MHA – Shoto Todoroki : Modern-day Terrorist

I pushed the front door with my foot, my shoes in one hand and a kraft paper bag in the other.

- Yo Dad, sorry I'm late, but Natsu and Leo took up more of my time than I had planned, since we hadn't seen each other in a while (I paused for a moment, pushing back the hair that was dripping down my forehead with one hand: it was impossible to tell if it was from sweat or rain. I needed a shower, and a good one), and then I got you some Takoyaki, you know, the ones from the store downtown?

The clerk put a lot of sauce on them.

I slammed the door behind me, threw my shoes in the hallway, and hung my jacket on a coat rack.

I crossed the hallway and held the bag up to my nose to smell it: it still smelled good, even though

I'd had to heat it up with my quirk to keep it from losing its flavor.

- Dad ?

There was no one in the living room or the kitchen.

I paused long enough to sense the house with my chakra: my father's energy, warm and humming, a small glowing sun, was on the second floor, in his study.

I climbed the stairs one by one, whistling in a low voice.

I knocked on the solid wood door and waited for him to invite me in.

- I've got some takoyaki for you (silence answered me) and the crew has got the boat ready for us to go fishing (not true, but I hoped he'd be less grumpy if he thought I did. I'd send a team of clones to get everything ready for us if he really wanted me to).

There wasn't even the sound of his pen scratching the paper on the other side.

I've really gone overboard with the two-hour lateness, didn’t I ?

I opened the door on the fly:

- I'm sorr-

I closed my mouth immediately: slumped in his chair, a pair of glasses threatening to fall off his nose, was my sleeping father.

I smiled briefly as his snoring - it sounded like a cat purring - reached my ears.

I placed my package on the coffee table and grabbed the remote control to light the electric fireplace next to the door.

Then, without a sound, I walked over to his desk and grabbed the patchwork blanket that was lying on his sofa: I covered him gently, being careful not to wake him by accident.

When I took off his glasses to put them on his desk, I stopped for a moment and looked at him helplessly: I don't know if it was the fact that I had seen him less regularly since I started high school, but I had never realized how old he was.

There were crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, lines at the corners of his lips, wrinkles across his forehead, and even a surprising amount of white hair poking out here and there in the middle of his red mane.

He has never fallen asleep on the job before.

I took the pen from his palm and arranged the stacks of papers on his desk so they wouldn't fall over if he moved suddenly. I took the empty teacup and its dome from his desk and placed a pillow behind his neck to prevent his back from hurting from twisting while he slept.

Wouldn't do if he broke himself something.

I stifled a mocking laugh as I imagined old Teka looking at him disapprovingly and saying, "Look at you, Enji, frailer and older than your own mother. You should have taken the V-compound injections”.

I went down to the kitchen and regretted that none of our staff were there, late as it was. I had to search on my smartphone for a few minutes to find a suitable tea recipe.

Just leaves in a pot with water ?

I shrugged: it seemed strange, but if the Internet said it had to be done that way...

I searched the cupboards for the ingredients and had to open three of them before I found a pot; I wasn't sure if I should be ashamed that I didn't know where to find the tools in my own kitchen.

Well, I've got better things to do than housework. Besides, that's why we have employees.

But once I was in front of the stoves, I found myself blinking stupidly.

How is this thing supposed to light up ?

There were six buttons and the plates were unlike anything I'd ever seen in my life.

I snapped a quick photo and then did a visual Google search to try to find a tutorial: only other cooktops for sale and ads for kitchen products came up.

I frowned, impatience getting the better of me.

My clone appeared on my left, and I entrusted him with the pot of water containing the dried leaves.

- Heat it for me, and be sure to stir it from time to time (I once saw one of our cooks stir a pot with a wooden spoon: it must have been the same thing).

Blue flames shot up from the clone's hands, licking the sides and the rim of the pot where his hands had been.    

- Not like that (I forced his hands flat and put the pot on top of them) and just normal flames, no need to melt the pot by accident.

And now I can take my shower.

*

I was sipping a cup of tea, sitting in front of the fireplace with a book on my knee, when my father came out of his nap.

He blinked a few times to pull himself out of the fog, looked around to remember where he was, the covers falling over his thighs as he straightened.

- You know you snore like a chainsaw at full throttle?

His bright blue eyes rested on me, as if he barely realised my presence in his favorite chair.

He glanced at the wall clock just above the fireplace.

- You're late,

I smiled.

- That's true, but I'm here now, am I not ?

He gave me a look that spoke volumes, then pushed back the blanket with one hand and rose to sit on the sofa to my right, facing the fireplace.

It was almost comical, the way the back was obviously too small for him and half of his back was sticking out.

- Would you like to swap ?

He dismissed my suggestion with a wave of his hand.

- No, stay seated

Then he noticed the paper bag I'd wedged between my arm and thigh to keep it warm.

I gave it to him: he immediately recognized the logo, unwrapped it and began to eat a few before handing it to me.

