・・・ ・・・ ・・・
She sat on the bed, smiling softly. The rest of the participants were back on the field. Bakugo, Todoroki, and Tokoyami were raised on podiums in first, second, and third place, respectively. Bakugo was restrained and was heavily fighting it.
(Y/N) had been told she was supposed to be down there, but since she was temporarily paralyzed —she'd randomly be paralyzed when she hit her head weird, it was always different— and she didn't want to be seen in a wheelchair, she'd opted to stay. Really, it was for her pride. It would be frankly embarrassing to be out there, looking weak like that. It was just her body's strange form of recovery, but nobody would know that.
Midnight stated that Iida was also in third place, though he had left for family matters. All Might was the one to give them their medals and place them over their heads. Bakugo, who had previously been wearing a muzzle, was clearly not happy with winning the way he did. He apparently didn't want the medal, fighting All Might trying to put it on his neck and ending with it clenched between his teeth. All Might went ahead and left it there.
(Y/N) laid on the floor in the recovery room. She'd been able to feel her legs, but when she went to stand, they both gave out. Thankfully, after years of falling in this exact way but on purpose, she knew how to land to not die, but it wasn't exactly a nice decent, either.
Recovery Girl had left to get... something. (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention. She'd been thinking over the choreography she'd been doing lately.
(Y/N) zones back in at the sound of the door sliding open.
"(S/N)?" Todoroki's voice calls. He rounds the bed she had expertly fallen out of, startling a bit when he sees her now propped up on the floor.
"Hey." She greets.
"What are you doing down there?" He asks. He crouches down to her level, brows scrunched. (Y/N) chuckles a bit, blushing.
"I, uh... Well, sometimes a part of my body becomes paralyzed when I hit my head and it heals from my quirk. It happens to be my legs today. I felt them a little while ago and tried to get up, but I fell, so I've been chillin' on the floor for a little while." She explains.
"A while? How long?" He asks.
"Um... half an hour maybe? But it's no big deal! It's kind of comfy, so I didn't really mind at all." She says quickly. Todoroki stands up, grabbing her so he could sit her on the bed. She squealed as he did.
"You should've called out for someone. That's not good for your back. Anyway, I just came to visit to make sure you were doing fine. Your headache the last time was painful to even watch." He states.
"Yeah. But don't worry! I'm just fine... for now."
"For now?" He echoes. She nods, but her face glazed over as she turned away. Her eyes fixated on the wall with resentment.
"Yeah. My mom is coming to pick me up." She mumbles.
"You and her don't get along too well, do you?" He asks. He remembered her mentioning something when telling off Endeavor that she would like to say all of that to her own mother as well.
"You could say that." She sighs a bit. All happy and soft emotions were drained from her system. "You should probably go before she shows up. I appreciate you being concerned, I just can't deal with her screeching while I have a migraine and can't walk." He nods a bit.
"Alright. Well, I'll take my leave now. Goodbye."
"Bye, Todoroki."
(Y/N) almost regretted telling Todoroki he should leave. The ten-minute wait was agonizing; truly psychological torture.
The door slaps open with unnecessary aggression. Before she can even open her mouth to say hi, Yuma was yelling.
"I can't believe you! What a disgraceful child you are! You gave up!? Against those weaklings!? You could've killed them if you wanted to! Why don't you!? Arrgh, I might just kill you! Do you think you can waste all of my precious time with this bullshit!? Get up!" (Y/N) yelped when her mother grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of the bed. Even if she could move her legs, she doubted she would've had the reaction time or abdominal strength to straighten herself to a stand. She certainly wouldn't have been able to begin after her mother who was already yanking her away.
But she couldn't move her legs, not enough to walk or even really crawl, so she could only flail as Yuma dragged her.
"Can you stop being a useless child for once in your life, (Y/N)?! Gods, I shouldn't have even given you a name! Do you know who deserves names? Good children! Not you!" Again, (Y/N) could only squeal when a hard slap hit her face. "Shut up! Shut up! Be silent! You're nothing more than a pest, so at least be silent like one!" (Y/N) had to hold in another yelp at the second slap that felt harder than the first, making the still-stinging area sizzle with an unmatched fire.
Yuma yanked up on her wrist. It popped with an ungodly sound and she was trying not to cry out.
"Get up! You have legs!"
"I-I can't-" (Y/N) tries to say. She's cut off by a punch straight to her lips. Immediately, blood rushed her mouth from her busted bottom lip. She certainly couldn't talk now without spitting blood everywhere, which would look bad for the school and be frankly embarrassing.
"What did I say about that stuttering shit?! Cut that out! I told you to stop doing that!" Yuma yanked her sore wrist yet again. "Just be silent! I don't want to hear a sound out of you!" She then began dragging (Y/N) away, not even caring that she still couldn't stand. "If you're going to be difficult, then I'll drag you through the streets and let everyone know how disobedient you are! Is that what you wanted!? You're such a whore for attention! I'm sure you're a slut in every other way, too, never coming home anymore. I give you a good house with good food and good clothes! The least you could do would be to clean up around!"
By the time they got to their house that smelled like musty flesh, the tops of (Y/N)'s bare feet and a decent portion of her ankles were essentially skinned. They were already welting with blisters from what would likely be incredible infections. She'd tried to pull herself to the bathroom, though it had been considerably lengthened because her mother kept stomping on her back. Sometimes, she'd drop all of her weight to sit on her, completely knocking the air out of her and making it hard to catch her breath when she had to breathe against an entire woman.
