[ENG]Shoto Todoroki : Modern-day Terrorist

Chapter 156

Hawk's stomach sank.

- I have to... I've seen him hanging around her room, you know ? I've seen the way he looks at her and, I can't, it's, I know what he's going to do to her and I can't...

Hawks watched, breathless, as Shoto pulled on his fingers so hard it must have been painful.

- The other night in the kitchen he hinted at... He told me what he'd done to others...

Mouth dry, eyes narrowed, Hawks tried to speak, but his voice seemed to come from afar.

- Whose room ?

Shoto looked up at him with haunted eyes.

- My sister's room.

Hawks was unable to answer.

- I- I wish there was another way, you know ? But I can't let him get away with it, and my father...

Shoto started rubbing his trousers with his palms so fast he could have set them on fire.

- I don't know- time is running out, and- and I've got to-

His voice became high-pitched.

- But I'm not a murderer, do you understand ? I don't want to...

He ran his hands through his hair, one after the other, pushing it back violently and then pulling at the ends as if to rip them out.

He looked on the verge of hysteria.

- If he dies suspiciously, everyone will know it was me, because I always said I hated him and then my father...

There was a gleam in his exhausted eyes, as if he was on the verge of tears.

Then he raised his head

- What should I do, Keigo ?

Hawk felt his heart pounding in his throat.

Shoto looked at him with a mixture of hope and fear, concern and resignation.

Hawks opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

'What should I do ?'

Shoto waited for an answer, dishevelled, his features drawn with fatigue and anxiety, a growing worry in his eyes.

Keigo wondered if this was how he had looked ten years ago when Dabi had dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night to ask for a spar.

He wondered if he'd looked just as frightened when he'd realised that Dabi had decided that only one of them would survive it.

He remembered his reluctance to strike to kill, unable to muster the courage to do what was necessary to save his life. He remembered telling himself that this was his friend, that he must certainly be in a bad mood, that he had to help him calm down so that they could talk about what was wrong.

That was what friends were for, wasn't it ?

And then Dabi had really tried to kill him.

Hawks, terrified, half-burned, had tried to stop Dabi's funeral march, crawling backwards to get away from the flames that stretched from the boy's feet like a deathbed.

Practically all his wings had been burned off, leaving only two feathers.

Hawks had stopped crawling. Dabi had come closer.

Hawks didn't need to turn to know that Dabi's hand was hovering over his body, fingers burning like embers, ready to ignite at any moment.

Dabi was going to immolate him.

Keigo had turned violently, a feather shooting like an arrow from his outstretched hand.

Touya, startled, took a step back.

Keigo noticed the widening of his eyes and the panic that lit up his gaze. He had noticed the way his arms, too slow, had risen to protect his face, and the spasm that had shaken his right leg in an instinctive jerk to pull himself back.

For a moment, Keigo had been sure that he would have to kill to survive.

When he saw his face, that certainty vanished.

The feather deflected a centimetre to the right.

It cut clean through his cheekbone and flew away.

Touya had groaned and bent his knees as if to cower - or offer a smaller target - his hands brushing his cheekbone.

It was as if tears of blood ran down his cheek.

Touya, speechless, half bent, had remained motionless, his gaze fixed on Keigo's, the certainty that he had almost died paralysing him for a moment.

There had been a violent knock at the door of the gym. Alarmed, Touya looked over his shoulder.

Keigo still had one feather left.

It wasn't for Touya.

But even that one he'd been too weak to use.

So Touya had raised his hand, sent a geyser of fire at Hawks and fled.

And then...

Months later, after he had been deemed recoverable and useful, Hawks was told what had happened that night.

Touya had tried to kill his little brother.

When he learned that the child was only five years old, Hawks had never felt more guilty in his life.

If he hadn't let his feelings get in the way, if he had been more clearheaded, more decisive, then the little boy would never have had blood on his hands.

A part of him was relieved that Touya was dead and buried, but another part - an abnormally large part - regretted that he hadn't been the one to put an end to it.

He should have been more sure of his judgement, he should have been more decisive, he should have been less of a coward, he should have been less weak, he should have done more, been more-

If he'd killed him ten years ago, Shoto wouldn't be on the verge of an anxiety attack at the mere mention of the murderer with whom he shared his blood.

If he'd killed him...