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From the moment Enji woke up this morning, he knew it wouldn't be an easy day. Touya’s regressed, but that’s not the reason. Enji looks over at him from where he’s pouring Lucky Charms into two bowls. He looks on edge, fingers tapping restlessly in an attempt to self-soothe, bloodshot eyes fixed on the cartoon playing on TV. Sugary cereal isn’t the healthy food he’d like to be giving Touya, but after last night he’d be lucky getting him to sit for breakfast at all.
Yesterday had ended with a late-night screaming match. It had Enji struggling to rein in his temper as he dealt with Touya’s anger in full force. The last word had been Touya’s as he stormed off childishly, slamming his door behind him.
Age regression.
It was something that Shuka, the therapist Enji (and Touya) had been seeing for a year had explained to him. Touya had been in therapy for two years as one of his parole requirements, but Enji had started seeing her when Touya was cleared to be sent home. Home with Enji was left unsaid.
At first the concept seemed confusing. An adult acting like a child? Or, who thought they were a child? No matter how it was put, the concept of age regression confused the hell out of Enji. Especially when he tried to connect that concept of returning to a child’s state of mind to Touya. Touya, in everything that he had become.
It was just confusing.
Enji’d thrown himself headfirst into research after that, determined to understand. Terms like ‘little’ and ‘caregiver’ became familiar to him in the hours he pored over websites and forums that dealt with regression.
In Touya’s case, his regression seemed to be always involuntary. He had threatened Enji, in very colorful language, to keep his regression a secret. Not that the threats actually held any weight. Touya knew that as well as Enji did. The requirements of his parole- permanent house arrest, an ankle monitor, quirk suppressors, as well as living with a Pro Hero- prevented him from harming even a defenseless toddler. Enji agreed anyway.
Trying to get his son to actually talk about his regression was like pulling teeth. There was no doubt some underlying insecurity with it; the man would rather shove it down and ignore it until he couldn’t.
And regardless, Enji wanted to respect Touya’s privacy. Privacy wasn’t a luxury he’d had much over the years. Being the child of a Pro meant your life was in the public eye, whether you liked it or not. Touya himself had exacerbated that through his actions as Dabi. And Enji knew too many parts of his son had already been peeled back and revealed to the world. This wasn’t something he felt necessary to share with anyone, though he thought Fuyumi might suspect something. She was a children’s teacher, after all, and had always been emotionally intelligent.
Enji shakes his head, trying to focus on the task at hand. He picks the milk carton he’d left on the countertop and pours it in both bowls. Warily, he glances back to Touya. As if sensing the eyes on him, Touya’s eyes snap over from the TV. They instantly harden into a glare, embers of frustration flickering back to life.
Before, that sort of attitude would be something he’d take one half-glance at and walk away from, leaving Rei to deal with it.
He doesn’t walk away now. He walks towards the couch and sets Touya’s bowl on the coffee table. A peace offering, of sorts. Lucky Charms are Touya’s favorite (though he’d never admit it aloud). Getting Touya to actually eat was a problem Enji had discovered early on. Trudging through the years half-dead, the man had made a bad habit of ignoring his hunger to avoid agitating his battered body.
That was something Enji could help fix, more easily at least. The damage Touya had accumulated over the years was extensive, but modern quirk medicine had been advancing. The artificial tear ducts, skin grafts, and nerve therapy were expensive but Enji didn’t care how much it cost. Relieving his son of chronic pain was the goal. It was the least he could do. Touya’s mental and emotional pain was a different beast.
For children with eating issues, having a parent eat with them may make them more comfortable. It was something Shuka told him early on while he was trying to figure out the best way to support Touya.
Enji sits down slowly, making sure Touya catalogs his movements. He makes sure to leave a bit of space between them so the other man doesn’t feel suffocated. The minutes tick by. Whatever cartoon is up plays on mutedly in the background as Enji eats the cereal. It’s too sweet for his taste. Lucky Charms don’t exactly fit in with the hero diet, but eating them will make Touya more likely to.
He hasn’t so much as reached for his own bowl, though. It lays untouched on the coffee table. Touya stares forward resolutely, fingers curled into his palms.
Enji sighs through his nose, mentally preparing for a confrontation.
