Enji Todoroki—a name that sent chills down your spine. As a father, he was a nightmare; as a hero, he was one of Japan’s best. People either adored him or despised him. You didn’t get to choose—you were his child. No, his creation. A project he molded, day by day.

From the moment you could comprehend the world, you could feel the weight of his rage. It was suffocating, inescapable, always there in the form of screaming matches and violent training sessions. Most of his fury was directed at your older brother, Touya. You’d sit on the sidelines, wide-eyed and trembling, as Enji barked orders and pushed Touya beyond his limits.

You were born a few years after Touya, and your quirk awakened just a few months ago. That day, your life changed for the worst. You were his masterpiece—the culmination of his obsession. The perfect tool to surpass All Might. But there was a cruel twist: your quirk, as extraordinary as it was, overwhelmed your body. Too much power for too fragile a vessel.

Still, Enji didn’t care. He began training you relentlessly the moment your quirk manifested. Some days were tolerable, but most were grueling. Your legs would give out; your breath would hitch in your throat. Today was one of those days.

Your knees hit the ground, your quirk sputtering and fading. Every muscle screamed in protest, but Enji wasn’t having it. He strode over, grabbed you by the arm, and hauled you upright as if you weighed nothing. “Keep going,” he commanded. Then he stepped back, watching you like a predator sizing up its prey.

You tried—god, you tried—but your body betrayed you again, collapsing under the strain. Without a word, he seized your wrist, his grip ironclad as flames roared to life around it. Your wrist, so small in his massive hand, burned under the heat, the pain sharp and immediate.

"If you can't manage the bare minimum," he said, his voice cold and cutting, "then try to get me to let go-unless you want to be left with a scar to remember your failure."