#he did neither of those things baby but i understand you need to reframe your trauma (even tho the writers don't)

[ardentpoop]

:)

[logicalbookthief]

Things Left Unsaid -- An Analysis of Rei & Touya

Apparently Rei has been getting a lot of flack lately, all of it undeserved, and since I had a post analyzing her relationship with Touya in the works already, I figured no time like the present.

Disclaimer #1: There are a lot of issues with the writing for Rei’s character that have nothing to do with her and everything to do with how the storyline is using her, which I will address and examine.

Disclaimer #2: I’m someone who, while always curious as to what kind of relationship Rei had with her oldest son before he died, never thought it would be revealed that Touya was close to his mom. I don’t think you get the Dabi we see in Chapters 290-295 without him being so warped by his relationship with his father yet so dependent on his attention that he was willing to kill his brother and himself simply for his father’s acknowledgement.

But that’s what I find so interesting about Rei and Touya -- it’s a relationship that mainly consists of regrets and things left unsaid. There isn’t the anger or resentment Dabi feels for Endeavor, because that intense level of emotion sprung from the loss of the father who used to be his whole world. His feelings toward his mother seem more amicable, but also more distant.

And while she could’ve done some things differently in regards to her oldest, I want to make it clear that the distance between them was very much by design.

After all, Touya was the end goal of their marriage. It was never any secret as to why Enji wanted to marry her and to some extent Rei must’ve realized that this child was not meant to be hers: the child was the transaction, the thing she was needed to create, to give to her husband. Of course she loved Touya and was likely his primary caregiver for most of his life, but there was no doubt that once his quirk manifested and he could begin his hero training, his life would be dominated by his father. Which is what happened.

Here, I would like to point out something I noticed in the flashback chapters. We never see any panels of Enji alone with any of his children during their infancy -- even with Shouto, the perfect child he longed for, we see Rei holding Shouto, sitting by him as he sleeps. Enji is there tangentially. Once Shouto begins his training, that is when we see him with his father.

So to see Enji with Touya when he was a baby, prior to his quirk manifesting, strikes me as a big deal. But it makes sense if you remember that he’d placed all his hopes, dreams and expectations on his firstborn. Initially, it doesn’t look like he even considered the possibility that Touya wouldn’t be his successor or that his little eugenics experiment would fail; this was his first, most optimistic attempt at a masterpiece. So I don’t believe it’s far-fetched to see him spend more time with Touya right off the bat (it’s what will make the eventual abandonment all the more crushing).

However, Rei isn’t seen at all in the snippet of Touya’s infancy, despite us knowing she was relegated to the caregiver role. Rei is literally out of the picture. Compare this to how she features prominently in Shouto’s infancy or how we see her holding a baby Natsuo. You could argue that, hey, we don’t see her holding a baby Fuyumi either, but there’s other scenes where Fuyumi’s attached to her mother’s hip or crying over her being hurt. Things that suggest a closeness, when the only scene we get of just her and Touya is one where they’re at odds. 

As we move further into Touya’s childhood, though, Rei becomes the only voice we hear advocate for him against his father. I’m referencing two specific instances:

When Enji coerces her into having more children to replace Touya now that his father has deemed him a failure, something she knows will hurt their son deeply.

And after Touya lashes out at Shouto, which Rei doesn’t blame on Touya, but rather on his father. She delivers such a satisfying condemnation of his actions, probably the most cutting one Endvr’s received to date, and it so accurately sums up one of his major character flaws.

How can you call yourself a hero when you can’t even face your own son?

The tragedy of it all is that Rei never said any of this in front of Touya -- it was always said in private, just to her husband. That alone took courage, yes, but it would’ve meant everything to Touya to hear her condemn his father aloud. Instead when she does speak to him, she says this:

It’s why I can’t wrap my head around that scene in Ch 302, where after Enji admits he didn’t know what to say to Touya, Rei replies, “Neither did I.” 

When we’re shown in flashbacks during that same chapter that she did understand her son. “He just wants to be acknowledged by you” is quite the indication that she, at the very least, understood the cause of Touya’s turmoil even if she couldn’t fully relate to it herself. So why can’t she say any of this to him?

The answer is in the way she addresses Touya, as it is nearly identical to how Nao addresses Tenko in this scene:

Both Touya and Tenko grew up in similar households: the father had all the power, physical and financial, so the mothers were left to try and comfort their children in a way that didn’t go against their husbands’ desires -- and so, to use Tenko’s own words, they would “reject them with kindness.”

So it’s no wonder that Touya lashes out at his mother after she suggests he pursue other things. He isn’t five like Tenko was, he’s thirteen and has a much clearer understanding of why she says this and why it’s a bit hypocritical, since he’s aware of her situation, too.

