5

“Welcome home, Shoto!”

Shoto Todoroki had barely taken his shoes off in the entryway when he heard his older sister shout from deeper in the house, followed by the pitter-patter of her slippered shoes rushing toward him. Wiping her wet hands on her apron, Fuyumi gave her little brother a broad, warm smile.

“Thanks,” said Shoto.

It was New Year’s Eve, and the students had been given permission to visit home for that night and the following day, as long as they had a pro hero escorting them.

“I was so sure you wouldn’t be home for the holiday, so this was a pleasant surprise. You hungry?” said Fuyumi.

“No … Are you making something?” said Shoto, walking toward the kitchen. A bevy of tantalizing aromas filled his nose.

“Yes, just the traditional osechi stuff,” said Fuyumi. “Ah, the water’s boiling!”

Shoto watched as his sister ran over, lowered the fire, and breathed a sigh of relief. The main work space was already covered with cooked dishes, including kuromame (sweet black soybeans), tazukuri (candied sardines), kurikinton (candied chestnuts and sweet potatoes), and datemaki (sweet rolled omelet). The sight of it all reminded him that this lavish spread was just another yearly tradition.

Shoto’s hand instinctively reached out for the glossy black kuromame, but Fuyumi caught him and said, “Nuh-uh! Not until you wash your hands, mister.”

“Fine,” he said, marching off to the bathroom.

“So are you hungry or not? I can make you something else,” called Fuyumi, still in the kitchen.

“No,” said Shoto. “I already ate with Mom.”

He’d gotten permission to add an extra stop to his homecoming so he could visit his mother, Rei, in the institution where she was kept. Those visits had become rarer since the dorm system had been implemented, so Shoto hadn’t been about to let this valuable opportunity pass him by. As it happened, Rei was doing well enough that her doctors implied she might be discharged in the near future. As Shoto washed his hands and gargled for a bit, he recalled the meal he and his mother had just shared in the hospital cafeteria.

Her gentle face rose up in his mind. As he recalled their rambling conversation about nothing in particular, it occurred to him that this had been the first meal they’d eaten together in years. He remembered how the cafeteria had been all out of soba (the not-hot kind), so Rei had chosen beef stew instead, and Shoto had opted for katsudon. Beef stew and katsudon—the favorite foods and frequent orders of two of his good friends. He remembered telling his mother how finishing the supplemental course meant that he’d earned his provisional hero license. Finally, he remembered her parting words to him: “I’m making an effort too.”

“I know, Mom. I’ll try even harder,” mumbled Shoto, staring into the bathroom mirror. His own efforts concerned his dream to become an all-powerful hero, like the one he’d seen on TV as a little boy. It was only recently that he realized he’d been taking the long way around toward his dream for years out of sheer hatred for his father, who’d abused his mother. Going forward, his path was straight ahead, no detours.

Shoto walked back into the kitchen and popped a kuromame bean into his mouth. Fuyumi noticed and rolled her eyes affectionately.

“Is it good, at least?” she asked. Shoto nodded.

“Glad to hear it. Ah, Natsu’s also coming home today … Dad too,” said Fuyumi.

“Hrm.”

Fuyumi wore a troubled smile in response to her brother’s cryptic grunt, which couldn’t exactly be read as positive or negative. Shoto suddenly felt bad for his sister.

“Can I help?” he said.

“Nonsense. You’re only home once in a blue moon, so take it easy,” said Fuyumi.

Shoto looked unsure how to respond, so his sister smiled at him.

“Fine, fine. Your futon’s drying by the window in your room. Why don’t you take it down and lay it out?”

“Okay.”

“I’m home!” said Natsuo, stepping into the entryway. He immediately spotted a pair of unfamiliar shoes—loafers, characteristic of schoolkids.

Ah. Must be Shoto’s.

Fuyumi had told him that their little brother would be home tonight. The shoes in question were scuffed and a bit dirty, but otherwise pretty ordinary. Natsuo stared at them for a moment.

