What makes someone want to be a hero?

For children who grew up in sheltered houses, parents doting on them, it was watching the strongest of that time taking down villains on the news; that was their biggest inspiration.

For me, however, it was fulfilling a dream that my father created me for.

Yes, that’s right, created.

I was born out of the desperation to overtake the strongest of the time, All Might. The eldest son of Endeavor, the number two hero. That is who I was. The only one, for a long time, who had inherited my father’s quirk, one similar to his Hellfire.

And then came my youngest sibling into this world that revered the Hero Society.

Shouto, the moment he was born, had stolen my father’s attention from me. Even though my father’s training had hurt me to the point I had physical and mental burns all over me, I still had my father’s attention, with those rare moments he acted like those fathers I used to watch in the movies that came on the television. His white and red hair meant that he had inherited both my father’s and mother’s genes, it was soon when his quirk would manifest that my father would know for sure. And a few weeks after the brat’s fourth birthday passed, he came into his quirks; my mother’s Ice and father’s Hellfire, with a tolerance for both of them. That was the day I was replaced, replaced by the pipsqueak of a little brother.

I was heartbroken, and jealous, but I was also concerned. Seeing my own sibling go through the same process of torture that I had gone through at the same age, opened my eyes to my father’s cruelty. What in the fuck did the man even think? As I was shunned to the side the same way that Fuyumi and Natsuo had been, the more it settled in that the man would do anything to achieve the personal agenda of his, for which my mother, my siblings and I were suffering. Seeing Shouto covered in similar burns in those rare moments I got a glimpse of him, made me wince, those familiar burns caused by our father that had littered my body for so long, had started to fade. Whether it was my own jealousy, or the fact that I did not want my youngest brother to suffer the way I did, I started training in secret on the hill closest to my house. Maybe, just maybe, he would abandon Shouto and realize that I was the worthy one, the strongest of them all.

It was how I met him again, the man who I considered to be the love of my life.

Takami Keigo, that is how he introduced himself the first time three years ago. At first, he was a nuisance, like a fly that kept landing over my food, but soon, his presence started to bring comfort. Seeing his face after another day of being shunned and training brought peace to my chaotic mind. By the time Shouto turned five, we would secretly meet almost every single day. He was under the protection of the Hero Commission; being trained to be a hero in a similar manner that I had been through when I was younger. He was grateful for them for one reason, they provided the shots he required as he was transitioning. His biological body gave him a case of dysphoria many times, it was taking time for him to get used to being a boy in a female body and the shots helped.

I don’t remember when we started being physical with each other. Sex was another reason I was comforted and Keigo’s body took away any hurt I had received. I was somehow happy with him.

But then, my mother had to crack. My mother, the very woman who never could kill a spider, had hurt her own child.

I sat in the corner of the living room, dazed, as the handprint left by my father’s slap from when I tried stopping him reddened on my face. Shouto, for the first time in a while, was held in my arms, crying as Fuyumi on my right tried to calm his burn down. The men in the mental hospital scrubs were dragging my mother away, forcing her into the ambulance. Natsuo stood protective in front of us three, not letting our father approach us as he, Fuyumi and Shouto had been witness to the slap. As I held my youngest sibling, tears of my own were flowing as my mother was taken away from us. The woman who had loved us all equally and had kept our father’s wrath away from us was gone, our safety blanket was snatched away. As the burn on Shouto’s left side became clearer in my teary vision, I had made up my mind. I would become a hero, and these brats would never be hurt again.

Keigo had, in his own way, tried comforting me again when we met the next day, the way that he had come to almost all the time I hurt.

A week later, I approach my father at breakfast, Fuyumi looking on as she makes sure Shouto ate his own.

“Dad,” I get his attention, “Will you come to Sekoto Hill today? I want to show you something.”

It was time, I was about to reclaim the spot of the only child who held my father’s attention. Dad gives a nod and a grunt back in answer, causing me to genuinely smile at him for the first time since Mom had left. It surprises him, it seems, but I can tell he is pleased that I wasn’t causing any trouble that I had been prone to do so in the past few days.

Once at Sekoto Hill, I train. Keigo and I had figured out in the past few months that until a certain limit, my yet developing body could tolerate the heat that came off of my blue flames. I usually stayed at the hill for the whole of the day while training, returning home for dinner, so even if my father were to show up later, it would be no issue. I had Keigo to give me company.

Speaking of Keigo, I haven't seen him in the past three days. I know not to worry too much, the Commission puts him through a tough round of training at times, and he hasn’t been able to come meet me a few times before, because of it. As the hours started to trickle by getting close to dinner, the moments from the past two weeks begin to run through my mind. Whenever I am left to my own devices, the dark thoughts I try to curb return to torture me again. I shake my head trying to get free of them; I need to be focused on what I am about to do. My irritation starts to fuel the anger that was building up now, he is not showing up, is he?

Blue flames surge towards the sky higher than they had ever before. In the excitement of letting loose, I do not register that I am slowly losing control of both my flames and my mind and my skin starts to burn yet again.

“Touya! Cease this stupidity now!” His voice rings clearly through my head.

A manic laughter is all I can hear. It takes me a few minutes to realize that it is coming from me. The broken part of my mind takes over as the forest around me singes and burns, the blue flames increasing in their volume.

“But Father! Look how strong I have become! I can be a hero now!” my voice filled with insanity echoes through my flames.

What his hallucination says next, brings everything crashing down.

“NO YOU ARE NOT! YOU NEVER WILL BE!”

It is as if everything breaks, and somehow falls back into place at the same time.

I finally know what I have to do. Everything clicks into a clearer picture.

As my hatred for the man, no monster, grows, so do the flames. I scream bloody murder; every dark thought that had been created through the hurt I suffered because of the monster comes out, both through my voice and the flames. The monster’s hallucination calling out my name hardens my resolve even more. Every wrong thing that he did to my mother, my siblings, Shouto and I; all of that, I vow then and there to avenge. The pain from the burns somehow is keeping me alert, the flames engulfing me giving me the cover that I need. I will fake my death at this very moment and become the thing that the man was the most opposed to. A villain. The bastard would pay for all his mistakes.

The said man’s image melted within the flames that I fabulously created; I walk out, my clothes almost singed off of me. This is the last anyone would ever see me. As Touya. As a Todoroki.

I am sorry Mom. I am sorry Natsuo, Fuyumi and Little Shouto.

Another voice screaming my name in desperation, reminds me of my love, who I would be leaving behind. Sadness fills my heart as I look at his figure soaring over the flames, glad for the smoke that was engulfing me, keeping his gaze from reaching my burnt self.

I am sorry, Keigo, but no one can ever know. That I lived.