Just as she was bound by her family, who wanted her to marry Endvr for the money and status, he’s bound by the expectations of his family. I’m not sure if I’ve seen anyone else touch on this detail, but when Touya states that he knows his grandparents sold his mom into marriage so his dad could have a child, we could infer that Touya knows enough to realize that his mother might not have necessarily wanted him.

Not him specifically, but any child — the story has neglected to flesh her out beyond her marriage and motherhood, so we have no idea if Rei wanted to become a mother prior to this arrangement, despite how much she loves her kids now — although it is possible that he might’ve internalized it this way.

So you have Touya, who at least knows with certainty that his father wanted him to exist, yet he comes to understand that his father only wants him if he can meet a specific set of expectations, and if he cannot, he’ll be discarded. If he can’t surpass All Might, he can’t fulfill his reason for existing and his father will have to replace him. So to have his mother urge him to follow a path other than becoming a hero would mean, to Touya, accepting that he is the mistake he fears he is. Of course he isn’t going to respond well to that.

I don’t like when people try to compare Touya’s reaction in this moment to Shouto’s when Rei tells him he isn’t bound by his father’s blood, using that to paint Shouto as the “good” child and Touya as the “bad” one. They didn’t react differently because of any innate sense of goodness or lack thereof -- they reacted differently because the situations are different.

Telling Shouto that he didn’t have to be like his father comforted Shouto, who only knew his father as the bully who hurt his mom. He associated his father, and his father’s fire, with all of that fear and pain -- and thus, he associated the part of himself that took after his father with those feelings. She wasn’t denying his dream of becoming a hero, only assuring him that when he became a hero it could be whatever kind of hero he chose to be, that he wasn’t doomed to be like his father.

Whereas what she tells Touya sounds a lot like what his father told him, which was to give up on being a hero and pursue other aspirations.

Encouraging Shouto to become his own version of a hero still falls in line with what Endvr ultimately wants, which is for Shouto to be a hero capable of surpassing All Might. Whereas this is what happens when Touya continues to train to do that against his father’s wishes:

This is where the framing begins to bother me and where Rei’s characterization becomes inconsistent. 

So in this scene from Ch 302, we see Enji abusing his wife for “letting” Touya continue to train, punishing her for her “failure” to stop him. Obviously, none of that is Rei’s fault. If anything, Enji would be more responsible for preventing Touya from hurting himself since he’s the reason his son is hurting himself in the first place.

Moreover, the fact that he hits Rei over this sort of muddies the water of an previously-established narrative. Since the Sports Festival arc, we’ve known that Endvr abused his wife because she tried to interfere with Shouto’s training. It got to the point where she was terrified of her husband and it drove her to a breakdown. Why introduce this new aspect to the abuse, when it was already established that a) he was physically abusive and b) his motivations for abusing her were explicit to the audience? 

I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense that a man who hits his wife for one reason could find another reason to do it and justify his actions to himself. And while the scene does portray Endvr in a bad light to show how wrong his actions are, literally draping his figure in shadow, why does it even dare to suggest the idea that Rei was remiss in her duties as a mother? Again, the scene isn’t even necessary, since the narrative has long-since showed the audience that Enji abused his wife. 

By itself, the scene would read as further exploration of how Rei was victimized and how it affected her children. When you look at it with the chapter as a whole, though? Remember, this is the chapter where Rei claims that all of the family shares the blame in what happened to Touya, displacing some of the blame that rightfully rests on Enji. 

But my major gripe with this scene is how it reframes the sole moment we get of Rei and Touya alone. Because we know that Rei understands Touya, based on her confrontations with her husband in Ch 301 & 302. Rather than encourage him to be what he wants or acknowledge that his father is in the wrong, however, her advice falls in line with what Enji wants -- to stop Touya from training. And this comes after a scene where we see Enji beat his wife when she doesn’t stop Touya from training.

With all that in mind, it could potentially be read as Rei trying stop Touya for the sake of protecting herself and the family -- I don’t think it’s coincidence that in the scene where he hits her that we see Shouto, Fuyumi & Natsuo all as witnesses who are very distressed by what’s happening to their mother -- at the cost of Touya’s need to be validated. And if executed well or at least better than it has here, that wouldn’t be a bad choice of narrative per se, and it would fit into the pattern where the households the villains were raised in -- notably Shigaraki, Dabi & Toga -- mimic the society they live in, just on a smaller scale.

Except. Does that sort of narrative make sense based on what we already know about Rei?

