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Usually, it's not this bad.
But he put his damn body through the ringer during the war, and now that he's recovered marginally, it's decided to enact its revenge.
Touya can remember the first time he bled. Mom was there to coach him through it. Dad turned his nose up and left, leaving him to work through it without him. It was fine.
It was fine.
He thought it was gone when he woke up from the coma. He knows now he was too weak and malnourished for that system to function like it was supposed to. A curse wrapped up in a blessings’ disguise, or however the saying goes.
Touya grits his teeth, curling around himself tighter. It hurts. For years, his nerves were too fried to feel the burns properly, his brain too distant to process it. But the inside of him is less fractured, and that makes it all the worse. It's like he can feel every damn aching throb of it in his entire body. It's the worst in his back, and his abdomen of course, but the slow, agonizing streaks of pain seem to travel everywhere, making him drowsy, and hard for him to keep his eyes open for long.
He can hear Fuyumi and Shouto's voices, out in the kitchen. It won't be long before one of them comes to find him. He's been doing better, by their standards. He's been complying to the schedule. He hasn't complained about the quirk suppressant bracelets… out loud. Touya's been a fuckin’ model citizen for four months since he finally got out of that damn claustrophobic tube, trading one kind of hell for another.
It's not fair.
And yet, it's more than he deserves.
Another spike of pain has him gasping quietly, clawing weakly at his stomach over his shirt. He'd press his warmed hands over his abdomen if he could. He needs medicine , but that's in the bathroom. At least he hasn't started bleeding yet.
The shoji rattles softly as someone opens it.
“Touya?”
It's Fuyumi.
She's safe, for the most part. A loyal servant to Endeavor , but as long as he at least pretends to follow instructions, she won't tell on him, usually.
“Are you feeling alright?” She asks, stepping into the dark room and closing the shoji behind her. A lamp flicks on. “You're usually up by now.”
Touya doesn't realize he's crying until he flinches under her touch. She rolls him over easily, so fragile under her steady hands.
“Oh…” She breathes.
He pushes her off weakly, trying to roll away, but his body chooses that moment to send ou another spike of pain. Touya grunts, hissing as he curls into himself. She puts it together quickly, because of course she does. She's always been the real oldest sibling. Something he could never be. Something he failed to be.
“Oh, Touya,” Fuyumi says, brushing a cold hand over the feverish skin of the back of his neck, “You could have asked for help–”
“Don't need it,” he grits. He feels bad snapping at her, but she's nosy.
“I'll be back,” she answers shortly. She's gotten more of an attitude since the war, which is just his luck. Fuyumi leaves. He hears voices in the hall, shuffling down in another room, and then Fuyumi pops back in, with painkillers in her hand.
“Here, sit up.”
Touya bats at her hands, but struggles so much he ends up needing to rely on her support anyway. She helps him take the pills, handing him water to wash it down.
“There,” she says, setting down the cup, “You'll feel better now. You'll see.”
He blinks slowly. He's starting to feel fuzzy, and that's not a good sign. Disassociation is normal for him, but this is different. His breath becomes shaky as the realization sets in.
“Touya? What is it?”
Her voice echoes in his head like it's coming from down a long hallway. He closes his eyes. Crap.
It's only happened once before. He hadn't had a choice in it then, either. Hawks kept his mouth shut afterwards like he promised, and to this day, he's never brought it up again. But he's here too, he heard his voice earlier. Touya can't let him see him like this, not again. Touya pulls away from Yumi's touch, trying to roll onto his side and away from her. She only sighs softly, setting a friendly hand at his back.
“Do you need anything? Heating pad? Chocolate?”
“Go ‘way.”
She only doubles down harder, “I need to make sure you'll be okay, first.”
“Why?!” He doesn't mean for it to come out as a sob, but it does.
Yumi pets his hair, scooting a little closer on the futon, “Because I know how much this can suck. Mom passed on some pretty horrible periods, huh?”
