Chapter Text
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“Are you going to take out my eyeball?”
The doctor drops the thing he was holding, a loud metallic clatter ringing out in the surgery theatre. “Damn—no of course not! Whatever gave you that idea?”
Shouto is sitting up in the big chair, his hands twisting the fabric of his gown to try to keep still. It isn’t his first surgery since his mother hurt him. But it is the first time that there has been a big machine in the room. It’s a tall machine on wheels, with folding arms like at the dentist. There is a head-shaped hole with straps and a mouthguard.
“I can’t really see, because my eye is damaged. And I can’t do anything if I can’t see. So maybe you could replace it with a better eye.” Shouto explains his reasoning, trying to read the doctor’s face for any hint of a lie.
“Well that’s why we’re doing a little operation. But we’re not taking out your eye, don’t worry.”
Although Shouto’s not usually scared of doctors, something about this room and the machine and his useless eye is making him nervous. He knows the surgery will happen no matter what, but there’s a tight feeling in his chest that makes him want to run out of the operating room, down the hall, and right out of the hospital.
He presses the pads of his fingers against the left side of his face. He pushes hard enough that he can feel it. The doctors said the numbness would go away once the scar healed more. But the doctors also said he would be able to see normally again.
Shouto just wanted someone to tell him the truth. “What are you going to do to me?”
“It’s not—Todoroki, we need to get ready for the procedure. If you have questions, I’m sure your father can—"
“My father doesn’t tell me anything. Nobody said I was having surgery today. Nobody even cares if I want to keep my eye. You’ll just do whatever my father says or suffer the consequences.” As soon as he says it, he wants to take the words back. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s not supposed to talk about, but it feels wrong. At the very least, he’s being rude to an important grown up, which means trouble when his father finds out.
(But a part of him likes telling the truth. He wants to say more. He wants to yell about what his father did, how he made her hate him, how he pushed her to the point of—)
The doctor pulls a stool over, the metal wheels squeaking loudly in the sterile room. He sits next to Shouto and clears his throat. “There is … a liquid that is behind your eye. There’s too much of it, and it’s pushing against the … the things that let you see. So we’re going to use … this special machine to take the liquid out, so you’ll be able to see better. Do you understand?”
Shouto’s eyes flick to the contraption standing in front of him. There’s an attachment that looks like a claw, like the right size to yank someone’s eye out. At that thought, he clamps his palm over his left eye.
“Maybe my eye will get better on its own.” Shouto’s voice comes out small and whiny. His father would call it pitiful.
Someone puts a hand on his left arm—he startles a bit because it’s in his blind spot, but it is the kind-faced doctor. Her voice is gentle as she reassures him. “It won’t hurt Todoroki. We’re all here to make sure that you’ll be safe and make a full recovery.”
It’s true, there are at least four doctors in the room. His father demands the best, and if there’s a way to fix his eye he would have paid for it.
The nurse tugs lightly on Shouto’s arm, and he lets her pull the hand away from his face.
“Is his father here?” The doctor sitting next to him asks. “It might make him feel better to have him—"
“No. He’s not coming.” Shouto answers. He sits up straighter in his seat. His father would be angry at his attitude. “It’s fine, you don’t need to call him. I'll cooperate.”
“Oh.” The doctor scrunches his eyebrows, before he smiles and pats Shouto’s leg like grownups like to do to make things seem less bad. “Of course, off saving lives I’m sure! Well no worries, you’re in good hands.”
Shouto nods and keeps his mouth shut.
---
He wakes up in the recovery room crying. He had another nightmare, all sharp corners and shadows and his mother’s eyes flashing. He tries to wipe his face and feels the fresh bandage on his left side, which reminds him of the surgery, and he cries harder.
“Hi.”
Shouto bolts upright in the hospital bed. There’s someone standing at the door, backlit from the lights in the hallway.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to s-scare you.” The person steps into the room, and Shouto can tell it’s a kid like him, maybe a bit younger. The voice is high and pitchy and a little stuttery. “I thought you might need help?”
Shouto doesn’t know what to say. He’s not used to being around children.
“I heard crying, are you okay?” The kid looks back towards the hallway. “Do you want me to get a grown up?”
“No, don’t.” Shouto wipes his fist across the right side of his face. “I’m fine, just a nightmare.”
“S-sorry.” The kid takes a step further into the room. “Do you want a hug? I mean only if you want! When I have a bad dream, my mommy gives me a big hug, and it helps me feel better.”
Shouto remembers something like that too. Except his mom used to run her fingers through his hair and sing quietly.
He starts crying again.
“Oh. Oh no, I’m sorry! It’s okay. This’ll help, I promise!”
Shouto feels the bed dip beside him and arms wrap around his shoulders. He lets himself be pulled into a hug, and he covers his face with his hands while he cries.
The kid’s shirt is soft and has all these tiny little holes. Shouto presses into the hug, and he wants to put his full weight into it but the kid is too scrawny for that. It’s still a good hug.
Shouto starts playing the connect the dots game with the little burn holes in the kid's shirt. He plays the game at home all the time, when he's sitting in a lesson, waiting for training or lying in bed. He's really good at it. It calms him down enough to stop crying.
“Sorry. I got your shirt dirty.” Shouto glances up at the other kid's face. He’s got short fluffy hair, chubby cheeks, and a smattering of freckles. More connect the dots.
“It’s okay. We have a laundry in our building. We use it a lot because I play too rowdy.”
“I don’t cry usually.” Shouto doesn’t want the boy to think he’s weak. He rubs at his face harder. He hates when his siblings ask why he’s crying. “I’m not a baby. I’m six.”
