[ENG]Shoto Todoroki : Modern-day Terrorist

Chapter 42 - God Mode

The car opened and dad stepped out.

He had a beard a few days old and his hair was longer than usual.

Carrying a black sports bag and wearing sweatpants, he looked like an athlete returning from a competition.

"Welcome Todoroki-sama !"

Our subordinates, lined up in two rows on either side of the stairs leading up to the house, bowed at a ninety degree angle.

His blue eyes swept calmly over the procession. I met his gaze.

He watched me for a few seconds, then came over to us.

"I see he's still alive"

"Enji. Hello to you as well"

Old Teka and my father looked each other straight in the eye, their faces devoid of the slightest emotion.

Even his eyes, the only window into who he was, reflected nothing. He looked down at me, unreadable.

"Shoto"

"Dad"

"Aren't you glad to see me ?"

"You're two weeks late"

An amused glint lit up his eyes.

"I expected a warm welcome..."

He picked me up with ease and carried me as if I was five years old again.

Blood rushed to my face as I looked around in shame.

"What are you doing ? Put me down right now !"

He held me tighter.

"I'm starving. Why don't you tell me what that crazy old hag made you do while I eat ?"

A four-inch stiletto tore through the air and embedded itself in the wall right next to us.

Teka, at the bottom of the stairs, bellowed like a bull about to charge.

"I'm not old"

The air over her hair caught fire.

My father dismissed her remark with a wave of his hand.

"Yeah, yeah"

He closed the door in time, the second stiletto poking a hole in it.

*

"And you like them ?"

I shrugged.

"Crespi is funny"

"Hmm"

My father finished a piece of bread covered in sauce, then put the dirty plate on the pile to his right.

The cook brought out the dessert - an assortment of fruit, cheese, and sliced meats - and to my amazement, my father gobbled it all up.

I would have thought that the half dozen dishes he had just devoured would have satisfied him, but the black hole that was his stomach proved otherwise.

"Isn't there some chocolate cake ?"

The chef blinked in confusion, then turned to my father. My father translated into Italian. Apparently, our henchmen were the only ones whom knew Japanese.

My father exchanged a few more words with him, and the cook took out a notebook and wrote down what I thought was a set of instructions.

"What did you told him ?"

"To prepare us food for tomorrow"

I straightened up, my attention caught.

"How about tomorrow? Are we going to do anything special ?"