Chapter 11

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The water was too hot for his liking. But there's nothing he could do about that. Sliding warily down into the water, the boy allowed himself to block out the sounds around him. The coldness was refreshing on his beaten skin. Yet he winced slightly as it swirled without mercy, penetrating the cells that should be protected by smooth skin but now lie open and raw. After the initial surge of pain, He immerses himself further into the water, inhaling the welcoming warmth through his nostrils.
The water moves softly around his outstretched fingers, caressing cooly his abdomen. Midoriya pulls his hand out and watches the drips, both transparent and opaque at the same time. He follows their movement as they fall as if snatched by gravity to the emptiness below, each one swiftly haloed by ever-growing rings, distorting the calm surface of the lagoon. The water shone like a molten mirror. Reflecting everything it saw.

He leans back. Eyes close. His mind fades into dullness and everything is a foggy illusion. It's only when he opens them, he self-consciously allows himself to observe the room. Taking in the dainty ornaments carved into the castle's walls.

He could stay in this lagoon all night if it weren't for the rumbling of his stomach and the aroma of fish cooking from the Royal Kitchen. With great reluctance, Midoriya places his palms on the edge of the lagoon's edge and pushes down hard and fast. The briny droplets splash onto the concrete in lines of spray as the Prince moves for the towel laying neatly on a stool. The water drips down his parted hair softly. He brings the towel to his face, wiping the lingering warmth away from his cheeks.

Midoriya soon finds himself gazing into his reflection as he passes a nearby mirror. He stops. His eyes stray critically across his body from head to toe. Taking in each wound and bruise that decorated his skin. He should have really taken that offer about applying ointment. All well.

The viridescent eyes fall onto the wig, sitting on the second stool. Ah yes. He still had a duty to fulfil. Not to himself but for his kingdom. He couldn't disappoint them.

As the Yuueian Prince shakingly tilts his head forward, laying the wig gently top of his messy curls. It still shocked him that the wig could still manage to smoothly hide his true identity. He did a few adjusts here and there to ensure no curls could be seen. Before moving to the next step. He was quite used to this cycle now.
He wonders if this is what Uraraka has to go through every morning or night after having a wash.

The entrance's door of the lagoon creaks open as Midoriya vigilantly peeks through the gap. There was no one occupying the hallways. They were probably still fussing over Todoroki's injuries as they were deemed serious. Stealthily, Midoriya begins to approach the bedroom chamber of where he and Todoroki customarily reside. He crosses the hall. He listens intently for any sign of voices.

Nothing.

Approaching closer to the chamber, Midoriya notices that the soldier that regularly guards their chamber wasn't there. Midoriya breathes a sigh of relief.

He opens the door and creeps in. The door behind him closes with a click. Midoriya parades briskly around the room; using the moonlight to navigate his way around. The boy comes to halt at his side of the bed. Bending down, he opens the drawer to reveal a bunch of letters, piled moderately neatly. He should really ask Tokoyami to take these letters back to the Yuuei kingdom. With a shrug of his shoulders, he adds another letter to the pile before pushing the drawer back into its socket. To kill time, Midoriya pours himself a glass of water from the water pitcher

Where could have Todoroki gone to?

Midoriya wonders to himself as he lazily flops onto the bed. The bed creaks at the sudden motion. Midoriya decides to just lay on top of the bed instead of getting underneath the warmth of the covers as he didn't want to ruin the servants' hard work of making it back up. Seeking for a source of warmth, his fingers become intertwined with the woollen blanket, sitting longingly on the end of the bed. He grips it as if it were more substantial than the bed itself.
He wraps it around his shoulders, letting the wool tickle his nose.
Midoriya could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness. It wouldn't hurt to just close his eyes for a bit.

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