Touya wants to growl. He wants to shout and scream and fight and burn– Jesus. He hasn't had that instinct in a while. He's slipping, further and further with each moment, and he hates it. It feels like being dragged down, tossed around in a riptide. And he doesn't want anyone to see. But he can't say anything, and his damn eyes just keep producing more and more tears, until he's choking on them. It's supposed to be a good thing, having his tear ducts repaired; but he misses when he could hide his emotions easily. Out of necessity, he sits up again, keeping his head down as he furiously swipes the tears away.
“Careful,” Yumi warns, setting a hand on his shoulder, “You wouldn't wanna pull out another staple.”
“Whatever.”
“Touya–”
“I just want it to stop hurting,” he hisses.
Yumi doesn't seem to know what to say to that. Touya looks up at her. He does his best not to glare, he doesn't like taking anger out on her. She doesn't deserve it. None of them deserved any of this–
“B-But you can't do that, can you? So just… Leave me alone. Please.”
Yumi shuffles in place, hesitating. Finally, she gets to her feet. “I'll come check on you in a little, all right?”
“Mm.”
True to her word, she leaves.
He's not sure what's better or worse. There's no one here to hurt, now. But the small voice creeping at the edges of his mind protests that it means there's no one here at all now. He doesn't like being alone. The little him, anyway. Big him doesn't really know how to be around people anymore, he guesses. Not in a normal way. He can be mopey, and he can be sarcastic, and cutting, and rude, and mean. He doesn't know how to do the rest. Untrained, like a stray dog.
A side effect of being on his own for so long. Even with the league, he never joined in their downtime activities, as much as Toga and Twice tried to pester him. He had a single-minded goal then, and everything else was just wasted time. Touya doesn't know what his goal is now. He supposes this has all been wasted time, too. His therapist keeps saying something about a ‘mental shift,’ and ‘settling in,’ but he thinks it's all a load of crap.
But as he fights and fights with himself, stewing in memories, the little him starts to win over. Everything becomes even more hazy, his room distorting and blurring at the edges, whether with tears, with pain, or something else, he can't quite tell. Time bends oddly. He feels too big for his body, clumsy as he kicks the covers off his legs. Delirious, he stumbles out of his bed and down the hall. He doesn't know where, he just goes.
He wants…
He doesn't know. There's just an ache. A needy, empty void inside of him. And he's cold.
Pain erupts in a new way when he accidentally slams his shoulder into a doorway. He hardly registers it.
“Touya?”
“Yumi,” he gasps.
“Touya, Jesus – where are you going?!” Yumi grabs his shoulders, barely keeping him from collapsing.
His mouth manages to produce one singular, vaguely helpful word, “Dad.”
“You want– uh, alright, he's in his office, c'mon…”
Carefully, Yumi guides him down the hall. He can barely track the movement, his vision distorting worse with his jerky motions. He hears the sound of Yumi knocking though, and then the slide of the shoji–
“Touya?” The sound of scraping chairs and thumping feet. “What's wrong with him?” Dad demands.
Dad.
Dad.
Touya's head snaps up.
He tears himself out of Yumi's grasp, taking one big step forward and almost collapsing again for his effort. Dad catches him by the elbows, an instinct from hero work (not parenting). He hears talking around him, between Dad, and Yumi, and… someone else. The voice is vaguely familiar to his small mind. He peeks around his fathers hulking frame, spotting familiar fluffy blonde hair.
“Kei.”
The man looks surprised at the name, and then everything clicks into place. He steps forward, grabbing onto Dad's elbow, “Enji, he's–” Kei stops, glancing back at him.
Touya knows he didn't want people to see him like this. But they already have, and he wants Dad, so if that means them knowing, then… He nods at Kei, giving the go-ahead.
He thinks Kei explains. He doesn't really hear it, drifting once the warmth of his father's hands shifts to his ribs to hold him upright better. He wants to be held against him, so he squirms, closer, closer–
“Touya,” Dad says, in that deep, rumbly voice. He can't help but shiver.
There's alarm, somewhere in the back of his mind. He should be escaping, he should be putting up defenses and getting away. But he doesn't want to.
Touya holds out his arms, the universal sign for up.