- Did you make me tea as well ?

He looked surprised when he saw the two cups and the teapot on the glass table.
I avoided his gaze, preferring to stuff one of the small meatballs into my mouth while shrugging.

I’m so goddamn hungry.

- It's just water and leaves, nothing to fret about.

His lips curved into that sincere, honest little smile I knew so well.

- Thank you.

I answered again with a shrug.

And since I didn't want to bury the conversation over... that, I continued:

- How's work ?

He raised his eyebrows briefly, sighed, and spoke to me in a low voice as he crushed his takoyaki between his thumb and forefinger before eating it hungrily. I was happy with my decision to take four dozen.

He told me about the new recruits, the latest files he'd completed, and his growing workload since All Might left its usual patrol area for Mustafu.

He's approaching fifty now. When will he retire ?

I'd never asked him, because I had this vision of him as a strong, indestructible being; even if I knew that nothing would happen to him for at least the next year, thanks to my knowledge of the canon, I still wasn't sure I liked the idea of him doing such a job for much longer.

But you know that for one reason or another, All Might will have to announce his retirement - and we both know the old man well enough to know that he won't give up his place unless he's sure that there's someone strong enough to take over.

I'd screwed up Deku, and I planned to do the same with the rest of the characters in the canon.

If I screw up the country's future, doesn't that mean he has to be a Hero for at least the next ten years of his life ?

- What about you ? And school ? I heard you've got a field trip coming up.

His voice brought me back to our discussion in a quarter of a second.

- Oh yes, that thing on Monday. (I slumped in my chair as if the weight of the world had fallen on my shoulders.) I wouldn't have hesitated to skip it if Aizawa hadn't threatened to send me to detention for the next three years of my life.

Even if I sent a clone to detention, enduring three hours of boredom every day was torture, whether I experienced it indirectly or not.

My father smiled mockingly at me between sips of tea.

- Remember, you could have spent the summer with your grandmother if you'd wanted to: you're the one who chose to go to summer camp.

Oh yes, because chaos must ensue and I must prevent atomic boy from being captured by the second-rate league, otherwise All Might will relinquish his throne and my old man will find himself projected to the front of all this shit...

- Aren't you going to ask me how I found out about the camp? He didn't tell me, and I wasn't supposed to know.

- You have your ways of getting information, and I can respect that.

I remained silent as he dipped the last dumplings in their hot sauce.

- And do you know where this summer camp is?

He barely raised his eyes to me before lowering them back to his plate:

- The place is supposed to be secret.

- I'm sure you know

He didn't answer, just shrugged his shoulders.

I sighed, choosing to sink into the softness of the upholstered chair.

- Let's not talk about it anymore, shall we? (It was undermining my moral to think I was wasting my vacation on rainbow pukers.) And let's talk about tonight instead: we won't see each other for a while. What do you want to do ?

*

Bonus :

The Todoroki's chef - a man in his sixties with a mountain of experience under his belt - loved his cooking utensils at least as much as any of his children.

He felt a new wave of pride wash over him when he saw the ultra-revolutionary new induction stoves he'd asked Mister Todoroki to buy. 'They heat up faster, you see,' he had said, 'And it will be easier for me to cook with them, since Shoto-sama tends to come into the kitchen unannounced to ask me to cook elaborate dishes...'.

The cook knew he'd won the game the moment he mentioned the name of the golden boy : Enji sama's eyes lit up and he signed the check without further questions.

It wasn't the first time he'd used this trick: as soon as he mentioned his son's name, he could get Enji Todoroki to buy all the latest kitchen utensils he wanted.

He was proud to know that his kitchen - even though he only cooked for two people - was probably the best-equipped and most high-tech kitchen in the world.

When he felt a pang of guilt creeping over him, the cook reminded himself that he wasn't doing anything serious: after all, what were a few thousand compared to the millions owned by father and son ? Besides, it wasn't like he was stealing from them: all he was asking for were tools to improve his performance, and he had simply found a way to win every time.

Whistling happily, he opened one of his drawers and prepared to start his work : Mister Todoroki had asked for chocolate cake today.

He took a pot from its place, placed it on the plates and...

He blinked once, twice, three times.

He picked it up again, turned it over to look at the outside, and then he noticed that it was completely charred, so that burnt pieces were breaking off in patches, crumbling and landing in black piles between his shoes.

He stood dumbly for a few seconds, wondering what could have happened to it - for he could never have treated one of his precious tools so clumsily - before deciding that, in the end, it didn't really matter why.

There's this pot I saw in the last Master Chef...

And so, at eight o'clock on Monday morning, he found himself outside Mister Todoroki's office, a pot with a hole in it in one hand and a check to be signed in the other.

*

Author's note :

A nice chapter...

I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted everyone.

Power stones goal, for the fourth consecutive week : 250

If you want to support me/read ahead up to 50 chapters of schedule (which is basically 3 months in advance), you can do so on my P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

See you in the next update everyone (for the beginning of the end) !