeah', not a 'it's my helmet' or 'the wind can do that, yes. Do you know what wind is ? Ever heard of it ?'.

Shoto took his mobile phone and keys out of his pocket.

Hawk's eyes wandered to his right hand, to his knuckles wrapped in bandages.

- How did you do that ?

Shoto looked up at him. His hair was clearly obscuring his sight, but he didn't push it back.

- What ?

- Your hand, Hawks said, pointing at it with his chin.

- I just hit a punching bag too hard

He tried to stretch his fingers, but a spasm of pain crossed his face.

- You sure it wasn't a wall ?

Shoto smiled, his voice dripping with sarcasm :

- Damn, how did you guess ?

Shoto tried to play it cool. Hawks nodded, sceptical.

He walked past Hawks and a stench enveloped the Hero like a poisonous cloud.

He had to hold back a gag reflex to avoid embarrassing the kid, but fuck.

He hadn't washed in how many weeks to smell like that ?

He sat down across from Hawks and started to warm up.

Just the fact that Hawks was able to smell him...

Shoto, legs in an L-shape, bent his upper body over his left leg, hand outstretched towards his foot.

His hair fell from his face and Hawks paused for a moment.

Shoto continued to stretch, unaffected by his gaze.

- Why are your eyes red ?

Shoto glanced at him in surprise, then brushed his hair back on his forehead.

- I haven't slept enough

- Have you been crying ?

Shoto gave him an insulted, disgusted look, as if such a thing was beneath him.

- Do I look like the type to cry ?

Hawks could have given up, told himself he was probably right, that it was the lack of sleep, but as he looked at him, he remembered the disappointed and hurt look on his face when he'd asked if he could help him and Hawks hadn't answered.

- You can trust me

Shoto, irritated, sat up straight.

- What are you talking about ?

- I'm not blind, Shoto. I can see your eyelids are swollen and the corners of your eyes reddened

The body odour that didn't stick to your presumably clean clothes...

- It's nothing, he mumbled, wiping his dry eyes with a useless gesture of his hand.

- What happened ?

Shoto, his head turned away, shot him a sideways glance, opened his mouth, closed it again, looked away and bit the inside of his cheek, making a sucking sound.

- Tell me. I'm listening

Hawk, patient, put his hands on his thighs and waited.

Shoto looked at him hesitantly, then pulled his legs up against his chest, his hands gripping his knees so tightly it felt like he was going to break them.

- Is it Dabi ?

The moment he said his name, Shoto's hands began to shake.

Jaw clenched, eyes riveted to the ground, he didn't dare look in Hawks' direction.

- I think...

Hawks leaned forward slightly, all ears, his wings rubbing against the blue mattress.

- Anything I tell you stays between us, right ? You won't repeat it to the Commission ?

Hawks, slightly hurt, acknowledged that he still had reason to be suspicious.

- Of course I won't. Anything you tell me will stay between Keigo and Shoto.

The teenager nodded several times, his eyes fixed on his hands, which he fiddled with nervously.

It was hard to tell through his mask, but Hawks was pretty sure his chin was trembling.

- I've... I've decided to kill Touya

*

Author's note :

Quick question : do you think Shoto can become a better person ? 

My mind is already made but I want to know what you, readers, think about him and his character evolution and how he can evolve.

Maybe I'll listen to some suggestions if they go with what I wrote.

If you want read ahead of schedule up to 27 chapters AND support the story, then go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

And see you saturday for the next update everyone !