Dad looks surprised, and Touya falters. That's… right. Dad doesn't want him. Touya did something wrong. Something bad, right? That's why Dad wouldn't train him anymore? Touya starts to shake. He lowers his arms, to the hands around his ribs. He tries to pry them off, finger by finger as his breath gets sharper in his chest, but they don't budge.
Kei elbows Dad, “Say something, you're scaring him.”
Dad startles, and then looks down at him, loosening his hands. Part of Touya knows he'd usually bolt, but he stays put instead, feeling frozen.
“You really want… me to take care of you?”
Touya feels his lip wobble. The tears start again, dang it. Dad doesn't like it when he cries. He swipes at them clumsily, swaying on his unsteady legs. “I-I just… hurt. So. Wanted you.” The words feel sticky in his throat, like trying to talk around something you haven't quite swallowed right.
“Oh, son. Alright, c'mere, I've got you,” Enji holds out his arms.
Touya shakes and shakes as he steps forward, wrapping his arms around his Dad's neck. Dad bends down to scoop him up, “What do you need? What can I do to help?”
Touya shakes his head. He can't answer. He's just so relieved. Dad's carrying him. He never did this before… Did he?
Dad takes him back to his room. He can't remember why he wanted to get out of it so badly before. It's quite nice in here. Cozy. Dark. Easy on his pounding head. But as Enji sits down and arranges him on his lap, he remembers, ‘Ah. This is what was missing.’
Yumi and Kei appear in the doorway, following them inside. Dad asks Yumi something about medicine. She points to the bottle on his beside table. Dad says something else, gesturing at her phone, so Yumi leaves to call someone. Touya hears the words, but they don't really make sense. What really matters to him is the sound of his father's heartbeat, when he lays his head down on his chest. The rumble of his voice is nice, from here. Soothing. Like a balm for his headache.
Then warmth blooms over his lower back, where it aches so badly. He gasps.
“Shh, my boy, I've got you.”
Touya believes him.
He can't make the pain go away either, but like this, it's just a bit more bearable.
**
Unfortunately for him, it gets worse before it gets better.
Touya drifts in and out of consciousness for a while. Kei and Yumi pop in occasionally to speak with Dad, but he doesn't really process any of it. The pain is horrible.
“M'body is betraying me,” he tells Dad weakly.
Dad startles, looking down at him. His face does something odd, and it takes Touya a moment to realize it's a pained smile. “It's not betraying you.”
“Hurts,” Touya insists.
Enji nods, “I know, baby. Your Mom is on her way.”
Touya's mind sticks to the word baby. That's him. That's him. And then he slowly registers the other words.
“Mom…?”
“Yes,” Enji nods. “I thought you might like to see her. Fuyumi thought a warm bath should help too.”
Mom always helped him bathe.
“Sounds nice,” he manages. His voice comes out wobbly and thick.
Enji does the weird half smile again, looking down at him with such uncharacteristic warmth. He reaches down, petting Touya's sweat soaked hair off his forehead. Touya closes his eyes to it, leaning into his hand. It's perfect. So warm and big. Lightly calloused, but it just feels nice when he nuzzles into it.
He can't remember Dad ever doing this for him before. Why not?! Some angry voice inside of him demands. Touya decides he doesn't care. He's here now.
A sudden jolt of pain makes him flinch, hard. It seems to spread, locking up his joints and muscles in a cruel grip. Touya gasps, so overwhelmed with the pain he can hardly voice it. He can barely move. The only thing he manages to do is to weakly squeeze Dad's hand, and whimper.
“I know, I know Touya, just hang on… Hawks, come here, please?” Dad calls.
Kei sticks his head into the room, shooting Touya some kind of apologetic smile. Touya can't manage a response.
“Could you start the bath, please? Rei should be here soon.”
“Course,” Kei winks, and then he's gone.
A few tears slip down Touya's cheeks. The pain finally eases enough he can get a full breath, and it comes as a sob. Touya fists a hand in Dad's shirt, trying to use the grip to curl closer, but he ends up just spasming in place. Dad curses under his breath softly, but it's not like the curses he'd throw out at the top of his lungs when Touya wouldn't stop training behind his back. This isn't anger.
