Chapter Text
They’d been pulled out of school when the news came in. Fifth grade biology class had been in full swing, and with Rei and her siblings in the middle of the room (the Midoriya cluster, they’d become known as, once the other two had gone up a grade and joined her), the incessant chatter of the other students had been overwhelming. She’d been hoping they would quiet down while their teacher explained how organisms went through decomposition. To be entirely honest, it had been rather boring.
But then the three of them had been called down to the principal's office, and grandma Inko had been there. Rei had been confused at first as to why she was there, and that confusion had even continued as they rode to the hospital. By the time that she had learned what was going on, sitting in silence, Rei wished that the chatter would return.
By contrast, it was almost completely quiet in the hospital room, but what noises were being made all rhymed with one another. The heartrate monitor made small little beeps in quarter notes, while the respiratory machine (Rei didn’t know the actual name of the big, rasping machine) sounded in whole notes. Her little brothers, Haruki and Aki, filled the moments between those noises: the tapping of shoes, Haruki, and the scratching of a pencil on paper, Aki. Father and grandma Inko were out in the hall, talking to the doctor. Rei had met this doctor once before when she had her appendix removed. When that had happened, he had been smiling, making sure she was at ease, always with a joke on hand.
She hadn’t heard any from him today.
Rei looked up and glanced towards the bed which dominated the room. There was an unconscious figure lying there, IVs piercing an outstretched arm, one which looked much paler than she’d ever seen it be before.
Another beep, and Midoriya Rei’s stomach flipped about once again, as it did with every repetition. Her dad had always been a figure of strength, the strongest hero in the world. Nothing brought him down, nothing wiped the smile off his face. Even when he was sleeping normally, it wouldn’t stop him for long. All the times that Rei and her brothers had jumped up onto the bed in the morning, he’d wake up quickly, his laugh filling the room or hands moving to tickle one of them.
Right now, though, her dad was stretched out, unmoving, bandages wrapped around his chest. He hadn’t been awake when they first arrived, he hadn’t woken up over the hours they’d spent here. The light snoring that she was used to wasn’t present either—he couldn’t even breathe on his own, requiring the tubes which snaked across his body and hissed menacingly to the room.
Another beep.
Rei brought in her own long, shuddering breath, a hand gripping at her knee. “Hey, hey,” her dad had said to her once, bright eyes and curly hair shining as he knelt down next to her and smiled. “We’re never leaving you. Even if we have to go for a little bit of time, you’re our daughter. You and your brothers, we’re always coming back to you.” He’d told her that back when she’d first seen him come back injured from a fight against villains, limping from a blow that had struck his hip. Even then, he’d seemed powerful and strong, tired yet triumphant.
“You’re not leaving us,” she whispered. Beside her, Aki let out a sniffle. She looked over, but Haruki was already taking care of his twin. She let them handle themselves, instead rising and walking over to where her dad was. It was dark in the room, and the sterile white walls didn’t help. The rest of the room seemed grey—even though she was sure that there was some further colour—it didn’t appear to her eyes. Normally the fact that she was colourblind didn’t bother her, wasn’t much to miss when one hadn’t grown up with such things. Now, however, it added to the claustrophobic feeling which pervaded the room. Her dad was pale, and the room was without life.
She realized that was what she was feeling, creeping into the back of her mind. Death. She’d been aware of it her whole life, distantly. She was named after a dead woman and being surrounded by heroes as she grew up inevitably lead to an understanding of death. Even then, it hadn’t prepared Rei for this.
Rei took her dad’s hand with both of hers. The scars along the back of his hand were familiar, something which brought comfort thanks to their history. They were just the slightest bit colder than the rest of his skin, but right now that didn’t say much.
“Come on, dad. Please.”
It was then that Rei heard the door to the hospital room open. Father and grandma Inko were walking in, the doctor behind them. They were speaking quietly, but Rei could still pick out the words well enough.
“So, there’s the situation,” the doctor was continuing. “Really, the best we can do is keep him under. Hopefully that will keep swelling down and prevent any further damage to the . . .” He went quiet as the three of them looked across the room.
