Chapter Text
Winter was a time of loss for Enji. It was winter when his parents had died all those years ago. It was winter when Touya died. And it was winter when Rei lost the fight against the cancer in her bones. At the time Enji had felt that the timing was fitting in a way. As much as he was sad to see Rei go she’d gotten to see the years first snow before her eyes closed forever.
It was winter now.
Loss was something Enji was intimately familiar with. Somehow though, Enji never quite figured out how to handle it properly. Maybe there wasn’t a right way.
Despite the chill of the winter air and the small tufts of snow that fell Enji wasn’t sure how he could feel so numb. His phone slipped out of his hand even as it began to ring. Fuyumi was calling. She’d probably been following the news footage too and seen what had happened.
Enji’s whole body trembled and he suddenly found he didn’t have the strength to stand. He fell down onto the hardwood porch surrounding his home’s inner garden. Enji didn’t feel the cold wood though, in fact he wasn’t sure he could feel anything at all.
Shouto Todoroki, his youngest son, was dead.
The idea seemed absurd. Shouto was a strong hero, in the top fifty on the charts. He was young and bright and--
Dead.
Enji dragged in a harsh breath, the wintery air clawing at his throat and lungs before melting under his rising body temperature. Flames licked along his hands and up his arms. He bit down on a scream and the flames that wanted to burst out of him.
Bowing his head, Enji grit his teeth as he felt the pressure begin to build behind his eyes. Enji clenched his fists so hard it hurt but it helped. The raging emotions just beneath the surface evaporated and he suddenly felt cold and numb.
Enji’s mind reeled as everything around him started to feel surreal. Surely this was a nightmare. He wasn’t sure how long he just sat there, but his body eventually started to feel cold, his quirk dormant inside him.
Finally, he reminded himself that he was a Todoroki, he was strong. He’d been the number one hero for years until he’d retired only a couple months ago. Enji forced himself to his feet. He retrieved his phone and stumbled inside his home and out of the wintery air.
He all but collapsed onto the sofa and stared at the phone in his hand. Part of Enji wanted to unlock it and continue to scroll through the news channels. Another part of him was too terrified to even dare. He wasn’t sure he could hear those words again, to have it confirmed that his son was--
Enji couldn’t even think the word. Not again. It made it too real.
The sun set and his phone began to buzz incessantly in his hand. It felt like such a chore to lift the little thing in his hand, but he did. Enji recognized the number immediately.
“Hello?” Enji answered, voice hoarse.
It was the hospital.
Enji was the emergency contact and he was being called in. He barely listened beyond hearing the room number and that he was needed. Enji tore out of his home, almost forgetting to put his shoes on in his haste to get to his car and to the hospital. Everything was a blur as he sped and ran through yellow lights.
Enji parked haphazardly and his car door didn’t even fully close behind him but he didn’t care. He ran into the hospital, a flicker of hope warming this frozen feeling of loss. Maybe the news had been wrong. Maybe Shouto was still--
He arrived at the room and stared at the nameplate.
Momo Todoroki/Creati.
Enji expected that flicker of hope to be snuffed out at reading her name rather than his son’s name. But it didn’t disappear, not completely. Carefully, he pushed the door open.
Two nurses surrounded Momo as she lay unmoving on the hospital bed. For a heart stopping moment Enji thought that maybe she was dead too. But then he saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest and knew that, while injured, she would be alright.
One of the nurses noticed him and approached. “She’s not speaking yet, awake, but, well…” The nurse said before trailing off.
Enji knew Momo had been there when Shouto died. He’d seen the news footage at the time. Enji felt a small measure of guilt that he hadn’t even considered whether Momo was alive or dead at that moment, all he’d cared about was his youngest son.
He felt like he shouldn’t be there, but he knew her parents were dead and she had no siblings. All she’d had was Shouto. Now she didn’t even have him. No doubt it was Shouto who suggested she use Enji as her backup emergency contact. He was Shouto’s after all. Enji hesitated before deciding he should do something.
Enji walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at Momo. Her face was covered in cuts and bruises and he could see that her arm was broken. He didn’t take in all her injuries, he didn’t think it was necessary or his right. Instead, Enji looked her in the eyes and waited until her dark eyes focused on him.
