Work Text:
Life had been so peaceful before his quirk manifested. His appearance meant nothing in terms of whether his father would finally get what he wanted, and Fuyumi was proof. Until that fateful day when he threw a tantrum and scorched the couch, his life had been everything he could have ever wanted.
The thing that stuck out the most from those days were the trips to the playground with his mother. He was the baby of the family and Fuyumi took it upon herself to keep him out of harms way. In most cases that meant making sure Sosuke and Ryou weren't too rough with him.
"C'mon Shouto, keep up!"
"Yeah, you'll never be able to play with the big kids if you can't even catch up to us!"
He stumbled and fell in the mulch, sniffling as they ran off to play with the other kids. His mother got to her feet but Fuyumi was at his side sooner, picking him up and setting him on a swing.
"Who needs them, hmm? This is more fun anyway!"
"But I never get to play with them," he whined. "Why won't they slow down?"
She snuck behind him and pushed him, eliciting a squeal from the young boy as the swing started to move.
"Older boys are dumb," she said firmly. "And if you still want to play with them when you're older than you can."
He grinned. "Higher, higher!"
"See? You don't need them to have fun."
Their mother watched with a smile as all of her children laughed and played. It was in those few moments that they felt like a real family.
One visit in particular that stood out in Shouto's mind was when Ryou took pity on him and let the boy choose whatever games they played. They spent hours on the swings and the slides, just running around and trying to catch each other. It was only when he looked back at the benches did he notice their mother was gone.
"Mommy?"
Ryou scooped him up and put him on his shoulders. "Whatcha looking for, Shouto?"
"Where'd Mommy go?"
The sun, which had been shining brightly only moments ago, seemed to disappear and his whole body felt cold. He began to cry and his brother put him down again.
"I want Mommy," he wailed. "What did you do to her?"
"A better question is what did she do to you, Shouto?" he asked, his tone bitter.
He stopped rubbing at his eyes when he felt the skin beneath his hands turn hard and wrinkled. He was scarred. "M-Mommy? Ryou, where is she? Ryou?"
The older boy was walking away and he ran to catch up, his short legs doing little to help him. "Ryou! Wait up, please!"
"Honestly," he said with a cruel laugh, "how do you expect to be some kind of hero when you can't even keep up with me?"
"Ryou!"
The boy turned around at last and patches of his skin were dark purple, crude sutures keeping his jaw together and giving him a permanent grin. "Aww, how sad, Shouto."
"Ryou!"
He jolted upright, hair plastered to his neck and his body shaking as he struggled to remember where he was. His room. The dorms. Yuuei.
It felt so real. His brother turning around and wearing that monster's face. He tried to calm his breathing when he heard footsteps in the hall. He stayed deathly silent as whoever it was passed.
It was just a nightmare. An incredibly realistic nightmare, but a figment of his twisted imagination nonetheless. His brother hadn't spoken to him in years but he wasn't a villain. Besides, that mysterious man's hair was black.
He could've dyed it, argued the voice in his head.
Whatever was the truth, he knew he wouldn't be falling asleep again that night.