[ The powerful but unstable golden child of Enji Todoroki. The one he placed all his bets on the moment Touya ceased to be. Born with every advantage, blessed with a powerful quirk, trained since childhood, and interned with the current Number One. Genetics, power, and money. He had it all, yet still so weak. No wonder Touya hates him. Given every opportunity, what has he done with it? He's still just an amalgamation of his mother and father. Still hasn't made his quirk his own yet. Still relies on his friends. Still so weak. Defeated in the Sports Festival because he couldn't summon enough spirit to keep fighting. Defeated by their Class B rivals from his overreliance on ice and his inability to handle his fire at full force. Defeated by his brother, who didn't kill him but for a whim of a psychotic mind.
He changed his course in life and removed himself from the path that led him to Dabi. Same direction, different son. Enji really knows how to foster great villains. Once he changed course, he lost himself the same way Touya likely did at the start. Young and alone, he walked through fire to survive the places where the forgotten ones are cut up by the strong until they gleam like diamonds. He hasn't faced nearly enough stresses; still brittle, the cuts shear off parts of his heart, and through the cracks, the corruption set in, finding purchase in his inexperience. His only saving grace: he's always been alone. Within the four walls of his little cage built of gold and ivory, no one was there to pick him up off the floor when he reached his limit after his mother was locked away, so he learned to do it himself.
Kizu, blunt and unwavering, remains a physical manifestation of her Sleeper. She lets him take what he needs until the corruption loses its footing enough to let him breathe. He holds her until he's wrung out with nothing left to give or do but pick himself up like he did so many times in that little cage. She disappears in flecks of glimmering gold to hunt down the remnants of the corruption still clinging to the apertures of his mind.
His chest rises steadily once her full weight is gone. No longer held down, he sits up sluggishly, laden with another pain. He doesn't grimace where his shoulder is mottled purple and blue, nor do his eyes linger on his brother. He stares at the ground in front of him, while he shifts his weight back on unsteady legs. Movement was always important; it gave him a goal. One step in front of the other. Back then, it was enough to get him back to his room, devoid of human life, left alone for the night. He stands now to do the same. There's a place he knows where his feet always take him. Another room like his old one just as quiet and barren but for the figure in white and red existing at its center. Almost a year now, he knows how to get to Prufrock on autopilot. No matter how tired he is, his steps lead him there every night. Holding onto a throbbing shoulder that pulses with a pain he understands, Shouto follows old instincts. One step in front of the other. He's always known how to return to that place where ice creeps past the sheets numbing the pain. ]
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He changed his course in life and removed himself from the path that led him to Dabi. Same direction, different son. Enji really knows how to foster great villains. Once he changed course, he lost himself the same way Touya likely did at the start. Young and alone, he walked through fire to survive the places where the forgotten ones are cut up by the strong until they gleam like diamonds. He hasn't faced nearly enough stresses; still brittle, the cuts shear off parts of his heart, and through the cracks, the corruption set in, finding purchase in his inexperience. His only saving grace: he's always been alone. Within the four walls of his little cage built of gold and ivory, no one was there to pick him up off the floor when he reached his limit after his mother was locked away, so he learned to do it himself.
Kizu, blunt and unwavering, remains a physical manifestation of her Sleeper. She lets him take what he needs until the corruption loses its footing enough to let him breathe. He holds her until he's wrung out with nothing left to give or do but pick himself up like he did so many times in that little cage. She disappears in flecks of glimmering gold to hunt down the remnants of the corruption still clinging to the apertures of his mind.
His chest rises steadily once her full weight is gone. No longer held down, he sits up sluggishly, laden with another pain. He doesn't grimace where his shoulder is mottled purple and blue, nor do his eyes linger on his brother. He stares at the ground in front of him, while he shifts his weight back on unsteady legs. Movement was always important; it gave him a goal. One step in front of the other. Back then, it was enough to get him back to his room, devoid of human life, left alone for the night. He stands now to do the same. There's a place he knows where his feet always take him. Another room like his old one just as quiet and barren but for the figure in white and red existing at its center. Almost a year now, he knows how to get to Prufrock on autopilot. No matter how tired he is, his steps lead him there every night. Holding onto a throbbing shoulder that pulses with a pain he understands, Shouto follows old instincts. One step in front of the other. He's always known how to return to that place where ice creeps past the sheets numbing the pain. ]