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It had started simply enough. Todoroki stared at the bucket between his knees, his knuckles white. He could feel the burning in his throat again, the aching in his chest. Where had it began, exactly?
Maybe it was when all of the students been paired off to spar in class that morning. He remembered talking to Izuku. A casual exchanging of hellos, a whispered joke, a shared laugh. Everyone had been instructed to practice fighting without their quirks. They’d picked out a place in the gym and got to work.
The two of them had been fairly evenly matched. Todoroki had been practicing for years, running through thousands of simple drills since he was a child. But Izuku was strong even without his quirk, and he had an instinct for battle that Todoroki just couldn’t match. He remembered watching a bead of sweat catching the sunlight, slipping down, slowly tracing Izuku’s jaw. Even in the heat of the combat, the sight had made him pause. He hadn’t been ready for the sudden kick to the chest.
That was when he’d fallen over. Then the coughing and the choking started. He hadn’t been hit that hard, but it felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he would never breathe again. That was when he’d been rushed off the campus, his classmates calling out as he was hurried to the nearest hospital.
But the more he thought about it, the more Todoroki started to feel that moment hadn’t actually been the beginning. Not really, anyway. This—whatever it was—went back further. Where had it started?
“So?” Endeavor demanded, the flames around his face lashing out, contrasting sharply against the stark white clinic walls. If he were a man who cared to hide his temper, the flickering fire would have given him away regardless. It was obvious that the woman in the white coat looked just about as pleased to be dealing with him as Todoroki was.
“Your son has an ailment called hanahaki disease,” she explained cautiously, motioning to the bucket Todoroki had between his knees. As if on cue, he felt his throat convulse, and he started dry heaving again. He didn’t look up, wincing at the burning in his throat. The heaving turned into a series of sharp coughs, until eventually, a tiny yellow flower slipped from his lips, landing in the bucket with the others. “It started becoming more common around the same time quirks were first developing.”
“I didn’t come here for a history lesson, I came here for you to fix him,” Endeavor growled, leaning forward, his glare far hotter than any fire he could ever conjure. He was tapping his foot impatiently, his face twisted into a dark scowl, as if somehow, this was all the doctor’s fault.
She took a deep breath, looking down at her clipboard fixedly, her expression markedly uncomfortable. “Of course, Endeavor-san. Hanahaki occurs when flowers start to grow in the patient’s lungs. The later stages, when the flowers start to pierce tissue, are much more dangerous. They can be gruesome, even. So it’s good you brought him in right away.”
Of course Endeavor had been the one to bring him in, Todoroki thought, a twist of bitterness in his chest. He refused to let any of the other teachers follow them inside. After all, he couldn’t have his project die without becoming the number one hero. The twisting in Todoroki’s chest turned into pain, and with a grimace, he started to cough into the bucket again.
“The only cause researchers have found is that hanahaki seems to exclusively infect people who are experiencing intense feelings of unrequited love,” the doctor explained, peering up at them over the rims of her round speckled glasses. “If the feelings subside, either due to extraneous relationship shifts or the object of their affections reciprocating, the flowers will naturally wilt away in a safe and healthy manner. This usually isn’t the case. A special surgery has been developed to extract the flowers and remove the disease, but it can cause serious damage to the patient’s ability to experience genuine feelings for—”
“He’ll be having the surgery,” Endeavor interrupted. “Immediately. I can pay now if I need to.” Although Todoroki felt a sting of bitterness that it didn’t even matter what he thought about all of this, he didn’t argue. Mostly because it felt like someone was attacking his insides with a cheese grater.
The doctor pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Hold on. I don’t doubt you can afford the surgery, Endeavor-san, but it’s incredibly invasive.” She turned her attention to Todoroki, sliding her swivel chair closer. When she spoke again, her tone was less stern. There was a gentleness that made him wonder if the woman was a mother, a calming expression on her face. “Todoroki-kun? I know this tends to be a confusing time for someone of your age. You’re growing up very quickly, and emotions can be hard to understand. But this is important for your health, alright? Do you have any idea who your feelings might be for?”
Todoroki reached into the bucket, picking up one of the flowers that had done better at surviving the journey through his windpipe. He ran his fingers gently across the hundreds of tiny golden petals.
Immediately, an image came to mind. Freckles like a dusting of stars fallen from the sky, a hand so badly bruised and broken it looked unusable, a determined unbeatable smile without a thought for winning. He remembered the sound of soft, ragged breathing, words meant only for them. Thousands of people, and it was like there was no one else in the world. The warmth returning to him, not searing and painful like his father, but gentle and strong, like a beam of sunlight coming through prison bars. Like the welcoming touch of a first friend.
“I don’t know,” he answered flatly, staring at the flower in his hand.
