“And the winner is Shoto Todoroki !”

The audience applauded as I stepped onto the rickety podium. The presenter handed me the small golden cup - probably plastic - and shook my hand energetically.

A sea of unfamiliar faces and sanctimonious smiling faces greeted me. I heard snatches of conversation amid the surrounding din.

“He's Endeavor's son, isn't he ?”

“Look at that expression. He's one of those kids whose father is never satisfied, even if he's the best”

“His training must be intense to be able to beat even fifteen year-olds this young”

“My son is in his class and apparently he's very problematic”

I tried to remove my hand from the ironclad grasp of the moderator. He pretended not to notice and pulled me forward, his eyes glued to the camera pointed at us. He had a huge smile on his face, his eyes wide open.

“Smile, Mr. Todoroki”

The flash crackled and the local journalist looked at the photo for a few seconds.

“Thank you very much !”

I tore my hand from the moderator's and left the stage. A wave of whispers followed me.

"As rough as his old man" grumbled an old harpy.

I held up two fingers, and a thread of chakra finer than a needle floated up to her hair. The next thing I knew, she was running behind her 'windblown' wig, to the everyone's amusement.

I rushed into the locker room and threw the trophy in the trash.

Any one of the Sword and Cross kids would have been better than those shameful martial artists.

I had wasted time, precious time that I could have used for something more productive if I had sent a clone instead. But it was my fault: I was stupid foolish to believe that I would have a challenge today.

People are always more mediocre than you think.

I thought back to Mizuki-sensei and all the progress he had enabled me to make. I'd never had a better teacher than him. I regretted that he had disappeared so suddenly.

I walked through the corridors that I'd memorized the day prior.

Last time, it was the simple fact that I had glanced absentmindedly at the blueprints while crossing a corridor that had allowed me to escape from my captors alive.

That, and the fact that none of them expected me to roast them alive.

The bell rang.

I heard the students gathering their things and rushing down the stairs.

It was probably because of a chatty gym teacher that everyone had heard about my presence at the school today: that explained why there were nearly two hundred and fifty people in the gym, in addition to the thirty competitors, for a middle school tournament.

And it also explained why all the kids in the building were running to it instead of heading for the exit.

They must have thought my old man would be there.

Considering how pathetic this "championship" was, I can only welcome the fact that a sudden emergency prevented him from coming.

I turned right, went down a flight of stairs, and opened the service door that led to the back of the building. It banged against a pile of empty crates stacked behind it.

My eyes fell on the black four-wheel drive waiting for me, the engine purring softly.

It was a European model, I was told, a bulletproof, armored black car that could withstand rocket fire. It had taken us a few months to get it, even though my father was a multimillionaire and a hero to boot.

Parents who came to pick up their children always looked at me strangely when I got in, no doubt wondering why a ten-year-old needed a car more secure than a safe.

For a moment, Kenzei changed the opacity of the windows so that I could see him. He waved at me from behind the wheel, smiling.

I climbed into the seat and fastened my seatbelt.

“Does the absence of a trophy mean you've lost ?”

I caught his amused look in the rearview mirror.

“Of course not. It was just a cheap trophy”

May I be killed on the spot the day I deign to put up with anything the bums possess.

He started the car.

My eyes wandered over the landscape.

The red brick schoolhouse on the hill gave way to the charming little port town of Hargeon.

The sky was cloudless. I lowered the window slightly and the sea breeze hit me. I could practically feel the salt on my tongue.

The streets were paved and flower-filled balconies overlooked the sidewalks. The streets were clean and there was not the slightest hum of an engine - other than our own - to disturb the peace and quiet.

Kenzei turned into a street and the light turned green, allowing us to proceed without a hitch.

We passed an empty kindergarten.

Probably all at school.

The courtyard next to it was also empty. A bike park without bikes and a quiet rest area followed.

New road.

The wind rustled the trees.

The sidewalks were clean and the streets free of vehicles-

I straightened up, my senses alerted.

We hadn't seen another car since we entered the city.

Shops were open, but no one was inside.

The windows of the buildings in the business district gave a bird's eye view of the empty offices.

There wasn't a single screaming seagull. Not the slightest bird chirp. Not a stray cat.

The streets were empty.

