The cold air outside U.A. High felt insignificant compared to the deep, aching chill now saturating Tsubaki's bones. He walked with rigid precision, his clothes still damp with sublimated ice crystals. His mind was a battlefield, replaying the last moments of the exam.
79 villain points. The analytical part of his brain confirmed a top-tier performance. 'It should be enough. I did well, but the criteria…' The uncertainty gnawed at him. Even if he passed did he come first.
But that wasn't what truly occupied his thoughts. It was the feeling—the overwhelming, agonizing burst of raw power he had unleashed, and the sickening sense of satisfaction that followed it.
Why? Why did I do that? She would have been fine the teachers would have stopped the robot.
He had spent ten months training for precision, for surgical strikes that minimized cost. Yet, the moment that girl screamed, his calculated thoughts vanished. He had acted, not as the meticulous weapon he forged, but as the reckless, kid who was once naive enough to think you mattered without power. The irony was a cold, bitter taste in his mouth.
He reached the front door of the massive, sterile Todoroki residence. He mechanically used his key, the sound of the lock clicking loud in the oppressive silence. He maintained his routine, a deliberate, calming rhythm amidst the chaos of his life. He placed his shoes neatly by the door, his posture ramrod straight. He shrugged off his jacket and walked the long, empty hall to the main living area. Every movement was slow, measured, a shield against the trembling deep within his core.
He was passing the entrance to the kitchen when a gentle voice stopped him.
"Tsubaki? Is that you?"
It was Fuyumi. His older sister, the sole source of warmth and normalcy in this frozen house. She was the only one he allowed himself to acknowledge.
Tsubaki stopped and looked into the large, modern kitchen. Fuyumi was sitting at the table with Shoto. They were eating dinner—a meal that was more of a formality than a family event.
"Hello, Fuyumi," Tsubaki replied, his voice flat.
"The exam. How did it go?" she asked, her hands clasped tightly on the table, her eyes wide with genuine anxiety.
Tsubaki walked into the room, grabbing a glass of water, his back to them. "It was fine. I scored high." He didn't say I passed. He couldn't.
"Good," she whispered, her shoulders sagging slightly with nervous relief.
Shoto, seated across from her, was silent, his gaze fixed on his bowl. His expression was impassive, betraying nothing. Tsubaki, poured a small portion of rice and took a seat opposite them.
The silence that followed was broken not by them, but by the heavy, familiar tread of footsteps entering the room. Endeavor filled the doorway, his massive silhouette dominating the space. He stopped, his arms crossed over his chest.
Endeavor looked at Shoto first, his flaming beard casting flickering shadows on the kitchen walls. " Shoto you'll be going to U.A. soon. This is the start of your path to surpass All Might. You must cease this petty rebellion now and use your flames if you intend to be the best."
Shoto didn't look up, his voice the familiar, detached monotone. "I will be Number One with my ice. I will never use your flame."
Fuyumi winced, closing her eyes briefly. Tsubaki continued eating, watching the tiresome argument unfold, his jaw slightly clenched. He'd seen this argument to many times already.
Then, the focus shifted.
Endeavor's sharp, blue eyes—the same shade as Tsubaki's own—suddenly focused on his older son,as if truly seeing him for the first time in months.
"And you," Endeavor sneered, his gaze sweeping over Tsubaki. "You, decided to choose the normal exam as if your like the rest of them. Pathetic. A waste of time."
Tsubaki stopped chewing. He lowered his hand to his lap where his fist clenched instantly, the knuckles whitening. His thoughts we're no longer on what happened in the exam.
"I was willing to recommend you," Endeavor continued, pouring himself a drink without taking his eyes off Tsubaki. "Not as a successor, but as a useful accessory. Your ice could have complemented Shoto well and would have helped him in the future. You would have made a passable sidekick."
The temperature in the room dropped sharply. Fuyumi shivered, drawing her arms tightly across her chest. Tsubaki felt rage he hadn't felt in a long time after all his training to be relegated to Shoto's sidekick. He glared at his father with unfiltered rage.
"You glare at me, boy," Endeavor scoffed. "It changes nothing. You are weak. You are a failure. Out of the two of you one is meant to achive greatness the other is destined to be a background character and you need to accept that."
Tsubaki finally pushed his chair back, the harsh scrape of metal on tile echoing in the sudden silence. He slowly stood up, his posture stiff, his gaze locking onto his father's burning eyes. He didn't raise his voice, but the cold radiating from him was palpable.
"I am not weak," Tsubaki replied, the quiet intensity vibrating with contained fury. "And I will prove that I am not the same naive child you dismissed."
He took a slow step toward his father. "I would never be Shoto's sidekick. And I have no intention of being like you. After all..."
Tsubaki leaned in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper laced with absolute contempt, "you are used to being second fiddle...
I am I wrong number 2."
Endeavor's flames roared instantly, surging high above his head. His eyes were wide with pure, incandescent fury—an emotion Tsubaki had never successfully provoked before. Shoto, who had been passively listening, visibly flinched and jerked upright in his chair, his chopsticks clattering to the floor. He stared, completely stunned.
Fuyumi leaped from her chair and threw herself between her father and her brother, her back to Tsubaki. She didn't want a fight to break out.
"STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU! PLEASE!" She covered her face with her hands, her body shaking with deep sobs.
Endeavor's hand, burning hot, lashed out but was stopped by Fuyumi's slight shoulder. He checked his blow, momentum broken.
Tsubaki stood motionless, his blue eyes glacial, staring over Fuyumi's trembling form at his father's raging face. He had won the exchange.
Tsubaki turned away from the shattered scene, ignoring his father's controlled, yet palpable, rage and Fuyumi's quiet distress. He walked out of the kitchen, past Shoto, who finally made a move to stand, a silent, curious, and perhaps concerned expression on his face. Tsubaki ignored him.
He retreated to his room, locking the door.
He sank onto his bed, his muscles trembling uncontrollably now that the adrenaline was gone. He looked at his hands, which were now faintly blue from the intense, internalized cold.
I lost control. The cold exterior had shattered, revealing the burning, core hatred underneath.
The humiliation, the years of neglect, the constant comparison—it all boiled down to a simple truth:
He had to get strong. Not just strong enough to hopefully pass U.A., but strong enough to overshadow the entire family. To crush Endeavor's legacy and surpass the twin who was meant for greatness.
They will all see. They will all regret what they dismissed, what they created.
His ambition grew stronger, burning away the lingering weakness from the overused Quirk. He would do whatever it took. He would be the Number One Hero, and they would all be forced to watch.
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Authors note
Here is another chapter and thanks for the comments it's good to see you guys are enjoying reading the story as much as I like writing it.
Leave comments and reviews on what you think about the story and the character
As well as drop some power stones if you enjoying