Her father gave a weak smile towards Rei, mismatched eyes watery. Without further ado, he took a seat, picking up and settling Haruki on his knee with slow movements. The curly-haired boy curled closer to his father, holding close to him. Grandma was similarly moving to ask Aki about his homework, smiling and ruffling his hair when she learned that it was all done. Not that it was surprising.
For a moment, the scene almost looked normal, and the tiniest bit of relief swept into Rei. The moment at which that feeling entered into her, shame followed. Everything was different now, and to think otherwise would be to ignore the unconscious man next to her. “When’s dad gonna wake up?” she asked, ignoring the way that her voice wavered ever so slightly. She tried her damnedest to ignore that.
“Well,” her father began, his voice similarly strained. “He’s not going to for a while.” The doctor looked like he was about to explain things further, but her father raised a hand to quiet him. “Your dad took a bad hit to the head. Because of that we need to make sure his brain is okay. It could be swelling, like how your toe might if you stub it, and we have to make sure that doesn’t happen. So, your dad has to stay asleep for a while longer. Just to make sure things are safe.”
“But he’ll be okay, right?”
“Of course, he’s going to be alright,” Grandma said. Her voice was warm and soft—exactly the sort of thing that was needed right now. Rei could see where tears had travelled down her face, but that was a normal thing to see. Dad’s side of the family had always been the type to be more comfortable wearing emotions on their sleeves, so Rei didn’t put much stock in her actions.
What she did put stock into; however, was the haunted look in her father’s eyes. Even as he was interacting quietly with Haruki, his eyes were trained on the ground ahead of him, staring as though the ground was miles away. What hope had managed to conjure itself forth was swiftly dashed by the look which her father was giving the tiles beneath him, blue eye cold in the dim light.
Something broke, ever so quickly, inside the girl.
“I need to go,” she said numbly, feet already shuffling across the tile. “Bathroom,” she gave as a quick excuse, but by then she was out of the room.
***
Hyperventilating in a compact bathroom stall wasn’t something which Rei had wanted to do today but was nonetheless what happened. Elbows on her knees, head down low, she forced out rapid breaths, one after the other, hair in her face. The image of her dad in the bed, completely still, merged with those which she had seen that morning of dying animals and plants, of what happened to them. That couldn’t happen—she wouldn’t let it happen. But what can you actually do? A part of her asked, unbidden. Instinctively, she lashed a hand out, railing her knuckles into the stall’s wall.
She regretted the blow instantly, hand reeling back. Her knuckles smarted something good, and as she pulled back she could see where the skin had torn. Rei hissed and bit away at some of the lingering scraps of flesh. The lingering pain spiked briefly as she partook in the habit her parents had tried to rid her of, but it managed to nonetheless distract her from the moment.
You need to find better ways to cope, the voice said. She ignored it pointedly. Her breathing was back to normal, and the fears were beginning to dissipate, even if only slightly. Father’s probably just not used to this sort of thing , she realized with a start. He’s just as scared as I am.
As she further inspected the damage which her fingers had taken, Rei realized that her breathing had stilled. The fear was still there, the dread still placed in the core of her being. The panic, however, had fallen away. With shaking legs, Rei forced herself up. With everything that was going on, her family didn’t need to worry about her as well.
It was that thought which finally enabled her to re-enter the halls and slowly make her way back to the room. Things were quieter now than they’d been before, as the sun was starting to set. It was because of this that she heard, as she was passing a string of examination rooms, the low sound of a man pushing aside the concerns of a doctor. Without meaning to, she picked up some of the basics of their conversation: the man was a hero that had been injured today. He would be fine, he was leaving, and then the door opened, and a large man was out, nearly walking into Rei before he noticed her.