My chakra buzzed. My senses stretched to the edge of the city.

No one.

I unhooked my belt.

“Kenzei”

The old man turned halfway to me and raised a finger to his mouth, smiling.

I straightened up, hid my hand behind my back, my kunai slipping into it.

“How about some music, Shoto-sama ?”

He turned up the radio.

“Tooooo hold me…”

A distant part of my mind recognized the song: it was an old hit from 1968, by Engelbert Humperdinck.

The car drove at 30, as the signs indicated. Every traffic light we encountered turned green immediately.As it had been since we entered the city.

My eyes were glued to Kenzei.His right hand held the steering wheel, his fingers tapping rhythmically on it.

Then his left hand slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket.

My muscles tensed.

Expertly, he turned the car to the right. And for the first time since the beginning, we came to a red light at an intersection.

He stopped.

And pulled a phone out of his pocket.

Out of nowhere, three shiny black 4x4s appeared. They entered the intersection, driving deliberately slowly. Then they blocked our way.

The first car parked perpendicular to ours, prevented us from moving forward.The next two cars parked in front of and behind the first, preventing us from getting onto the sidewalks. I looked behind us.

Three more 4x4s were already parked there in a similar configuration.

I took off my watch and scanned the area.

There was no adjacent alley.

Kenzei handed me his cell phone without looking at me.

Suspicious, I scrutinized the old man. Then my eyes were drawn to the name on the screen.

‘Enji’

I put the phone to my ear.

Kenzei lifted the passenger seat and discovered a hiding place I'd never heard of. He pulled out a gun, three bullets, a silencer, a knife in a holster and black gloves.

“Shoto”

It was my father's voice.

Or something that sounded very much like him.

“I'm on my way, stay with Kenzei.Whatever happens, don't lose the phone, it has a tracking device”

My eyes darted between the three black cars in front of us.

They'd turned off their engines.

“Understood”

Kenzei sang in a low voice to the rhythm of the song.He pushed up his rectangular glasses with his thumb, then loaded his gun . He removed the safety and slid it onto his belt. He pulled on his gloves last, snapping the leather against his skin.

At the other end of the line, I could hear my father barking orders back and forth.

Kenzei unbuckled his belt and climbed up beside me, crouching on the seat. He took the phone out of my hand.

Kenzei nodded at what my father was saying; it was a handful of commands like 'my son's safety first' and 'show no mercy' or 'we'll be there in ten minutes'.

“Good" my father finished "I'm going to turn off the microphone so you can't hear me, but stay on the line. The car should withstand a half-ton attack, so you should be safe for a while"

"All right," Kenzei replied without losing his look of friendly old man.

The contrast was even more pronounced when he stroked the barrel with the tip of his finger.

He handed me the phone, which I promptly tucked into the blazer of my uniform, amused at my expression.

“Don't worry," he reassured me. Your father hired me specifically for this. I'll protect you even if it costs me my life.

It was a very theatrical statement. I wondered if he only said it because my father was still on the phone.

“I'm not worried about that," I said and looked away. "If we ever get separated... I don't know how I'll be able to defend myself since I'm not allowed to use my Quirks on public places anymore"

A stupid restriction imposed by the judge, considering what I'd done to my last abductors.

“Oh, that”

Kenzei lifted a seat and pulled out two knives as long as my forearms. They were almost as big as Tantos.

“I heard you've been taking kenjutsu classes," he said with a shrug. Use them, and when this is over, we'll act as if I was the one using them, so you won't get into trouble.

My eyes darted between his serene face and the weapons.

I smiled.

“Thank you”

The blades were well balanced and the handles were not slippery. I took them by the handle and held them backwards, hiding them under my forearms.

“Eight minutes," my father grumbled.

He turned off his microphone again.

Just then, the door of the central 4x4 blocking our way opened.

For a second nothing happened.

Then blood drained from my face.

“Endeavor," Kenzei said calmly, adjusting his glasses, "We can't wait for you”

The old man slid between me and the armored window, pushing me with one hand behind his back.I was pinned between him and the back seat, but I didn't miss a beat of what was happening.

Sitting spread-eagled at the foot of his car's seats was a hooded man, a rocket launcher in his hands.

“It's not a kidnapping, it's an assassination attempt”