Work Text:
Blood is on their face, ruby red staining his skin. It’s thick and uneven, crusting and flaking off but still so there. Clots are forming but blood is still gushing from the wounds too large to heal in such a short time. They’re wrapped in bandages, white over and over and over. Again and again, giving layers but it doesn’t matter— blood still seeps through.
He thinks he cried, or is he crying right now? He can’t tell if the wetness on their face is from tears rushing out of their eyes, or if it’s just more blood. He doesn’t suppose it matters if they cried anyway. There was no stopping what happened.
Their chest ached. Their legs ached. Their arms ached. Their head ached. Their body was creaking and crumbling, turning to dust before their very eyes. Bit by bit they fell away until it was just a shell of themselves. Injuries too grave to ever recover, mind too shattered to ever repair. And that’s what it was— shattered. It held the weight of his past, the memories of the bruises littering his skin. The burns, deep and seeping with heat— forever hot, forever painful. Phantom pains still trace up their arms and torso and legs. They wonder if the pains will ever leave, if their body will ever forget, or if they will succumb to emptiness beforehand?
Will they die? They didn’t know. Their future was gone. The lacerations in his torso, and arms, and face, and legs, made sure of that. They could not be a Pro Hero anymore. But...but there was nothing else. He was a Pro and he would always be a Pro and they had to be a Pro. But they couldn’t. It was impossible. His head hit the back of the wall and their eyes screwed tight. Their life was over, even if he was still alive.
Could Todoroki really call this state alive? With bandages wound up tightly, squeezing his ribs and the rest of his body, could he really say he was alive? He was a step away from death, practically on her doorstep. Maybe if he focused he could hear the sound of her voice—sweet and melodic, luring him away. Maybe if he just closed his eyes and relaxed he could see her— dressed in white with ebony black hair, reaching out a manicured hand to welcome him to somewhere where there would be no more pain. Maybe if he let himself go, he would be able to feel how freeing it was. How he would slip between people and places and never have to deal with it all again. How he could just relax and rest without the threat of training looming over him. Without the next question of if his friends will die first, or will he? If Midoriya would return safely, if his class would make it out of their fights okay, if his teachers would continue breathing and being Pro Heroes? If- If- If- He didn’t focus though. He caught a glimpse of a coat, the sweep of raven hair, and the smell of freedom—but he didn’t let go. His hands were much too clenched, gripping tightly onto the threads that were being unwound before him.
The infirmary was quiet. Only the constant hum of ceiling fans were there to put Shouto’s mind at ease. The white noise distracted from the sterile smell, from the bright light coming in from the windows and created by the counters. Shouto squinted. He wished someone had turned the lights off.
Titling his head down, where white and red hair would’ve mixed if they hadn’t been singed, Todoroki observed the bandages. The white wrapping smelled faintly of starch, but the overwhelming scent of iron made it essentially nonexistent. Pink was blossoming here and there, though nothing as severe as his chest. Overall, the images weren’t unfamiliar. He reminiscent about a time where it was his sister or his brother doing the wrappings. He thought of all the times it was him himself, with only a small stock of first aid items in his bedroom. He thought of the nights after training, huddled on his bed with the light filtering in through the window. How, he’d be the one to apply burn cream and loosely wrap the burns. How, ice would crackle under his skin until a thin sheet was over him, dodging the burns but treating the bruises. His breaths all visibly exhaled, his skin prickling upward from the temperature, and his mind finally relaxing in the ice. Ice was nice. Ice was nice.
Todoroki painfully recalled the days after, where bruises were under his clothing and prayers were sent for nobody to spot them. Still, the images of him, shirtless in front of a mirror, always stayed in his mind. The bruises, blossoming under his skin in molten blue’s and violets, with smaller yellow ones littering to the left and right of them. He’d poke them, redraw his hand with a hiss before repeating it again. He needed to know how bad they were. He needed to know how long he would have to hide them.
The memories seemed so far away. There would be no more training. No more bandaging and bruises and burns. Ice wouldn’t coat his skin as he attempted to escape his reality— to find a sliver of peace in his life of pain. None of that would happen anymore, none of that could happen anymore. Todoroki Shouto was no longer a hero-in-training, he’d been too maimed to ever take up that mantle again. No, Todoroki Shouto was the same as Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Fuyumi, and Todoroki Touya. They were all failures, and none of them would ever be heroes.
Todoroki let his eyes close on this thought. It was a pleasant thought, to know that even after four tries his father still didn’t get what he wanted. Couldn’t get what he wanted. Rei was in a mental hospital, he’d have no way to get to her and have another kid unless he took her out. Which he wouldn’t do. With the brightness gone as black filled his mind, Todoroki let his body slump downward on his bed. The shift ached, pulling whatever horrid injuries occupied his chest and back, and his arm certainly didn’t appreciate it—neither his leg, but Shouto found a comfortable enough position and then he was out like a light.
