The franchise cafe inside the hospital was immaculate.
As if to demonstrate the hospital’s sheer size, it was bustling with people.
Kirishima and Todoroki settled into a secluded table in the corner.
"So what’s the matter? Why were you wandering around out front like a lost lamb kicked out of the house?"
"Um..."
Todoroki’s face remained as impassive as ever, yet Kirishima could sense the unease hidden behind his expression.
For the time being, Kirishima chose not to press him for answers.
"Um..."
"Hey, I get it—it’s hard to talk about this. I’m not trying to rush you, but just mumbling 'um...' for five minutes straight isn’t really helping, is it?"
Even as Kirishima’s frustration broke through, Todoroki couldn’t bring himself to respond.
Had the buzzer not sounded at that moment, Kirishima might have lost his temper entirely.
"I’ll go get our order. Let’s have a drink and talk then."
After setting the tray down and each taking a tentative sip of their drinks, Todoroki finally broke his long-held silence.
"You probably know this already, but my family situation is… complicated."
"Yeah, I know."
"Know? How?"
"Ah, I overheard what you were saying to Midoriya yesterday. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help hearing it."
Todoroki glared at Kirishima with a hard, unyielding expression.
Kirishima merely shrugged. "If it upset you, I’m sorry. I wasn’t deliberately listening—I was coming out of the hallway where you and Midoriya were talking, and I caught bits of it. I know it might sound like an excuse."
"You… No, forget it. There’s no need to explain any further."
"Right. I’m not going to belabor the details. But then, why were you hesitating at the hospital entrance?"
After a long pause, with the weight of the moment pressing down on them, Todoroki murmured, "My mother probably still... fears me and my father. Honestly, I’m not sure—whether I should go see her or if I’d only be making things worse..."
"Are you scared?"
"What?"
"I asked if you're scared. You did mention that the separation on bad terms might have left her unchanged. Are you frightened that she’s still that way? Or worried that visiting her might worsen things?"
"Aren't you being a bit too blunt?"
Todoroki’s displeasure was evident, yet Kirishima pressed on.
"Maybe it’s blunt, but right now you need someone to give you a push—even if it’s a rude one. What good is it if I say some comforting platitude like 'she’ll be fine' or 'she’ll be happy to see you'? It doesn’t change anything."
"Um..."
Meeting Todoroki’s downcast eyes with steady resolve, Kirishima continued without hesitation.
He thought the lad was pitiable.
In Kirishima’s eyes, someone who had been worn down by his parents and thrown out with nothing was at least fortunate to have been fed and cared for. At the same time, having experienced the deep hurt of parental abandonment himself, he felt a strong urge to look after him.
But Kirishima knew full well that if Todoroki were six instead of sixteen, he would have been taken care of without hesitation.
He would have been offered a shoulder to lean on—a home to call his own.
Yet Todoroki was sixteen.
While other kids nestled comfortably in warm, secure surroundings, he had been forced to walk his own path. And while many were just beginning their journey, he had long since been wandering.
Of course, not every wanderer was hopelessly lost.
Todoroki, who had until now been a lost soul, was finally determined to find his way and move forward.
If that was the case, then his first step had to be taken on his own terms.
He would continue to wander, sometimes veering off course, but each misstep would provide a new starting point for reflection.
"I’m not a prophet, and I’m not going to irresponsibly promise that everything will turn out fine. There’s only one thing I can say: what you need right now is resolve. Resolve to accept your mother as she is and to keep moving forward. Resolve to acknowledge that the misfortune and pain you’ve endured aren’t your fault. Resolve to value yourself, exactly as you are."
Some might think that truly valuing oneself requires no grand declaration.
Others might find it ironic to talk about ‘acknowledgment’ when it comes to suffering that wasn’t even their doing.
But anyone who has once hit rock bottom—where despair clings like wet mud—understands.
By the time consciousness returns, self-loathing has become as natural as breathing, and the absence of pain brings its own unease.
