The video montage of Touya's life finished by the time Shouto returned to the banquet hall. After crying it out with Katsuki, he was feeling better. Still, back in the banquet hall, he chose to sit with his mom and brother instead of his friends. Katsuki, wonderful as always, had no issue with it. They both agreed that Shouto should probably check on his family.
None of the Todorokis knew that Enji would be at Touya's memorial, nor did they anticipate him playing old home videos for everyone to see. Prior to today, Shouto hadn't seen any of that footage. If he had, it probably wouldn't have affected him as much. He assumed Rei and Natsuo were similarly torn up about the whole thing.
Shouto pulled up a chair next to Rei as Touya's old baseball coach approached the podium to give a speech of his own. When Shouto rested his head on her shoulder, Rei wrapped an arm behind her son's chair and the two cuddled. While today was therapeutic, it also took a lot out of them.
"I love you," Rei whispered into his hair.
"Love you too, Mom."
After the last of the speeches, there was nothing left on the memorial's agenda. People hung around to socialize for another hour or so, but then trickled out. Since the Todorokis were the hosts, they hung back until the banquet hall cleared out. As more guests left, Shouto felt queasy. Even though the memorial was technically over, he was just getting started.
He knew it in his heart. While the sentiment was impactful, there was no way Enji drove all the way out here, showing himself to his estranged family after years of no contact, just to play some old video footage of his deceased son.
No, Enji was here to talk to Shouto.
He probably wanted to speak with Rei and Fuyumi as well. Maybe Natsuo too, though there was no way Shouto's brother would give that man the time of day. But Shouto was a given.
Shouto's mouth ran dry. How would he react when Enji inevitably approached him? Would he stand his ground and tell Enji to take a hike like he desperately wanted to? Or would he submit to that little voice in his head that told him that one conversation wouldn't hurt?
This was the worst day to experience this much stress. As he did several times before, Shouto wished he still had some way to talk to Touya. Touya had a solution for any problem, especially when it came to their family troubles. Even if it was as simple as Touya comforting Shouto with ice cream and a movie marathon, Shouto preferred that to this sinking sensation in his stomach.
Enji, sitting in the very back of the banquet hall, away from everyone else, finally rose to his feet and trudged across the hardwood floor, heading in Shouto's direction. Shouto bit the inside of his cheek, sinking his teeth in further when their eyes met. It'd been over two years since the two had been in the same room. Two years of moments and milestones in Shouto's life that Enji missed out on. Two years of Shouto wondering if he ever crossed Enji's mind.
Two very long years. And yet, the idea of their estrangement coming to a close was even more agonizing for Shouto.
Shouto shifted all his weight to his legs, cementing his feet to the floor as he sat in the wooden chair. He broke eye contact with Enji to survey his father's overall appearance. If looks indicated anything, Enji wasn't lying when he claimed he finally attended rehab. His beer gut was gone, he was freshly shaven, and his hair actually looked combed through. It was by far the best Enji ever looked for as long as Shouto had known him.
Probably the most surprising thing, however, was that Enji was actually utilizing the cane his doctor instructed him to use after his knee injury. It was a shock that Enji hadn't disposed of it already. That poor piece of wood collected dust in the Todoroki garage for twelve years.
As Enji closed in on Shouto, Rei intercepted them. She crossed her arms and glared at her ex-husband.
"I don't think so," she said. She didn't raise her voice, but her words carried a venomous tone. "Enji, you cannot just show up here after all this time and try to waltz back into your son's life like nothing happened. I don't care if this is Touya's memorial, I am not afraid to make a scene."
Shouto celebrated in his head. Of all the moms in the world, he got a pretty cool one.
Enji kept calm. "I understand that. But there's a lot I want to say to Shouto. Stuff that he shouldn't have to hear over the phone."
"Don't even try to suggest you know what's best for him," Rei countered. "You don't know the first thing about being a good parent. When's the last time you wished Shouto a happy birthday? Or went to one of his art shows? Do you know the kind of music he listens to? His favorite shows?" Her composure was dwindling, her voice starting to crack. "You don't know the first thing about our son because you chose not to know him."
"Mom," Shouto cut in. "It's fine."
Rei turned around, her face relaxing when her gazes met. She stepped closer and ran a loving hand through Shouto's hair. "Sweetie, you don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. You don't owe him anything."
Shouto stood up. "I know," he mumbled. "But there's some things I want to say, too."
Rei glanced at Enji before directing her attention to Shouto once again. "All right," she said. "But I don't want you two going off anywhere. You're going to have your discussion right here while I help clean up."