The youngest Todoroki didn’t dream much. But, when he did, it was almost exclusively bad. This time was no different. He found himself in a car. He was riding shotgun. His father was driving. Endeavor kept his eyes on the road, which was only lit by the headlights and dim street lamps. The surrounding area was dark and color felt drained. Todoroki stayed quiet, his hands in his lap. His skin was still porcelain, perfect in every way except for his face scar. His clothes though, were worn down and ragged. The colors were muted, a simple tan shirt and brown paints, but holes and rips littered the fabric. It itched against his skin and were two sizes too large. He glanced upwards and kept his eyes on the road- he wouldn’t ask his father about it.
The atmosphere was tense, for Shouto at least. Endeavor simply continued staring at the toad, hands comfortable around the steering wheel. They weren’t gripping it in anger, his teeth weren’t clenched and his gaze wasn’t fiery. In fact, he acted as if Shouto wasn’t there to begin with.
A baby appeared in the back of the car. It cried and wailed, little fists pumping upward in the air as it attempted to escape it’s swaddle. The appearance disrupted the mute car and constant sounds of tires rolling and twigs crunching.
Shouto furrowed his eyebrows as the baby continued to wail. He attempted to look back at it, see who it was, but it was only static. No describable features could be seen.
His eyes focused back on the road, where the amount of light had dimmed to barely nothing. The baby’s wails quieted when there was no response out of Enji, until eventually they stopped entirely. Shouto glanced back at the infant to see if it had fallen asleep, but it was gone. Only the swaddle remained, the gray blanket bunched up on the car seat and utterly abandoned.
Shouto went to turn around but the car veered sharply to the side. He sucked in a sharp breath as his seat belt jostled him. Todoroki quickly turned around and grabbed onto whatever he could hold, the armrest next to him and the tiny storage part in front of him below the dash, as the car continued to veer left. He risked a glance at Enji, but the man wasn’t paying attention to him. His face was still calm, fingers still relaxed, as he drove off the road and into the forest that laid to the side. The car bumped up and down, hitting branches and rocks and leaves. Endeavor navigated between trees, though the car still hit them. There was no light in the forest, only the moon shining through the canopy up top. Shouto bit back a curse as his head hit the roof of the car once more, until eventually the car hit the wrong thing and tumbled over to the side. Shouto instinctively hunched into himself, eyes shut tight as the car rolled. He listened to the sickening sound of metal crunching and bending and smashing until it was silent and he was hanging in his seat. He unfurled slowly, unsure how the car would react. When it didn’t do anything and he blinked around a couple of times, taking in the dark display, Shouto unbuckled himself. He managed to maneuver and kick open the door, stepping out into the serene forest.
Twigs crunched under his feet. Fallen leaves shifted as he walked, still the trees were full. Crickets chirped under the moon and made Shouto aware of just how quiet, and alone, he was. He turned back towards the wrecked car to watch his father get out of it. Endeavor turned towards Todoroki, and Shouto hesitated to move towards him. When he decided that it'd be better to be with him then alone, it was already too late. Enji Todoroki looked his son directly in the eyes before turning around sharply and walking off. The sound of crunching followed him. When he was gone from the clearing and Shouto was truly alone, the car burst up in glorious, brilliant flames. They raged higher and higher, the orange and reds fluctuating enough for Shouto to fear the trees would catch fire. But, no, the trees weren’t set alight and Shouto was left staring at the inferno. He left shortly after.
Stumbling through the woods alone at night wasn’t fun. The twigs pulled at his already ripped clothes and scratched his skin. His feet hit a rock every 10 minutes and he stumbled and fell multiple times. The shadows seemed to dance, making Shouto see things that weren’t there and still the only sound were those damn crickets and crunching leaves.
After walking and falling and hitting into trees for what felt like hours, Todoroki found himself sliding his back down one. It was a bad idea, the bark just shredded even more of his shirt, but it was better than stumbling and falling downwards.
From there, on the ground, Todoroki drew his knees upwards and found his hands curling around his hair. The fist clenched and Shouto began to break down. He tugged harshly at his hair, breathing picking up and becoming irregular. He felt the shadows close in, trees looming over and over and he was trapped, he couldn’t breath and—
The silence was interrupted by the sound of fire and talking. Todoroki glanced upwards inquisitively to see a young woman standing over him. She wore a simple white dress, trailing behind her in the dirt, with sleeves made of lace. Her brown hair was back in a bun and a smiling mask was over her face.
“Come on,” she said happily, as if greeting an old friend, “time for the festivities!” Her voice was soft and Todoroki remembered his sister as he took her hand. The lady pulled him upwards, letting Shouto realize that he was taller than her, then proceeded towards the sounds of flames. She hummed as she walked and Todoroki kept glancing around, trying to notice the changes. He couldn’t find any. The forest was as dark and drab as it has always been.
The lady led him through a bush and then they were in a clearing and the silence was gone and so was the darkness. Torches were up, lining the clearing and somehow miraculously not catching the forest on fire. The ground was clear of twigs and leaves and instead was just soft packed dirt. There were people walking around, laughing, all wearing white dresses and suits. Some had masks like the lady, while others seemed to be made of glass. The clear material caught the flames and reflected them back.
Shouto glanced down. He was wearing black.
The lady smiled at him and grabbed his arm. She pulled him closer to the center, where a platform was placed. A group, all wearing the same smiley-face masks as the lady were there. The guide joined the group and Shouto found his gaze wandering around the clearing. Besides for the obvious peculiarities he couldn’t find anything weird.