(But he did. He did know. He had for weeks now, had been fighting not to accept it, thinking maybe if he pretended like nothing had changed, as if he hadn’t changed, maybe things would stay together. As if maybe what little semblance of peace he finally had would be safe.)
Endeavor took the flower from Todoroki before he could protest, sneering at the way it bent limply in his thick gloved hand. “Dandelions,” he said with a sneer. “What sort of worthless pathetic bitch is worth weeds like this?” His hand lit on fire, and he watched with disgust as the dandelion blackened and curled, before finally crushing it in his fist, letting the ashes sift out through his fingers.
There were many times Todoroki wanted to attack his father for the things he did or said. He never acted on it, knew it wasn’t worth the fight, knew it would only end up with more scars and more pain, knew he wasn’t strong enough. But this time, he was physically shaking with the effort to not kill this damned man.
Instead, he coughed, a few tiny yellow petals escaping through his clenched teeth. He watched them fall slowly, the pain in his chest becoming something less sharp, but so much deeper.
He wished it was anyone else in the world sitting here next to him. Todoroki closed his eyes, remembering the last few seconds when he’d been rushed off campus. Iida trying to keep everyone calm while shooting him worried glances, Uraraka insisting they be allowed to come with him and take care of him, Izuku. . .
Izuku. Trying desperately to keep up, obviously fighting back tears, apologizing endlessly, asking if he was alright, reaching out to help him stay standing. He’d put a hand on Todoroki’s back. The touch was gentle, comforting, but he knew it was the same damn hand Izuku had destroyed saving him. He could feel the scarred touch through the fabric of his shirt, even now. It had made him feel worse then, and now it was putting him through hell all over again.
It was his own fault, really. Todoroki covered his mouth to try and stop another wave of coughs, silently cursing his own stupidity. He should have been more careful. What had he been thinking, falling for someone who was worlds out of reach? Even if he was selfish enough to try confessing now, there was no doubt about how it would go. Todoroki would explain everything, and Izuku would blame himself. An idea came to mind, Izuku trying, forcing himself to be in love for the sake of a friend. The thought hurt more than any root burrowing inside him ever could.
Endeavor and the doctor were still talking. He had stopped listening, lost interest as the two adults decided his fate for him.
“Fine. We’ll be here on Saturday. And the surgery won’t be an issue?”
Todoroki glanced up as the doctor nodded. “There will be a day or two recovery period, but the long-term side effects won’t affect his physical performance,” she acknowledged hesitantly. “I’ll have the appointment set up. Todoroki-kun?”
He nodded in acknowledgement. Maybe he should have said something, a proper response, but he was drained with the effort of choking out dandelions.
“There are a few simple steps you’ll need to take to manage the symptoms until Saturday,” she explained, scribbling something down on a note. “Whenever possible, take a teaspoon of salt with your water. Remember to keep active, and when necessary, take time to spit out the flowers. Trying to hold them in can cause agitation.” The doctor stopped writing for a moment, setting down her pen. “And if you do figure out who your feelings are for, try and keep a safe distance. The more time you spend with them, the more quickly the disease progresses. I doubt you could possibly reach a critical stage before Saturday, but the pain of hanahaki can be unbearable.”
Todoroki nodded again, promised to do what she said, and followed Endeavor back out to the hospital. Thankfully, he didn’t speak, leaving Todoroki to his silence even once they had climbed into the car. He sunk back into the car seat, closing his eyes, and letting his mind wander.
There was no doubt in his mind, of course, that it was Midoriya Izuku. There was similarly no doubt that this was something he would have to suffer through on his own. He knew Izuku would blame himself for this. Izuku would blame himself for global warming if he could find a good enough excuse. But that was what had drawn Todoroki in. The way Izuku saw the world, the need to reach out and lift others up, save them from themselves, it was incredible. They hadn’t been friends for very long before Todoroki had seen him in his dreams, smiling, laughing, saving the world with a heart full of light.
Unrequited love.
Todoroki rested a hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his own breathing. He could feel a faint rasping in his lungs, as though one of the dandelions was brushing up against the wall, irritating the fragile skin. He hadn’t noticed anything was wrong before today. He had thought, maybe, it was just a physical form of the bittersweet heartache he felt when he thought of Izuku. Then again, that wasn’t wrong, was it?
He was going to avoid the doctor’s last order. Every living moment until the surgery, he wanted to be with Izuku. Holding hands, talking about heroes, just doing nothing so long as they were together.
The doctor had said the surgery would damage his ability to feel for people. As if he weren’t damaged enough already. But it would be fine. It would be fine, but he wanted to remember this once it was all over. He wanted to remember the way it burned when Izuku smiled.
It was going to hurt. But not as much as it would hurt to let go.