Certainly, it is natural to want to protect yourself under physical and/or emotional duress by appeasing your abuser. This sort of complicated dynamic appears in the Shimura family, too. Just like in the house that Kotaro built, the Todoroki family revolves around the desires of the abuser and is dictated by his whims.

I would argue that Nao does give us a well-written example of this narrative. From the beginning, it’s established that she loves Tenko dearly. But in the house her husband built, there’s no room to love her son as he deserves. She prioritizes the feelings of Tenko’s father for the sake of maintaining peace in the household and this is established quickly and plainly.

Early on in the flashback, Kotaro exerts his control over the house, while Nao + her parents look uncomfortable. Despite this, we watch as they comply with his rules, all at the expense of Tenko’s feelings. When she stands up to Kotaro at last, it is not where Tenko can see and already too late. It’s a painful story, full of regret and sadness, but it is consistent from start to end. Nobody feels out-of-character or there to prop up anybody else.

So why doesn’t Rei feel as consistent in this narrative?

Because it doesn’t fit with everything we knew about Rei prior to her abuser’s subpar redemption arc.

The way she interacts with Touya would make sense, if this was how she was portrayed from the start. However, her behavior in Shouto’s flashback -- where she was first introduced -- contrasts what we get in the later Todoroki flashbacks.

Let’s compare this to the scenes in Ch 302. Here, Rei interferes on Shouto’s behalf. She advocates for her son in front of Shouto where he can hear. She stands up to his bully/villain and tries to protect him, while also validating his feelings in the process. Directly after this, Enji hits her, not for failing to comply with his demands, but for defying him. 

It is difficult to reconcile this Rei with the Rei we get in Ch 302. And if you try to find an in-story reason for the inconsistency, the options either do a disservice to Rei or make things even more painful for Touya. But I’m sure most of you have realized that I’m going to suggest a reason for this inconsistency that goes beyond the canon.

Because when Rei was first introduced in the story, Endvr was unequivocally the villain in the Todoroki family, not some misguided patriarch trying to atone for his “past” mistakes. Years later and in the midst of his redemption arc, the narrative seems to be intent on making this man more palatable to readers, and it’s used Rei at every opportunity to prop up his efforts to be better. Often, though, it takes some of the heat off Enji by displacing it onto other family members, most significantly Rei & Touya.

Like, you can literally see the difference in the frame from early in the manga to now:

Ch 39: Endvr trains his five-year-old to the point where he’s throwing up due overextension and being punched by a fully grown adult who is also his father. Rei tries to protect her son and gets slapped by Endvr. All the blames rests squarely on Endvr, who is clearly the aggressor and painted as the villain here.

Ch 302: Endvr hits Rei for not preventing Touya from sneaking out to train, knocking her to the ground. Again, Endvr is clearly the aggressor, but oh this time it’s not driven solely by his selfish desires it’s also cocnern for his son; Rei is the victim but oh she also should have been watching him more closely, and oh well why was Touya going out in the first place, when everyone has told him to stop and he knows his mom will get punished for it?

Honestly, I can understand where some people have mixed feelings over Rei’s character, particularly since the writing has done her such a disservice recently. With that being said, however, it takes a minimum amount of critical thinking to recognize that while you can criticize some choices she made, you cannot hold her to the same standard of accountability as Enji, it’s absurd. The power imbalance was obviously tipped in Endvr’s favor, always.

It is a shame, too, that we can’t have more discussions that don’t turn into some readers (a lot of whom are attempting to make Endvr sound less horrible than he actually was) trying to demonize her. It’s doubly a shame the story itself doesn’t bother to flesh her out as a person, instead using her as a prop, because the complex relationships she has with Touya -- with all her children, really -- has plenty of room for exploration. 

Like, there was no reason to add this new dimension of resentment due to her spouting Enji’s words back at Touya, when there was already a source of tension supported by previous canon -- the neglect the Todoroki kids suffered because Rei couldn’t be the parent they needed, due to her declining mental health and eventual breakdown.

Or, if you want to complicate their dynamic further, why not add something that focuses on Rei and has nothing to do with Enji? We learn in the flashbacks that Rei agreed to the marriage more-or-less to please her family, lamenting that she “intended to smile through it to the end,” essentially admitting that her hope was she could grin and bear it. It is telling that she had this attitude before entering her marriage; evidently, she was raised with the idea that she should be acquiescent to her parents’ whims and not express herself if she was only going to be contrary. Maybe she didn’t know how to deal with Touya’s very expressive, very emotional outbursts as a result. And her inability to respond would be the exact opposite of what Touya was seeking.

