Chapter Text
The heat swirls around him, blanketing him in infernal fire. "D-daddy?" The boy calls, stepping back from the flames. Where was he? He was supposed to be there? Had he lied, tricked Tōya like he always did? Ever since that brat had been born, Tōya was tossed to the side like the trash.
He had tried and tried and tried to get better, to not destroy himself from the inside out. It didn't matter, daddy always ignored him, only showing him attention when Tōya was naughty, when he exploded like the cosmos. His own eternal sun, collapsing inwards.
Hot molten tears sprung from his eyeballs, Tōya screaming as his arms cartwheeled backwards, trying to get away from the heat from the flames as he fell down, fire erupting from his skin, popping out like bubbles.
It's so hot, oh god it's so hot its sohot it'ssohotitssoho—
In the distance, just past the tree line, Tōya can make out the faint outline of somebody, watching him. It's him, he came here, he came here to see me, Tōya tried to reach out his arm, whimpering at the dull pain that coursed through him. His eyes flitted down to his arm, looking at the mangled skin.
As if he didn't realize the extent of his injuries until he saw it, Tōya took a deep wet breath in, before he screamed.
Tōya sat up with a startled scream, his daddy's name on his lips. It was silent, as he looked around in a panic. Where was he? Last thing he remembered, he was in the forest, his dad watching him burn himself up. Throwing the covers off of him (huh? why were his legs so long?) Tōya stumbled to his feet, almost falling over. His legs were weak, covered in mottled purple skin. He resisted the urge to run his hand over the skin, instead trying to focus on what he needed to do.
Clearly, his daddy had brought him to the hospital after he injured himself so severely. Tōya didn't understand why his daddy wouldn't be there, or take him home, unless this was a new wing of the house that was built while he was in recovery?
He winced as he threw the sliding door open, squinting as he was assaulted by the harsh overhead lights of some sort of lobby. There were other children there, either playing with toys or working on school work, all frozen. Tōya had to rub his eyes, unsure if he was seeing things correctly. Why were they staring at him?
"Holy shit," one of the older girls dropped her pencil. "Hey guys! Sleeping Beauty woke up!"
"Really?" a younger boy with gills stared at Tōya like he was seeing a ghost. "I thought he'd never wake up."
The "lobby" burst into excited chatter, all the other children talking about him. Why are they talking about him?
"Uh—" Tōya trailed off, clearing his throat. Why did his voice sound so deep? What was going on? "Wh-where am I?"
"Sunnyside Nursery," the girl said, "I guess you wouldn't know that, though."
Tōya had never heard of Sunnyside Nursery before. Was he even in Mustafu? "No," he still jumped at how off his voice sounded. Just…well, he supposed it wasn't yesterday, but yesterday to him, his voice had been much higher, more childish. Now he just sounded almost like an adult. Was it the smoke inhilation?
"Well, my name is Ogawa Kaho, and I'm currently the oldest here, besides maybe you," she gives him a small nod. "Sunnyside is a special type of orphanage, all of us had pretty bad burns when we came here."
Tōya winced, remembering the flames flickering around him, trying to consume him. "Oh, o-okay," he said, looking down at his bare feet. He was wearing a hospital dressing gown, slightly too small on his lanky frame. "Is there a bathroom around here?"
Tōya had to see. He had to know how much time had gone by. Why wasn't his daddy there? Or his mom? Or even Fuyumi or Natsuo? Maybe they didn't let kids in, Natsuo was still in elementary school, afterall.
"Down the hall and to the left," one of the children said, pointing down the dimly lit hallway. He gave a short nod in thanks, wincing at the way it jostled his neck and face, tight skin tugging against his jaw.
Tōya could feel the children staring at him as he wandered down the hallway, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He took a moment, just standing there, trying to process what had happened.
He had hurt himself, really bad this time. His dad had brought him to the hospital? Nursery? instead of taking him home to treat him there, and now he was at an orphanage. Surely this was just the best place for him to recover. Sure, maybe his dad ignored him 95% of the time, and his mom liked to pretend he didn't exist, but surely they wouldn't just leave him, right?
Tōya flicked on the light, blinking at how bright it was. Why was every light there so bright? Shuffling over to the sink, he took a deep breath before looking into the mirror.
He almost fell backwards as he saw the state that he was in. No, this was wrong. He—he shouldn't look like this. Reaching a hand towards his face, Tōya's stomach churned at how the fake in the mirror matched his movements. Under his eyes, along his jaw, even his ears and traveling down his chest, he was a patchwork of mottled purple skin and deep scars that stretched along the edges.