Dad holds up his hand, smoking gently as he warms it with his quirk, “Do you want…?”
Touya nods mutely, too exhausted to string together words. Too small. Numbly, he guides the hand to his abdomen over his shirt. He gasps at the warmth, seizing and jerking as the heat feels worse before it starts to feel better.
“There you go, breathe…” Dad encourages vaguely.
The heat helps, just slightly. How ironic. His quirk's heat only ever hurts him; it burns his skin and leaves painful little welts behind for Mom to fuss over. But Dad's quirk… Dad's just feels safe.
They both startle at the sound of the shoji.
“Rei's here,” Kei says.
Dad looks down at him. “Gonna pick you up.”
“‘Kay.”
The heat vanishes, but before its absence can be missed he's in the air. The movement makes his stomach roll.
Out in the living room, Mom coos, “Oh, baby.”
“Mom.”
Touya nearly rolls out of Dad's arms trying to get to her, but he catches him in time, letting him hang sideways limply out of his hold so he can wrap his arms around his Mom's shoulders. Mom pets his hair, murmuring sweet words that wash right over him and make his mind feel even further away. Smaller.
“C'mon dear, let's get you into the bath.”
Dad carries him the rest of the way. It's a bit of a blur – the steam filled room, being set on his feet, leaning against the counter for support. The shoji shuts, and Mom turns to help him out of his clothes. She's stronger than she looks, he's reminded, because when he stumbles trying to get his legs folded up right to step inside the tub, she catches his arms, and eases him in.
“O-Oh…”
“Better?” She muses, petting his hair out of his eyes.
Touya nods, feeling too sleepy to answer. Warm water has always made him feel tired. The room fills with more steam. Mom begins to scoop up cupfulls of water to pour them over his back, up his neck, and into his hair. He relaxes into her touch and the sensation of the water, letting the haziness fill his brain completely.
It feels good.
He might be in pain, but Mom is here. She's taking care of him. Dad is somewhere close by outside, too.
Mom guides him down into the water completely to rinse the shampoo out. When he sits back up against the wall, she continues washing the rest of his body, keeping up a gentle stream of words, but it's harder and harder for him to pay attention to it. She doesn't seem too upset about him not answering, thankfully.
At some point, Mom stops completely, and says, “Alright, let's get you out now.”
What? Usually his baths go on a little longer. Mom even lets him reheat the water himself sometimes, since he can't easily burn himself if he's submerged in water. Then Touya looks down. Oh. He's started bleeding.
Numbly, he nods in agreement.
Mom bends to unplug the tub, then stands to grab a towel. Touya stays put, feeling weighed down. He didn't do anything wrong, right? Even like this, he knows it's natural. Mom understands. It's not like he did something bad on purpose.
So why is he freaking out?
Stop, just stop–
“Baby?” Mom kneels down beside him.
Touya ducks away, hiding his face, and pulling his knees up to his chest.
“You're alright, Touya,” Mom says. He flinches at the touch of her cool hand, but forces himself to relax. “Let's get you dry, alright? You'll feel much better.”
Someone must have brought them clean clothes at some point. Mom helps him towel off, and then get clean underwear on. She even does the pad for him, so he doesn't have to think about it. (He does anyway). She sits him on the closed toilet lid to dry his hair with a dryer, even though he could do it in seconds with his quirk. He's not supposed to, though. Mom gets sad.
Dad meets them in the hallway once they're done.
“I brought you this,” he says, unfurling a large hoodie. One of his own hoodies.
“F-For me?”
“Yes,” Dad smiles. “Here, let me help you.”
He has Touya lift his arms, and slips it on over his head for him. It comes down nearly to his knees. Big. Big. It's perfect.
Touya moves forward hesitantly, one hand fisted in the material of the hoodie (soft, worn), and the other stretched out toward Dad. Dad leans down and hugs him.
