The King is Dead

Uneasiness

Aizawa comes every week in the early morning to check on Shouto's weight without the other students crowding or wondering. Only a few know, and he's explained to Midoriya once on a run that he has a history of bad eating habits. His father setting a low limit for many things and a too-high limit for others.

Aizawa walks into the bathroom with a tired stance, he nods to Shouto and then to the scale Shouto has set out. Shouto gets off of the counter and slips out of his slippers, pulling his robe off as well. He pulls his phone from his pocket, sets it on the counter, and then pats his thighs to make sure there's nothing else.

He steps on, watching the number on the scale go up. It always stops abruptly, if you blink you'll miss it. Shouto wasn't weighed the last two weeks because of everything happening, Aizawa just didn't have time to come and Shouto didn't see the point in weighing himself. It would make him feel guilty.

The number stops, he almost doesn't want to look.

"We finally made it, thank god."

Shouto looks now, he can't not look when Aizawa-Sensei sounds so relieved.

137.

His heart feels like it's being squeezed in his chest, pulling other muscles along with it. He feels lighter despite gaining weight. His hand moves up to his shirt and he pulls it up. Fingers pinch his stomach and his skin is resistant. Not stretchy or overgrown. His more defined abs are coming back, too.

He went past the limit and it feels really, really good. Nothing like father told him it would.

"Okay, so let's shoot for 145 and then you'll be all caught up. I already see less rib, which is good. Remember that your health comes before your weight, as long as you're healthy it won't matter what you weigh. This is just a motivator." Aizawa gives a signature toothy smile that doesn't quite look like a smile, "145 is the last goal and then you just eat healthy, okay?"

Shouto feels weak. But powerful too. And... he feels like he's crying. He looks to Aizawa with tears staining his cheeks and closes his eyes, more come out at the pressure.

"I'm not good with crying children, Shouto. You know that."

Shouto nods and drops his shirt in favor of wiping his eyes, "I know." He sniffles and keeps his eyes closed. "Thank you, Sensei."

Aizawa shrugs, "You're the one improving, not me. I'm just here to check progress." He ruffles Shouto's hair, "Good work, I expect more out of you in training now."

Shouto nods, and with a goodbye, Aizawa has left. Shouto stays in the bathroom and washes his face, staring the reflection in the mirror down, hating the way it copied him and hating the way it was so ugly.

His mind wanders- he hasn't thrown up in a week. An entire week. It used to be several times a day that his mouth would burn and his knuckles would become more and more damaged, now he's allowed them to heal and his throat doesn't burn so much. His voice is turning into a low rumble that's surprisingly satisfying, instead of raspy and worn out all the time. Every time he speaks he begins to grow more used to it and he kind of likes the way it sounds. He doesn't sound like father, he doesn't sound like anyone. He has one thing that finally belongs to him and only him.

"Todoroki? You alright?"

Shouto turns quickly, seeing red in his peripheral. It's too short to be father, (un)fortunately. He nods to Kirishima and his hands come up to sign, still shaken from seeing such a clear trait of the man he grew up with. How could he have missed it before? Kirishima has the same hair color as father, they look almost similar.

"I'm fine."

Kirishima's smile tilts and he rubs the back of his head, "Sorry, I don't really know that much about signing. I know-" He moves his hands. "Pickle." He smiles brightly, "Sero told me it means hello!"