Chapter 102

I fluttered my eyes, grooggy, my blurred vision gradually sharpening.

White walls, a TV screen, drawn curtains, chirping birds, the smell of antiseptic and poorly washed blood.

I let out a grunt as I stood up, my aching, hot muscles refusing to move.

I placed my feet on the cold tile floor and with one hand I ripped off the wires that were attached to my body.

Immediately, the machine next to my bed buzzed.

With my brain shattered as if I'd had too much to drink, the shrill sound was like a fire alarm reverberating from one skull wall to the next: I slammed into the machine, shattering the screen and grounding it.

Shards of plastic and glass fell to the floor and around my feet.

I walked to the window, my muscles as stiff as branches, making it difficult to cross. I could barely feel my aching toes on the ground.

Ten years of training and you're overwhelmed by chakra exhaustion.

I pulled back the curtains and squinted outside.

A cloudless sky, light streaming through the window, a park and patients in white gowns strolling from place to place.

My chakra buzzed painfully under my skin, answering my call, but with more difficulty than usual.

I scanned the entire building until I found the energy I was looking for.

I crossed the room in the opposite direction, past my bed and out into the hallway.

Patients, visitors, and doctors stared at me in surprise, but no one made a move to stop me.

I crossed two corridors before finally reaching a water fountain.

- You should be in your room.

He didn't even look at me.

My anger exploded like a bomb.

- How long are you going to take it out on me?

Enji looked at his plastic cup, took a sip and slowly turned to me.

Still taller than me, he looked at me as if I were worth less than the dust under his shoes.

I hated it.

- Go back to your room.

- I did everything you told me, damn it! I redirected that villain the way you wanted, even though-

I hesitated, the words refusing to leave my lips.

Even though I nearly drained my chakra to the point of death.

He looked at me intensely.

- Even though?

I remained silent, and the disappointment I saw on his face was the worst thing I'd ever seen.

- Go back to your room.

He finished his glass in one gulp, tossed it in the basket and turned on his heels.

I found myself limping after him like a motherless puppy, my muscles pulling and screaming for me to stop.

- Let me explain. It's not what you think, I just...

Passersby looked at us with curiosity and surprise, and I felt my face burn with shame at the idea of the show we were putting on.

- I want to talk to you about it, I really want to, so please...

He stopped so suddenly that I almost ran into him.

An alarm went off in my head and I wondered how long it would take me to recover from my weaknesses.

- Go ahead. Speak up.

I looked him straight in the eye and then glanced down the corridor, my eyes resting on the few people who were probably disinterested but seemed, to me, eagerly listening.

- There's nothing to hide. Not now that you've been videotaped in action and the whole country has seen what you're capable of.

I bit my lip, unable to answer.

Even if the whole world supposedly knew what Shoto Todoroki was capable of, I knew it was nothing compared to what I could really do. And if I started talking like that, freely, in the corridor...

I looked suspiciously at the nurse who passed by pushing an empty chair, wondering if she was really a nurse or if the lack of smell and organic residue on her body meant that she had put on a disguise and then broken in for some obscure purpose.

And that old man over there with his leg in a cast? Was there really something wrong with his leg or was it just a tactic to lower my guard?

My gaze fell on all the people who crossed the corridor, and I found a reason to doubte each of their presence here.

When I looked back at my father, his eyes had darkened.

- You won't speak here? I don't mind. But enlighten me.

I straightened my shoulders, ready to do anything to regain his trust.

- What are those scars on your back?

I opened my mouth and closed it.

The scars...?

The flash of my clones rushing to heal me after I'd been blown up in the dormitories came back to me.

- How long have I been here?

Frowning, irritated by my change of subject, he answered anyway:

- Three days.

I felt my last hope dying.

If my 'coma' had lasted longer, I could have come up with an excuse that it was due to the explosion in the camp and that I've always had excellent regeneration abilities, but now...

If the space travel quirks were mystical, the healing quirks were literally legendary.

If word got out that in addition to my fire, ice, lightning, super-strength, and pseudo-teleportation, I could also create tangible clones and heal myself and others, there wouldn't be a single person in the world to stop the veritable army of governments and organizations that would try to take me over.

And if there was one thing the fight with All for One had taught me, it was that for all my work, I wasn't enough.

Or at least not yet.

So I looked into my father's eyes, stupidly unable to answer.

- I can't tell you.

- Why can't you?

The sudden realization that I was endangering him with our simple relationship was like a slap in the face.

If they - these vague, unknown, potentially dangerous threats - were using him as leverage against me to get to me or make me do what they wanted, then...

Suddenly I got afraid of myself.

Dad silently waited for me to add something, anything.

The tiny glimmer of hope still in his eyes died as our silence dragged on.

I stood there, uncomfortable, wanting to leave but unable to, feeling that something deep was breaking between us.

- I'm disappointed in you.

My throat tightened and I lowered my eyes.

The knowledge that I was protecting him by saying as little as possible gave me some comfort.

He waited again, giving me one last chance.

I didn't take it.

I felt his gaze linger on me for a while.

Then he turned and walked away.

I watched him go until he disappeared around the corner of a corridor.