Chapter Text
Nobody enjoys being stuck in hospitals.
The environment, eternally suffocating. People can't stand the incessant beeping of heart monitors far off in the distance. Nor can they stand the crying of children in the waiting room, one child with a toy stuck up their nose, alongside another child whose leg seems to be snapped haggardly, the wound openly oozing in a way that can be described as nothing short than nauseating.
Regardless, they both sit in the same row of seats, waiting to be seen by overworked doctors on an unassuming Saturday afternoon.
A prepubescent girl will sit and twiddle her thumbs, sat next to a mother with an irate expression. Headed (one might presume) towards the radiographer's territory.
An announcement over the broadcasters, hurriedly yelling codes of Blue, Grey, White. A parent will chuckle, off-handed -- are they trying to call out the whole rainbow? -- to a pointedly quiet spouse.
These people always come back again and again. They come in different types and personalities. Perhaps, one weekend there would be an extra fussy baby than usual. Maybe an additional three being rushed into emergency rooms.
It could be mentioned that the reason why people hate to go to the hospital, is the overtly sterile environment. Not many hospitals prioritize beauty over efficiency and the ability to navigate freely, so like most, Musutafu Central Hospital has spacious hallways, with white lining the walls, the ceiling, the flecked tiles. Stretchers line the hallways, and people walk in and out, all different expressions on their faces.
Today, an elderly woman walks out with a morose expression on her face, while a young couple walk in, with the most estranged laughs ever. Same people, different forms. Last week, there it was switched - a younger couple walked out, eyes drooped with wobbly lips whereas an elder man walked in with a hot-pink gift bag, helium balloons tied to the handles that each spelled out a different word, an elated expression blessing his aged features.
It eventually becomes obvious who goes to where. It works in Touya's head like a matching puzzle - who goes to which ward? It seems rather insensitive to be treating people as mindless amusement for the boy, but he can't help but feel a surge of confidence when he ends up being right. Clearly, he doesn't follow them, but he slows in his gait to watch, knowing his body could fare much better without the fast-walking that usually comes as near instinctual to him.
The environment becomes familiar. An antiseptic smell hits his nostrils, but he no longer feels the mild burn from inhaling something so strong. Instead, he welcomes the smell more. The air smells much better than the fumes outside, and he has actually become less accustomed to the outdoors.
Touya has walked these halls countless times. Although, not the very same ward.
Quite recently, his regular path has deviated to the paediatric ward rather than his mother's own.
The walls are decorated childishly: too-bright flowers with smileys drawn on them. Bees and butterflies cover the walls in myriads of different colors; a shade of orange brown that could only be labelled as the color that people see on leaves in the late stages of autumn. Hints of green absent, the crude paintings of monarch butterflies plaster the walls. Bursts of controlled green, and dulled yellow, against the harsh off-white of the aged hospital walls.
He stops over a particular painting of a rindou flower on the wall. He traces it, only with the fingertip of his pointer finger - his mind drawing back to the time where there was a too-thin paintbrush in his hands, and he had a photo of reference directly next to him. Insisting to a nurse only on her first year of residency, it has to be perfect; it's mama's favourite!
Time doesn't wait for anybody. That was a time that was eons ago. He hardly remembers the feeling of the brush in his hands; can't remember if his hair was red or white at the time; can't remember exactly whether it was Yumi or Natsu with him.
His most fond memories begin to dull around the corners (he refuses to acknowledge what that might mean).
He meanders aimlessly onward, where an unruly son and a father with far too much humility for a singular person, begin to zip past him.
He walks and walks, until he reaches the hospital room at the end of the hallway. The clock reading 12:14, he's a whole fourteen minutes late from all the people watching he's been doing.
It's not exactly like the doctors mind - Touya is one of the only patients he has nowadays.
He opens the door handle, leaving rindou flowers and the memory of youth outside the door.
He walks inside, and forgets, forgets, forgets..
.. it all.
Shiketsu Private Academy has always felt much too fanciful for Touya.
The building itself, only reasonable to be the byproduct of architects that were essentially told to go wild with the ideas, given an unsurmountable budget that any ordinary person would be stricken by. People with too much money and too little sensibility.
The actual school is surrounded by a pale white brick wall that stands about five feet tall, meeting at a point where brick meets an ornamental black fence. Two bodyguards stand either side of the gate, but all the students know full well that they act more to intimidate, rather than actually body guard. It would be relatively easy if someone had wanted to slip through the gates, as long as they had the right uniform and stature of a teenager. Students flitter in groups around Touya, but never near him, like cloying snowflakes.
Perhaps, the intention of the designers was purely to shield the beauty of the school's infrastructure from the rest of the world, because beyond the gate, a perfectly tiled brick floor is laid out for them. Trees of multiple breeds decorate the paths borders. A range of colors from vivacious red hydrangea trees, that never fade in their boastful color. Never faded, not once for the entirety of the time Touya has been at the school. The wheel of color ends up with much smaller, paler flowers. Shrubs and bushes of pale white roses begin to appear less infrequently as the actual building comes much more into focus.
In Touya's humble opinion, he believes it'd be fair to say that the building is rather boring.
While it does have it's qualities, the modernistic architecture and style sticks out like a sore thumb against such an old-fashioned fence, and traditional flowers. Painfully so.
It's quite literally four large towers. It towers over all the trees in it's vicinity, an obsidian black that tints all the windows which cover the school to prevent any paparazzi's skeevy eyes.
On the exterior, there's a garden in each corner of the school. All well maintained, a rather silly attempt at keeping the whole 'Zen Garden' design to make the school seem more traditional: all it does is create a dichotomy between modern and old-world, clashing horribly.
The gardening club can try their hardest to tend to the plants and all, but in the early spring months it seems to be a near Sisyphean feat to be able to make the school's vegetation look pretty.
Flowers of baby pink spring blossom trees, bushes of Azalea, leaves of the occasional fruit tree decorate the path on Touya's first day back after spring break.