After a minute the lady clapped excitedly. “It’s starting!” The masked group backed up and formed a line, with a gap in the middle. Shouto could only watch as a sea of white dresses and suits followed. Todoroki was once again reminded that he was wearing black. That he was the only one wearing black.
Footsteps began to echo and a man came down the aisle that was formed. He was wearing a gray robe that instantly set Shouto’s nerves a-flight. The man turned around at the end of the aisle and stood on the platform. His face was not obstructed by a mask, nor was it made of glass. Instead there was a single crow where the head would be. Todoroki watched as the group applauded before silencing at the man’s command. Then, they turned their heads down as someone carried two babies down the aisle. The babies only wore cloth diapers, held together by safety pins which glimmered in the moonlight, and delicate lace which was dropped over their bodies. Following that lady was a man who held another two babies, identical looking to the original four.
Shouto’s eyes followed the infants as they were placed on top of a table that hadn’t been there before. The man in the robe turned around and silently washed his hands in murky water. There was only the crackling of fire and the soft flow of a tap in that moment. When he turned around once more he gazed at the babies. Water was flicked onto their heads and they smiled, fingers moving and feet wiggling. The crowd cooed and the man and women which carried the babies smiled. The robed man faced the crowd once more and silence rang out. Todoroki found his brow crease as the man took out a dagger, the silver blade catching both the moon and the flames. Then, and only then, did Todoroki realize what was going to happen. He tried to move, but his feet were stuck to the ground. His dress shoes were melted and he was stuck. He glanced at the lady but her mask was still on and the smile was still wide. He watched on, helpless, as in four sweeping motions the baby's throats were slit and blood gargled out. The red sputtered and went up before eventually momentum died and the ruby red liquid just laid there, in the lace and the soft skin on the dead babies. Shouto couldn’t help but realize that none of the white outfits of the crowd had been dirtied in the splash, but there were cracks in the glass now.
Church bells rang out from somewhere and everyone clapped. It was thundering. It grew louder. They were applauding the massacre of the children. One of which, Shouto realized, had half and half hair. The crow that acted as the head of the man in the robe dipped his beak and the claps stopped. The church bell still rang out. The smiles were still stretched. Under the crackling fire new footsteps emerged and Shouto found himself turning to see the newcomer. This one was in a white dress. It trailed behind then, fully made of lace and satin. The sleeves ran long, covering pale porcelain skin in detailed flower patterns. On this person’s fate was a veil of lace, hiding any features.
‘Here Come The Bride’ started playing on old brazen instruments, out of key. More cracks appeared in the glass. The bride, Shouto assumed, stepped up to the dead children and laid lingering kisses to each cold forehead. By the end, the tip of the veil was stained darkly red. The bride then walked around the dead children and onto the platform. The crow man stood across from her and then the bell was ringing again and the fire was crackling and the crickets were singing. The veil was lifted and there was a clap of thunder. Shouto flinched harshly and snow began to pour down. It coated the ground and the chairs. The snowflakes got stuck in his eyelashes and on his nose and it was building and building upwards until it was half-way to his knee. Todoroki watched as the crow pecked the bride before turning towards the audience, the bride's veil on once more, though this time blood climbed more than halfway up the lace. The married couple presented a new child, who had red and white hair that constantly seemed to shift placement and the glass broke. It shattered loudly, leaving dresses and suits to fall to the floor- limp. Then there was rambunctious applause as the masks slipped downwards and the people began to cry, smiles still straining even though the mask was gone. The applause continued, the snow continued, the bell continued. Shouto could only glanced downwards to see his suit stained red before another clap of thunder struck. He flinched upwards once more, in just enough time to see the crow from the man in the robe spread his wings and fly away. Everyone was crying in his wake.
Todoroki woke with a cough and a sputter. He sat up, ignoring the pain that spread through his body, and rubbed his eyes to get rid of any sleep. And- oh, he was crying in his sleep. How quaint.
With a yawn and the desire to stretch, Todoroki could only sit by helplessly as his mind came back to the real world. Pain shot up spread through his body until it felt like a hum, and Todoroki flicked at his cheek where more dried blood flaked off. He wondered why it wasn’t cleaned before realizing that they couldn’t get it to stop bleeding.
Shouto took a deep shuddering breath. He noted how it was shallow and sighed. He’d never be what he once was. But then again, he was always traumatized. At least that couldn’t change.
There was a knock on the infirmary door and Midoriya Izuku entered alongside Recovery Girl and Aizawa. All frowned at his current state.
“T-Todoroki?” Midoriya asked hesitantly, “are you going to be okay?”
Shouto repressed a humorless laugh because, did it look like he was going to be? His career was ruined, his purpose for life was ruined, his body was ruined and his mind had been in shambles for years. His family was barely functional and he wasn’t social enough to be able to consider himself incredibly close to his friends.
“Oh Midoriya,” Todoroki sighed. His eyes left his bandages and focused on those bright, bright green eyes. Izuku would be a hero one day. He would not. “I’m already withered.”