She left to assist Natsuo with taking down Shouto's drawings by the entrance. Shouto and Enji, now alone, allowed a more than uncomfortable silence to pass for several seconds. Shouto already regretted agreeing to this.
He awkwardly gestured to the abandoned table beside him. "Let's sit down."
They do. Enji's cane rested against the empty chair to his right. Shouto fidgeted with his hands under the table as he stared ahead. He couldn't make eye contact with his father right now.
Enji spoke first. "Shouto," he said, "I'm sorry. For everything."
Shouto shrugged as he bounced his leg. "It's fine," he lied.
"No it's not. I've caused a lot of damage. To you, your mother, your siblings. I destroyed this family due to my own selfishness. You guys didn't deserve that, and I know sorry isn't enough, but I do regret the way that I handled things."
Shouto flared his nostrils. To think that he used to dream about this, Enji admitting his faults. But now, hearing those words, Shouto felt nothing. Enji was right, sorry was most definitely not enough. Especially because the one person Enji should be saying sorry to above anyone else was buried six feet underground. No amount of apologies could ever reverse that.
When Shouto didn't respond, Enji continued. "I know you don't remember. You were only a baby when I injured my knee. But things weren't always bad. Your mom and I, we used to be happy. We all were."
Though he didn't show it on the outside, Shouto's interest was piqued at Enji mentioning his knee. For all of Shouto's childhood, it was drilled into his brain to never mention Enji's career ending injury. It was a sensitive topic, and for good reason. No point in angering an already hotheaded individual about how his professional baseball career ended before he could cement himself as one of the all time greats.
"Then when I got hurt," Enji said, "I felt lost. Baseball was my life. Growing up, it was the only thing I cared about. I was determined to make it into the big leagues even if it killed me."
He awkwardly cleared his throat. Given that they were at a five year memorial for their dead brother and son, Shouto assumed it had something to do with the word "kill".
"And then it was taken from me," Enji said. "Just like that. And I started spiraling. I never had an identity outside of baseball. I didn't know who I was without it."
"What about a father?" Shouto said bitterly.
Enji sighed. "You're right. If I could go back in time, I'd tell myself not to overthink it. All you kids needed was for me to be present. But I convinced myself that I failed you. I earned plenty of money from the years that I played, so it wasn't like we were going to go broke. But I hated the idea that I'd no longer be able to contribute financially. A man's job is to provide for his family, and because of a stupid mistake I made, I ruined that."
Shouto still stared ahead, though he relaxed his body. This still didn't make things better, but he didn't oppose Enji's decision to be vulnerable right now. At least it allowed him to see his father act human for a change.
"I couldn't keep up with your siblings anymore. I tried to run around with them in the yard but it wasn't long before my knee started acting up again. I couldn't be the father I wanted to be anymore. And instead of figuring out a healthier way to cope, I shut down. I got angry. Everything I worked so hard for had slipped away from me, and I became desperate to regain control no matter what."
Enji didn't elaborate further, but Shouto understood. That was why Enji was so obsessed with pushing his sons to continue his legacy, particularly Shouto. Enji was driven by power, but he was also driven by his own self-doubt, the belief that he brought shame to the Todoroki family by having his career cut short. Coaching Shouto to become his successor was, in his mind, his best shot at redemption.
Of course, that idea was ludicrous, and it wasn't an excuse for the way Enji treated his wife and children in the years that followed. But this was the most Enji had opened up about himself for as long as Shouto had been alive. For Shouto, that counted for something.
Still, he wasn't going to let his father off the hook so easily.
He finally turned toward Enji. "Why now?" he said. "Why are you telling me all of this now?"
Enji responded immediately. "Because you've spent your life blaming yourself for things turning out the way that they did. All the arguments I had with your mother, the divorce, Touya...the only one who should be blaming themselves is me."
Shouto tilted his head down. He did bear a lot of guilt throughout his childhood. Even when Touya insisted Shouto had nothing to feel sorry for, he didn't always believe it. To this day he still doubted himself.
"I held you to impossible standards," Enji said. "Not because you couldn't reach them, you very easily could, but because it wasn't what you wanted. I got so carried away with molding you into who I wanted you to be that I forgot to love the son that I already had."
Shouto squeezed his own hand under the table. He refused to cry. Enji didn't deserve his tears. But it was becoming more difficult.
"I love you Shouto." Shouto still had his head down, but he guessed that the wavering in Enji's voice signified that he was close to crying too. "I love you exactly the way you are. And I'm so, so sorry for making you believe otherwise."