Walking into the building feels no different than it usually should -- he always walks alone, always walks in with his book bag on his left shoulder, the straps frayed and worn from age because he hasn't had the time to buy a new one.
He walks through the building, wandering a bit tiredly. He slows in his pace towards his locker, shoes slapping against tile slabs, until he reaches his locker.
It frustrates him, only briefly, when his mind stumbles into the gaps trying to remember what his passcode has always been. It anguished his heart to think he's forgetting something so routine, and his psyche feels much better when he chalks it up to being unused to it from the holiday (even if it was only one week), swaps his shoes for uwabaki with much softer, familiar soles, and moves on with his day.
In the hallways, people either tend to shy away from him, or embrace him with open arms like they're his old friends. Both types of people make his skin crawl.
He has been forced to learn from a very young age that most people who want to talk to him, do not see nor bother to meet Touya as a person, rather about the opportunity he offers. The Todoroki surname follows him like a grievous shadow. Attending a private school doesn't make it much better either.
Where people couldn't care less about your looks, your charming personality. All that matters to them is making connections, branching out and meeting the other people who are going to be sat in the next ten years without having worked a day in their life. The ones who will sit around too-fancy tables, sat drinking too-extravagant champagne, at events funded by the common taxpayer's last savings.
It makes him feel disgusted by it all. Talking to the sleazy boys in his year who basically lick at his boots for the chance to be associated with a Todoroki.
But what does Enji care? After all, Touya isn't the one paying for his education, so he could stand to appreciate it a little more. As if he owes him any gratitude. Even if he were to thank his father, what'd it be for? For his body? For his riches? He wishes everyday, prays to a deity that he knows isn't there that Enji can finally leave Touya's life. The day he can finally breathe for once will be the most treasured day of his life. He just doesn't know which it'd be.
Would he feel free had Rei signed the divorce papers? Or perhaps, had they moved farther away, would he feel like he escaped the web of his influence? Maybe it'll come to him when he graduates high school, no longer under the pressure of keeping Enji satisfied so his education isn't revoked.
Either way, he knows the day will come eventually. He just has to keep hoping it comes sooner.
His door to homeroom comes into a much clearer focus, and checking the clock across the room, it only reads 8:17. Mentally, he crosses his fingers that Tenko is inside. Unfortunately for the pair of them, they are the only people they find tolerable in their classes.
Greatly to his misfortune, he opens the door to spot Usagiyama and Nishiya stood infront of the whiteboard, which is right in front of the door (Oh, he was so close.) in a deep conversation about something he fears is nigh impossible for him to give less of a care about.
Nishiya's facing the door, so he's the first to give Touya a meek smile, and at Usagiyama's insatiate curiosity, she whips her head around, platinum white long hair almost whipping Touya like a crop. He snarls at her, and if she's apologetic, even in the slightest, she doesn't show it. Instead, she waves with far more enthusiasm that any teenager should be having this early in the morning.
The sinking gut feeling that he's going to get dragged into this conversation only confirms itself when Nishiya scolds her quietly before facing up to Touya to ask, "May I ask you something?"
"Do you need to?" He complains, drawing out the words a little tiredly.
Usagiyama starts to contest, "It takes like two seconds to ask a question, don't be like that man."
She doesn't move out of the way, rather opts for fully turning around to Touya so he can't exactly leave the conversation without barging past her or walking out the room again, both which would be equally rude, and as much as Touya hates socialization, he most certainly isn't here to make enemies either. So, he indulges them with a simple hum, before saying, "Well what is it then?"
Nishiya purses his lips briefly, then asks (shyly? Is that what's making him run his thumb over his fingers every two seconds. Oh boy.) "Do you know if it could be true that Takeyama harbours more. . .well, feelings for me?"
"Is that what's makin' it look like you've got a fat stick up your arse?" He cuts in, slightly irritated but also amused. It's quite rare he gets to see the Class President like this. "Why'd you ask me anyway?" He follows up because what? He's feeling a bit lost here.
"Well. . .seeing as you--"
"Seeing as you're, oh I don't know, her ex, we were hoping you'd know something about it." She composes herself. A look of odious joy settles across her features, which Touya most certainly doesn't like, the former asks with a grin, "You guys are still friends, right?"
Bastard. Never mind, he loathes Usagiyama.
"I know what you're implying so knock it off. Yes, we are. . . friends. Putting it in the loosest term of the word. No, I don't like her, and if I get back together with her you can know to shoot me because that is not me." He turns to face Nishiya, "I say go for it. What's the worst Takeyama's gonna do to you? She might act like an asshole, but it won't hurt to try."
Usagiyama thankfully seems to like the response. She steps back a little, before turning back to Nishiya once again. She starts muttering, "See, I told you! Honestly, I don't get..." And that's when Touya starts to tune them out.
He walks to his seat, wincing a little when his leg bangs the table leg, unsurprised at the fact that Tenko wasn't there, and more than ready to strangle him as soon as they're let out for break.
The bell rings harshly, signifying the warning bell that means it's 8:25. Tenko still isn't here but he's not surprised.
Shirakumo-sensei walks in the classroom, clapping his hands and shushing the class. 8:27.
He begins to outline the schedule for today, springing up a surprise quiz on them. 8:29
It's 8:30 when Tenko decides to grace the masses with his ugly fucking mug. Looking somehow, more dishevelled than usual? Touya is shook. Although he does cease the rude banter he's playing in his head that he's going to lay into him when he stops to see that his eyebags actually slightly baggier than usual. They seem to sink deeper into his skin, and now that Touya's actually looking for it, he sees the tip of his nose tinged pink, and his hair is even more matted then it tends to be.
The other, clearly feeling ashamed at being late (now isn't that unusual?) bows his head deeply, and apologises to Shirakumo-sensei. Either he actually notices how pitiful Shimura looks, or he's simply in a positive mood because he brushes it off quickly and instructs him to take a seat. He re-reminds the class about the test, and while he begins to start up for the day, Touya can't help but check up on him.