The worst part though, was the eyes staring back at him. Too old, he was too tall and too gangly and too much. When Tōya had went to the mountain he had just turned 13, short and boney. Now? There was a grown man staring back at him. "What the hell happened?"
He felt like crying, wanting to curl into a ball on the bathroom floor, go to sleep and maybe wake up somewhere better. But, no matter how much his eyes stang, how much they begged for the tears to overflow, none came.
The other children left him alone when he exited the bathroom, content with just staring at him like he was some zoo exhibit. Glancing out the window, he noticed that the sun was going down, golden light washing the ground.
"How close are we to Mustafu," he says to the silent room, big eyes blinking up at him.
Ogawa sighed, seemingly knowing where this conversation was going. "We're about a two hour walk to the edge of town, if you're quick about it. But, I wouldn't leave if I were you. You've been asleep for a long time, so some things may be a bit…different than you remember."
"Thanks," Tōya said, choosing to disregard the rest of her statement. He needed to make it home, to see his daddy and mom and Fuyumi and Natsuo (and yes, maybe to see his daddy's little masterpierce as well, if nothing more than to see).
He was about to step out the front doors, surprised that he hadn't come into contact with any staff yet, when a small hand tugged at his sleeve.
"Touchan?" A small voice piped up, Tōya whipping his head down to look at the boy. His hair was a mess of green curls fading into white. "M-maybe you should c-change first?"
Looking down, he did realize that he was still in his hospital gown. "Ah, yeah," he said, tugging on the edge of his gown, "maybe I shouldn't wander around looking like I escaped from the hospital."
"I ca-can show you where we k-keep the other clothes," the boy stutters, looking at the floor like he was expecting to be rejected for just talking to him.
"Sure," Tōya agreed, as the boy lit up.
"Follow me t-then!" His smile was bright, and Tōya took a moment to study him. He had a smattering of freckles across his cheeks, marred only by the burn scar that crept up his neck and engulfed the lower part of the right side of his face. He couldn't help but notice how the boy's emerald green eye was milky, unseeing where the burns had managed to touch it. He could see the edges of other scars peaking out from the boy's shirt.
What had happened to him?
Tōya couldn't think about that right now, instead choosing to follow the boy to a side storage closet. He could hear the others whispering as they passed, but this felt different somehow. Meaner. "Maybe we should warn him?" he could hear a girl whisper to another, "wouldn't want him to catch it's sickness."
Catch…his sickness?
"Shut up," an older boy hisses at them, "you're being childish."
This seems to make the girls back down, at least for now. Still, Tōya wasn't sure what they meant by sickness. Was the kid ill in some way? He didn't know much about the orphanage, but he figured that since it also seemed to be a medical center, they would want to isolate anybody who was sick.
Still, Tōya followed the boy, until he opened the closet, revealing a bunch of sweatpants and sweatshirts, all in soft grey. "T-there's not a lot of choices," the boy said, "but I figured it's better than no-nothing."
"Thanks…" Tōya trailed off, realizing he didn't know the boy's name.
"Midoriya, my name's Midoriya Izuku," the boy said, fiddling with his hands.
"Thanks Midoriya," Tōya amended, grabbing a set of clothes from the closet. The boy stepped aside, letting him do so, retreating as if he had been dismissed. Tōya chewed his lip for a moment, the pain grounding him as he took off his gown, trying not to stare at his body for too long.
It was wrong, it was all wrong, he wasn't supposed to look like this—
Pulling the sweatshirt over his head, he left the room, grabbing a pair of slippers from the genkan, slipping them on to his feet. He'd rather have sturdier shoes, but he figured it was better than nothing.
Ogawa watched him from the entryway as he opened the door. "Tōya," she said, her voice sounding stern like his mom's used to, "this isn't a good idea."
"I need to find them," he said, plainly, "I'm sure this is a misunderstanding, they wouldn't—" they wouldn't abandon him, would they? At least, not truly.
Ogawa just sighed, realizing that Tōya wasn't going to listen to her (what reason did he have to? He had just met her a few minutes ago). So, instead, she held out a piece of paper. Taking it, he looked at it curiously, realizing that it had an address written in tight scrawl. "That's the address for the orphanage," she explained, "so you can find your way back."
That won't be necessary, he thought to himself. When he got home, they'd welcome him back, maybe finally seeing him for once. Still, he put the paper in his pocket, if nothing more than to satisfy the girl so she would finally leave him alone.
"Come back in one piece, okay?"
Tōya just gave her a nod. He wouldn't be coming back, he was going home.