“No I know that! Do you know that episode where Nii-nii cries a lot in Little Hero Team? And everyone else thinks he’s being a baby, but then when there’s the big fire, and the Waterfall Hero comes to save the day, and all of them are crying, and the Waterfall Hero sees that—well after she puts out the fire—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shouto finally cuts in.
“Oh, well it’s a good show. Anyway.” The boy tugs on Shouto’s arm and smiles wide. “She says it’s okay to cry. And sometimes Heroes cry too, when they need to.”
“Oh.” Shouto has heard his father say the exact opposite. Heroes are supposed to be strong, unbreakable, perfect.
Endeavor never cries.
The boy with the fluffy hair is sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets, half leaning on Shouto’s pillow. It’s a bit uncomfortable being squeezed in so close to a stranger, mostly because Shouto doesn’t know what to say. But he doesn’t want the boy to leave. There’s something about him that makes him feel at ease.
“Are you doing better?” The boy asks.
“I guess.” Shouto pulls his knees up to his chest to put a bit of space between them. He can feel the boy’s big green eyes staring at the large bandage over his eye. He tries to turn his face away without being obvious.
“Why are you here?” The boy finally asks.
“Can’t you tell? I had surgery. They stuck a needle in my eye.”
All the colour drains from the other boy’s face and he hides behind his hands. “Ah! That sounds scary.”
“I wasn’t scared.” Shouto says quickly, and it’s only a little lie because the nurse had told him that he was being very brave, so he must not have looked too scared while it was happening. “Anyway, why are you here?”
“Oh my mommy works here. I was playing with my hero figurines out there. But then I heard you and nobody else was around so I thought I should help. Heroes always lend a hand!” The boy’s face lights up, and he rocks forward, his forehead nearly colliding with Shouto’s as he pulls at his tote bag. “Do you want to see my figurines?”
“Figurines?”
A purple felt bag appears from the boy’s tote, and he dumps it out on the blanket. Little brightly coloured plastic toys spill out and he arranges them upright, handling each one like a precious gem.
Shouto doesn’t recognize most of the figurines on the blanket, except for All Might of course. They look like they’re all Heroes. He’s glad that there’s no Endeavor in the set.
Shouto picks up the one closest to him. It’s a woman with a yellow cat costume, giant paws and a bowtie. Her arms are spread out wide and she’s smiling.
“Yeah I love Ragdoll! I wish I had all the Wild Wild Pussycats, but I’m still missing two.”
“You have… a lot of these.”
“Oh I have even more at home! Heroes are so cool! I’m going to be—” The boy seems to deflate, his bright smile passing behind a cloudy expression.
Shouto doesn’t know why he stopped talking mid-sentence. He looks so sad. Shouto wants to say something comforting, but he has no idea what that would be. He’s always trying to say the right thing, but it sounds disrespectful when it comes out.
He picks up the All Might figurine and shakes it in front of the boy’s face. “It’s good that you have All Might. He’s the best.”
“Oh, yeah!” The boy smiles like the sun, and he switches the way he’s sitting, somehow getting even closer to Shouto. “I have so many at home—his Bronze Age, Silver Age, and Golden Age costumes! And I have a signed poster! There was a contest for the best drawing, and I did one of his rescue in Osaka, and I got a poster! You could see it! My mom says I’m allowed to have friends over.”
The fluffy-haired boy is looking at him so eagerly that Shouto almost wants to just lie and say yes. “Sorry, I can’t. My father wouldn’t let me.”
Instead of taking this as his final answer, the boy seems even more eager. “Well, what about your mom? Maybe she would let you come over if you explained about the limited-edition merch—”
“I can’t talk to mama.” Shouto interrupts, the words spilling out in a rush. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud.
“Why?”
“I made her really angry. I think she hates me.” Shouto squeezes the smiling All Might figurine in his hand.
“S-sorry. I, um, sometimes my mom is angry, but then it’s okay. We just apologize and have a talk about it. Angry doesn’t mean she hates you.”
Shouto feels his side burn hot, burn cold, burn like boiling water. Fire destroying everything good until there’s nothing left and he’s all alone. He grips the figurine in his hand and All Might burns too.
“She hates me. She did this to my face because she hates me. She did this.” Shouto points at his bandaged eye, and he feels it sting from activating his quirk. “She’s gone and my dad won’t let her come back. It’s all his fault that I’m like this. I wish he never gave me his stupid quirk.”
There’s a long beat of silence. Shouto looks down at the melted figurine in his hand. All Might’s smile is warped, his body molded to the shape of Shouto’s fist.
Shouto unsticks the toy from his fingers and puts it down on the blanket, unable to look away from it. “Sorry, I ruined him.”
The boy pokes at the figurine and says, “My dad was mean sometimes. He would make my mom cry or he would go on a trip without telling her. She was sad a lot. But he left last year. For real.” He shrugs and fiddles with his hands. “I was sad when he left, but I, well, I was kind of happy, but then I felt bad for feeling happy, and I don’t know what I was feeling.”
Shouto can understand that, “Yeah.”
He thinks about his mother crying. It hurts, but maybe she will cry less now. She won’t have to take care of Shouto, she won’t have to fight with his father, she won’t get hit. Fuyumi said that she was in a good place where people would take care of her. She was probably happier there.
But still. Shouto is selfish. “Do you ever wish your dad would come back?”
The boy frowns. “Um, I-I don’t know.” He hunches his shoulders. “I guess I wish he wasn’t so mean.”