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He gripped the crayon tighter and looked at the mirror his mother had set up. Back at the paper in front of him. "Mommy, why do you want me to draw myself?"
"It's called a self-portrait, sweetheart. Years from now you can make another one and see how much you've changed."
"Why not just take a picture?"
She ruffled his hair. "Please, Shouto, do it for me. It'll make me happy."
Well, that was all he needed to hear. He wanted her to smile and hang his drawing on the fridge like the people on TV did.
He had his face done and was coloring his red hair when his father entered the room, sneering at the scattered art supplies.
"Why are you having him waste his time on such frivolous activities?"
His mother grabbed his arm and held him closer. "Because he is a child and he is to have a normal childhood, and not become some kind of superhuman weapon for you."
"You can waste your time on ridiculous crafts with the others, but not him. He's to become a hero to surpass All Might and I won't have his free time spent coloring." His quirk flared up as he spat the last word and Shouto flinched.
"Daddy, I don't want to train," he whimpered.
"Quiet," his mother whispered.
"You think you can just be a normal kid but you can't, Shouto. You're destined for greatness. You just have to embrace it! And if you don't..."
He clenched his fists. "Well, there are ways of making you compliant. They certainly worked on Mommy." He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. "Didn't they, Mizuko?"
The boy was still in her arms and he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "Let her go!"
"Yes, there's the fire in you. Use it to feed your quirk!"
The hairs on his arms stood on end as the left side of him was enveloped in flames, his mother drawing back. "Shouto–!"
"I hate you!" he screamed, the flames growing higher. The crayons on the table began to bubble and melt.
"Use your anger to fuel you, Shouto. Become the powerful hero you were meant to be!"
"I hate this family! I wish you weren't my Daddy at all!"
"Shouto, please," his mother begged, "just calm down before you hurt yourself."
"Quiet, woman! He needs to realize his potential and this is the way to do it!"
His tiny fists trembled and the colored wax dripped off the table as his flames grew hotter. "I wish you were dead!"
Mizuko couldn't stand to see him in such a state and activated her quirk, extinguishing the flames as she grabbed him. "Get out," she snarled at Enji. "Get out and don't come back! Stay away from my son!"
She was behaving like an animal that had been cornered and was protecting its young. He would step back for the time being. Then he would remove her from the picture. He had the child, after all.
Only once he was gone did she extinguish her quirk. Shouto's entire body was shivering and his lips were blue. "M-Mommy...?"
She held him closer as sobs wracked her body. "Everything I do is to protect you. Do you understand?"
"Y-Yes Mommy."
"Let me draw a bath. We need to heat you back up."
He clung to her arm and tears streamed down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"What for? You did nothing wrong there!"
"I melted the crayons... the carpet is all messed up. And I burned the edges of your picture."
"Oh, Shouto... I don't care about the carpet. And you can always draw me another picture."
"Y-You're not mad?"
"Of course not! Come on now, you're freezing."
He cast one last glance over his shoulder at the smoldering mess before following her.
Eleven years later and he found himself in the back of a closet, digging through old photographs Endeavor didn't know existed. He was looking for something in particular–
There!
He unfurled the singed piece of paper and all the memories came flooding back. Drawing the self-portrait. His mother defending him. Using his fire.
The drawing looked strange, and not just because it was done by a five year old. He rubbed at his eye and froze.
He didn't have his scar back then. His mother hadn't lost her mind.
He laughed without humor, feeling his left hand heat up.
In an instant all that remained was a pile of cinders.
"Years from now you can make another one and see how much you've changed."
"I don't need a drawing to tell me how much I've changed," he muttered.