Shouto held his ground. He didn't cry. No, the opposite in fact. He laughed. It brushed past his lips as the perfect mix of amusement and disgust.
He snapped his head up to drill his eyes into Enji's. "You love me? You love me? How can you say you love me when I haven't heard from you in over two years? You abandoned me."
"I know I did."
"Then how can you sit here and say that?"
"I was a sick man, Shouto. I'm not proud of it. When your mother first called and accused me of being an alcoholic, I screamed at her and hung up. I didn't want to confront my problems, so I pretended I didn't have a problem. Of course, we both know that wasn't the case."
Shouto leaned back in his chair. So Enji wanted to discuss it after all. Shouto didn't think he'd have to courage to bring it up himself, so if he was glad for his father for anything at that moment, it was this.
"God, when your brother died-" Enji paused to run a hand through his hair. "It's the worst kind of pain imaginable. Losing your child. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. It's like you don't even have the will to live anymore. You just exist."
The emptiness in his gaze made Shouto uncomfortable. There was a time when Shouto blamed Enji for Touya's death, but he was much younger then. Enji was a lot of things: cold, arrogant, abusive, the list went on. But there was no way Enji ever wanted Touya dead. If anything, Enji's behavior over the last five years showcased how much Touya's death traumatized him.
"But the hardest part was dealing with the fact that my son, my eldest child, died hating me. He told me straight to my face right before it happened."
Shouto already knew that. He had his ear pressed up to his bedroom door as Touya bickered with Enji in the hallway the night of his death. It was so long ago that Enji probably forgot that fact.
"Whenever I think about him, how much I miss him, I'm reminded of that last conversation. It no longer felt right to mourn him. Why cry over someone who hated you? But holding everything in wasn't the solution either. I had to release my emotions somehow. So I chose alcohol. And, well, you know the rest."
Shouto opened his shoulders to the banquet hall behind him. Nanaroki was currently wrapping the leftover desserts in aluminum foil, sneaking most of them into her purse. The candles by the entrance still burned brightly. No doubt his family was waiting until they had to leave for real before blowing them out.
He turned back to Enji. "That doesn't explain why I haven't heard from you."
Enji sighed. "I was embarrassed. I felt like history was repeating itself, me bringing shame to my family. But I made the choice to stay away because I thought it was my best option, for both you and your siblings. As long as you had your mother, I knew you kids were in good care. Happy and healthy, that's all I wished for the three of you. I made the conscious decision that I'd only open that door to building a relationship with you again when I was positive that there was zero chance of me reverting back to my old ways. I thought it'd be better if you had no father in your life than have one that was sober one day and drunk the next." He reached into his pocket. "I have something for you."
He handed Shouto a gold coin. Engraved along the outer edge was To Thine Own Self Be True. A triangle sat in the center, each side containing the words Unity, Service, and Recovery. The Roman numeral for one was etched in the center of the triangle. Shouto had never seen one of these in person before, but he immediately knew what it was.
"It's my one year sobriety coin," Enji said. "I want you to have it."
Shouto rubbed his thumb over the coin as it rested in his palm. "Why me? Why not Natsuo or Fuyumi?"
"Because you're the reason I even have that," Enji said. "I have a lot of regrets, Shouto. Too many to count. And I know I've hurt everyone in this family. But I think out of everyone, you're the one who got hurt the most."
Shouto's eyes softened. This was the first real present his father had given him. Sure, Enji had given Shouto plenty of presents over the years, but that was all baseball equipment. Enji bought them for Shouto, but they were really for himself. This time, it was a gift that symbolized Enji placing Shouto's needs above his own. Shouto didn't know how to react, so he offered nothing.
"Your mom, your siblings," Enji said, "they all have at least some memories of when things were better. But you, you don't have any memories of me being the father you deserve. So I want you to keep that as a reminder that I've been working every day to better myself and become someone you can be proud of."
Shouto couldn't decide if he wanted to hug Enji or punch him. His father was making this sound all too easy. While Shouto wanted a relationship with Enji more than anything, he'd be a fool to go along with this nonsense without any pushback.
Enji's sobriety coin disappeared as Shouto closed his hand around it and slipped it into his pocket. With pursed lips, the boy sank in his chair. "You don't get to come back after all this time just because it's convenient for you. I don't care if you've changed. I'm still not ready to forgive you yet. I don't know if I ever will."
"Of course you're not ready," Enji said. "I'd be more concerned if you forgave me immediately. Shouto, I'm not telling you all of this to ask for your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it."