“Hi, Natsu! Hey, what’s the holdup out there?”

The sound of his sister scampering toward him snapped Natsuo out of his reverie, and he took off his own shoes and stepped into the hall.

“Nothing,” he said. “I take it Shoto’s here already?”

“Mm-hm. Actually, I wonder what’s keeping him?” said Fuyumi.

“Keeping him? What’s he up to?”

“I told him to lay out his futon, but that was a while ago,” said Fuyumi, glancing in the general direction of Shoto’s room.

“Lemme go check on him,” said Natsuo.

“Thanks. Hang on—weren’t you going to bring home the girlfriend?” teased Fuyumi. She peered over his shoulder mockingly, as if he might be hiding someone behind him.

“Ugh!” he grunted with a scowl, clearly embarrassed. “She’s spending the holiday with her fam too … but we’re gonna do hatsumode together at some point. First shrine visit of the New Year and all.”

Now it was Fuyumi’s turn to cringe with an “Ugh!” of her own.

“You’re so darn innocent it makes me sick!” she said.

“Oh, gimme a break! You asked!” said Natsuo.

“That’s enough out of you. Go wash your hands,” said Fuyumi.

“Fine. Whatever you say,” he said, marching off to the bathroom.

“Oh, also …” said Fuyumi. She paused, preparing to adorn her words with a practiced air of nonchalance.

“Dad’s coming home early today, after work. And he said he’s bringing home a feast.”

“Yeah? Then I’ll make sure to be long gone before he gets here.”

“Natsu …”

His sister had expected that reaction, but still her face clouded over. Though it hurt Natsuo’s heart to see his sister so dejected, he was in no mood to change his mind.

“Sorry, but …” he started.

“Anyhow, you’ll have some year’s-end soba, right? Homemade, of course,” interrupted Fuyumi, who, hoping to break the awkward tension, grinned and rolled up her sleeves. Unable to resist her jovial efforts, Natsuo sighed and decided to play along.

“Sis, don’t tell me you’re gonna quit teaching to become a noodle-monger!”

“I dunno! Maybe! The local soba master said I’ve got the knack for it.”

After the lighthearted back-and-forth, Natsuo washed his hands, as promised, and moved toward the side room. As he opened the sliding shoji panel and stepped in, he caught a whiff of incense. This particular room held the butsudan altar for family members who’d passed away, and it always felt like a space where time had stopped. Perhaps that was because, for Natsuo, his brother Toya would forever remain the age he was in the photo on the altar.

“Hmm?”

Natsuo was about to light an incense stick when he noticed the dying embers of another, already in the incense burner.

Was Shoto in here earlier?

Natsuo’s brow furrowed, and he was suddenly overcome with emotion at the thought of his little brother offering incense at the altar. There was nothing strange about the act—they were family, after all—but Natsuo instinctively bristled at the very notion of being a part of this family, which was hardly an ordinary one.

“I’m home, Toya …”

After placing a lit stick of incense, Natsuo got up and moved toward Shoto’s room, which he rarely had occasion to visit.

“Shoto?” he said, facing the sliding fusuma screen.

No response. Natsuo slid the screen aside, not expecting to find his brother inside, but there he was—fast asleep on the futon that he’d clearly plopped down onto without much care, all askew. Moving quietly so as not to wake Shoto, Natsuo crept over and peered at his brother’s face. He looked surprisingly young, despite the burn scar that sat heavy on his face like a shadow. Having been abused by Endeavor—who’d been fixated on his own ambition—Rei Todoroki had snapped one day and thrown scalding water in Shoto’s face. Natsuo would never forget the pair of tear-filled screams he’d heard that day. How painful it must have been, he thought.

Natsuo caught himself extending a finger toward the scar but quickly curled it away when he realized what he was doing. Shoto’s scar probably wouldn’t exist if only the boy hadn’t inherited aspects of both his parents’ Quirks. Maybe Shoto could have enjoyed a normal childhood, full of carefree days playing with his siblings.

