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Ever since Midoriya had returned to U.A. Class-A’s training had increased tenfold. The second war was fast approaching, and everyone needed to be as prepared as possible. Even Aizawa had returned from the hospital—albeit against medical advice—to supervise his students and help hone their abilities.
‘Todoroki-kun, catch!’ Midoriya called from the benches.
Shoto turned and barely threw his arm up in time to catch the water bottle flying at his face. ‘Thanks.’ He took a swig and sighed, wiping the sweat beading down his face. Activating both sides of his quirk at once was still taking a huge toll on his body; there was no way he could maintain his Phosphor for more than a few seconds as he was now. Aizawa had warned them not to push themselves to the extreme—something about too much strain doing more harm than good—but time wasn’t exactly on their side, and wasn’t their school motto to go beyond their limits?
‘You’ve gotten really good at using your fire.’ Midoriya suddenly appeared behind him and Shoto supressed a flinch. He silently cursed himself; ever since his fight with Dabi, all his childhood mannerisms he thought he’d grown out of came flooding back. The flinching when surprised, the loud noises, the general discomfort when around other human beings…
‘I’ve been practicing a lot while you’ve been away,’ he said, trying to hide the slight quiver in his voice.
Midoriya seemed to squirm. ‘Y-yeah…’ His mouth opened and closed a few times and Shoto felt the beginnings of a very awkward conversation coming on. Since the revelations about Midoriya’s quirk, the two had hardly had a chance to speak. Shoto had so many questions, and the one he’d never dare ask why didn’t you tell me? The dark corners of his mind reminded him he couldn’t be trusted, not with his lineage. And it wasn’t like he and Midoriya were childhood friends like he was with Bakugo. Still, to be the only one of their little team to be left out of the loop, it hurt.
‘Todoroki-kun, I—’
‘HEADS UP!’
Shoto didn’t know whether to be relived or not that their conversation was so abruptly interrupted by one of their peers. He looked in the direction of the shout to find a broken chunk of concrete from one of Cementoss’ training platforms hurtling towards them.
‘Midoriya!’ His body moved before he could fully process what he was doing. Shoto saw the startled look on his friend’s face as he was pushed down. The next thing Shoto knew, he too was down on all fours, vision full of red, and a pulsating pain screaming around his skull.
‘Todoroki-kun!’
‘Bakugo, what did you do?’
‘Shut up, Dunce Face. It was an accident.’
‘It looks pretty bad…’
Different voices swirled around, blending in with one another; he couldn’t make out who or where they were coming from. Shoto brought a hand to his head and a thick warm liquid quickly drenched it. Even with his muddled brain, he’d been in this situation enough times to recognise what was happening.
Rough hands gently grabbed either side of his face and slowly pulling him up to eye level. The pain throbbed so intensely he was frankly amazed the movement hadn’t knocked him out. It had been a long time since he’d had a head wound this bad. Not since Endeavor gave up training him.
‘Todoroki-kun? Can you look at me? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?’
The hand waved in front of his face and if his thoughts were slipping and sliding through his head, he might’ve had it in him to respond. To tell his friend—Midoriya he thought, based on the green blob in between the blurred fingers—that he’d be fine. He’d survived plenty of head injuries before… this one did really hurt though.
‘Midoriya-san, I don’t think your helping.’
So, it was Midoriya in front of him. Maybe his head wasn’t as bad as he thought? Head wounds were known for profuse bleeding after all, he should be fine. If he could just get up and walk it off—
His vision blacked out and he would’ve faceplanted the floor if Bakugo—wait no, Midoriya… or was it Iida—hadn’t reached out to break his fall.
‘Todoroki-kun, please don’t get up. You could hurt yourself more.’
I’ll be fine Iida, he tried to say, but he was almost certain all he managed was a jumbled groan.
‘Midoriya, move.’ Another person entered his red-tinted vision. Scraggly black hair, black suit, and black eyepatch. It was far easier to look at the subdued colour palette than the manic greens and whites of his friend. Wait, Iida doesn’t wear green, which one was the green one again?
‘Yaoyorozu, get me some gauze. Todoroki, can you follow my finger with your eyes for me? Iida’s already gone to get Recovery Girl. I just need to check you out before she gets here, alright?’
This wasn’t how his head injuries usually went. He would hit his head, sometimes there was blood, sometimes there wasn’t, but yelling always followed. Then some dragging, either to his room or the bathroom depending on the severity of the injury. He would likely spend the evening hunched over a toilet, or bin, whichever he was able to drag himself towards before his collapsed. And once he’d eventually regained some sense of self, he would patch himself up and be off to bed. But after the—in his opinion—toned down yelling, there had been no dragging. He wished someone would just get on with it so he could puke his guts up and sort himself out in peace and quiet.
‘No. Todoroki, you need to stay sat down. Can you hear me?’
Something pressed on his forehead where most of the pain originated. It was as if Bakugo had set off an explosion inside his head. Maybe he had? He opened his mouth to respond to the black-haired man, but once more garbled nonsense was all he managed.
‘Alright. I know you’re in pain, but I need you to work with me just a little bit longer so I can inform Recover Girl of your condition. You think you can try following my finger?’
He almost nodded, but the thing pressing on his skull kept him in place. ‘Just move your eyes, not your head.’
Shoto obeyed the instructions. Disobeying would usually mean punishment. But he hadn’t been punished in a long time, and his father wasn’t here, was he? He would’ve heard him screaming by now if he was, right? He followed the finger anyway; it was better to be safe than sorry.
The single eye watching him squinted—who did he know that only had one eye? —and he thought he saw a hint of concern on his face. Then again, he was never good at reading people when he did know who it was.
‘Good job, kid. Just hold out a little longer, okay?’
‘Is he gonna be okay, Sensei?’
‘Keep your voice down Deku, you yapping away ain’t gonna help his concussion.’
‘But you’re yelling too, Kacchan…’
‘Both of you, back to training. Give Todoroki some space.’
Every time the room reverberated from distant battles, shudders split through Shoto’s skull, and he winced at each one. A hand remained pressed down on his injury while another rubbed circles on his back. This wasn’t like his normal head injuries at all. It was almost like his mum was back home, cleaning him up after training. But she had been sent away years ago.
‘How bad is it?’
‘His pupils are blown, but he is responsive. Don’t think he can form any coherent words though. Guess it could be worse.’
Smaller fingers grazed his head. ‘I can heal him, but his stamina’s dropped. He’ll most likely collapse once I’m done.’
Now that, that was more like his typical head injury ritual. He’d woken up in an array of different rooms and positions throughout the years. Most often in his room, inches away from his bed, or draped over the toilet. He’d never forget the time he’d woken up lying at the base of the treadmill. Endeavor must have left him there after he’d tripped.
‘Did you hear that, Todoroki?’ The gruff voice said. ‘Recovery Girl will heal you and then we’ll get you into the infirmary to rest.’
Rest. He’d never been offered rest before. Rest was a blessing, a reward for good behaviour, for obedience. He hadn’t done anything to deserve rest so far, unless they were really impressed with his ability to follow that finger. He still had so much training to do. They hadn’t been at it for long, there was still hours to go before Endeavor would be even remotely satisfied.
But most of what had happened in the past ten minutes—or ten hours, who could tell at this point—was so far removed from what he was used to. Maybe it would be okay to take a rest? Would Endeavor be pissed? Where even was he? Shoto hadn’t heard him shouting yet. Unless he was busy dealing with Toya?
Something soft touched his face and his fatigue intensified. Yes, he was definitely taking that offered rest. What was the worst that would happen? Even if he was punished later on, at least his head might feel better.