Not to mention that Touya died, and for the last decade, Rei was under the impression she had lost her son forever. He died while she was hospitalized, torn up with guilt over what she did to Shouto, only to find out that her other son died in a frankly horrific manner, and she could do nothing. By the time she would’ve found out, it was too late to even try to do anything. I can’t imagine what she must’ve felt in terms of regret alone, plus her grief. And I’m still mad we were robbed of her reaction to Touya being alive, because now suddenly there is a chance to do something, to change what was once written in stone.

Or what about Touya’s feelings for his mother, that have yet to be given much depth? As the oldest and most aware of his existence, it seems like he was the first to truly understand his mother’s situation and I can’t help but wonder: If Touya knew he vessel for his father’s ambition, and his mother was sold into role of creating/caring for him, did he question her love for him? Once he found out one parent’s love was conditional, it wouldn’t be a leap for him to consider it for the other. And yet if that’s true, Dabi doesn’t appear to hold any ill-will towards her for that. He was angry at her hypocrisy, because he knows she should understand, but her words to him didn’t reflect that.

All of that is fascinating and so much better than what we got in canon, so far at least. I’m hoping for them interact in the present at least once before the end of the series, and I think they will, but as to how satisfying a reconciliation it’ll be, I guess we’ll have to wait to see how the Todoroki plotline progresses from here on out.

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[redphlox]

Rei and Touya/Dabi

I know we’re collectively worried about Rei’s state of mind after the Dabi reveal. The popular speculation is that seeing what’s become of her eldest son will set back her recovery. I’m here to offer you the opposite scenario based on a few panels I can’t stop thinking about: Touya’s return won’t break her, and it’s exactly what she needed. 

Okay, let’s backtrack. She’s hospitalized because of the mental breakdown she suffered due to domestic abuse. She felt guilty for burning Shouto. It’s not a coincidence that she’s been making huge gains ever since Shouto reached out to her and they’ve reconnected. They’re both healing because the other is healing, too. They now have a relationship that doesn’t include Endeavor whatsoever. Both mother and son have redefined his fire side - he doesn’t see himself as an extension of Endeavor, and neither does she. 

Now, what was the other event that was the final blow to her mental state?

Touya’s death. The death of her eldest son.

Endeavor is speaking in this panel, but even though Rei is pictured as he says this, I don’t think he means Rei. I think he’s referring to Touya. Before this panel, he’s reflecting on his motivation to be #1 and comes to the conclusion that it’s “them” - children. 

And which child’s future did he cut short? Touya’s. I think he’s referring to Touya, and I think that’s Rei’s reaction upon learning of his death. She’s terrified and devastated. Look at her twisted mouth and quivering chin. She may even blame herself for Touya’s death - she spent all that time protecting Shouto from Endeavor’s training because he was the one in direct danger, and it probably never crossed her mind that harm would come to her other children because Endeavor neglected them. 

But look at what happened… Touya died in a fire at a training facility where Endeavor used to train. Even if Endeavor wasn’t directly involved, Rei’s nightmare has come true - the worst thing possible happened because of Endeavor’s ambition. One of her children died. 

It was too much for Rei. To survive, she needed to forget about Endeavor and everything that reminded her of him. Shouto recognized this, and stayed away from her for years until enough time passed that they could address their past. 

This is all my speculation, because Hori hasn’t given us Rei’s POV, but I want to emphasize that parental love is unconditional. That’s been explored in the manga indirectly through Endeavor’s neglect of his children when they didn’t possess good enough quirks. While the Todoroki children didn’t receive unconditional love from Endeavor, they did receive that from Rei. There’s a reason Shouto never resented Rei for burning him - he saw that as an action toward Endeavor, not him. He even asked about her after he came home bandaged up from the teakettle incident. He loves his mother unconditionally, and she does in return.  She loves all of her children. I think that extends to Touya/Dabi, too.

 So, let’s talk about Rei’s reaction to the Dabi reveal, specifically in reference to her facial expression. We’ve seen her look frightened before, usually when she was reminded of Endeavor. 

But the expression she has after seeing Dabi/Touya isn’t anything like that. She’s stunned, she’s frozen, but she’s not afraid of the man she’s seeing on the television. Her eyes kind of hold some curious, surprised recognition in them, more like “Ah, he looks familiar, but why?” instead of the “what the heck, this isn’t my regularly scheduled program that I was watching!” someone else might say at the slight annoyance of their show/the news being hacked. 

After he says his name, her mouth is opened like she just let out a soft, “Oh.” And she’s still not afraid or terrified. Her eyes aren’t wide, her pupils aren’t dilated. Her expression is nothing like the look of terror we’ve seen her wear before. She knows he’s her son because she no longer sees Endeavor in Shouto’s left side and she no longer sees Endeavor in Touya either. While Dabi still sees himself as an extension of Endeavor, she’s seeing her son, her baby. She’s not seeing a murderer or villain - she’s seeing the product of Endeavor’s abuse.