And yet I couldn’t do a thing …

Natsuo had been in elementary school when it had happened. Their father, Endeavor, had ignored his family’s well-being in pursuit of his ambitions—ambitions he’d projected onto young Shoto. Even now, Natsuo would beat himself up over how he used to be before the abuse really began, recalling the period in his life that had made him feel pathetic and ashamed. Before Shoto was born, Natsuo had sought his father’s love and care, and when Endeavor was around, he would turn into an excited ball of energy, eager for attention.

But that love never came. It was only thanks to his warm and caring mother that Natsuo had survived those early years and learned to cope with rejection from his other parent. But after Shoto was born, even their mother grew distant, though not out of indifference. Natsuo could sense how much energy she’d had to devote to protecting her youngest, her baby, from her husband’s so-called training—which most would label abuse—but at that age, Natsuo couldn’t help but feel that his mother had been stolen away from him. After witnessing his mother and brother crying and screaming on that horrible day, Natsuo had been overcome with crushing shame.

He found himself unable to stare at his brother’s childlike face any longer, so he left the room and moved to the kitchen.

“Did you say hi to Shoto?” asked Fuyumi.

“He’s asleep,” said Natsuo.

“Poor thing must be exhausted,” said Fuyumi with a soft smile, picturing her little brother. “Oh, can you grab the jubako for me?”

Natsuo fetched the stacked serving boxes from the cabinet and started working on other kitchen tasks.

“Why’d we have to be born as Endeavor’s children, huh?” he mumbled, unable to hold it in anymore.

“Huh? Please, no heavy topics. Not right now,” said Fuyumi. She produced another smile as she continued her work, though it was a slightly troubled one.

“I’m just saying,” said Natsuo. “Imagine how we could’ve been, as an actually happy family.”

“Natsu, please …”

“I know, I know, even normal families’ve got problems, but … it only turned out this way cuz he married Mom for her Quirk. So how dare he go and …”

Natsuo felt the rage welling up and cut himself off. He was eager to vent, but the one he really wanted to take his anger out on wasn’t there. Not that their father would even fight back, at this point.

“Nah, forget it!” said Natsuo, swallowing his anger and frustration while forcing a fake smile.

“Talking about him just pisses me off,” he continued, “and now I’m hungry!”

He popped one of the datemaki omelet bites in his mouth.

“Mm-mmm! No one makes datemaki quite like you, Sis.”

Fuyumi’s troubled expression softened into a relieved smile.

“That’s Mom’s recipe, of course,” she said. “But no snacking! Load those into the jubako, won’t you?”

“Okaaay … Should I stick them in this part?”

“Yes, right there,” said Fuyumi. “Like other rolled foods, datemaki usually represent good luck with studies and schoolwork, but Mom’s parents taught her to make this rounder version, which is a way of wishing for a harmonious household—like everyone coming together in a big circle. That’s why I put so much love and energy into these every year.”

As she spoke, Fuyumi violated her own rule and ate the end slice of datemaki.

“Delicious, as expected,” she said with a self-satisfied nod, before noticing that Natsuo seemed at a loss for words.

“What is it?” she asked.

The nonchalant question caught Natsuo off guard. He realized his hands had stopped moving, so he resumed his task and placed the rest of the soft datemaki into the box gently, careful to keep it from falling apart.

“It’s nothing,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. You don’t gotta treat me like a kid.”

Natsuo nearly gasped at his words, which sounded wholly unconvincing even to his ear. He had been a kid, back then. And Shoto had been even younger.

“Sis, I … Sometimes … sometimes I wish I’d done more to stop him when he was being such a monster to Shoto …”

Fuyumi spun around to look at her brother, who furrowed his brow and tried to keep the mood from getting any darker with a “Wait, just hear me out.”