Learning to cherish oneself and let go of self-blame becomes an enormous challenge.
Kirishima’s eyes burned into Todoroki’s, their penetrating intensity seeming to strip him bare.
"In the end, your life is your own. Accept it for what it is—even that alone will make things better. And just so you know, I’m not telling you to ignore your mother or harbor resentment. I’ve always said that while we can’t choose our circumstances, we can choose how we behave within them. Sure, sometimes you can’t fight against your environment, but that doesn’t mean your mother acted with malice, does it?"
Todoroki’s voice, heavy with emotion and on the verge of tears, shot back, "Absolutely not. My mother isn’t like that. She did everything she could to stop my father and to protect me."
Realizing he had allowed his emotions to spiral, he sipped his cold coffee and continued with a calmer tone.
"You’re right... My mother was just caught up in everything. Even while she wanted to protect us, she simply didn’t have the strength. I believe, without a doubt, that all she ever wanted was to keep us safe."
"I see. So what’s there to worry about? The only thing holding you back now is your own heart."
"Aren’t you making it sound too simple?"
"Wouldn’t she be overjoyed if the son she longed to protect finally showed his face after all this time?"
Todoroki could only remain silent.
"So muster your resolve, go see her calmly, and show her the real you. Sure, you’re still a kid—don’t be afraid to be a little spoiled. But also prove that you’re no longer just a child in need of protection; you can protect her now."
"That sounds contradictory," Todoroki replied.
"That’s exactly how it is at your age—old enough to be cared for, yet just old enough to take your first step into the world."
Kirishima tapped the table lightly, took another sip of his coffee, and went on.
"I still can’t figure out why you can unleash fire when you fight Midoriya but seem to hold back now. From what I gather, it’s all mental. Honestly, to me it sounds like you’re fussing about whether to use ice or fire—talking in riddles—but I’m sure there’s more to it. Tell me, Todoroki, is your desire to become a hero really that light?"
Todoroki narrowed his eyes at Kirishima’s almost reproachful words but said nothing. Just the thought of his mother made his head spin.
"I started training when I was two. You might have guessed it by now, but my Quirk grows stronger the more I push it. So from a very young age, I hit myself. I kept breaking and mending, over and over—until the same Quirk that would shatter at the mere impact of a stone could withstand artillery shells. I did it all. Some might call it childish, but I wanted to be the strongest. I still do. And that’s why I keep pushing myself, by any means necessary. So tell me, Todoroki—what do you really want to become? Why settle for such half-hearted dreams?"
After launching a barrage of nearly accusatory words, Kirishima downed the rest of his coffee in a single gulp and stood up.
"Looks like I’ve just made your head even more twisted. If it’s too hard to accept, just remember what I said in the beginning—that’s what matters right now. Then, figure out what your inner fire truly desires. By now, you should have enough courage to go see your mother. And if not, well, you have no choice. Get up and go now—I’m heading home myself."
With that, he left without a backward glance.
Todoroki stood there for a moment, dazed.
"He’s gone," he murmured, glancing down at his coffee cup.
As he watched the clear ice cubes floating in the cup, he downed the coffee in one swift gulp—just like that loud, determined, unstoppable guy always did.
As he had said, no amount of worry or avoidance could solve these problems.
Steeling himself, Todoroki left the cafe and made his way to the hospital reception desk to request a visit.
The procedure was swift, and after a brief hesitation outside his mother’s room, he flung the door open.
A white-haired woman, gazing out the window, came into view.
"Mother."
Calling out in a voice that wavered between calm and trepidation, he saw her turn her head.
Noticing the look of surprise on her face, Todoroki took a step toward her.
That was the moment Hero Todoroki began his journey.
**
After a long day, Kirishima returned home, had dinner, and reviewed yesterday’s footage.
Calmly analyzing the students’ Quirks and their combat, he edited together the key points and pondered the next steps.
No matter how he looked at it, the kids still seemed a bit weak.
