𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 || S. Todoroki x Reader

24 - Mind Games

Who was more surprised: Todoroki or yourself?

Sunshine filtered through the windows, lighting a gold ring around the back of his head, teasing the edges of his hair.

If the world was tilted off-center, that boy stepping through the door flipped upside-down.

The first thing you chose to focus on was his improperly done tie. School uniform jacket ironed clean of stains, hair sectioned to perfection, and with the tie job of a preschooler.

Why was he here?
He wasn't supposed to be here.
Todoroki wasn't supposed to be here.
That wasn't part of the plan.
Did Sakamoto know about this?
Was it a test?

You drowned in enough questions to sink a ship.

Out of all the heroes he could've interned with, you were so sure that Todoroki would've chosen anyone but his father.

The memory of when you'd asked why he wanted to be a hero slipped through a crack in your mind, seeping in like glue between floorboards.

'My father is a bastard, and I will become better than him,' he'd said.

Yet there Todoroki stood, equally surprised to find his classmate staring back at him with the same confused expression painted across her face.

Todoroki usually liked train rides. They were quiet, calm, and gave time to breathe.

He could memorize the patterns of stops off the colorful maps hung every couple of feet. He could feel the weight of his hero costume case on his lap.

He could prepare for the next week he'd voluntarily chosen to spend with his father.

Sometimes, Todoroki really did wonder if something was wrong with him.

But he knew that he needed to be here, knew why he'd chosen his father. Unfortunately for him, they shared the same quirk, and Todoroki knew that if he wanted to be a hero, he needed to perfect it.

After your fight at the sports festival, he'd ruminated on what you'd said until he could repeat it word for word.

Your voice burned into the back of his brain, reminding him that being a hero couldn't just be about himself.

He had to think of the little boy in his mind, scarred, afraid, and angry.

Todoroki chose to do this internship for that little boy, not anyone else.

But when he caught your gaze across the floor of Endeavor's agency, something in his mind glitched.

Why were you here, looking as if you'd seen a swamp creature crawl out of the black lagoon and track mud on the carpet?

In that school uniform he'd seen you adjust on multiple occasions, grimacing at the harsh material on your skin and pulling at the collar like it was choking you.

He thought about that scar on your neck; he thought about how it was still there, the skin raised and damaged beyond repair.

Todoroki hadn't even known his father sent out offers to other students.

Of course he understood it wasn't your choice where you interned; your conversation from the other day in class rang in his ears.

But why his father's agency of all places? What was here that other heroes couldn't offer? What skills could Endeavor teach you?

Todoroki's backpack suddenly sunk heavier on his shoulders, the silver case holding his hero costume dug into the meat of his palm.

A little more than twenty-four hours since he'd seen you, and even so, a new uncertainty burdened the air with its weight. Everything suddenly felt out of place. So subtle it was impossible to tell what exactly was wrong.