"Then why are you here?"
Enji took a deep breath. "I've made peace with the fact that there's a high chance my kids will never want to see me again. It's my own fault, and I need to own up to my mistakes. But I want you to have that coin so you know how serious I am. I want you to have proof that if you ever decide to have me back in your life, whether it's a year from now, ten years from now, fifty years from now, things will be different. I promise I won't disappoint you again."
It was the worst answer Shouto could hear. He didn't want Enji promising anything. He learned a long time ago that promises held little weight. They could still be broken. If they were so indestructible, he'd be living in a fancy mansion with Touya and their siblings without a care in the world.
But what irritated Shouto the most was that he just knew. From Enji's tone to his body language, he was one hundred percent serious about keeping this promise.
Things would be different this time.
How much easier it would be had Enji just acted like an insufferable prick as usual, then Shouto would tell him to his face how pitiful he was before shutting Enji out of his life for good. That was what he planned on doing when they first sat down. But now Shouto was actually giving Enji's words some consideration, and he hated himself for it.
Shouto scowled as he avoided eye contact again. "I need time to think it over."
"Take all the time you need," Enji replied. "Until then, I wish nothing more than for you to be happy. If that's a life without me, then I'll respect your wishes." With that, he rose from his seat and grabbed his cane. "Goodbye Shouto."
Shouto didn't return his father's farewell. He had no energy to. Instead he sat with slumped shoulders, an overwhelming headache, and a promise too heavy for his scarred heart to handle resting in his pocket.
*
That evening, Shouto and his family (and Keigo, of course) treated themselves to a night of fun and relaxation. Today was hard, it was exhausting, but they got through it. And now they were celebrating with movies and board games.
They were in the middle of an intense game of Scrabble (Shouto was in the lead) when the doorbell rang. Natsuo, whose weak vocabulary positioned him at a pathetic last place, got up to answer it.
Shouto beamed from the floor when he realized their guest was the one and only Katsuki Bakugou. It wasn't much of a surprise. Katsuki and Shouto went to each other's houses almost every day, even if just to say hello. Shouto was surprised that Katsuki still bothered ringing the doorbell. He was essentially one of the family now.
"Hey," he said with a smile.
Katsuki smiled back. "Hi." He eyed the board game on the carpet. "Scrabble. Nice. Hope I'm not interrupting."
"Katsuki," Rei said, "you know you're always welcome here."
"Yeah," Fuyumi added. "I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"
A small blush formed on Katsuki's cheeks as he smirked. "Good, but I'm even better now."
Shouto snickered. Normally he'd find it annoying if one of his friends had a crush on his sister, but Katsuki's was so blatant that it was hard to take seriously. It wasn't like Fuyumi would ever entertain the idea anyway. She was a college student, plus she had a boyfriend.
Katsuki then took it upon himself to glare at said boyfriend. "You're still in the picture?"
Keigo, cheeky as always, grinned and slid closer to Fuyumi. "Sorry, can't get rid of me that easily."
"Give it some time," Katsuki replied. "She'll dump you eventually."
Keigo shrugged. "Even if she did, it wouldn't matter. You'll still have to find a way to be nice to me considering I'll be your new coach."
Katsuki scrunched his brows. "Wait, what?"
Fuyumi hugged Keigo's arm. "Didn't you hear? The baseball coach at UA is retiring this year. Keigo's already lined up for a teaching job there when he graduates so he applied to be the new coach as well. They approved him! Isn't that awesome?"
Katsuki stood there with his mouth open, his eyes slowly shifting in Shouto's direction. Shouto, feeling Katsuki's wrath seep into his skin, held his hands up in surrender.
"I only found out today," he insisted.
Katsuki brushed it off. "Whatever. It's not like it matters anyway."
Shouto tilted his head to one side. "Why not?"
Shouto could tell by Katsuki's demeanor that his friend did not mean to say that last part. Katsuki scanned the room with a half open mouth before swallowing hard. He was clearly hiding something, but what?
Quickly, he relaxed himself. "Nothing," he said.
"Doesn't sound like nothing," Shouto countered.
Katsuki laughed nervously. "Really, it's nothing."
Shouto, on the flip side, was not in the mood for jokes. "You're lying."
As Shouto stood up, Katsuki retreated into himself. He looked back and forth between Shouto and the front door. If he was planning on escaping this conversation, Shouto wasn't planning on letting him.
"Come on, Sho," he said. "Let's just forget it, okay?"
"No," Shouto said. He was insulted that Katsuki would even suggest such a thing. "We're gonna have this discussion right now."