I don’t think she’ll spurn Dabi or villainize him - she completely understand more than anyone what atrocities Endeavor’s abuse could bring someone to do. 

In a way, now that she knows Touya is alive, she has a second chance to “protect” him from Endeavor and release him from Endeavor’s hold. The child who wanted so desperately to please and be loved is still in there. Rei couldn’t protect him from Endeavor or Endeavor’s will before, but now that she’s in a better mental state, maybe she can. And yes, Endeavor isn’t abusing Dabi/Touya right now, but the past never forgets and those scars don’t just go away when you remove yourself from the situation (in his case, when he “died”). Touya is still in the middle of his trauma, reliving it over and over again as Endeavor becomes #1 and Shouto interns with him. It probably only reopens the wound more to see Endeavor with his “perfect” son.

It’s a sort of miracle that some of the factor’s in Rei’s breakdown are “reversing”: Shouto’s burn, Touya’s death. She has Shouto in her life again, and now Touya can be, too. This reversal doesn’t diminish or fix the pain or the past, of course. It’s also not to say she’ll return to her old self, because growth and recovery isn’t about returning to a previous version of yourself. It’s about learning coping mechanisms and reframing your thoughts and perception. That’s why I think Dabi’s reveal won’t send her into a relapse - she’s in a better place, she’s made strides and has worked SO hard. I think with her children’s love and her new fortitude, Rei can overcome this situation too, and reaching out to Touya will help her recovery. I think this quote by the Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu fits Rei’s mental state and present situation the best: “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

I don’t know, maybe it’ll be “Shouto’s visiting her, Touya is alive and recovering, and our family’s looking toward the future more and more.” In the end, the Todorokis have a second chance at being a family. But there’s a lot of healing that needs to happen, and Dabi needs to be saved first... and he needs to be willing to be saved.

[originaldetectivesheep]

Tales of the Missing 9 - I Never Thought It Would Happen To Me

Of all the marks in the world, there's no one easier to deceive than he who is sure he isn't deceiving himself.

I Never Thought It Would Happen To Me

Say, do you remember the old Penthouse Forum?  Oh, after you were about fifteen, you never took it serious that those were actual letters – these stories that people would write up, about sex they never had with the babysitter, with the wife from next door, the lady boss pulling a contractor into her office.  It was all made up – it had to be, because like they always said right at the beginning, you couldn't think that anything like this could ever happen to you, not in real life.  I know – when mine did, I definitely never thought it'd happen to me.

I don't go in for that castles-in-the-air stuff; when Vicki left, after the kids were all through with college and out on their own, I didn't contest it – really, it'd been coming for a while – and I didn't go out and buy myself a Firebird and hair plugs and a sugar-baby girlfriend with implants.  I'm just a regular guy: I know who I am and I like who I am, and I live my own life, not a Viagra commercial's.  I date now and then, since the divorce, and yeah, there are sometime pay "dates" – a guy's got needs – but all of that's on the level.  I'm me. I'm an old guy.  I'm not fooling anyone, least of all myself, that I'm a hot number who's going to be getting all kinds of young honeys wet and horny.  But, I mean, I'm still alive – so you can't fault me for responding when they do.

Being single and retired means I have a lot of time for hobbies, and one of my favorite hobbies is going out and browsing around at antique and second-hand places all over New England: there's a lot of them, and there's always something different, and you see a lot of really beautiful countryside in these little town that no one goes to any more – and, truth told, there's more than a few single older ladies who're shopping for more than another Shaker chair, if you catch my drift.  It's a little bit of adventure that I can do whenever I feel like it for the price of a tank of gas – something new, something interesting, to keep me going.

This particular time was a little shop down by the water in Newburyport; I love these old seaside towns, that've been everything two and three times around in three or four hundred years.  You never know what you're going to find: little twisting streets of old wood-shingled houses that've been around since the days of sailing ships, or a nice wide new promenade along the old waterfront.  And the antique shops are just as varied; you get a lot of people coming through, tourists, you know, who want to take a little bit of old New England home with them, so nothing sits.  There's competition, a lot of competition, but if you're in the right place at the right time, you can find something amazing.