“Shoto was so little back then,” he continued. “It’s not like he could run away or anything, no matter how bad he wanted to. Sure, Endeavor barely even acknowledged our existence, which wasn’t great, but it was kinda no big deal compared to the crap he did to Shoto.”

When he was finished, his sister set down the long cooking chopsticks and gave him a gentle pat on the head. Natsuo looked confused.

“I know you suffered in your own way, and that’s perfectly valid,” she said. “You don’t have to compare your pain to anyone else’s.”

Fuyumi’s warm and earnest gaze made Natsuo shut his eyes tight and bite his lower lip. These two had been in it together since the start, so he was terrible at hiding anything from her. Yes, he’d endured his own pain, but the feeling that he’d failed in his role as Shoto’s big brother still haunted him.

“Natsu?”

Natsuo turned to find his little brother standing at the entrance to the kitchen, still looking half-asleep. Based on the confused look on his face, it appeared Shoto had witnessed Fuyumi patting Natsuo’s head.

“Oh, you’re up,” said Natsuo. “I found you snoozing a minute ago. Isn’t that right, Sis?”

Eager to move on and not have Shoto ask questions, Natsuo punctuated his words and gave his sister a sharp glance.

“Yes, you were sleeping so peacefully that Natsu didn’t want to disturb you,” said Fuyumi.

“Oh, I had no idea,” said Shoto with a small yawn. “You could’ve woken me up.”

Natsuo gave an imperceptible sigh of relief, glad that Shoto hadn’t overheard anything.

“Let me help,” said the youngest Todoroki, stepping into the kitchen, but Fuyumi had ideas of her own.

“Leave the kitchen to me,” she said. “Why don’t you two go outside and feed the koi instead?”

At first, her brothers insisted that feeding the fish wasn’t a task that took two people, but Fuyumi insisted and forced them out into the garden.

Oh, you’re good, Sis …

Natsuo scowled a little, knowing full well that Fuyumi’s ulterior motive was to try to force her younger brothers to bond. Silently, Shoto followed behind him. They’d spoken face-to-face few enough times in their lives to count on two hands, and Natsuo had only recently learned that Shoto’s favorite food was soba. Despite living in the same household, he felt so guilty about their childhood that he’d actually spent much more time in the room of his dead brother than in that of his living one. In fact, Natsuo still wasn’t quite comfortable being alone with Shoto, given how infrequent their interactions were. Acting normal seemed impossible when their relationship was anything but.

Makes sense, though, in a family that’s not normal at all.

This thought seemed to drain Natsuo and forced his mouth into a weary half smile.

“Natsu?”

At Shoto’s questioning tone, Natsuo turned to find a puzzled look on his brother’s face. Those two-tone eyes had once held a darkness within them and had emitted a smoldering energy that seemed to reject everyone and everything. At some recent point, however, Shoto had undergone a dramatic change.

“Shoto’s already made friends at U.A.”

That’s what his overjoyed mother had told Natsuo when he’d visited. Maybe it was those friends who had brought about this change? Suddenly, he felt the urge to meet these friends of Shoto’s.

“Erm, it’s nothing,” said Natsuo, at last. He had been about to ask about his brother’s friends but suddenly felt awkward.

When they arrived at the pond, the koi started swarming at the edge by the boys’ feet, their gaping mouths at the ready.

“They must be hungry,” said Shoto quietly.

The brothers walked to the storage shed and started rummaging around for the fish food. The large shed was packed with gardening tools and abandoned relics of years gone by.

“Now where’s that food?” said Natsuo. “Wait, hmm?” He’d encountered something near the fish food that gave him a twinge of nostalgia—their old soccer ball. It showed signs of age but was still inflated enough to be used.

Right. This old thing …

Holding the ball, Natsuo whipped around and called out to his brother, who was inspecting the unfamiliar space as if it were a lost tomb.

“Think fast!”