He sits directly to the left of Touya, but unfortunately due to them not being on the back row, he can't get all the privacy he needs at the moment. Tapping the other's shoulder, he asks in gentle voice, "Tenko, you alright?" Not without wincing a little, because he already knows of the grumble he's going to get in response.
He anticipates the "I'm fine," in a shaky voice that screams anything but, and Touya can only give him a meaningful look that shows he'd be stupid for even believing that for a second. Shimura slumps even deeper into his sat when he doesn't feel the other's gaze leave him.
Well, if Touya himself was Shimura's boots right now, he would not want the peanut gallery that is their class staring at him either, so he turns to face forward, refocusing on the board.
Shimura doesn't even have his textbook out. Just buries himself deeper into his arms folded over his desk, trying to breathe normally.
They stay like that until break is signposted by the bell.
After class, all the students tend to disperse quickly, trying to be the first into the queue to get whatever the canteen decides to serve at break.
Touya waits, and waits. His heart skips a beat a little when he sees Usagiyama stood outside the hallway across from him.
"And what're you doing here?" He snorts at the thought, "Don't tell me you're waiting for Shimura?"
Her face remains steely, unflinching in the slightest when she asks, "And if I am?"
They both pause momentarily. Touya is confused. Have the two even interacted before? The only thing he's heard from Shimura's end is him nastily droning over how toned the girl is. He doesn't see the appeal, but what's it to him?
Objectively speaking, she is extremely gorgeous. Never skipped a day at the gym, he can see her biceps that barely fit into her dark blazer. The tan skin and white hair contrast is something that is equal parts ethereal and uncanny. A confident personality too. Extremely admirable, and has absolutely no enemies in their entire school, which is actually a huge surprise.
For someone with such a small stature, she contains so much rage in her being, abrasive enough to teeter between the point of straight unfriendliness and an eternally playful person.
She then realises she isn't going to get a reply out of the other, so she continues, "Dude, you saw how he looked this morning. Any decent human being would want to check up on him. Guess there's not that many in our class. We do go to a private school, after all."
"Yeah, yeah. But he doesn't know you." He presses, "Nishiya is a decent human being and he didn't wait."
"That's 'cuz he's planning on confessin' to Takeyama today. Doesn't make him any less decent."
"Well, I'm curious. Do you harbour any feelings for Shimura."
"He's. . a prospective friend." says she.
"A prospective friend." Touya deadpans.
Usagiyama hums in agreement, using both hands to redouble her hold onto her bag. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, before leaning back on the wall again.
They wait. One minute, three minutes, ten go by, until breaktime finishes, and its time to return to class. Tenko hasn't even left, and he looks worse. Fucking unconsolable.
His head doesn't move from his desk this time, and Touya takes advantage of the first couple of minutes after the warning bell to try and talk to Tenko. With minimal luck, he feels a bit plussed when the other doesn't react to anything he says.
Touya sighs, loud enough so Tenko knows that he's annoyed but concerned but he still doesn't acquiesce.
He can feel ruby eyes settling on the pair of them, tempted to speak but opting for silence.
Touya ends up not seeing him at lunchtime either (Usagiyama doesn't bother waiting this time), and waits ten minutes afterschool, just to get the chance to talk to Tenko, getting irritated before he skulks off into his car.
His brain works on autopilot, trying to exhaust all the possibilites of what could've happened to him on the way home, but he ends up thinking about how to cheer him up the next day in a roundabout way.
When he open the door home, the first thing he spots is his mother reading over what seems to be a stack of files on the desk.
Their house is a cosy little thing, a detached house. It has two bedrooms, so unfortunately when his siblings want to sleep over, he has to share his room with Natsuo while Fuyumi shares a room with their mother. His mother has been pushing recently for Shouto to share Touya's room next, but the kid is at that age where they feel they have to snitch for every little thing. Maybe one day though. They have two bathrooms also, and the kitchen is actually a bit large. It doesn't have a door though, so its possible to peer into the kitchen from the living room.
She has her reading glasses sat low on her bridge - the same rectangular, sleek style of Fuyumi's, because why not? - and seems to be deep in thought about something. Rei perks up at the sound of the closing door and beams at her son, waving him over.
He takes off his shoes, rubbing at his heels rapidly. The pathetic excuse for a bookbag gets thrown into the hallway and makes his way toward her.
"How was it today?" She begins, same as usual.
"It was alright. . .I guess. Do you know what could be up with Shimura--"
His voice stops when he catches sight of what exactly she's reading.
Nausea comes back to him in uncontrollable waves. Written in bold fucking letters, and a great amount of detail, is his doctor's advice.
The message strikes his heart, but it hurts in every part of his body. His lungs constrict, fingers shake and he bites his bottom lip, chewing on the dead skin there quietly.
He's not entirely surprised, because when he had gone to the bathroom earlier today, he had saw the leg that he hit on the table leg was already purpling into a garish bruise.
The words from Araya-sensei, a steely old man, but firm and austere in his temperament. The man who has been in charge of Touya's case for a while. They had been trying to find any other option than this.
I am deeply sorry to be the harbinger of bad news, Mrs. Himura, although I am afraid of the possibility of Touya's ailment worsening over the next few years. We have tried to be preventative of further development, instead of attempting to directly remove the cancer, but you must understand with a type like this, its extremely difficult to be able to just 'rid' of the bad cells. Considering that Touya has had this condition for a while, I feel as though the sensible course of action would be to begin chemotherapy as soon as possible. We must remember that such a treatment is not a death sentence in the slightest, and there have been countless cases where the cancer stays in remission, and others where the patient has been able to go cancer-free with our help.
This is not us giving up on your son, but more a recognition of our shortcomings due to a lack of technological advancements. We apologize deeply for falsifying any hopes you may have had on avoiding chemo, but the whole team wishes good health for Touya as we have to hand him over to the radiology team.
We still do offer mental support, and I know this will be tough on Touya. He's been quite the persistent fighter. My office doors will always be open to the two of you.
We thank you, Ms. Himura and Touya Todoroki,
Araya-sensei and his Team.