Rei froze when she saw him. She’d never met the hero known as Endeavor before. That was something her parents had taken care to ensure that. When asked why, they’d given her a brief explanation. She’d been seven at the time and had learned of his existence from an interview that was on television. “He wasn’t good to me or my siblings,” her father had said. He’d just come back from patrol, still wearing his Entropy uniform. He’d run a hand through his hair and let out a slow breath before continuing, clearly choosing his words as carefully as he could. “He only had kids because he wanted to be the one to make the best hero in the world. You know how we like to do things as a family, like taking you and your brothers to fun places, or when we have grandma over for dinner?” After she nodded, he continued. “My family didn’t do anything like that. Not with him, at least. The only things he ever did with us were done to make that hero he wanted. When I didn’t turn out like he wanted, he was very mad. And when you were born, he sent me a message, asking me to make sure you were better than I am. I don’t want you to meet him, because I don’t want him to try to do to you what he did to me.”
The memory, of learning what had happened to her father, of crying against his knees as she tried to make up for the past hurts which had been visited upon him (a childish act, but one which she would never bring herself to regret) played within her head as the man offered a gruff apology to her. “It’s no worries,” Rei offered quietly, hoping to go unrecognized. Even still, she could tell that his eyes were on the back of her head. And then, as she was a few steps beyond him, he spoke once more.
“Girl, what’s your name?”
“Midoriya Rei,” she answered, turning around to face him as she did so. The thought of lying, or simply ignoring him, never even crossed her mind. When she turned and found him staring at her as if she had suddenly become purple, she suddenly wished she had. Todoroki Enji leaned back against the wall as he gazed at her. She did the same in return, if only to make it look like she was less nervous than she truly was.
“Makes sense,” he said softly. “After Deku, that is to say, after your father—”
“My dad,” Rei cut him off.
“Excuse me?”
“Deku’s my dad. Entropy is my father.” Endeavor rolled his eyes at the mention of his son’s hero name. Even after what she’d heard about her grandfather, the sight surprised her.
“ Nevertheless , after your dad was injured, I was called in to deal with the villain that managed to do that to him. How the boy manages to be considered the best hero still surprises me.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “He’s going to be alright, you know.” She looked up into his eyes and realized that her emotions must have been more evident than she’d believed them to be. “This is no worse than the time you were in the hospital all those years ago.”
“You knew about that?”
“Amazingly, people tell me things. I’d been upset to learn your quirk had nearly killed you. The same was never the case with Shouto, despite its volatile nature. I suppose that goes to show how vital his training ended up being.”
“But his training hurt him,” Rei supplied. “He told me that.”
Her grandfather’s expression darkened. “Then he’s truly squandered his potential. And he’s ensured that you have as well.” Any surprise or uncertainty which had filled her before was swiftly replaced, the rising feeling of anger moving quickly to replace it. “Had he trained you properly, that would never had happened. It’s the same story as Deku: without proper training at the correct age, even the greatest final result will end up as—”
“Shut up!” The sound echoed through the hallway, forcing Todoroki Enji to take a step back. It took Rei a moment to realize that it had come from her, and by that point she had repeated it for a second time. “You can’t just say that about people! About people who are better than you, who actually love those around them!”
“Don’t talk about things you don’t know, girl. It’s only through my love that your father has managed to survive.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know which of your parents is in the hospital. I don’t mean to be cruel, but if your father truly loved you—”
“What’s going on?” another voice, softer, cut in, much to Rei’s relief. She turned to see the short frame of her grandma walking towards them, alongside her father. There was a grim look in his eyes.
“Father,” her father said, voice quiet. Rei took the opportunity to slip behind grandma Inko. Everything that had just happened, all the emotions that had been building up inside of her. Judging by the way her father moved to place a hand on her shoulder, that was fairly evident towards everyone else. She didn’t like that fact. Made her feel weak. According to her grandfather, she was. “If you’re done with seeing your doctor, why else do you need to be here.”
“Making sure my granddaughter stays safe.”
“Don’t,” her father said. He sighed, looking down to the ground. “Just . . . don’t. Today is not the day for this.”
“Maybe you’re right,” her grandfather conceded. All of the adults took steps back from one another, the atmosphere calming almost immediately. As if things were okay.