He’d thrown the ball hoping to surprise his brother, fully expecting that Shoto’s U.A.-honed reflexes would kick in and help him catch it, but instead Shoto’s eyes bulged wide in surprise and the ball bounced off his body. Natsuo didn’t know how to react to this awkward development and stood frozen in place as Shoto ran off to retrieve the ball. The chase led him near the pond, and then …

“Watch out!” cried Natsuo as he watched his little brother stumble and fall sideways, right into the koi pond.

“Pwah!” gasped Shoto, standing up in the shallow water. He surveyed his own soaking wet body and was dismayed by how pathetic he felt. Meanwhile, Natsuo burst out laughing.

“Natsu …” said Shoto with a dark scowl.

“Sorry! C’mon, lemme help,” said Natsuo, extending a hand. Shoto took it, but as he shifted his weight to clamber out of the pond, his foot slipped on the moss-covered rocks.

“Whoa!”

“You both fell in? How does that even happen? Bath! Now!”

One look at her dripping wet brothers and Fuyumi ran off to heat the bathwater, grumbling about what a shame it would be if they caught colds during the holiday. The boys obeyed, warming their chilly bodies with a quick shower rinse before settling into the large family-style tub, which could easily fit five.

“Ahh …” sighed Natsuo instinctively, submitting to the hot water and its soothing power. “Can’t believe I took a dunk in the fishpond on New Year’s Eve …”

“Sorry …” said Shoto.

“You’re sorry? I’m the one who threw that ball. It was my bad.”

“No … I just mean …” started Shoto. Hiss loss for words revived that same awkward discomfort in Natsuo.

C’mon. You’re allowed to tell me it was my fault.

Unsure what to do with himself, Natsuo dipped his face under the water. That was when he realized this was the first time he’d ever bathed with his little brother. When he was little, he’d taken baths with his mother and older siblings, but once his mother had started bathing with Shoto, he and the others had been on their own.

“We’ve never taken a bath together before now,” muttered Shoto.

“True enough,” said Natsuo, slightly shocked that his brother had been thinking the same thing.

“How’re the baths in your dorm building? Nice and big?” he continued.

“Twice as big as this one.”

“I bet it’s loads of fun, piling on in there with your friends.”

“It’s … normal. I’m used to it by now. Anyway, we should probably wash our hair, right?” said Shoto.

Natsuo agreed and suggested that Shoto go first; it was already evening, and neither of the brothers felt like bathing again later. Shoto climbed out of the tub, set a stool down by the sitting-style shower, and began to wash his hair. Natsuo watched his brother’s back and spaced out. The defined muscles he saw there spoke to the training Shoto had undergone at U.A.

He’s giving it his all at school, huh?

Natsuo couldn’t help but be impressed by his little brother—a future pro hero. Despite the hard times they’d endured at the hands of the Todoroki family’s current pro hero, Shoto was aiming for the same career. It had actually been Fuyumi who’d encouraged her little brother, which had led him to U.A. in pursuit of his dream. He wanted nothing more than to provide support for other wounded souls like his mother.

Natsuo could tell that Shoto had begun to move forward toward that dream, and he knew how much courage that took. Starting took courage, keeping it up took conviction, and Shoto was clearly lacking neither. As the big brother, Natsuo suddenly found himself feeling pathetic again, but at the same time, he was deeply proud. This blend of emotions somehow began to melt away that bristling he’d felt in his heart earlier.

“Shoto, you having fun at school?” asked Natsuo, just as his little brother was rinsing out the shampoo.

“Huh? You say something?” said Shoto, whipping around.

“I asked if school is fun.”

The simple question was of no great importance, but Natsuo felt like making conversation.

“I wouldn’t say ‘fun,’” said Shoto. “The training is tough, and we barely have time to breathe between classes.”

“Sure. Makes sense,” said Natsuo.

“Not that that’s a bad thing,” said Shoto, looking almost pleased. Natsuo grinned.

“Y’don’t say!”

“What about you? How’s college?”

“It’s brutal! But I’m still having a blast!”