“Touya.”
The man stiffens at the name, shooting Enji a glare before looking away sharply. Enji knows Touya isn’t the same person he used to be, all those years ago. It’s his fault- he had lit the fire in his son, using him to reach a goal and abandoning him when he couldn't. Ignoring him when he began to fracture. Being the reason that he’d reached that boiling point, only a product of his environment.
Dabi was the phoenix that rose from the ashes leftover of Touya.
Enji knows that Touya isn’t who he used to be, he does. But looking at the man- the former A-class villain, the serial murderer- across from him, he still sees the embers of his boy. Sees it in his tapping, a childhood habit. Sees it in those once-in-a-blue-moon smiles, the ones that aren’t manic and twisted but genuine and happy. Sees it in Touya’s eyes, the ones that match his own.
Looking at his son, sometimes, is like looking at a distorting mirror. He sees himself reflected in Touya. Mostly, he sees the reflection of his mistakes- in Touya’s scars, his mentality, his fatal flaws. So much like Enji, especially when he was younger. Stubborn to a fault, fire quirk, red hair, turquoise eyes. He still remembers Rei’s comment about it, holding baby Touya in her arms.
“Of course he’d come out looking nothing like me,” She had huffed, smiling tiredly after hours of labor. She looked down, thumbing Touya's shock of red hair while he blinked up at her with baby blue eyes. “You’re just like your father.”
Back when she didn’t think that was a terrible thing.
It’d been Rei who came up with Touya’s name. It felt so right in some inexplicable way that Enji, controlling as he’d been, had agreed. Even though his son had been ‘Dabi’ for years, it felt wrong to call him anything else but Touya.
Touya called him many things over the years. ‘Daddy’ matured into ‘Dad’. ‘Dad’ lost its familiar touch and became ‘Father’. Then Touya left and Dabi rose and Enji hadn’t heard his son say ‘Dad’ in a decade and a half until his fateful reveal.
Nowadays, Touya only calls Enji his dad when regressed. Otherwise it’s his first name or ‘Endeavor’, the hero name mockingly spat out like an insult. In Touya’s eyes, it likely was.
“What,” Touya snaps, body language screaming he’s seconds from a tantrum.
“You need to eat, your cereal is getting soggy-” Enji tries.
“Don’t wanna,”
“Touya-”
“NO!!” Touya yells and, yep, there are the tears.
The first time Touya had cried, actually cried in front of him, Enji had frozen. Most fathers would know right away how to comfort their boy, muscle memory that went down to their bones. Enji didn’t. Words of comfort, a supportive hug, affection- it was all foreign to him. Enji had stood, like an idiot, while his son broke down.
Not for the first time, he cursed the sorry excuse for a father he’d been.
He’s more practiced now. Carefully, and leaving room for Touya to push back if he feels suffocated, he wraps his arms around his son. Nails dig into Enji’s arm, jagged and rough.
“I hate you, hate you-”
“Breathe, Touya.” Enji inhales a deep breath himself, leading by example.
In-2-3-4, hold-2-3-4, out-2-3-4.
It’s grounding, a breathing strategy Shuka had attempted to teach both him and Touya, though the latter had complaints.
“SHUT UP!” Touya yells, releasing his vise-like grip on Enji to pull on his hair like he did as a child. “Just, just-”
Touya's speech breaks even further, into muffled half-words pressed up against Enji’s shoulder.
“Dad…”
Even though he only does it when regressed, Enji always feels a pang of bittersweet regret when Touya calls him ‘Dad’. It’s what he should have been treasuring all those years ago. He should have cared about being a good husband and father, not number one. He should have been there for his children.
He should have been there for Touya. Supporting him. Helping him build his own future, not forcing one on him. Standing with him every step of the way, not abandoning him.
It’s strange. In a way, Touya’s regression seems almost like a second chance. Logically, he knows nothing will truly right his wrongs. It won’t change the ruin he inflicted on Touya’s childhood. Still, supporting Touya like this… it feels like an offer of a second chance at being in his son’s life.
Enji won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
He won’t let Touya waste away, a half-dead man walking. He will care. He will nurture. He will love. He’ll do what he should have done- protect his boy. He’ll be the father he should’ve been a long time ago