As soon as I saw it, I knew that I had to have it.  If I hadn't seen the original in the Tate years and years ago, I'd've been fooled – but you don't get museum-quality English landscape artists in little Massachusetts antique shops, no matter how hard you hope.  I like these paintings – I love the peaceful stillness of these landscapes before industry took over everything, and you can make a penny or two flipping them to the right people – and I've made a study of them; this was as good a copy of a J. W. Allen as I'd ever found. I lifted the frame up out of the floor rack, holding it up to check all around for any dings or cuts in the canvas – the frame didn't matter, I could always have it reframed – and turned it to carry up to the counter.  This would be it for today; I like to think I'm a sharp bargainer, but I could tell that I wasn't getting out of this deal for less than three figures.

The old lady running the shop (old? bet she thought she had an old man giving her a hard time about this painting) was a sharp bargainer, too, and it was all I could do to get her down to a hundred fifty. As I was counting out the bills from my wallet, I heard a voice over my shoulder – a voice of silver bells and cinnamon spice.

"That's a wonderful painting," she said.  "It can't be a Gainsborough?  The color balance is just wonderful, but those clouds aren't rough enough for the likes of a Constable."

"Neither," I said, turning around with a smile, "unless I've gone and got senile, I think it's a very good copy of an Allen – Joseph William, a piece that's probably in a vault over at the Tate right now. You're also a connoisseur?"

"I try to keep up," she said, eyelashes fluttering as she came forward, next to me, tracing a hand along the knobs and scallops of the frame.  "And yes, you're right, of course – this is an Allen, this light flowing touch blending the clouds into the sunset and the way the trees suggest the heavens."  She looked up, straight into my eyes, smiling.  "If I didn't know better, I might think it could be the original itself – but one doesn't find miracles like that, even in Newburyport."

Looking at her, I wasn't so sure about that, but by god I wasn't going to say anything.  Her classic long, straight black hair set off her flawless porcelain skin perfectly, and her dark brown almond eyes seemed to hold all the secrets of the ages.  And those curves –  nothing vulgar, but she certainly hadn't grown up on rice and fish heads, no sir.  She might be thirty, or she might be fifty – too young for me by a piece but in any case mature, elegant, refined, everything about her face and figure exactly in keeping with her cultured British accent.  She was a miracle – an absolute unvarnished miracle.

"No," I said, "I shouldn't hope to have that kind of luck.  But it's always good to meet another of the – cognoscenti; someone who can understand and appreciate a passion for this kind of art.  I'm John; very pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms –"

"Therese," she said, taking the tips of my fingers on the fold of her hand, like a Regency belle accepting a dance, "likewise.  It is so good to meet a fellow admirer of the arts; you collect?"

"A little," I said, "but mostly it's the thrill of the chase. I don't quite have a great room with a picture gallery wrapped around the side, so frequently, when I can find a buyer for a piece, I'll sell it on – I hate the idea of pictures like these just rotting in someone's basement or their bank vault.  Some, though," – I nodded at the after-Allen still lying on the counter – "are just so perfect that I'd have quite a hard time letting go."

"Quite," Therese said, settling a hand on her hip as if she meant to thrust her bust that much further forward.  "Then, even a picture as wonderful as this – if the right offer came in, you might consider selling?"

"I might," I said, blinking, half-conscious of the frown on the shopkeeper's face as it started to sound like a secondary deal for a lot more money was about to develop right on her own countertop, "but I'd have to think long and hard about any offer, Therese; this is an amazing piece, and I've only just come into it today."

"Then all the more reason," she said, with a click of her heel on the floor, "since you've barely known it and can't be so invested for sentimental reasons.  I shall be curt: John, will you sell?  I know I'm being frightfully forward, but I have a deep interest in this painting, and I'm sure that I shall be able to meet any terms you choose to set."  Therese cocked her head to the side, her bold imperious look gone suddenly sultry, and she lacked only the riding crop and jodhpurs to be the dominatrix of any man's dreams.  I couldn't help taking a sudden breath – you couldn't, she just struck you like that – but I wouldn't be mastered quite so easily.

"I can understand that, I think," I started, "since the original of this made a great impression on me when I was younger, and I can claim that kind of sentimental attachment, too.  But I'm still, I think, disinclined to sell, especially as a private deal in someone else's shop – which you've got to agree isn't really the done thing."  I nicked my head at the proprietress, and Therese nodded slowly; I could feel the shopkeeper's mood softening – with luck, I'd be allowed back in this place sometime.  "I don't mind, though, continuing this conversation elsewhere," I said, taking a chance on her eyes and the shadow of a look somewhere back in them.  "Might I interest you in a cup of coffee, while we talk further about our interests in this piece?  I'm sure that we can come to a mutually agreeable understanding."

Therese immediately smiled, bright and wide, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't caught a little off guard, with how easily she accepted me. "Of course!  Certainly.  And madam, please ring these through at list – my sincerest apologies for any disruption we've caused." She handed the shopkeeper a small sheaf of watercolors, but even paying the sticker price for them wasn't enough that I didn't feel eyes like knives in my back as Therese slipped her arm through mine going out the door.