"Um," Natsuo interrupted, "maybe we should head to the kitchen and start preparing the cupcakes?"
Rei nodded. "Of course! Katsuki," she said as she rose to her feet, "you're okay with funfetti, right?"
"Sure," Katsuki said, keeping his eyes on Shouto.
Rei, Natuso, Fuyumi, and Keigo then abandoned the unfinished Scrabble game on the floor and scurried out of the living room, giving the two boys some privacy. It had to have been for Katsuki's sake. Shouto had no issue confronting his friend with his family members present.
"What are you hiding?" was all he said.
Katsuki tried one last time. "Sho, do we really have to have this discussion now? Today of all days?"
"I don't care what today is, Katsuki. If you're hiding something from me, I want to know what it is."
Katsuki sighed in defeat before dragging his feet across the carpet. He plopped down on the couch, Shouto following suit. A full cushion sat between them. It was a drastic difference from earlier in the day when Katsuki's thigh was pressed against Shouto's during the speech portion of Touya's memorial.
"Look Shouto," he said, "Coach King has connections with the baseball coach at Shiketsu. And, well, he pulled some strings to score me a tryout with the team."
The tension in Shouto's face vanished. "Wait, what?" He broke into a big smile. "That's awesome! Shiketsu has the best baseball team in the country!"
It was a fact Shouto knew all too well. Shiketsu was the high school Enji always wanted Shouto to attend to pursue a baseball career. Out of all the high schools in Japan, Shiketsu produced the highest percentage of students that were drafted into the professional league right after graduation. Tryouts were invitation only, and only a handful of kids were granted that opportunity every year. For Katsuki to be one of them was a huge deal.
Katsuki smiled sadly. "Yeah," he muttered.
As Shouto processed the news, his smile twisted into a frown. "But wait, Shiketsu's on the other side of the country. How would you get to school every day?"
Katsuki took a deep breath. "I talked to my parents about it. They said if I make the team, they...they agreed to sell the house."
A blow the weight of the world smacked Shouto square in the face. The pain traveled throughout his entire body. His head, his stomach, but mostly his heart.
"You're moving?" he said, making no attempt to hide his feelings of betrayal.
Katsuki cast Shouto a look of pity, which didn't help the situation. "It's not a done deal or anything. If I don't make the team then-"
"Oh cut the crap, Katsuki," Shouto said. "Of course you're gonna make the team."
Katsuki didn't respond right away. Instead he scooted closer to his friend. The emotions reflected in their gazes were polar opposites, Katsuki appearing guilty while Shouto appeared angry.
"Okay, yeah," Katsuki said. "I'm moving."
Shouto shook his head. "And you didn't think to tell me?"
"I didn't want to hurt you."
"Well mission not accomplished!"
Shouto stormed out of the living room and raced up the stairs. Katsuki followed behind him, but Shouto slammed the door in his friend's face when he made it inside his room. Kori was snuggled up in the center of his bed as usual, so he sat on the edge. The pounding in his head intensified.
Even though Shouto slammed the door on him, he wasn't mad when Katsuki ignored his wishes and entered the room anyway. Katsuki sat right next to Shouto and threw an arm around him. A string of curse words rang through Shouto's mind, most of them directed at his friend. He knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. This situation sucked. It made him angry, and he needed to take his anger out on somebody.
Unfortunately, Katsuki was the easiest target.
Still, Shouto leaned his head on Katsuki's shoulder. He was furious, he was hurt, but he also wanted to capitalize on the opportunity to lean on his friend for support while he still could.
"I'm really sorry," Katsuki said.
"Don't be. You shouldn't feel bad for chasing your dream."
"We can still talk every day."
Shouto shook his head. "It won't be the same."
Katsuki rubbed Shouto's back. "I know. But we'll get through it. We always do."
His comment made Shouto smile. It was true, Katsuki and Shouto had nearly eight years of memories together. Some laughs, some fights, and some tears shed. Yet they always came out stronger than before.
Of course, Katsuki moving hours away was a greater challenge than anything they encountered thus far. But if there was any friendship that was strong enough to handle it, even if the relationship was bound to be strained by the distance, it was theirs.
Shouto lifted his head and gave a small smile. "April's only four months away."
Katsuki didn't smile back. "Yeah. That's not a lot of time."
Shouto nodded. Four months would fly by, and then they'd have to separate. There was nothing Shouto could do to fix that. However, there was one thing he still had control over, and that was how he chose to approach the situation.
"Well," he said, "let's make the most out of our time together while we have it."