Endeavour
The best superhero name you'll ever hear
Dear Bolu,
I am not a superhero nerd so I will admit that I have not heard the names of all the superheroes out there, save yours and a few others. This matters little to my claim, though, which I make here once and once only: Endeavour, from the anime My Hero Academia, is, of all superhero names, the best.
My Hero Academia follows people with Quirks (superhuman powers), as they train to become professional heroes and protect the world against villains who themselves have quirks. Pro Heroes are ranked using factors such as skill, track record, and general popularity, and you must be quite special to rank in the top 10.
For a time, the number one ranked hero was All Might, a figure in the mould of the classic Western comic book superhero (e.g., Superman). All Might towered above everyone else to such a degree that even after losing his quirk, he was still the highest ranked hero. The Symbol of Peace, as he was known, was eventually forced into retirement as his power waned.
Enter Endeavour, previously No. 2, now No. 1 with big shoes to fill. Endeavour’s quirk is HellFlame, an ability that allows him to generate flames from his body. His lifelong obsession was to surpass All Might and although he eventually became No. 1, he didn’t like that he got there through a technicality—All Might’s retirement—rather than earning it. He was never going to earn it, as we see in his fight against a genetically engineered creature called Hood.
As Endeavour goes all in to finish off the villainous Hood, we see Hawks, another superhero, reflect on just how superior All Might was compared to the rest. We see a gaping chasm with All Might on one side, and the remaining superheroes, including Endeavour, on the other. It is a chasm too wide to cross; a dream too impossible to realise.
Endeavour’s failure to surpass All Might was a constant source of frustration for him, which curdled into coldness and abuse towards his family. Unlike All Might who wore a smile while saving people, Endeavour, one could say, was not a people person. He went about his business with a frown, like he was pre-pissed at you for inevitably pissing him off. Yet for all his faults, he was a damn good hero.
You hear it often, the idea that comparison is the thief of joy. Those who say this are also quick to remind us that the only person we should compare ourselves with is our old self.
“The only thing that matters is that you are better than you were yesterday,” they say.
This implies that the comparison that steals joy is the one that pits us against other people, and that when we compare ourselves with who we used to be, we should be happy if we’re better. But this is not always true. It seems to me that often when we “compare ourselves with others”, they are the means of the comparison, and not the end. We are the end. We compare what we are with what we know we could have been—that thing we see made painfully clear in others. And what we could have been is a product of our old self and a path different from the one we have already taken.
Therefore, when we compare ourselves with an older version of us, it’s not always a static version we see. We may see a version that stayed the course, and mastered that skill. We may see one that learned to say no; that took an exam seriously; that was more careful with love; that shipped that product; that stayed; that gave grace; that left; that finished writing that book; that submitted that proposal. We may see these unrealisable alternate selves now, far ahead on the other side of a gaping, impossible chasm.
In Hawks’ reflection during the fight with Hood, we see the superheroes cheering All Might, as he waves them from the other side of the divide. All the superheroes cheer, except one. Endeavour. We see him kneeling at the mouth of the chasm, sweating from the heat of his own flames, laying stones and wood, in a desperate, almost pathetic attempt to construct some sort of bridge.
“You were the only one seriously trying to surpass him,” Hawks says.
It’s one of the most memorable scenes in my anime-watching history. I return to it year after year, when my alternate selves wave to me from across the divide saying, “Look how far you could have gone.” I return to it to remember that to endeavour is not simply to try. It is to commit oneself; to make it one’s duty; to do one’s utmost; to refuse surrender; to refuse to wave back. Could we be any more heroic than when we endeavour?
And so when that chasm—the reality of a long-lost dream, the despair of an eventual unbecoming—fills us with sadness, it does not hollow us of strength. We are not paralysed, dear friend. We kneel at the mouth of this impossible chasm, laying wood and stone upon wood and stone. We endeavour.
Fin.
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Write you soon, merci!
- Wolemercy