He feels foolish for hoping any less. Even with how far technology has advanced, it hadn't been able to stop his leukaemia. So foolish. So terribly gullible.
He struggles to find his voice once more, "But-- He had. . . He told me it was going into remission?"
Rei slips her hand over his own, her frown etching even deeper. "Oh Touya, I know. But this hasn't been the first case when it comes back." She looks at a loss for words, thumbing her much smaller, bony fingers over Touya's own, bringing dried tear tracks on her face into focus.
He can't do this. He can't.
"I. . . I'm gonna- I'm going to my room." He swallows, rushing to leave the tense atmosphere.
Rei doesn't argue. Instead, she just bows her head and somehow that's even worse. It feels like the situation is already hopeless.
Everything leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and his thoughts start wandering again. He recounts his earliest memory once again, of his father smiling at him for the first time and not beyond him. Treasures it close even though he'd be more than happy to tear the man to shreds if it comes down to it.
He locks the room (not even turning on the light because he's lazy like that), and there's three new messages from Toga and a missed call from Twice. He ignores them all in favour of sending Tenko a message.
hey man do you good? you were hiding in sensei's room all day today.
Turning off his phone, he flops backwards into his bed. It isn't rare that Tenko will instantly answer his messages, so he waits for a while.
Scruffled paper clutters his bedroom; sheets of undone homework and pens that have dried up. The wardrobe has clothes spilling out of it, some of it his school uniform. Rei tries to respect his privacy as much as she can, so she avoids directly telling off Touya about her room.
At times, when she does walk in, her fingers twitch a bit in irritation that he's being exceedingly lazy to a situation that is very easily fixable. It drives her up the walls, but she's yet to say anything about it. Maybe it's the pity. Maybe it's a silent apology that she wasn't able to give him a loving father. Regardless, Touya isn't reprimanded and Rei stays unamused.
His phone vibrates with short messages, rapid fire, one after the other:
yeah man
its just
something really shitty happened
Annoyed as he is, Touya isn't that big of an asshole. If Tenko comes into school looking like someone died, then someone probably has died because it takes a lot out of that fucker to make him cry.
well you cant just say that and not tell me what happened
Tenko's still online, so he replies quickly:
its my grandma
the doctors said she's not well enough to be taking care of me anymore
theyre sending her to a hospice and i have to stay with my uncle and everythings happening too fucking fast
i barely even know him
Touya pauses, because he doesn't really know what to say. Sure, he was the one who asked how he was doing, but he doesn't really know how to comfort people, and he has the feeling that isn't what Tenko would want right now.
Instead, he opts for something slightly more harsh, but not at all rude:
shit man
your life is fucked up
and yours isnt?
greasy asswipe
ur so lucky im feeling nice rn
but your uncle? cant be that bad, right.
i wish man,
he's already got a whole bunch of books, and theyre all labelled shit like 'how to deal with grief' and stuff like that.
could be old books?
touya im not stupid. some have still got plastic wrap on them
whatever
i dont think ill come to school tommorow.
today was already bad enough
sensei had heard about it through his friends and he was trying to comfort me too
yeah take a day off school leave me with the resident crazies
you hate me that much?
but anyways take off as much time as you need. sounds rough
Tenko leaves him on read because of course he does. Suddenly, all his problems feel inconsequential.
Touya knows it's kind of wrong to compare who's going through more, but his brain does it subconsciously anyway. He can't help but to feel selfish at the prospect of telling Tenko he has cancer on the same day he's essentially loosing his grandmother. Touya doesn't have to worry about his living situations. He isn't really losing someone close to him, because the person affected is himself. He's mostly impartial to when he dies, but he'd hate for his death to be something that uplifts his father's popularity.
He can almost imagine the headlines: ENJI TODOROKI STAYS STRONG IN THE FACE OF HIS ELDEST CHILD'S DEATH. Yes, he is petty to a fault, but imagining shit like that almost breaks him. He doesn't want his life to be used as a publicity stunt.
So he keeps his mouth, but not without sending a message the other couldn't ignore no matter what was going on in the world.
usagiyama has a crush on you btw
His phone starts blowing up as soon as he closes the app, because he's petty and the guy knows he hates being left on read. He begins to change out of his uniform, opting for clothes with longer sleeves and baggier pants because he hates the longing look that Rei gives him whenever she sees how stick thin he is. Hates how she's started putting larger portions of food on his own plate, even though he doesn't have much of an appetite anyway. The bruise on his leg is still there, harsh lavender with spots of yellow, and of pale green. There's a dull ache that reminds him it's there, but only actually hurts if he touches it.
Toga's icon appears bright and blaring once again; the light harsh against the dim room, his eyes wince a little, before he picks up the call.
He reminds himself that this is some trigger-happy teenager who's just barely older than Shouto, so he can't get mad at her.
"Hey, Touya! I didn't see you like, at all today. I thought you were coming home afterschool with Jin?" She asks.
"That was the plan. ." He huffs, "Something came up, which most certainly is no business of deranged at-most, thirteen year-olds."
Toga has always been like this faint buzzing you'd hear in the back of your peripheral. She worms her way into your life, and refuses to leave even if kicked dragged or screaming.
Touya wishes he could rid of the little wench, but her and Jin come as a package deal. Can't get rid of one and keep the other, unfortunately. Initally, it used to grind at his nerves but now he doesn't feel irritation towards her anymore.
Instead, she is more a reminder. That if Touya wants to mouth off too much to his dad, there are a handful of people he cares about, who would suffer as a direct consequence.
Endure it all he tells himself, endure, and they'll be okay.
She sighs, long and deep in a way that could only be exaggerated. "Jin is kinda worried about you. He won't say anything but you've been ditching him a lot more recently. You hardly buy or sell his stuff anymore either. Maybe you're not cut out for the job after all. . " She sings, trying to egg him on.
"If you think that at my grown age I'm going to be lectured by some uncultured swine on dealership--"
"I'll show you who's uncultured--"
"Then you must have me sordidly mistaken. Isn't it past your bedtime, anyway?"