“Sis told me you have a girlfriend.”

“She never has learned to mind her own business,” said Natsuo, who lowered his face into the water at the mention of the awkward topic. This earned a small smile from Shoto, and in turn, a submerged smile from Natsuo. Shoto had now begun to wash his body.

“And you? Any ladies in your life these days?” asked Natsuo, bringing his mouth back above the water line.

“No.”

“No wonder, given how busy they keep you at that school. How about friends, then? Got any of those?”

Shoto hands stopped moving as he thought, but before Natsuo could say “It ain’t a trick question!” Shoto gave his answer.

“Midoriya and Ida, I guess. I usually eat lunch with them, and we study together sometimes.”

“Cool, cool,” said Natsuo.

“I thought I might get closer with Bakugo since we had to do that license course together, but it didn’t turn out that way,” added Shoto.

“Hmm?” Natsuo tilted his head questioningly.

What, did they get in a fight or something?

Shoto didn’t elaborate on Bakugo, but he did go down the list, mentioning each of his classmates in one way or another. As Natsuo climbed out of the bath to switch places with his brother, he felt glad he’d started this conversation.

“But seriously, what’re they teaching you at that school if you can’t even catch a ball?” he asked teasingly.

Shoto froze for a moment, almost embarrassed.

“It took me by surprise,” he said. “That’s the ball you all used to play with, years ago. I watched you, you know. Always wanted to play too.”

This small confession was like a knife to Natsuo’s heart, and he let the shower water hide the tears that began to form in his eyes. Stopping the abuse might’ve been a tall order for a child, but he could’ve started by inviting his little brother to play with them, if nothing else.

Natsuo furiously rinsed the shampoo out of his hair before whipping around with a smile.

“Let’s play some soccer after the bath, huh?” he said.

“When we’ve just gotten clean?” said Shoto.

“Whatever! If we get sweaty, the bath’s not going anywhere.”

Before Shoto could respond, they heard the door to the changing room slide open, and Fuyumi’s silhouette appeared on the other side of the fogged-up glass.

“Natsu! Shoto! I have to run out for a bit!” she said.

“Huh? For what?!” said Natsuo.

“I forgot to pick up the mochi I ordered!”

After watching their sister’s scurrying ankles carry her away, the boys decided it was time to get out of the bath. They put on some clothes and moved into the kitchen, where they found the entire osechi spread waiting for them. The water in the large pot was steaming, as if the burner had been lit until just a moment ago, and a smaller pot contained fragrant soba dipping sauce. Laid out on the table were a large kneading bowl, a bag of buckwheat flour, and a rolling pin.

“Soba-making gear, huh?” remarked Natsuo. Shoto’s eyes were glued to the tools and ingredients, but his expression was inscrutable. Still, in a moment of insight, Natsuo took the hint.

“Let’s save the soccer for another time, yeah?” he said.

“Huh?”

“You’re clearly dying to make some soba.”

Shoto nodded shyly.

“I get it. You love soba,” said Natsuo with a grin. “Hey—how about we pound this out before Sis gets back? That’ll knock her socks off.”

“Okay …”

The two brothers rolled up their sleeves and approached the flour as if ready for battle, but then Shoto froze in place.

“You, uh, wanna get started, buddy?” said Natsuo, who’d been planning to assist while Shoto did the honors.

“I do, but this is my first time. What about you, Natsu?” said Shoto.

“Same here! You think us first timers are up to the task? Hang on, lemme look it up,” said Natsuo, whipping out his phone. The internet informed him that, yes, beginners might have a tough time of it.

“Doing it with nothing but buckwheat flour is hard, they say. Let’s try the nihachi hybrid version, with a little wheat flour added in,” said Natsuo.

“No. Full buckwheat,” said Shoto.

“That’s the hard way, though …” said Natsuo.

“I think it’s tastier,” insisted Shoto.

Sensing that Shoto was willing to die on this particular hill, Natsuo relented. In preparation, he looked up a simple video demonstrating the process.