Momo blinked slowly, as if coming out of a dream. Her mouth opened, her lips trembling with words she couldn’t formulate. Her brow creased with what Enji guessed must be frustration at her inability to say something, to do something. Enji understood. He’d been in her place too many times over his career. The survivor, the one who watched the people he loved and cared about die. It was never easy.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” Enji said as softly as he could manage, though in the end he just sounded gruff.
Momo looked confused, her brow furrowing and her expression tightening up. As much as Enji knew she wasn’t alright, she needed to hear that her life meant something, that he wasn’t blaming her for Shouto’s death. It wasn’t a lie either, he knew Shouto would have been devastated if she’d died as well, so Enji was grateful that the woman Shouto loved was still breathing.
“Focus on healing.” Enji said firmly, like it was an order. Heroes were like soldiers in some sense and focusing on a purpose, an order, sometimes helped. Or at least it had always helped Enji. Slipping into the role of hero, of pillar, came all too naturally to Enji and he found it helped him ignore his own emotions.
Fuyumi arrived at the hospital an hour after Enji called her to let her know what was going on. She held Momo’s hand and cried. She hugged Enji and Enji hugged her back. Natsuo lived and worked several cities over but would come as soon as he could. Fuyumi promised Momo she’d handle the funeral arrangements. Momo had simply nodded and actually managed a small ‘thank you.’ It was the first words Enji had heard her say since he’d arrived.
Enji followed Fuyumi out into the hall and to the small cafeteria for some coffee. He hadn’t realized he’d been there at the hospital for several hours but he had. Enji just didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Are you okay?” Fuyumi asked him, her eyes still watery.
“No,” He said, surprised he’d been so honest. Fuyumi nodded in understanding. She took off her glasses and rubbed the tears from her eyes.
“It hasn’t hit her yet,” She said, taking a sip of her coffee. It took Enji only a moment to realize she was talking about Momo. “She’s strong, but…” She trailed off and gave Enji a meaningful look. She knew as well as Enji did that Momo had no one. She had friends, sure, but friends with their own lives.
“She needs someone,” Enji finished Fuyumi’s thought. Momo needed an anchor, Shouto had been that for so long. Enji looked to Fuyumi, hoping maybe she was offering.
“My apartment’s too small and my husband probably wouldn’t want a roommate,” Fuyumi said quietly, almost like she felt guilty. But it really was too much to ask Fuyumi to take care of a recovering hero who likely had some form of survivor’s guilt. Enji scrubbed a hand over his face, his scar itched and he felt exhausted. “You’re retired.” Fuyumi reminded him. Enji felt the urge to snap at her, like she’d slighted him somehow. He ignored his simmering anger and grunted in acknowledgement. “She lives at the family home already too.”
Enji sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest. Fuyumi was right. Enji was positioned best to help Momo, to provide a sense of normality, to watch her and make sure she was recovering mentally as well as physically. Shouto would probably have picked Fuyumi over Enji but Fuyumi had her own life too.
“I’ll see to her.” Enji said finally. Fuyumi startled and looked genuinely surprised. “What?” She was the one to suggest it in the first place so Enji felt a bit annoyed that she looked so shocked.
“I just didn’t expect you to agree so easily.” Fuyumi explained, waving her hand placatingly. She smiled though it was still tinged with the sadness of loss. “You’re doing it for Shouto, aren’t you?”
Enji didn’t have anything he could say to that beyond, “Yes.”
Momo had a broken arm, fractured leg, and was generally a battered mess. Luckily, the hospital she’d been taken to employed several nurses with excellent healing quirks so in only a day she was being released to go home. Enji went to pick her up, though in truth he hadn’t really left the hospital much since he’d arrived.
Several other heroes, mostly her friends from UA, visited her. Enji made himself scarce during those visits. He still felt out of place, like an intruder. But he didn’t want to return to his home alone. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Even as Enji wheeled her out to the parking lot in the wheelchair provided by the hospital, Enji felt like he shouldn’t be there.
The car ride home was silent. Enji didn’t mind. Momo stared out the window, but her eyes looked far away, like she wasn’t actually seeing anything.