We walked like that, arm in arm, around the corner and along to the parking lot where I'd left my car, settling the Allen copy into the back seat, and then on across the lot over to the Cosi.  The streets down there are cobbled, but I didn't feel it – like I was floating on air, a foot up over the curbs and paving stones.  She made a show of flashing, fluttering eyes and tracing fingers as the barista put our orders together, and I of course gallantly paid it all.  Two bowl-full lattes lovingly worked together, hearts and vines floating in the foaming milk, were nothing next to what I had with Therese by my side – what she seemed to be signalling I might have with her or from her in the right conditions.

Therese sat down across the small, square table with just the hint of a wiggle, and slowly lifted her cup, eyes closed, savoring the aroma before taking her first sip.  "Wonderful," she said, "marvelous.  Thank you, John – thank you for everything."

"Oh, it's not that much," I said, feeling a little self-conscious if she was going to push this hard, somewhere this public.  "I ought to be apologizing to you, even – that I'm taking your time now, and that I got in on the Allen ahead of you."

"Oh, no, John, never," Therese said, setting down her cup and sliding her hand around the outside of mine.  "To find that Allen copy, and then meet a fellow-soul, and to share more time with you, and, perhaps a chance of the Allen again; today has been just marvelous. I'm so glad that I've met you.  Won't you tell me, please, of how you came to make a connection with that painting?"

"I'm afraid there's not much to tell," I said, wondering how conscious I ought to be of her slim soft hand, her fingers still tracing over my wrist, "just an old story about an American boy abroad who's not nearly as worldly-wise as he thinks he is.  I was in London in, well, the Swinging Sixties, mod suit and all, and of course I wouldn't duck into the stuffy old Tate, even to get out of the rain – double, that I wouldn't manage to get lost inside.  But, of course, I did – and because I didn't want to look like I didn't know what I was doing, I wandered and wandered up and down the halls.

"Going along, of course, I couldn't help but look, and in the presence of art, really great art, you can't just pass on by."  I gestured off-handedly with my other hand, and moved my thumb on the one she was holding, brushing along the outside of hers with an electric thrill.  "I started to not just walk, but see: and I followed what appealed to me, and I found myself at last in a corner, quiet, unbothered, only myself and a wall of Gainsboroughs, this Allen and a few others.

"It was strange – the paintings drew me in, in and on to a time and an England that was lost, and I'd never see.  I can remember so clearly thinking that: these tranquil landscapes were now all swallowed up in noise and machinery, and though the little peasants and countrymen at the borders might have lived hard lives, short lives, they were their own lives, free, never a slave to anybody's time-clock.  And in my mod suit I yearned for it – a way to get away from this mile-a-minute world and find peace, real peace, in some bit of country that hadn't been totally spoiled.

"It didn't work out that way, of course," I said with a half-smile, settling my other hand onto my coffee cup.  "I came back to the States and went right into a corporation, raced the other rats up to management and lived my expected suburban life with a wife on pills and the standard issue 2.5 children who only call on my birthday to make sure they're still in the will, but I never forgot it.  No, I never forgot it."  I shook my head.  "And when I was retired and the kids were out of school and there wasn't any reason to play the game any more, and I was single and free again, I remembered.  I like other art, and I buy other art, but what I go around to these places for, in the end, is to find something like this piece – one of those old English landscapes, and remember all over again that feeling of tremendous peace."

Therese wrapped both hands around one of mine, lifting it up over my cup, tears almost standing in her eyes.  "Oh, John, that is marvelous – simply perfect – it must be fate that's brought us here like this.  It's so like my own story – my own reasons that I'm drawn to this piece."  She squeezed tight, smiling with the true love-light, and then slowly drew back, folding her hands before her own coffee.

"You might or might not have noticed, but I'm mixed – Chinese and English; I was born in the old Hong Kong colony.  My father was an Englishman, poor gentry – the sort with a name that goes back to the Conqueror, tailor's bills years overdue, and a little country house somewhere taken over by the National Trust.  He loved Hong Kong, and he loved my mother, but I could see that he loved England, too, and though his family had been one of those Anglo-wherevers in the Army or the Foreign Service since time out of mind, he longed to return to England, the green country England of his childhood, to stay.  He used to tell me stories – doubtless ones that he'd heard as a boy, passed second and third hand from the days when his people could afford to keep their house – of fishing in little shining streams beneath a canopy of willows; of long walks across waving amber fields on long summer days, climbing stiles and resting in the shadow of a woodlot-copse, the sky as clear and blue, the clouds as clean and as daintily-swept as in any Gainsborough.  He had books of these pictures – the landscapes of that old England – and that became England for me, in the banyans and neon and concrete of Hong Kong.