"That doesn't even work, because it's 6PM!" She exasperates, "Geez, this is kinda creepy, huh? Usually by now you would've told me to fuck off or hung up on me. . .What's got you feeling so benevolent today?"
"Do you want me to hang up?" He threatens because he knows Toga is surprisingly lonely for a girl her age. Which, he still finds surprising.
She's overly extroverted, not afraid to talk to anyone. She tells people straight how it is, and she's got a bit of a bleeding heart too. Maybe that's why. She gets attached far too quickly, when by that time in middle school, everyone's desperate to start drama and everyone's got their own best friends, and the people who you thought you were cool with don't want to hang out anymore. School's always going to be tough on the little tyke. Even if she could stand to be appreciated much more. She is eccentric, yes, but she's also the best listener he knows, and. . .reminds him of Usagiyama a little. He doesn't know whether that's a good thing or bad thing. He'd hate to see them in the same room together.
"No . . .but I don't know what else to talk about. I'm bored, and it's too early for bed."
"Tell Jin I'll see him next Tuesday. I can't risk meeting up so frequently."
"Okay! Talk to you soon then. Bye!"
She hangs up before he can respond, which makes him put his phone on charger. He hasn't had the time to digest the information yet.
". . .the sensible course of action would be to begin chemotherapy as soon as possible. . "
If he does go through it, there's no doubt he'd change. He's heard so much about all the treatments - about hair loss, about constant fatigue. He thinks of himself in a hospital bed, barely recognisable. He thinks of too thin hair, being constantly sick and helpless. His mother, by his bedside, sobbing her eyes out (because that seems to be one of the only things she does recently), while Fuyumi stares with glossy eyes, Natsuo, unable to even look at him. Shouto's stood next to their mother, but he doesn't say anything. It's silent, and the silence would be even worse than had they all been sobbing out loud. The silence sounds like surrender. Like he's already gone.
He can't even imagine what his father's face would look like.
Would he be relieved to be rid of the burden that is Touya? Would he be remorseful? Could he even possibly understand in the slightest what Touya will go through?
Touya hopes not. Had his father been sad about the whole thing, he would've felt ill, because goddamn that makes it so much harder to hate his old man. He can respect him objectively for what he's done. He's a successful man and his mind justifies anything that he does because he believes that its 'the best' for his children. But, he can't just forgive him.
To forgive Enji Todoroki would be the final nail in the coffin for Touya. It would show that all the suffering he's braved under his father was inconsequential, that he doesn't care. That it's not as though he suffers everyday because of that man.
He can't live a normal life - his family is destroyed, falling apart at the seams and the perpetrator for the wreckage gets to sleep easy at night? What gives him the right to even try and pretend as if nothing's happened?
Does that make him anymore of a selfish person, that he doesn't want his father's pity? After everything, he had been vying for even the slightest sliver of attention from his father since early childhood, but it seems that as soon as he gets it, he feels revulsed. Perhaps it's because of everything he's done to get this far.
He moved away from his childhood home, alongside his mother who was deemed 'unstable' by the court, so Enji was able to keep the youngest of their three siblings. They aren't divorced, but their relationship is irreparable, so they both don't attempt to salvage it. He pays his child support, and has bought out the house they stay in, so they don't run into him very often. Rei is traumatised by the man. There is no light way of putting it. She takes medication for her disorders, but they aren't funded by Enji, so instead she has a job that requires her to work from home, so they aren't living in poverty, but they don't live lavishly either.
Both Touya and his mother are fully aware that Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shouto wouldn't be able to live with them, and it's better that way. His mother can only afford enough to sustain the both of them, and had any of the others came into the picture, it would've been much more difficult to organise new train or bus routes to school, more difficult to convince the court, and since they're all quite young, it's fair that they should get to enjoy a life where they're spoiled by their father.
Rei comes knocking on his door after a couple more minutes, to tell him that dinner's ready. She's made cold soba. Neither of them comment on it. They eat in relative silence.
Touya goes to bed that night, dreaming of lonely hospital beds and the sterile smell of antiseptic.
"Shit man, did you buy this off Twice?"
Both of them are sat in Iguchi's room, with the actual owner notably present.
It's the next day of school, though Touya knows it would be cruel if his mom forced him to go today.
She's decided not to bring it up with him - is she afraid of him? - and gently encouraged him to wake up this morning. She lightly tapped on his shoulder even when he started to groan in displeasure. She had drawn the blinds, woke him up slightly earlier than his alarms, and said, "It would be nice if you went to school today."
Touya mustered up the most disapproving look he could conjure, before replying, "School? Really. "
She huffed a little, feeling mild embarrassment creep it's way into her voice, "Well. . I wouldn't force you too. This is your life after all." She pauses, mustering up a threat, "Don't complain to me when your father boots you out of school."
"If the deadbeat could do that sooner that would be awesome." Because really, they both know fully well that Enji likes to bark much more than actually putting the effort into biting.
Still, Rei stays unrepentant, "You don't want a tarnished school record when you get better. At least finish high school first."
When you get better.
She's trying to instill some false hope in Touya, which is sweet, except the only person that the faux positivity wouldn't work on is Touya himself. He humours her though, refusing to be far too realistic about it.
Rei is probably struggling enough as is.
Thing is, she has this huge stigma about going to get her medication. She feels ashamed about it, like she shouldn't be getting help for her actions - like it's her fault they suffered under Enji. As a result, often she acts like she 'forgets' to buy them which ends up in her becoming more tense over the month. Touya sucks it up, sneaks her card and gets her the prescriptions every month so when it's mysteriously replenished, she can't exactly dispute it. They've already been bought, ergo much to Touya's thankfulness, she ends up taking them.
But when it's Touya's necessities come into question, she grows self-sacrificial to a fault. There's even a cute little calendar on the fridge, and every two months she has highlighted in bold letters to get him what he needs. Of course, her own needs are not important enough to be on the calendar to her. He knows she isn't looking for appreciation, but it still makes him feel helpless - like he can't exactly do much about it. That his mother has always been, and will always inevitably value her children's lives over her own.
