𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ]

"i think i am a better ghost than i am a human being." [ingmar bergman]

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

THEY WERE FIGHTING AGAIN, LOUDLY. Shoto tried to cover his ears, but the sound still leaked through - yells, screams, mostly the booming voice of his father.

It wasn't a fight, really, but the six-year-old boy didn't have any other words for it. He could hear thumps, and crying, but he'd long ago learned not to interfere. 

Shoto curled his arms around his skinny stick legs, shaking his head in one last ditch attempt to block out the noise, but only succeeding in hiding the world behind red-and-white strands of hair. Like candy-cane prison bars, just like the ones his mother, Rei, had helped him put on his gingerbread house last year.

There had to be some kind of meaning to that, but the kid didn't know. 

"Shut the fuck up, you ungrateful whore of a woman!"

Shoto squeezed his eyes closed, wanting to forget the words he didn't quite know the meanings of, but could guess by their ugly pronunciations.

This was how Todoroki Touya, his eleven-year-old brother, found him, when he cracked open the door.

"Shoto?" he whispered, shutting the door behind him and rubbing his sleep-bleared eyes, coming to sit in front of his little brother, crossing his legs. "You okay?"

"No," Shoto replied, a tiny crack in his high voice. "Mum and Dad are f-fighting again. I h-hate- I hate it!"

Touya tilted his head away from him to hide the newest scar from their father - a mess of purple tissue across his face that he doesn't want to burden his brother with. Guilt flashed in his bright blue eyes, the kind of emotion that Shoto couldn't see at the time, but would spot with ease in hindsight almost ten years later. 

"I'm sorry, Sho. It- It'll get better, I promise."

A tiny sob slipped out of the mouth of the heterochromatic boy, evolving into full, muffled cries, as he flung himself forward and buried his face in Touya's shoulder.

"I-It h-hurts! Not just the f-fights, but e-everything - h-he hurts me and I w-want it all t-to stop!"

The last word slipped into a desperate wail, tugging at the older boy's heartstrings more than he wanted to admit, as he did his best to comfort and silence Shoto.

"I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I can't do anything ... but I can do this."

He hugged him, unbeknownst to the youngest Todoroki that this would be the last embrace he ever received from the oldest male figure in his life that he really loved.

"Good night, Shoto. Please don't worry. You- You will be okay."

A sliver of bitterness had slipped into redhead's voice as he stood, rubbing his arms over the stinging scars that are already starting to meld into him - the great Hero Endeavor's permanent mark and reminder that he will always prefer Shoto to Touya.

With that, Todoroki Touya shut the door, leaving Shoto in the darkness, to sniffle and attempt to cling to the warm feeling of comfort that his brother had given him, this one last time.

He rolled over, tossing and turning in a way most unlike his usual blissful sleep so many other six-year-olds would generally experience, hours more shouting leaking through his bedroom door until both voices that had gradually raised were growing hoarse, uncaring of their listening son.

"Sho! Shoto!"

The little boy bolted up at the yells of his sister Fuyumi, who had reached her double digits just days earlier. She tumbled into his room with a boy of identical white hair to her - Natsuo, the third Todoroki child at nine years.

"Come on," she pleaded. "I- I can't find Touya, please, please, please-"

She's crying too, and the noise pressed in on Shoto until he couldn't hear anything else as he stumbled to his feet, running into the their parents' room with desperate cries-

The first thing Shoto saw was red.

Red spots on white tiles.

Red streaks in white hair.

Red on white, the combination of his hair, something he'll never be able to look at again without seeing the blood of this moment.

His mother, curled with her arms around herself the way Shoto did, red all over the white of her hair, sticking to her palms and sticking to her shirt.

His father didn't have a scratch on him.

Fuyumi explained to their father what happened, Enji uttering more words that had their mother Rei screaming at him as she tore the house apart, looking for "my baby, my baby, Touya-"

Shoto was frozen, saying nothing of the boy, the brother, who'd been in his room mere hours earlier.

He was gone. And he would never come back.

A sudden ache hit him ... but it was nothing compared to the pain he was yet to face.

Shoto didn't know it, but there was a reason that, in only days, he would need the little girl who would suddenly appear.

Like a ghost.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

thank you for reading this
book and i hope you enjoy it!
~ jazzi