“Okay … Looks like adding the water is the key step,” said Natsuo. “Here we go. When the water hits, you gotta make sure it gets distributed nice and quick.”

“Got it … Oops,” said Shoto.

“Too much power! The flour’s s’posed to stay inside the bowl!”

“Just add some more.”

“Like this … ? Aw, crap! Forgot to measure!”

“Oops again.”

“I’m baaack! Sorry that took so long,” said Fuyumi, who’d returned with the mochi. “Wait, what’s going on here?”

Her brothers stood in the kitchen, seemingly frozen in place.

“Sorry, Sis …” said Natsuo

“We failed at soba making …” explained Shoto.

Fuyumi’s eyes shifted to the table, where a zaru draining basket was holding an unidentifiable lump. It was the right color for soba, but its shape didn’t resemble noodles in any way.

“Did you two … try making it all on your own?” she asked.

Her brothers nodded, glancing at the empty bag of flour.

“Ha ha ha!”

Fuyumi could imagine how the scene had played out, and she was almost impressed. Her brothers—who’d been bracing for a scolding—raised their eyebrows, making them look like abandoned puppy dogs.

“I got the amounts all wrong,” confessed Natsuo.

“And I couldn’t figure out how to mix the water in right …” said a gloomy Shoto.

“It’s fine, boys. No point crying over spilled milk, right? Or flour, in this case? We’ll just have to eat that,” said Fuyumi.

“Huh?! Eat the clod?” said Natsuo.

“It’s still got that soba essence, right?” said Fuyumi. “Just think of it as a dumpling rather than noodles.”

“But year’s-end soba is s’posed to, like … stretch across to the New Year! That’s the whole point! Our lump’s never gonna bridge that gap!” said Natsuo.

“Well, there’s no more flour, so we’ll have to deal with it,” said Fuyumi.

“My soba …” mumbled Shoto, sounding mournful. His brother and sister glanced at each other, then back at him, and chuckled.

“You seriously love soba, huh,” said Natsuo.

“Doesn’t he, though?” added Fuyumi.

“Leave me alone,” said the youngest Todoroki with a scowl, not seeing what was so funny about all this. After a moment, though, his siblings’ upbeat attitude in the face of tragedy forced a smile onto even his face.

The three siblings sat down to dinner in the Japanese-style sitting room, ready to chow down on the soba clod, tempura, sashimi, and a few other dishes.

“Dad … sure is late,” said Fuyumi. Endeavor would normally be home by that time, so it struck her as odd.

“Busy with work, probably,” said Natsuo curtly. “Let’s eat so I can get the heck out of here before he bothers showing up.”

Fuyumi started to give her brother an exasperated look, but she changed her tune when she heard Natsuo’s and Shoto’s tummies rumbling.

“Fine. I suppose it is dinnertime,” she said.

“Let’s eat!” they said in unison, picking up their chopsticks and switching the TV to some bombastic year’s-end programming.

“Mm-mm!” moaned Natsuo with a mouthful of sashimi, which happened to be his favorite.

“Uoyoshi’s fresh fish can’t be beat,” said Fuyumi, referring to their favorite local fishmonger.

“It’s top-tier for sure!” added Natsuo with a satisfied grin.

Next to him, Shoto chewed on a piece of the soba clod, not looking all too won over. His sister flashed a weak smile that seemed to say, “You poor thing.”

I’ll have to make some soba for him to take home, before he leaves tomorrow morning. Maybe Dad can pick up a new bag of flour.

Suddenly, the emcee on the variety show made a shocking announcement.

“This just in! A gigantic gorilla has climbed up Shizu-oka Tower! It’s believed to be the villain with the King Kong Quirk who escaped from jail just a few days ago! We have a live feed of these events, folks!”

The Todoroki siblings’ eyes were now glued to the TV screen. The feed switched over to a camera at the base of Shizuoka Tower. An enormous gorilla-like creature clambered up the structure, roaring all the while.