She gets antsy, nails chewed down to the quick. Forgoing basic routines for her like brushing her hair or reading a book for one hour in the morning. Lethargy haunts the house like never before, and Touya swears that whenever his mom feels tired, it makes him tired by proxy.
She's gotten better at hiding it recently, but she refuses to let herself be helped by her own son. Is it him being 'more sick' than her? Does she feel like a failure for wanting Touya to help her?
He wants nothing more than to reassure her, to tell her that he knows he's going to recover. He'll hit her with that boyish smile he usually wears and will pretend it's all okay.
But he can't. Not after that letter yesterday.
Failing to find a reasonable response, he blunders about with potential phrases bumbling in his head, "I. . I'll try to get it together. Only because you'd miss nagging me in the mornings too much."
Rei pinches the bridge of his nose, "I know you will. You're too strong to succumb to this. " She smiles fondly while he flaps his hands at her own, grunting in complaint, "Still my baby in the hospital who was barely the size of my forearm. Such a colicky baby, but I didn't love you any less. I shouldn't be going all sleepless nights with a fussy baby that didn't know what he wanted, just for me to attend his funeral. " Her gaze shifts from playful to stern, "You aren't allowed to die before me. You can't because it would break my heart so much I think I would die."
She doesn't sound like she's lying either. Her voice cracks on the last word.
Touya is the only other person she really talks to these days.
She pauses for a moment to swallow, moving dainty fingers from his face to intertwine her hands in his own. She pleads with heavy, imposing grey eyes, "Promise me you won't leave me over this."
"I. . . promise?" He says, unsure. He feels a bit awkward, because he's getting sprung with this on a Tuesday morning. She seems be be pleased with his response as she eases up on him.
"I know that treatment can be rough but--"
Touya twists over, covering his head with a blanket, "Can we talk about this another time?"
She worries at her lip, before affirming: "No. I'm worried about you, and I don't want to put this off any longer. Sorry Touya, but I've got you an appointment booked for this Friday."
"So soon?" He asks, a little miffed because usually the wait lists for these types of things are extremely long. Must be the perks of their surname.
Rei makes a noise of approval, running her thumbs over their still interloped fingers.
"At least try to go to school today, alright? No skipping to hang out with Shimura's boy, I know you two are bad influences on each other."
She had left the room, resuming back to sitting by the kotatsu in the living room. Cracking open a copy of The Haunting of Hill House.
In the past, she has mused about how horror isn't really a much of an interest to her, but the book club she has online practically sings praises about it, and reviews aren't too bad. She's halfway through by the looks of it, and no complaints yet.
Touya throws on his (not ironed, that's for the pretentious weaklings at his school) uniform, consisting of a black blazer, with equally dark trousers. He flanders for a bit trying to find his hat, but eventually he discovers that it had been kicked to the other side of the room by his mom walking in.
He reaches the doorway, throwing on his school bag too, tapping pockets to ensure his wallet and phone are inside.
It doesn't even take a split second out the door, before he grasps his phone, instantly calling Shimura.
He picks up after the third ring (probably because he's a little bitch and wants to piss off Touya like he got ghosted yesterday) and by that point Touya's already halfway down the street to his bus stop.
He sighs deeply before Touya can even open his mouth, which, rude, but whatever, "Planning on telling me what that shit from yesterday was? Because I have more than enough authority to kick you out of the school now. All Might trumps Endeavour, doesn't he?"
"Your uncle is fucking All Might? Actually, don't wanna hear it." He can smell the assholery emanating from Tenko over the phone.
"I'll get you relocated to an abysmal school.. like that one in Danganronpa."
"Eat shit, rabies. I'll tell you today if you can find somewhere we can skip school at for a good couple of hours. Oh yeah, with good ventilation too."
Tenko delivers in the driest voice ever, "I'm not doing drugs with you just so I can find out whether Rumi actually likes me." He drawls out the last words, not sardonically but more pensive. As if he hasn't quite exhausted the pros and cons of doing so.
"C'mon, c'mon," He pleads, "It's weak shit. Usagiyama isn't going to flip her shit if she finds out."
Tenko doesn't humour his plight with a reply. Instead when Touya listens closely he can hear the faint sound of typing in the background.
"They haven't moved my computer away yet, because the movers are probably scared I'm gonna hiss at them or something for trying. Works out for me though." He's talking out loud, which is something the other can appreciate, just listening to idle chatter. "Iguchi says his house is free, but says keep the windows open."
"Heartless bastard. Is he joining you?"
"No. This is between whatever revelation you seemed to have yesterday that could have possibly made you think that Usagiyama is into me." He sounds hopeful.
"I'm not so cruel to do that to you. You really have no faith in me." He drawls, "But the worst part is you don't appreciate me in the slightest."
Shimura hangs up without indulging him, because of course he does.
And that's how he finds himself in Iguchi's room, with enough second-hand smoke to kill a new born baby.
His room is much more appealing than Touya's. Yes, he has posters but they're all kept in pristine condition, save for the occasional fraying at the edges. The walls are painted in a dark sage green, which Touya would call boring if his room wasn't painted off-white. Seems Iguchi can actually clean up after himself too. Color Touya impressed. For a gamer, his room doesn't reek like rotting fast food, nor does it take days off his life the longer he breathes inside.
There are bookcases lining the walls, and he isn't surprised to find that they're filled to the shelves with videogames.
A mini-set up is directly to the right of the bed, where there's a TV and a little desk that is long overdue a cleaning on it. A PS4 sits on the table and Touya can hear it's pitiful stuttering all the way from where he's stood.
Although, it isn't entirely clean. Multiple boxes of fast food lay in every corner of the room, and the wallpaper is.. well, aged. Touya certainly isn't one to judge.
It's a fairly neat place for a teenager. Not overly grungy - it just barely screams teenage angst. More like whispers or echoes of it. Just seems a bit overly average. It doesn't exactly feel like the other, so Touya is guessing he probably cleaned up all prim and proper the instant Shimura sent his message.
