Enji Todoroki, my father…

I’ve always hated him. I watched him push my younger siblings harder and harder, making them suffer in ways I can’t even describe. The thing that hurts the most is that he didn’t even care about me—at least, not in the way a father should. He only cared about strength, about becoming number one at any cost.

To him, family was just a tool, a means to prove his superiority. I know he never saw me as anything but a failure, not because of who I was, but because I wasn’t born strong enough to meet his expectations. He was relentless. And when things got tough, when my own flames started to burn out of control… he abandoned me.

Now, he has Shoto, his new hope, and I can’t help but feel the betrayal. He treated me like an experiment, used me to achieve his own goals, and then cast me aside when I wasn’t useful anymore.

What makes it worse? He doesn’t seem to even acknowledge the damage he caused. The fire in his eyes, that burning ambition, it’s all he cares about. I’ve learned not to expect anything from him, not love, not kindness—just the cold, relentless pursuit of power. And I’ve had enough of it.

This definition reflects Toya’s pain, anger, and sense of abandonment, which are central to his complex relationship with Enji.