“Yikes, that’s not far from here,” said Fuyumi. “Let’s hope nobody gets hurt.”

She’d spoken too soon—the camera zoomed in on the gorilla’s hand, clearly showing a person in the monster’s clutches.

“This is Sato, live on the scene! We now see that the villain has taken a hostage, and … Oh my … Is that Endeavor?!”

“Dad?” shouted Fuyumi.

When the camera revealed that the hostage was indeed their father, Natsuo coughed up the piece of sashimi he’d been working on.

“W-what the hell’s he doing?” said Natsuo, sputtering.

“Yes, the hostage is none other than Endeavor! But why isn’t he fighting back? Wait … Hang on, folks … It appears that the hero has something in his own hands?”

Endeavor appeared to be holding several paper shopping bags.

“Oh no! The villain is attempting to crush Endeavor in its grip!”

The camera zoomed in enough to show Endeavor’s face, contorted in agony.

“Urgh … Guess I’ve got no choice!” shouted the hero. As he dropped the shopping bags, his entire body ignited with a burst of flame.

“Prominence … Burn!”

The bags began to fall toward the TV camera, and tumbling out of them came packages of meat, crab, aramaki, kuzumochi, and other groceries. But Endeavor’s expanding sphere of fire caught up to the ingredients before they could get far, and the flash of heat turned them to ash in an instant.

“Ook-hohh!” roared the gorilla, wreathed in fire and now falling.

“Endeavor has beaten the villain with a single move! I hope you folks at home caught that, since it will likely be the number one hero’s final heroic act for this calendar year! But what’s this? Why does Endeavor look so grumpy? Perhaps he’s mad that crime never seems to let up, even during the holidays?”

Endeavor scanned the ground below, searching for any trace of the feast he had been bringing home, and out of everyone watching the spectacle, only the Todoroki siblings knew the real reason behind their father’s discontent.

“I’m just glad he’s okay,” said a relieved Fuyumi.

“Can you believe that guy?” said Natsuo, with more than a hint of contempt.

Shoto, meanwhile, had taken his eyes off the TV and was once again focused on the soba clod.

“My soba …” he said, still unwilling to accept this travesty. His siblings smiled.

“Natsu, since Dad might be held up, why don’t you relax and stay awhile?” suggested Fuyumi, nudging her brother to look at Shoto, who was nodding silently at her suggestion. Natsuo had mixed feelings on the matter, but after a moment of pretending to hesitate, he relented.

“Hrm, I guess I don’t gotta rush off anywhere.”

“Great. In that case, I think I’ll have a little drink for the occasion. Someone gifted Dad some top-shelf stuff the other day,” said Fuyumi.

When she returned with the bottle of sake, Natsuo poured some out for her.

“Here’s to you, Sis! Thanks for always minding the house,” he said.

“I just can’t wait until you can join me for a drink,” said Fuyumi.

“Gimme another year,” said Natsuo, who was still only nineteen. “It’ll be nice to kick one back with Shoto someday, too.”

“Uh-huh,” said Shoto.

“Ah, the soba dumpling pairs great with this,” said Fuyumi.

“Hang on, Sis … Is that why you set out to make soba tonight?” asked Natsuo.

“Is soba … good with alcohol?” asked Shoto.

“Sure is. Ah, it’ll be nice to share a drink with Mom once she comes home,” said a grinning Fuyumi, who was fast on her way to tipsy after a few sips.

“I bet that’ll be sooner rather than later,” said Natsuo. After a pause, he added, “When that day comes, we’ll have to up our soba-making game for Mom, huh, Shoto?”

“Mm-hm,” said Shoto with a small but resolute nod, which warmed his brother’s and sister’s hearts.

The TV was back to the glitzy extravaganza, but the Todoroki siblings were enjoying a low-key New Year’s Eve together. All three hoped that moments like this would someday be nothing out of the ordinary.