Why he needs to present as a normal guy is beyond Touya, but he doesn't want to be held guessing.
The boy has always been like that. Reserved. Insignificant. Never really one to speak out from the crowd. He stutters when the teacher calls on him, and he doesn't really have so many friends outside of him and Touya. He interacts with others enough so they know he exists, but he's never really one to look out for in the crowd.
There was a night once, where they all slept over at Shimura's, and he had confessed to naturally having pink hair. Which, abso-fucking-lutely cool. He wasn't really one to judge. It was so starkly different to imagine shy, sweet Shuichi with such an exuberant color. And Touya remembers having been curious, so he asked him why he dyed his hair.
He had been hoping to feel some 'I hate my parents so I dye my hair so I don't have to see their splitting imagine every time I look in the mirror, ' solidarity, but instead the other had grew quiet. A faint blush rose to his neck, his usual enthusiasm on the idea of self-expression quieting. His mouth became scarce with words, a pianist with no sheet music to play. He had paused, licking his lips once over before settling on, "It doesn't matter much anyway. I thought it would've been better this way. "
It just feels like he's hiding some nasty secret, but it's not a secret grave enough that Touya would feel worried for him.
Still, Touya heavily disagrees. Iguchi's hair is dyed a dark brown, plain as ever. He mourns a pink-haired Iguchi he's never met before. The guy is extremely helpful, yes but Touya often feels something not dissimilar to sympathy every time he needs a favour off the other. It feels like he's using him.
Completely irrational, yes, but for someone like Iguchi who is just such a doormat he finds it difficult to not feel shame scalding himself into his skin, some sickening regret, asking for him to do something for him. For someone like Iguchi, who fears that the word 'No' is welcome in his vocabulary.
He's not a friend of Touya's, but will never ever be an enemy of his.
Shimura walks in his room like he owns the place, making a straight beeline for his recently-made bed. He scrumples it uncaringly, and Touya seldom wonders whether he feels guilty too, for ever needing Iguchi's input on anything.
He probably does - Tenko loves far too ferociously and deeply, to the point that it's a point of concern.
With far-off eyes, and fingers drumming against Iguchi's headboard though, he doesn't seem to have a thought in his mind. Usually snarky vermillion eyes, become relaxed and blank with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He sinks into the bed deeper, lifting his arm to beckon Touya closer.
Touya slinks over to the bookshelf instead, running his finger tips over spines of CDs, pausing at a familiar one. He pulls it out, presenting it to Shimura.
"Sure," says he, "Where's your bag?"
Touya quirks a brow, "What, so you can steal my stuff?"
"Why else would I be here?" He asks the question like there's a painfully obvious answer.
"Asshat." He crouches, "Get it your damn self. By the window. " He tacks on.
The ravenette crouches by the gaming console, taking an embarrasingly long time trying to figure out where the disk goes, before heading back over to the bed.
He huffs as he hits the mattress, "You sure you wanna do anything today? We're completely free to just play games." The you're freaking me out goes unsaid, but there's enough innuendo.
"You offered. Usually the stinge-king isn't generous enough to grace his subjects with his treasures, but if he's doling it out today, I won't complain."
"Yeah, I'm so fucking generous," Touya muses in idle agreement.
Tenko flips him off, digging deeper into his bag, "What's this?" He pulls out a small baggie. A bright pink ribbon seals it shut, with a little strip of paper the same shade of offensively-ugly pink that reads 'Thank you for supporting my small business!' The idea's got Toga's dirty mitts all over it.
"What do you think it is." He levels Tenko with an unimpressed glare.
"If God doesn't materialise in front of me in the next 30 minutes on this shit, you can ask Jin for a refund."
"Wouldn't count on it," Touya sighs, "Landlords are vicious. He's probably using the tip I gave him to pay off his rent."
Jin will always be a reminder of the fact that if he doesn't get his act together, there are people who will face consequences too. He doesn't really get many buyers, especially because of the whole. . . well, he's Jin. That's explanation enough. Luckily for him, the connection with the name Giran keeps him off the streets and his mouth fed.
They barely know each other but they both know that Touya shouldn't be getting involved with this business, nor should Jin be practically financially dependent on a high-schooler.
He'll keep his mouth though, as long as Jin keeps his own.
Shimura gets to work efficiently. He rolls up two blunts with practiced ease and offers one to Touya. The lighter from his bag is offered by the other. He loves that lighter with his whole heart. Somehow it hasn't ran out on him yet, but it makes a cool blue flame so he's not going to be buying a new one anytime soon. The flame is obviously nowhere near the temperature of an actual blue flame, but it has this little metal inside that makes it burn blue every time he turns it on.
Shimura lights Touya's own before he goes to light his.
It's not exactly peaceful, but they are co-existing in relative silence, waiting for the game he put in to download.
Shimura inhales deeply before he opens his mouth, "I'm going to be really pissed off at you if you're lying to me." He starts to complain.
Maybe at some point in time, Touya would have done so. To get his mind off horrible things, to replace the sorrow burdening his heart with anger instead, because he can direct the anger at somebody. He can actually divulge in his emotions. Instead, sorrow just burdens the heart, blackening it so a person can no longer breathe.
"I'm an asshole, but not that much of an asshole." He grumbles. Not exactly irritated that Shimura thinks so lowly of him, but a bit gaped.
Shimura hums, although it's clear he doesn't believe him, not a single bit.
He takes a deep drag, lost in thought. "Why do you think she likes me?" His voice sounds a little lost, seeking common sense.
Unfortunately, Touya can recognise that they're two extremely different people.
Usagiyama is a social butterfly, whereas Tenko is a hermit. The crush Tenko has on her likely comes from some weird twisted deep-set imagination that 'She could crush me with one arm and I'd thank her.'
But, he isn't complaining. If Tenko finds someone for himself, thats awesome.
Touya tries straying away from thoughts about him dying, but it plagues his mind every so often.
He knows fully well that his death would shatter Tenko. Especially at this point in time. The load would be lighter though, if he had Usagiyama there to support him through everything.