Yuma had apparently found it funny to begin dropping things on her head, meaning she had to stop to protect it. Eventually, Yuma did surprise her with a solid punt to her skull. (Y/N) blacked out for a few minutes and woke up with another migraine. It wasn't as bad as when she had to be healed by her quirk, but it was a migraine still. She had to clutch her face and not move because she'd cry out in pain. That was an even worse fate.
Finally, after probably 2 and a half hours, she managed to get into the bathroom where she could shut and lock the door. She threw her legs over the bathtub's edge before pushing her torso up into it. From there, she had to wiggle out of her gym uniform because if she dripped water across the house, she'd never hear the end of it.
Then, finally, she could turn the water on and begin tentatively washing her wounds.
"Shoto, where are you going?" Fuyumi asks, panic in her voice as he slipped his shoes on. A small bag was slung over his shoulder.
"The hospital." He answers.
"What? All of a sudden? Why?" She questions. She took a few steps forward as he shifted to open the shoji door. "Wait, Shoto, is it okay to not tell Dad?" She asks hurriedly.
"Yeah."
"Why do you want to see Mom now, after all this time?" Fuyumi inquires. He didn't answer as he slipped through the now open door. He only said he would be back.
As he walked, memories flashed in his head, making him feel like he was getting a headache.
He couldn't help but think of Rei telling her mother that she hated the children. That they reminded her of Enji. He had to wonder why he, who only looked half like him, would be the one to get her there. He had to wonder why he had the scar. Why not Toya? He had the fire and the blue eyes and the red hair.
And he worried that by seeing her, she'd get scared again. He worried that if he visited her, all she would see was his left.
The women at the hospital seemed shocked he was there to visit. Even as he got to the door and reached for the handle, he hesitated.
"Mom..." He breaths softly. She sat on a lonely stool in a lonely room, lonely eyes gazing out the lonely window at a lonely cloud. She turned back, and for a moment, it almost seemed like she didn't recognize the lonely Todoroki Shoto.
Everyone in class was sharing stories about how people talked to them on the way to school. Todoroki sat in his seat, not engaging. He seemed to have been the only person curious about why (Y/N) wasn't there yet. She was normally one of the first people to arrive.
They were going to pick hero names. Aizawa showed them their offers from hero agencies they could intern with. Todoroki had 4,123 offers, many likely stemming from his family lineage. Second was Bakugo with 3,556. Strangely enough, third was (Y/N) with 1,194. Then it dropped to 360, 301, and 272 for Tokoyami, Iida, and Kaminari, respectively.
"In other years, it's been more spread out, but all eyes were on the first and second place. To be honest, I don't know how (S/N) got so many." Aizawa states.
They spent all day developing hero names. Most of them were pretty good. Todoroki only used his first name, he didn't care to have something fancy, and his mind was too cluttered with thoughts to be worried about something like that at the moment.
He didn't know why, but (Y/N)'s face was stuck in the forefront of his mind; her expression at the mention of her mother. She'd looked a bit irritated with the way her brow scrunched and lips sneered, but... her eyes were screaming with fear. The more he thought about it, the more it made his stomach twist. In a way, it seemed like she was trying to hide it, which meant that what he saw was only a sliver of the terror she felt.
He remembered that fear. He still held it, albeit minimally. He was scared of Endeavor, but after his mother was put in the hospital, he held a burning hatred that could not be doused by some simple despair. Yet, he knew that if his mother had stayed with them, he'd likely still be stuck under his father.
Todoroki wondered if that was how it was for (Y/N). He wondered how bad it was. She didn't really give off the vibe that she genuinely feared many things, and she especially didn't fear them that much. Seeing that level of terror in somebody like Mineta would be much more understandable, but... not (Y/N).
Fuyumi mentioned him looking lost in thought that night. He didn't mind her and excused himself to his room. He laid in bed, attempting to forget it. It wasn't his place to meddle with things. Then again, she'd gotten involved in his life when she saw his pain, shouldn't he do the same? She'd seen that look of disgust and sadness using his quirk and immediately understood it. Wouldn't it be simple courtesy to grant her the same respect?
The next day when he got to class, (Y/N) was sitting at her desk.
"I can't as of right now." She tells Aizawa. "I can't walk without a cane. I don't know how much longer it's going to last. I'll have to see if they develop any infections." She explains. He racks his brain as he sets his stuff down. He'd wondered if her legs were still paralyzed, but the 'infections' comment was strange.
"Remind me how you got your injuries again?" Aizawa starts. Injuries? He thinks.
"A-As I said, I slid down some stairs. It's just a kind of serious rug-burn." He nods his head, completely unconvinced.
"I'll tell them you can't do an internship this week. They'll still want you to shadow someone to at least watch, so still make a pick. You might have to make it up later, I'm not sure."
Frankly, her story made no sense. Two-story houses didn't exist in many parts of Japan, and apartments were extremely busy, so it wasn't likely that she managed to slide down more than a couple of steps before somebody grabbed her. Not to mention, neither parent of hers was particularly wealthy at all, so they definitely didn't have some sort of private house with stairs. And for rug-burns, there had to be rugs or carpet, which most staircases didn't have.
Not to even get into how this could even be a 'serious rug-burn.' Not being able to walk properly was pretty extreme for something used to describe some simple stinging because of friction. It was more like she had been dragged down a concrete sidewalk than slide down some carpeted stairs.