Haunting

Chapter Twenty-Two: Reminisce

He snapped the door open. His stomach dropped, his lunch almost came up. His brother laid weak and pale, tubes snaking in and out of his body. Everyone looked small in a hospital bed, but his brother looked younger than he remembered.

So, so much younger.

His parents were there, already seated - of course they were the one who called you - and his mom held tissues to her eyes as she sobbed. His dad didn't look any better. The only thing testifying to Tensei still being - being with them - was the heart monitor, his weak pulse, a sharp and pointed noise that broke the horrible silence in the room.

It reminded him of Izuku, he thought briefly. A silence so suffocating you thought you'd choke on it.

He broke. A sob tore through his throat, and his knees threatened to give out on him as he stumbled over to his parents. His mom caught him before he fell, standing and holding him to her as close as she physically could, squeezing him hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. It didn't matter. He was hardly getting breath anyway.

I'm sorry, she sobbed, and Tenya's heart felt gutted out of his chest, ripped out and torn to shreds.

He's not-? He's not-? Tenya choked on the words. He couldn't finish them, couldn't make the possibility any more real than it might be already.

No, his dad cut in. It looked like he was trying hard to be strong, but he looked so, so close to tears. But we - we don't know when he'll wake up.

Shouto opened the door to his mother's hospital room, heart pounding in his chest with anxiety, and fear made his hands tingle with numbness.

The first sight of his mother in almost ten years was her wide, ash grey eyes. It seemed like she had just stood up from her bed to water one of the flower pots in her room, and Shouto's hand tightened around the bouquet of roses in his grip, the plastic crinkling at the added pressure.

She dropped the watering can and it went clattering to the floor, but it went unnoticed as she walked over, slow at first, disbelieving, then quicker as a huge smile broke out on her face. Shouto met her halfway, walking fully into the room with shaking legs. Shouto reached out and hugged her, hard, fingers gripping her white hospital gown as if she would slip away. He would've felt awkward if it weren't for the fact that her grip was just as tight, digging into his collar as she sniffled. He felt his eyes well up with tears of his own.

She still smelled the same - like freshly blooming flowers - and it brought on a whole slew of memories. Every time she held herself straight in the face of his father's wrath, every smile she had sent his way, every time they had sat down to watch All Might on the big screen and Shouto had asked her if he could be a hero - if he should even want to be.

He had hidden himself away from his mother not only out of anxiety, but out of guilt. He should've done something, called someone, put up more of a fight. Maybe if he had done what Endeavor wanted just a bit better she would've been spared, and in that moment the guilt he had suppressed for years came rushing in all at once, clawing at his chest until he felt like he could barely breathe. He had so much he wanted to tell her, so much he needed to catch her up on.

They pulled away, and Shouto looked at her face, expecting fear, regret, anger.

She looked at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she laughed.

The class of 1-A sat tiredly in their seats, some slouched low and some with their feet propped up on their desks, despite Iida's weak protests. The Sports Festival had been long and grueling, a challenge that tested every ability they had until they felt that they would break, and it had left them exhausted but thankful.