"Midoriya?"
Todoroki hesitantly enters the room, like even the slightest movement will break me. I hate the feeling, feeling weak like this, having others treat me like I'm fragile. There's nothing left to break, I'm already broken.
"Hey Todoroki"
Just hearing my voice seems to put him at ease. I must have really scared him earlier.
"I brought you some soup."
Right. I forgot about that part. I would politely decline, but I promised.
He sets the bowl down on my bedside table and comes to sit next to me.
"I'm sorry about earlier"
Why is he apologizing? It wasn't his fault the voices took control. Is this about what happened with Iida then? Surely it has to be. But he didn't do anything wrong.
"It's ok, you don't have to apologize. You were just sticking up for me."
He just nods, "In that case, Iida is also sorry."
His solemn demeanor almost makes me laugh. "He's forgiven."
"I'm glad you're here," I admit quietly, surprised at how much I mean it. Todoroki is hesitant to respond, as if he's trying to gauge just how fragile I am right now. Maybe I am fragile, but admitting it feels like a betrayal of everything I've tried to be.
"You don't have to be strong all the time, Midoriya," he says softly, as if reading my thoughts. "We all have moments where we need someone else to be strong for us."
His words hit a nerve. How did they all know when I needed them? Aizawa, Bakugou, and now Todoroki—they were all stepping in, offering support without judgment. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, but it also makes me feel like the world's biggest piece of shit for needing the help to begin with.
"I'm sorry," I blurt out suddenly, surprising myself. "For everything. For being a burden."
Todoroki's expression softens. "You're not a burden, Midoriya. We're friends. Friends help each other."
The word "friends" hangs in the air. Something simple, but so new to me. I've always thought of Kacchan as a friend, but I'm not stupid, even I know that we haven't been friends up until recently. I've never really had friends before. It's something I never thought I deserved, especially now. Yet here they all were, refusing to let me push them away.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Thank you, Todoroki. For everything."
He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Anytime."
The room falls into a comfortable silence, the weight of our unspoken words mingling with the steam rising from the bowl of soup. I pick up the spoon, stirring the contents absentmindedly. I find myself oddly comforted by it. I had thought this would be more daunting, but it's just a bowl of broth, which helps ease my nerves. I take a sip and the warmth of the broth soothes my throat, and for a brief moment, I feel a flicker of peace.
But peace is short lived, and my mind soon drifts back to its natural state of panic and terror. There are still loose ends to tie up, uncertainties to face. All Might's promises linger in the back of my mind and I'm reminded of the expectations I still have to live up to.
I do not have time for this, but here I am peacefully sipping on the broth Todoroki brought me without a care in the world. I should be training, studying, anything but just sitting here, but Todoroki is here too and I just can't help but hope that maybe he'll have answers. It's stupid, but I've decided that maybe he'll be able to give me some good advice. Sure our situations are different but he deals with all of Endeavor's expectations, surely he'll know what this is like.
"Todoroki," I begin, hesitantly, setting the spoon down. "Do you ever feel like you're not living up to what's expected of you?"
He sighs, "All the time," he admits, "But I've learned that expectations are just that—expectations. They don't define who we are."
Something about that makes me feel safe. Maybe he's right. Maybe I don't have to be All Might's perfect successor. Maybe I can carve out my own path, one where I don't have to pretend to be stronger than I am.
"I just wish..." I trail off, unsure of how to put my thoughts into words.
"What do you wish?"
"I wish I knew what comes next," I confess, "I wish I had a plan."
Todoroki considers my words thoughtfully. "Plans are overrated," he says finally. "I think what matters is that you keep moving forward, even if it's just one step at a time."
I nod, absorbing his advice. It's simple yet profound, a reminder that I don't have to have all the answers right now. Maybe healing isn't about having a clear path forward but finding the strength to take each day as it comes.
"Thank you, Todoroki," I say sincerely, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me.
He smiles gently. "Anytime, Midoriya."
—
I take a second to bask in the peace of the moment. This is the most calm I've felt in a long time. I feel so safe here. I don't know if I've ever felt this seen, this loved. If the past few hours have taught me anything it's that people care for me. I have people in my life that need me, but it goes farther than that, I have people in my life that I need. I have people who I can rely on, just as others rely on me. It's funny how limits do that. The second you feel like you've reached the end of your rope you find people that are worth going beyond for.
Maybe All Might was wrong. Maybe getting help isn't the end for me, maybe I have a chance after all.
As if on cue I hear a knock at the door.
Todoroki gets up to answer. It's not hard to guess who it is.
"I am here," His voice booms, sending my head reeling.
I see the hesitant look Todoroki gives me before he steps aside, allowing All Might to enter. All Might's towering presence fills the room, making it feel smaller and more oppressive. He looks at me in vieled concern, but mostly disappointment, which twists my stomach into knots.
"Midoriya," he begins, his voice softer now but still carrying that authoritative edge. "I heard you weren't feeling well."
Todoroki looks back at me as if asking if it's really ok to leave me here alone. I nod.
"I'll give you too space" he sighs, before leaving the room
The door closes behind Todoroki, leaving me alone with All Might. His eyes bore into me, searching for something I can't quite place—strength, resolve, a glimmer of the hero he wants me to be. But all I feel is the weight of his expectations, crushing and unrelenting.
"Apologies, young Midoriya, I should have realized how sick you were by the little stunt you pulled this morning. That and your poor performance should have been a telltale sign that you were unwell."
I clench my fists and bite back my words. He's really still standing by what he said. He sees nothing wrong with what he's done. He apologized but not for what really mattered.
"Why didn't you tell me, my boy? You know you can tell me anything."
His words hang in the air, heavy with irony. How can he stand there and pretend he cares? I feel a surge of frustration and betrayal welling up inside me, but I suppress it, swallowing the bitter taste of resentment.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, keeping my eyes on the floor. "I didn't want to be a burden."
All Might sighs, a sound that's supposed to be sympathetic but feels dismissive. "You're not a burden, Midoriya. But you need to understand the responsibility you carry. You can't afford to falter like this."
I nod mechanically, the words barely registering. He doesn't get it. He never will. He's not the hero I thought he was. He's human—selfish and cruel, hiding behind a mask of concern. He owns me, and he knows it. My worth, my identity, everything is tied to him and this quirk he gave me.
He continues talking, but I've stopped listening. His voice fades into the background, replaced by the cold, harsh truth I've been avoiding. He's not my savior; he's my captor. I've made a deal with the devil, and it's time to pay up.
"I'll try harder," I say quietly, more to myself than to him. It's a lie, a hollow promise to keep him satisfied.
He nods, seemingly content with my response. "Good. Remember, Midoriya, we're all counting on you."
I force a smile, "I know."