As much as he hates to admit it, he and the girl are extremely similar. She's abrasive, just like Touya. She isn't afraid of giving a person a reality check, especially when that person who will eventually be needing it will be Tenko.
They're certainly not the same person, but sometimes Touya wonders whether it would've been better for him to meet her before himself.
He sighs, taking a drag and sinking deeper into the bed. "I'm just saying, it's obvious for people actually looking out for it."
While he did invite Tenko to hang out, he isnt much in the mood for talking. Wishing his tone reflects that, Tenko gets the message, and lies flat on the bed beside Touya.
His eyes are red rimmed, and he probably wouldn't have been able to tell had he not known Tenko very well. They slink into slits, and they look a bit puffy, and his nose is tipped red too but it's obvious that it's a result of the smoke, no longer tears. Ruby red eyes always drag him back to the thought of other people who could easily replace him.
Yes, Tenko would be devastated, but what would it matter in a few months? Approaching their last year of high school, perhaps he'd mourn for a week - at most a month. Then he'd head right back to a loving girlfriend, and the new social circle she brings around. They'd be much more willing to talk to him, now that his antisocial friend who looms around him is gone.
The mark of death follows him close. It breathes down his neck, a constant reminder that everyone who he talks to, he could be setting up for failure.
He knows that chemo isn't palliative care. It could get better. However, as much as realism hurts so much more than idealism, realism is the only thing that will matter in the end.
No matter how much a person may try to romanticize it, he is getting the people he loves to care about him deeper. He is causing more tears to be she'd when the eventual happens.
Call him selfish, it matters very little. He doesn't care much, because unlike Tenko, his days could very much be numbered right now. He is messing about with an unknown variable in a lab, no precautions being made.
Touya should be allowed to live his life out however he likes. So what, Tenko will cry regardless. Whether he distances himself or chooses to get closer, he isn't 'saving him the trouble', he's making it worse. It's far better to let this sleeping dog lie.
The telltale tune that the PS4 plays tells him that the game has finished updating. It's a single player, so he passes the controller over to Tomura.
He can still remember Tenko playing a game much earlier in the franchise, that petrified the other so bad, 14-year old Tenko was having nightmares about himself. Shitting literal bricks while he played the game, curling up in on himself quite embarrassed when he startled at a jumpscare. Touya had tried finishing off the game for him, but his aim was so atrocious the other snatched the controller back and turned off the console.
"You're such a wuss," he teases. "I can see your hands trembling. It's not that scary. "
"The day I see you actually touch a console to play a horror game, I'm gambling away all of my uncle's savings."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't think I'll ever forget you cowering on that one game because Ethan had to kill that baby-looking abomination."
The other rubs his sinuses deeply, "You annoy me so much. Why am I friends with you? I'm way too skilled to be wasting time with a mongrel like you."
"I don't know what Usagiyama sees in you, loser." Just talking to talk, honestly.
"I don't care what she sees in me. She could make me into a house husband and I wouldn't even care if I got to see how gorgeous she is."
"That's. . . an image."
Tenko Shimura of all people, domesticated up playing the perfect husband. Not the life for him. The other has this natural allure to him that pulls him to band people together. He has insane potential in the networking world, has all the skills. Of course, he cares little for it.
He slinks deeper into the bed, sighing at the thought. A particularly long drag pulls a mini-cough out of Touya.
"What's that?"
. . .
"What's what?"
The shirt he had chosen to wear under his button-up rides up slightly, to reveal a nasty, garish bruise forming on his hip. He vaguely remembers checking his hip into a doorway in Enji's house earlier that week.
"A bruise." He deadpans, hoping the attitude in his voice is enough to get him to back down.
It's Tenko though, obviously he doesn't. "Seriously, what the fuck is up with you? You've been getting bruises far too often for them to be coincidences; you've been losing weight; your skin is getting paler each time I see you. Are you hiding something from me? Are you even seeing a doctor? "
He doesn't want to tell him. What would be the point? To see Tenko's face transmogrify with pity, to stop having these moments where they can just co-exist in peace without having to worry about time limits.
This is one of the few things he has left. He isn't willing to let it go.
"Wow, you've noticed." His voice transforms into something more aggressive, "Yes I've been to a doctor. It's just anaemia. So stop worrying your pretty little head about dumb things, and let's actually focus on the more pressing issues in your life?"
Clearly, Tenko is nowhere near as angry as he normally would've been. The drug seems to be talking when he takes on a more relaxed tone. "My bad." He says, "Don't need to start jabbing into fresh wounds. That's low, even for you Touya."
He doesn't press into the issue again and his nerves sound anything but eased. As long as he doesn't know though, it's alright. What he doesn't know cannot hurt him.
"Sorry." He forces out.
He doesn't think about the fact that the smell of smoke has been bothering him so much more than usual lately. Refuses to mention the fact that the smoke weighs much more heavily in his lungs. Each drag feels like a decision poorly made, taking the wrong route in the choice-based story game that is life.
Tenko hums once again - he's been heard, not forgiven.
Silence eventually envelops the room. The sound of a shotgun drowns out the rest of the noise that the world may make.
They sit there, basking in each others presence. Both clearly unsatisfied, but unwilling to start up a conversation again. Idle chatter and banter start up for each time Tenko dies in game then quiets down just as quickly.
Touya leaves the house that day, feeling like a filthy sinner in church. Divulging off what will turn into pain in the future, he asks a God he doesn't know for forgiveness.
Shimura cannot find out about anything, no matter how much he feels the urge to lessen the burden of such a secret. For that would be selfish. To take his own chains and force them upon someone else's back.
The world will carry on tomorrow, whether Shimura is crying or laughing. So, he should be allowed to laugh.
These days, his world is limited to the hospital.
His leg burns in agony, even though the world embraces him with bitingly cold winds.
Lay open on an operating table, skin flayed open. His eyelids dropping heavily as the familiar feeling of anaesthetic pulls him under the water.
Drowning, he resigns to take his last breath. Deep and slow, he drifts once again.
His face still rounded from being sixteen.