When they arrived home Enji parked the car and got out. Through the windshield he could see Momo staring out at the large old fashioned home. Like before though her eyes were guarded, her expression a mask of blankness.
Just when Enji thought she might need help out of the car Momo opened the door and stepped out. Enji headed to the door and he felt her following along behind like she was on autopilot. She didn’t start taking off her shoes or coat until Enji did.
Enji wondered whether she would just stand in the entryway all night if he didn’t offer some kind of direction. It wasn’t that she didn’t know where to go or how to get there, it was just that she was caught up in her own mind. Maybe even reliving her experience over and over. Or maybe she was just trying not to think at all.
Gesturing for her to follow, Enji led her down the hall to the room she and Shouto had stayed in, Shouto’s childhood room. Briefly he thought about whether he should offer her Fuyumi’s old room. Maybe it would be better than staying in the room she and Shouto had shared. But Momo was already sliding the door open by the time Enji really considered what he should do.
“Momo,” Enji said, stopping her. It was odd using her first name, usually he just thought of her as ‘Shouto’s wife’ rather than by name at all, but he wasn’t about to call her Todoroki. “Fuyumi took care of the arrangements for the funeral.” Momo flinched at the word. “It’s tomorrow.” He told her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The sky was overcast and snow would probably start within the next few hour. Enji’s eyes were fixed on the casket. The casket that held his youngest son. He wasn’t one to cry, especially not at public events like Shouto’s funeral, but it disturbed him more that he simply felt empty. It felt as though this loss had carved out a section of his heart and now it was a gaping unhealable wound.
“She’s not even crying.” A woman whispered, sounding disgusted.
Enji glanced over at the reporter who had spoken, she stood at the front of the group reporting on the funeral, then he followed her gaze to Momo. Shouto’s wife. Widow. She stood next to Fuyumi, dark hair tied back and face blank. They’d only been married three months. They’d been together since their last year at UA. Four years together as a couple.
The press expected her to be in tears, Enji thought absently, expected her to scream and wail. But Enji could see the loss etched in the lines of her carefully neutral expression, in the darkness of her eyes. She felt empty, numb. Enji knew the feeling well. He also knew she loved Shouto, knew this was tearing her apart. Enji didn’t begrudge her stony expression, not at all. If anything it mirrored his own.
Fuyumi was crying and Natsuo’s eyes were wet, his nose red, both of them obviously missed their younger brother. No one expected Enji to cry, he was a retired hero, known to be gruff and stoic. But Shouto’s wife, well, the media expected a specific reaction and when she didn’t show it he knew there would be hurtful articles and speculations.
Enji wasn’t sure why he felt so irritated by that, but he felt like the press should just leave Momo alone. Everyone grieved differently. He shot a glare at the reporter who seemed a bit taken aback but she snapped her mouth closed and he didn’t hear any more words from her.
The harsh winter wind blew stronger and stronger as the funeral went on. By the end of it people were shivering. Enji wasn’t. Neither was Momo.
Enji had driven Momo there, so he waited with her until everyone had left. Then he approached her. He could just barely see the slight tremor in her frame and he guessed it was from the cold. Enji increased his body temperature enough to provide some kind of warmth.
The moment he did Momo startled and looked towards him, eyes wide. Her mask of neutrality was cracked and he thought he saw a flash of hope before it was snuffed out. Enji felt a pit in his stomach as he realized that Shouto probably had done that for her before and for just a moment she had hoped.
“Are you ready?” He asked.
Momo hummed in weak agreement. Her mask was back in place, her eyes far away.
The ride home was silent just like the ride there. Enji hadn’t minded before but the silence was beginning to grate on him. The snow had just begun to fall when they arrived back home. Momo didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get inside out of the cold but she shadowed Enji well enough into the foyer.
Momo was so still and quiet he felt like he had to break this barrier between them.
“Are you…” Enji said but trailed off. He was going to ask if she was alright, but he knew she wasn’t. He didn’t expect her to be. But the silence wasn’t going to help her anymore than it was helping him. “Do you need anything?” He asked instead.
“No,” Momo answered softly. “Thank you.”
