Chapter Text
“Rise, Todoroki Shouto.”
The voice echoed in the room, and the boy answered the call, standing up from his kneeling position.
His head felt heavier; he now wore a war helmet, the helmet of a samurai. It was the first time he heard that name, too. In the previous 14 years, the only name he knew was his child name. However, in going through his genpuku, a samurai’s coming of age ceremony, he received a name fitting for a man. Following his old swords master, acting as the “capping father” who bestowed him with his helmet, Shouto retreated into a separate room to receive the garments of an adult.
From the moment he could hold a blade, he was raised to follow the Bushido, the way of the warrior. Such was the custom of his family, as he was born into the warrior nobility of Japan, the Bushi. He was taught to value honor, courage, and loyalty above all else. His life was destined to be one of service to his lord, the leader of the Todoroki clan and daimyo of the land. His greatest purpose was to fulfill this destiny, and bring glory and honor to himself and his family. To accomplish this, his parents spared no effort in providing him with the best teachers in western Japan, allowing him to learn all aspects of war from strategy to swordsmanship. He also studied reading military literature, writing kanji, and performing tea ceremonies, as was befitting his status as nobility, but always serving his future as a samurai.
First, Shouto removed his helmet, setting it on the stand at the center of the room next to a folded blue kimono. Then, he removed his grey childhood robes. The ungendered plain cloth was cast aside, to be folded by attendants. Before he could dress again, a bowl of water was presented to him so that he could wash the ceremonial makeup off his face. He plunged his hands in the water and rinsed his face with calm, measured motions. The pale powder flowed into the bowl, tinging the water and obscuring his reflection. Once his face was clean and dry, the kimono was presented to him. He allowed the servants to slide the sleeves into place, then folded the panels and tied up the belt over it himself. Finally, he donned a new headdress: a silk hat, stiffened with black lacquered paper and a string latching it to his head under his chin, called eboshi.
The doors opened, and he walked into the main room now fully dressed like a man. Heads turned but not a word was uttered despite the clear surprise on the attendees’ faces.
The burn scar on the left side of Shouto’s face was now clearly visible.
The scar was a family secret, an accident that happened when Shouto was only five. It was an act of madness from someone Shouto loved, and the shame was hidden from the world since then. The young Todoroki was not concerned that it was there for the world to see, his attention focused on what was ahead of him, not behind him.
Unfazed by the staring, Shouto stared directly at the daimyo himself: his father, Todoroki Enji. He was a tall and strongly built man, sitting on his chair with his legs wide open in a very domineering way. His armor was red edged with golden filigree, emblazoned with the symbol of the clan: a black flame in a red circle. The daimyo’s stare over his own son was intense and severe under flaming eyebrows, inspiring awe and respect in everyone around him. His beard and moustache were also covered with fire, a clear exhibition of his special ability, his kosei.
Kosei, or quirks, were supernatural powers that emerged a couple centuries ago, but they were not a random occurrence. In fact, only the children born in Bushi families displayed these uncanny abilities. The first generation’s coming of age signaled the shift in the power balance in Japan. Over time, new clans rose around powerful individuals while older ones were forced to adapt or be wiped out by the new special abilities in a movement that was called Gekokujō. However, no one dared to overthrow the Emperor, not even the Shogun, as all previous attempts ended in disaster. As such, the higher order was maintained, but the clans remained free to attack each other due to the weakness of the central government in Kyoto, the capital.
The Todoroki Clan was one of these newly formed clans, relative to Japan’s long history. Hailing from their home province of Hiroshima, the Todoroki family and its Samurai carved a space in the region with their trademark fire powers. They were met with suspicion and sometimes open hostility by neighboring clans. However, in the span of a few years, Todoroki Enji and his father demonstrated their raw power and cunning strategy, managing not only to repel any invasion attempt, but also to move to the offensive, sieging enemy castles and burning cities into ash. This expanded the domain of the clan in Western Honshu, and they gained new allies through fear and sheer power.
Shouto broke his gaze from his lord and father for a moment, scanning the room full of people sitting on the ground. Many were people that helped run the provinces ruled by the clan, while others were dignitaries from other domains like the Kirishima and the Bakugo clans. He stopped to look at the youngest representatives of those families, both his own age but already admitted into adulthood. Kirishima Ejirou was a very proud and loyal member of his clan with a desire to prove his courage in battle that was perfectly suited to his family’s Hardening kosei. The other young man next to him was another story, as his often-undisciplined attitude and explosive temper preceded him. Bakugo Katsuki was known as the “Explosive fool” among older Samurai, but few dared to say it aloud for fear of becoming the target of his exceptional kosei.
His gaze shifted again towards the end of the room. Sitting at the sides of the daimyo were two wings of his most trusted generals, all dressed up in full armor. Among them, he recognized his own blood: Todoroki Touya, the firstborn, dressed in a blue armor, and Todoroki Natsuo, third born, in his white armor. Both looked at him with the solemnity required of their position, even though Shouto could swear his oldest brother showed a hint of envy in his eyes. Further to the left, just after the last general, a lady dressed in a white kimono with red flowers was looking at him with pride, a hint of smile on her lips. The white hair flecked with red strands was unmistakably that of his sister, Todoroki Fuyumi. Shouto’s heart clenched at the sight of the only female relative left in his household as he felt the absence of the other one: his mother, Todoroki Rei. He reminded himself it was no use concerning himself about it; the past is in the past. She was not there, nor would she ever be.
Shaking these thoughts, he walked toward Enji. His stride was calm and measured, his head held high, befitting his status as a full-fledged member of the daimyo’s family. People around him bowed as he walked by, honoring the Todoroki name he now carried. Shouto stole a glance at the only two men his age as he passed them. Kirishima bowed immediately, grinning slightly, while Bakugo seemed to hesitate, then remembered his place and lowered his head. Shouto could not care less about the genuineness with which the people around him bowed; he knew that they owed their respect to his family and father. His only concern was to defend that name’s honor to his death.
Soon enough he was standing in front of the Daimyo and could feel the heat emanating from his constantly burning flames. Shouto lowered himself on both knees, kneeling before his lord in total submission.
“I pledge my service to you, Todoroki Enji, Daimyo of Hiroshima, Head of the Todoroki Clan. My sword is yours to command, my life is yours to use, my death is yours to decide,” he said with his head still bowed in a sign of respect.
He could feel the presence of his father towering over him, but he patiently waited for a response in complete standstill.
“I accept your service, Todoroki Shouto. May your life be glorious and may your death bring honor to our clan.” The daimyo replied in a ceremonial manner “Now, as token of my appreciation for your pledge, receive this.”
Shouto noticed movement in front of him and raised his eyes, catching Enji undoing something from his side. Raising his head, Shouto looked at the gift his father presented to him. In the daimyo’s hands was his own sword. Shouto stared at his father’s prized possession, from the curved crimson sheath to the black hilt wrapped in red silk.
“This is Endeva, the sword forged for your grandfather sixty years ago. It served him in defending our land and served me in expanding it. May it serve you in your endeavors and your service to the clan!”
Shouto bowed again and lifted the sword from his father’s outstretched hands. It was at once lighter than expected yet heavy with expectation. This moment was the culmination of his life’s training and represented the start of his true life as a samurai.
A life that began with obeying his first order from his lord:
“Rise, Todoroki Shouto!”