"Of course, when the colony was handed over to China, there was no need for colonial administrators; we moved back – and yes, strangely, it was 'back' – to England, and settled near Birmingham.  Have you been to Birmingham?" I shook my head.  "You've heard, though, that it's much better than it was – that's nearly all one ever hears of Birmingham, how it's much better than it used to be, and it is, but if Birmingham is no longer a city of steel mills and Black Sabbath, it's still definitely not that England.  And I looked, as I grew, for those places my father loved so dearly, and even in the Lakes and the Peaks, still couldn't find them.  They were entirely gone away, and what remained was different, lesser; I thought, when I first came to America for my work, that in this larger country there might still be places like that, country lanes and green fields where the sense of time, of hurry, might be less, but it's not the same.  Even here in New England, in the little towns so close to the old, it's not quite the same: and so I have to look for my England in pictures – the same place, really, in the end from which it came."  Therese leaned forward and sighed.  

"And this Allen, to this feeling, is really just perfect – but for you, it must be perfect as well, and I couldn't be so selfish as to ask it of you again."  She smiled, a deep and gentle smile.  "It's enough to have met you – to talk like this and to get to know you.  If I might venture a liberty, I should ask that you keep the picture – and think of me when you look at it."

I returned the smile, reaching out a hand to fold over hers.  "Therese, that will be the easiest thing in the world.  I wouldn't dream of selling this painting, now that it's led me to someone like you, like this – and I don't think I'll ever be able to look at it without seeing you looking back; your eyes, your smile.  Even if we part from here, and I never see you again, I don't think I'd ever be able to forget you."

Therese fluttered her eyelashes suggestively.  "I do hope there won't be any need for that," she said.  "I do hope that I might be able to see you again – and your collection.  And certainly, there are… things of mine that I'd like to show you in return.  For this beautiful Allen today."

I nodded, throat dry.  "Yes," I managed at last, "I'd like that very much."  I lifted my coffee for a steadying sip, the bitterness jangling harder than I expected against my jumping nerves, still looking deep into her eyes.

We left the cafe not less than an hour later, arm in arm again, an hour spent with our hands wrapped around each other's like schoolchildren that packed more passion in, I'm sure, than I'd had at once since Vicki and I were just married, before the kids were born.  I was flying high, high like a Woodstock's worth of designer endorphins all the way back to the car, where Therese turned me, slipping a napkin with her number into my shirt pocket, and then reaching up to pull me down to her lips.

I could have died in that second and gone to heaven with an empty heart.  Her kiss was wonderful, perfect, ideal, exactly as it should be for a great and deep love discovered in a day and promising, insinuating, so many other, deeper, stronger, more passionate things beyond.  It was a kiss goodbye, but it was a beginning: this was a first kiss, not a last kiss, and the kisses we would exchange, the love that we'd make, in the time to come would make this kiss nothing but a kid's peck on the cheek.  I gave up and lost myself in her as she gave herself to me – barely noticed as she pulled away, still tingling on my lips, her dark eyes still staring straight down into my soul, and left with a smile and a last squeeze of my hands.  I opened the door and got into the car, barely conscious, and remember reaching down for the shifter, thinking about what a pickle I'd be in if I got stopped by a cop, and if there was a charge for DWI, Driving While Infatuated.

When I woke up, though, it was dark out, and I had cottonmouth and a stabbing pain in my temple.  I looked around, around me in the car, and missed the frame of the painting in the back seat.  I immediately stood up and got out, swaying, and opened the back door to see what had happened – if there was any trace of where it'd gone.

The painting was there: cut out of the frame and rolled up neatly on the back seat.  If it was her, then maybe some of her story was real, and she knew how important it'd be for me to have it.  The frame was broken apart and smashed in pieces: by the shadows of the dome light, I saw that one of the wooden rails was broken in the middle, cracked and fractured around a hole, about the size of the end of my thumb, bored into the back side, under where the canvas had been tacked. Whatever had been in that hole – a film canister, an ampule of something, some other ball of secrets that "Therese" was willing to go to such lengths to get her hands on – was gone, and so was she: all I had was the memory, a bright memory blotchy where the binary drug she'd put me out with – half in the coffee and half in her lipstick – was melting it away.  The memory – and the Allen copy – and the story.  And what a story!  You read these things, in Soldier of Fortune or in the James-Bond fanclub press, but you never think that something like this would ever actually happen to me.

further Tales of the Missing ...