It was the most she’d spoken to him. The polite platitudes were a little disingenuous in Enji’s opinion, but he recognized it was born out of a need to distance herself. So Enji didn’t really mind beyond wondering if she was just that uncomfortable with him or if she was still just numb. He wasn’t sure which would be better.
Enji looked around the entryway. The house was so big and quiet. It was to be Shouto and Momo’s house, for them to start their family here. Enji had been looking at apartments so he could give them some privacy but once Shouto had--well, Enji hadn’t really thought about it in the few days since. He wondered if Momo would want to leave, if--
“Is it painful being here?” Enji asked her and he really did want to know. Momo looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head.
“I have some good memories here,” she said. “We’d only moved in about a week before…” Momo trailed off, not finishing her sentence. But Enji knew what she meant. They’d only been there a week before Shouto died. “It’s not like every room reminds me of him, I mean.” She finished quickly. “But I’ll start looking--”
“Stay,” Enji said and Momo startled a bit. “I was planning on leaving the place to--” to Shouto, to his youngest son who actually wanted it. “I was planning on moving anyway, to give you space.” To give the still mostly newlyweds a place all their own.
Momo’s expression cracked. It wasn’t the same neutral blank numbness she’d had since the funeral. She smoothed her expression back quickly, but Enji saw in her eyes how her emotions were finally bubbling over. It was starting to hit her finally, that Shouto was really and truly gone.
“You shouldn’t move out,” Momo said and there was a hesitancy yet urgency in the way she spoke. “I mean, this is your home, I’m the one who--”
“Momo,” Enji said, cutting her off. He met her gaze evenly and he saw how lost she looked. “You’re a Todoroki. This is your home as well.”
She gave a sharp nod, her body tense like she was holding back tears. Enji tried not to grimace as he recognized his own inadequacies in handling emotions both his own and those of others. But even Enji could see that Momo was drifting. From the way she wrapped her arms around herself and the sadness in her dark eyes Enji knew she needed comfort.
Comfort wasn’t something Enji was good at, even after he’d started to try to build back the trust and connection with his family he hadn’t gotten any better at it. But he needed to try.
Hesitantly, Enji took a step towards her. Momo looked up at him. When she didn’t back away or flinch he took another couple of steps forward until he could hold her in a light embrace. He heard her breath hitch and then Enji was pretty sure she wasn’t breathing. In a moment of clarity, Enji realized she was trying not to cry.
“It’s okay to cry,” Enji said and he heard her hiccup. “It’s okay to be sad, to miss him, I--” He broke off his voice thick with emotions. Enji felt pressure building behind his eyes and he willed himself not to start crying too.
Momo let out a broken sob and then her hands were clutching the front of his shirt like it was a lifeline. It was like a dam had been broken open inside her. Fuyumi had been right, the truth that Shouto was dead hadn’t truly hit Momo until this moment.
Enji didn’t have a whole lot of experience with comforting emotional people. That being said he felt fairly emotional himself as his own numbness was subsiding, giving way to grief. So he did what felt natural. Enji held her tighter, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him together at that moment. Which wasn’t far from the truth.
He knew without a doubt that if she weren’t here he’d be a complete mess. Alone with his thoughts, probably drinking. But he felt like he had to keep it together for her, so she wouldn’t fall apart too. Shouto would hate Enji if he didn’t at least try to be kind to the girl.
Enji held her close as she cried, one hand on her back and the other in her hair. She must feel so alone. He recalled that her parents had died only a year ago and now Shouto was gone too. They’d barely even been married before she lost him too. But she wasn’t alone.
“This house will always be open to you, it’s your home.” Enji said quietly. Momo said something back but it was muffled in his shirt. He pulled back a bit and looked down at her. “Huh?”
Momo sniffled. “I don’t want to be alone.” She said, her words broken by another sob. Enji understood that feeling all too well. He opened his mouth to suggest that he could ask Fuyumi to come back home, but she was married now and living with her husband and that would be too much to ask. Natsuo didn’t even live in the same city anymore.
“Then I’ll stay,” Enji said finally, when he saw no other options open. Momo whispered out a hoarse ‘thank you’ before burying her head against his chest and sobbing. Enji tightened his hold, trying to be that anchor she needed, trying desperately to not start crying himself.