Chapter 28: The Scabbard and the Shadow of the Summit
Principal Nezu listened to the tall student's predicament with undivided attention. He did not gasp, nor did he show any signs of discomfort regarding the lethal nature of Sakazuki's quirk. Instead, the small, intelligent mammal slowly lowered his porcelain teacup, his dark, beady eyes gleaming with a profound sense of respect.
"Most teenagers in your position, Sakazuki-kun, become intoxicated by their own destructive power," Nezu spoke, his cheerful tone replaced by a rare, grounded seriousness. "They treat it as a flashy toy or a tool for dominance. The fact that you clearly recognize the deadly weight of your weapon, and the responsibility that comes with it, is what separates a true professional from a reckless child."
Nezu folded his paws together on the polished mahogany desk. "I do not want you to suppress your quirk during the festival. However, tell me this: what good is a sharp sword if the scabbard is fragile?"
Sakazuki stood silently, absorbing the weight of the metaphor.
"Your weapon is fatal to the human body. That is a fact," Nezu continued, a clever smile curving his snout. "Therefore, do not aim your weapon at your classmates. Aim it at the environment. Use your heat to superheat the floor of the arena. Raise the ambient temperature of the air to drain their stamina, or melt the boundaries to isolate them. You can achieve absolute environmental suppression without landing a single direct strike."
The principal leaned forward slightly. "But to turn a stadium into a pressure cooker without burning yourself from the inside out, or collapsing from dehydration, you must reinforce the scabbard. You have one week left to push your physical endurance to its absolute peak."
It was a brilliant, highly tactical solution. It bypassed the risk of murder while still allowing him to dominate the battlefield. Sakazuki nodded, accepting the directive. "Understood. I will focus on environmental control."
Having received the guidance he sought, Sakazuki turned toward the heavy office door. He grabbed the brass handle, ready to begin his grueling physical regimen.
"Sakazuki-kun," Nezu called out after a brief, thoughtful pause.
The tall teenager stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.
The principal was smiling again, though the gleam in his eyes was cryptic and highly calculating. "Perhaps there is something else I can help you with..."
That same evening, the bustling streets of Hosu City were bathed in the vibrant, chaotic glow of neon signs and heavy traffic.
A public transit bus hissed to a halt against the crowded curb. The pneumatic doors slid open, and Shoto Todoroki stepped out into the cool night air. His expression was a blank, icy mask. He stood on the pavement and slowly raised his gaze to the towering skyscraper looming over the district.
The Endeavor Hero Agency.
The massive structure was an architectural monument to its owner's immense ego and unyielding authority. Todoroki stared at the glass facade for a long moment. A bitter war waged in his chest; his deeply rooted pride and his hatred for the man inside vehemently rejected this course of action. Yet, the harsh reality he had witnessed days ago forced his legs to move. He pushed through the glass doors and entered the fortress.
On the top floor, inside a sprawling, lavish office, Endeavor stood like a king before the panoramic window overlooking the city. His signature flames roared around his face, casting harsh, flickering shadows across the room.
When the heavy office doors opened and his son walked in, the Flame Hero was genuinely surprised. He had not expected his "masterpiece" to seek him out voluntarily. A smug, prideful smirk tugged at the corner of Endeavor's mouth. The rebellious phase was finally over. His son had realized he needed his father's power.
Todoroki did not waste time with pleasantries or greetings. He stopped in the middle of the spacious office and spoke with a strange, chilling bluntness.
"How does it feel..." Todoroki asked, his voice steady but carrying a heavy, piercing weight, "...when you are chasing a monster you can never catch?"
Endeavor's smug smile vanished instantly. The flames around his shoulders flared, hungry to react to the insult, but the Number Two hero forcefully suppressed his temper. He closed his eyes, taking a slow breath to maintain his dignified, unbothered facade in front of his son.
He opened his eyes and glared at the boy. "What do you mean by that?"
Todoroki looked away, the memory of the USJ plaza playing vividly in his mind. "I saw a student... turn a bio-engineered monster designed to kill All Might into ash in a matter of seconds. When I saw that level of heat, I realized something. If I continue to rely solely on my ice, I will find myself in the exact same pathetic position that you are in."
Todoroki met his father's furious gaze. "I will be stuck standing in the shadows, entirely unable to bridge the gap to an unstoppable force."
Endeavor's jaw clenched tightly. "You have my fire," he rumbled, his voice dangerously low. "A power that can rival and surpass any magma on this earth."
Todoroki slowly lifted his left hand, staring at his own palm with a look of profound, deeply unsettling doubt.
"Even if I say that..." Todoroki murmured, his voice losing its usual spiteful edge, replaced by a quiet, lingering hesitation. "...even if I release this side, I can only wonder if I'd be able to keep up."
Endeavor's fierce blue eyes actually shook.
He stared at his son. This was not the usual arrogant, spiteful defiance Todoroki always displayed. This was genuine, raw uncertainty. Something—or someone—had managed to plant a seed of actual fear into the heart of his masterpiece. Who the hell was this monster that had rattled his son so deeply?
Endeavor stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He reached out and placed a massive, heavy hand firmly on Todoroki's shoulder.
"It is fine," Endeavor said, his voice surprisingly steady, masking his internal shock. "You came to the right place."
With a swift, cold motion, Todoroki brushed his father's hand off his shoulder, physically rejecting the false sense of comfort. He looked up, his mismatched eyes hardening with a desperate, singular resolve.
"I hope you have a suitable training program for me."