After all, these were elite students—carefully chosen—so they weren’t exactly feeble. The issue was that Class A was destined to be caught at the center of an impending storm.
In truth, even the future that Kirishima foresaw was nearly over; there wasn’t much time left.
But even if the future beyond was uncertain, one thing was clear.
Midoriya was the protagonist of this world—and a protagonist is always accompanied by a storm.
How long could these children endure amidst such chaos?
For Kirishima, all he could do now was make them as strong as possible.
And so, he continued to mull it over in his own way.
"Hmm. Maybe I should just buy an SMC—a sports motion capture system—with my own money and donate it to the school."
It would be a significant expense, but it was well within his means at the moment.
Money wasn’t something he cared deeply about; if it was a necessary investment, he had no reason to hesitate.
Kirishima would benefit as well, and aside from the school, there wasn’t another place to set up the equipment.
"I’m not sure if I’d get permission, though. Still, if Aizawa approves, I have a feeling he’ll be on board. Setting up the facility might be an administrative matter, but with his support, it could happen."
Pragmatic as Aizawa was, he probably wouldn’t object.
Though it was hard to imagine Aizawa ever taking the initiative to push for such an installation.
"Hmm. Then again, should I just start a club? Or maybe an external organization?"
For quite some time, Kirishima had toyed with the idea of forming an organization or group to teach martial arts.
He wasn’t concerned about martial arts fading into oblivion; allowing essential fighting techniques to vanish while people still needed to learn them was both a societal loss and a danger.
Instead of having everyone scattered and trying to survive on their own by branch or style, he envisioned uniting them under one roof.
Though still a student and too busy to start immediately, it was a plan he needed to consider.
In reality, establishing an external organization didn’t seem too difficult.
With the connections and resources of someone like Samat, things could probably be arranged in no time.
The challenge wasn’t creating it—it was keeping it together.
When people gather, friction is inevitable. Samat certainly had the ability to control and guide them, but he was older now.
This meant planning for a successor from the very start. And while Kirishima never intended to be that successor, he wanted enough authority to keep the organization on track.
He had no interest in power, but if a martial arts organization, bound together by the last remnants of strength, went astray, it would mean the death knell for martial arts itself.
He wasn’t willing to let that happen.
"Hah. This isn’t something that can be solved by worrying now. I need to take care of the kids first."
Just as Kirishima shook his head at how far his thoughts had wandered and refocused on immediate concerns, his phone rang—and the caller ID read "Mother."
"Hello? Mom?"
"Hello? Eiji, did you get some rest today?"
"Yeah, I went out, but I didn’t train. I mostly took it easy, I guess?"
"If you rested, then you rested—if not, then you didn’t. How am I supposed to know what ‘mostly rested’ means?"
"Um, just think of it as resting."
Usually, Kirishima was bold and straightforward, but talking with his parents often left him tongue-tied.
Especially when it came to matters that were too honest to fake, yet too awkward to reveal the full truth.
He already felt guilty for having gone out today—and yesterday—despite his mother’s constant reminders to rest.
After a long-winded explanation of his day, he finally earned a word of praise from her.
"Good job. Remember to be kind to the kid—and to your fans too. When it comes to young fans, of course you should treat them well. I was worried that with your training obsession, you’d end up being cold to them."
"No, I'm always good to my fans. Though, until now, I haven’t really had many fans..."
They laughed together—about the fan who ran off after having his hood signed and refusing a taxi fare, about Honoka, and about Todoroki.
Listening to his mother’s warm voice yet again, Kirishima was reminded why he fought.
Of course, there was no grand reason for wanting to be the strongest.
He simply wanted to be.
But now, strength meant something more.
Even if he couldn’t save everyone, he wanted to be a fortress—a protector for those within his reach.
For someone who once didn’t mind becoming a villain, that was his first, true wish as a hero.
On that night, a new passion—born from his mother’s love—burned softly like a fire warming the depths of a winter night.
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