***
Something which didn’t get often mentioned was the stress which could be caused by one’s grandfather spending their first meeting directly stating that one’s father didn’t love them, as proved by the fact that they weren’t abused. Rei supposed that most people never found themselves in such a situation. The thought didn’t give her much relief. Only made her feel worse.
It had been the worst day in her life by far. Dad hadn’t woken up. In the end, her father had decided to stay at the hospital with him, while grandma would spend the night with Rei and her brothers. As they were driving home, the news began talking about ‘the potential impact the loss of Deku could have’ and ‘villain responsible for hospitalizing number-one-hero still at large’. The radio got switched three times before eventually being turned off completely, leaving the four of them in uncomfortable silence. They had a small dinner which none of them really touched, and before Rei could fully process what was happening, she was in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying and failing to fall asleep. It was more difficult than she’d hoped.
Everything that’d happened over the last several hours came crashing down on her, memories playing on repeat. Every word her grandfather said, the pale, unmoving body, all of it, over and over again. The panic which had dissipated earlier was returning, stronger now. She’d been a fool before for thinking that it was over—the fear would linger for as long as her family was split apart. Placed upon that were the words of her grandfather. The first words that he ever shared with her.
Rei never had any illusions that their first meeting, if they ever did so, would be fruitful. Even so, there’d been some hope that it would be nice. With grandma and Mr. Yagi—not actually a grandfather even though he tried to fill the role (and Aki referred to him as such)—being the only such people in her life, it would have been nice to have another. But now she didn’t, all she had was the fear and the shame and the pain.
Rei didn’t realize she was crying until it had already begun, tears falling against her cheek and pained cries escaping. Instinctively she curled in on herself, hands clutching at the back of her neck and scraping at the skin. Everything funneled inward, focusing on a splinter of pain in the centre of her being, everything else forgotten. It was because of this that she didn’t notice the door to her room opening, didn’t notice the light spilling in, not until her bed shifted and a recognizable warm hand was on her shoulder. Rei leaned into the touch, hands jumping to hold the older woman close.
“It’s gonna be okay. You know our Izuku is a trooper, he’ll power through just fine. He wouldn’t want you to worry, but he would want you to take care of yourself. And if crying will help, then he would want you to do that. Do whatever you need to, I won’t leave you.” Rei let out a sob, clutching to human contact.
“Gramma?” Rei began, voice quiet. It surprised her. She hadn’t said ‘gramma’ in years. “Was he right? Are we just getting more hurt because we love each other?”
“Never,” Inko responded, and Rei was taken aback by the seriousness with which her grandmother spoke. She looked up to see a determination in those eyes. Rei had often heard that the green in her grandmother’s eyes was warm and kind, and that her own eyes looked just like them. She hoped that was true—to be compared to the strength which she saw before her could be nothing but a compliment. “Love is what makes us strong, not his bizarre conceptions of pain and training.”
“B-but why did dad get hurt then?”
Her grandmother stilled for half a moment before continuing to speak. “Bad things happen to all of us. We can’t help that. But what we can do is make sure that we help those we love. Because it’s through that love that they actually grow stronger. You’ve heard of how your father wouldn’t use his full quirk for the longest time, right?” After Rei nodded, her grandmother gave a small smile and continued. “He only started using it because your dad convinced him to, convinced him that he was worth it. When he told me about it later, he said that he’d forgotten what love felt like at that time. Even though your aunt and uncles—well, uncle at the time—loved him, he’d forgotten that. But during their fight, he managed to remember what that felt like, and he’s so much better for that.”
“O-oh,” Rei murmured quietly, wiping away the remaining tears on her face. Grandfather’s wrong, she realized with a start, a focus coming with it. He hurt father for an idea that he was wrong about. “I’m gonna use love,” she murmured softly. “Gonna use it to be the greatest hero.” It was quiet as far as incredible declarations went, spoken as she was looking down at her blankets, a grandmother’s warm hand on her shoulder and an approving smile on her face. And I’m gonna prove him wrong, Rei added, internally. A declaration to last through the years.