He's picked up again, and taken to the living room. Yumi and Kei are there. Dad sets him in his lap, and lets him tuck his face against his neck. He falls asleep like that, with Dad's warm hand cupped against his lower back.
**
Before he even opens his eyes, he remembers.
Embarrassment washes through him, sick and festering.
It's dark now. Peeking one eye open tells him he's back in his room, on his futon. He can hear Endeavor breathing somewhere to the side of him, his presence blisteringly intimidating behind him. The dregs of something much smaller and needier inside him complains he's too far away. The rest of him is relieved. And also dreads the inevitable.
Like a coward, he pretends to still be asleep, one hand curled into the sheets, the other tucked under his chin. He breathes slowly, listening to the sounds of the crickets outside, and the distant road noise.
Touya can't remember what triggered him to turn little the first time. He's not sure how or why it was Hawks that found him either, they weren't scheduled to meet that day. But it didn't last long then, either. He was content to forget it, push it to the back of his mind or better yet – let burn it away with the rest of the ashes from his childhood.
But now it's back. There's no pushing it away, this time.
There's a knock at the shoji.
“Yes?” Endeavor asks quietly.
Fuyumi's voice: “Dad, Natsu is here.”
“Alright.”
The shoji slides shut with a soft click, and Fuyumi's footsteps fade as she moves further away.
“You're awake,” Endeavor says. An observation, not a question. Dammit.
“...Yeah.”
“Are you hungry? Hawks and Fuyumi have dinner ready.”
Touya curls a hand over his stomach, where the empty rumble is starting to outweigh the ache in his abdomen.
“Hm.”
“Touya,” Endeavor insists, albeit gently. “You should eat something.”
For some reason, this makes him angry. But it doesn't come out right.
“Just–” he tries weakly, waving a hand behind himself in a feeble attempt to push him away. He's too tired to fight. (He doesn't want to).
A warm hand slowly eases over his shoulder, and squeezes. “I'll carry you, if you'd like.”
Touya's breath hitches.
His head pounds, caught between slipping back into that space where he doesn't have to worry as much. Where anger is still a foreign concept.
“D-Don't. What if I go all…” He asks, his voice breaking around the word he can't find it in himself to say.
“Then we'll take care of you. I will take care of you, if you'll let me,” he says, and then adds, shocking Touya to his core, “I want to.”
“...Okay.”
**
Stubbornly, he insists on walking, but he lets Endeavor – Dad – he lets Dad hold his arm to steady him.
The kitchen is loud, full of life and conversation. Natsuo is listening half-heartedly to something Hawks is saying about work, waving his hands wildly in exaggerated motions. Shouto speaks quietly to Rei, showing her something from one of his notebooks for school as she nods politely and listens along. Then Fuyumi drags Natsuo away and points at a stack of dishes for him to carry to the dining room, as Natsuo groans something that sounds like ‘why me?!’ He looks grateful to slip away from it all though, and Fuyumi smiles as if this was her plan all along. (It was).
For a moment, he's frozen in place, taking it all in as he grasps Dad's arm to keep himself upright. It's a scene completely foreign to Touya. Is it always like this…? He always eats alone, in his room. They don't try to pressure him, though he knows they disapprove.
Dad looks down at him with a knowing smile. “C'mon, let's get you seated.”
Dinner is just as loud, and Touya isn't treated as an outsider. No one addresses the regression, and no one treats him as if he's suddenly invalid, either. He can't wrap his head around it, feeling like he's treading water, with his head barely above the waves.
Mom squeezes his hand in thanks when he passes her the soy sauce. Natsuo punches his shoulder and throws an arm around him at one point, speaking loudly about something from his college classes. Worst of all, (or maybe best of all) Dad keeps his eyes on him. Just to watch. Just to check. But he's looking at him, and Touya has no idea what to do with the attention he's so desperately craved his entire life. For now, he just rubs a hand over his chest and tries to smile, for their sakes, and his own.
Despite the nagging guilt, despite the embarrassment, he finds himself experiencing an emotion he wasn't sure he was still capable of: gratefulness.