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Still not over it.

Summary:

Shoto is getting so sick, he can't do it anymore. Everything is too much. Nobody helps him for the real reason, not that he asked to.

Will he be able to recover in time ? Will he die ?

- this fanfic start when shoto is already heavily touch by anorexia. At a low bmi. He’s also 168cm lmao

- this fanfic have specific weight and bmi.

- if you're triggered by low bmi and reality of living at a very very low bmi. Pls don't read.

ALSO: this fanfic is about MY personal experience from mental anorexia. Every experience is different, you don't need to have a low BMI to be struggling. I am talking about me, just with shoto's character as we have lots in common.

Notes:

Pls be careful while reading this fanfic

Chapter 1: Not okay

Chapter Text

Big. Fat. Disgusting.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to cry. The insults echo louder every day, and part of me believes them now.

I pull the scale from under the sink and set it down. I step on.

40 kilograms.
Good. Maybe in a few days, I'll be in the 13s BMI-wise. I can't wait.

Two and a half months ago, I weighed 60. Muscles, fat, strength. All of it gone. Honestly, I'm glad. I hated the way I looked back then. I still do, but at least now... I'm closer to control.

People noticed, of course. But no one really cares. No one sees how exhausting it is—how this eats me alive. My sister tried, she really did. But her words never sank in. My father only ever comments on how I've "lost definition." He doesn't care. He just wants me strong enough to use my quirk.

Teachers? They asked if I was okay. Nothing serious. Just enough to say they said something. As long as I'm still performing, no one really looks twice.

Today was awful. I couldn't focus. I made stupid mistakes during training. I snuck into the locker room before it ended, hid and cried like a failure.

I'm fat. Weak. Broken. I used to be the best.

Eventually, I heard footsteps. Loud voices. Too loud. I scrambled into the bathroom stall to get changed. Everything was overwhelming. My breathing was shallow, panicked.

After what felt like forever, I stepped out. Eyes down. I walked past my classmates, pretending not to hear them, not to see them.

My head spun. But I had to pull myself together, my teachers were outside. All Might. Aizawa. I had to pretend everything was fine.

"We didn't see you during the training. Why were you in the locker room?" All Might asked.

I shrugged. What could I say? That I was ashamed of how slow and clumsy I was? That my body's giving out because I'm starving it?

"Todoroki?" Aizawa pressed. "We asked you a question."

Another shrug. But I had to answer eventually. If I didn't, they'd keep digging.

"Didn't sleep well."

They exchanged a look, one of those we're not buying this teacher stares.

"You haven't been sleeping well for a while," Aizawa said.
"Is something bothering you?"

God, I don't want to do this.

"Just been working a lot."

All Might smiled, too gently. "Young Todoroki, you shouldn't overwork yourself. You need to gain weight before worrying about muscle."

I nearly rolled my eyes. Not this again.

"I don't need to gain anything. And frankly, I don't think it's your concern."

"It is our concern," Aizawa said, voice low.
"We're responsible for your health. That includes your physical state."

They don't get it. None of them do. I don't want their concern. I want to shrink until I disappear.

My goal was 55 kg. Then 50. Then 45. Now 35. And once I hit that? Probably 30.
A BMI of 10. Just the thought of it lights something up inside me. I'll be perfect then. Finally.

"-roki. TODOROKI." Aizawa's voice cuts through.

I blink. Right. Still here.

"Sorry. Zoned out. I understand."
A lie. Like always.

"We're doing a check-up tomorrow," All Might said.
"Haven't done one in a while we need to monitor everyone's physical condition."

Great. Just great. Trying to scare me now?

"You look concerned, Todoroki?"

Come on, think.

"I just don't want Recovery Girl to worry because I'm tired. It's nothing."

"If you rest tonight, she won't have reason to," Aizawa replied.

I nod and turn away. My classmates are clustered by the exit, chatting. The teachers drift off.

"OI, ICY-HOT where the hell were you during training?"
Bakugo. Of course.

I don't answer.

"I could've kicked your ass today."
He storms off before I even react. Classic Bakugo.

"You're dismissed," Aizawa calls.
No one replies. No one ever does.

I lag behind the others, headphones in. Maybe I'll go for a walk. I only hit 15,000 steps today, and with half a training session, I need to double that.

I avoid everyone as I reach the dorm. No one notices. No one ever does.

Back in my room, I feel the brain fog hit again. My skin is dry. My hair's thinner—falling out more. It's working. It's really working.

Three hours. That's how long I walk before crawling back to my bed.

I don't remember falling asleep.

Just the silence.

And how good it feels to disappear.

Chapter 2: Check-up

Summary:

If yall wonder, it’s my story, since i think shouto and i have a lot in common I took his character.
So yes I changed shoto’s height, and I know the BMI is very very low.
This fanfic talks about how bad can I ed go, and what are the unspoken consequences. Yes wanting a very very low BMI (where you can die) is sadly very common…

So pls I am telling you all again !! Do not read if it’s really triggering.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

I hate myself. I need to look smaller. Sharper. Bonier.
Every mirror is a threat. Every reflection a reminder that I'm still too much.

I woke up to 39.6 kilograms. The number flashed like a cruel reward. I should feel satisfied, proud even. I've worked for this. Starved for this. But all I can think is:
"Why do I still feel fat?"
I stare down at myself, hipbones jutting out, ribs counting themselves, my arms like twigs. But still, my mind whispers:
Not enough. Never enough.

I drag my uniform over my body. It hangs loose, a size too big now. That should be a victory, right? It should make me feel accomplished. Instead, it makes me feel... empty. Like a ghost trying to pretend it belongs in a world full of the living.

My fingers are cold, so cold. I can't feel the buttons properly. I stumble slightly as I reach for my bag, brain fog already settling in like it always does after a bad night. I don't even know if I slept. Or if I just closed my eyes and drifted between thoughts that begged me to disappear.

I head to class.

It feels like I'm walking underwater. Every step takes effort. I'm tired. No, exhausted, and not in the way training makes me. This is deeper. Bone-deep.

My body used to be strong. 60 kilograms of trained muscle. A weapon, really. That was only two and a half months ago. Now I can't even summon my fire without getting dizzy. My quirks won't regulate my body temperature anymore. My body is giving up before my mind is willing to let it.

And I know what's coming today.
Health checks.

Aizawa messaged us last night with our time slots. We're not supposed to eat beforehand. We're supposed to bring snacks to eat afterward. Recovery Girl's orders. I didn't bring anything. I'm not going to eat. What would be the point?

My appointment is at 8:15 AM.
It's 8 now. I pace in front of the infirmary. Small steps. Quick steps. Anything to burn a few more calories before they weigh me. It's pathetic, isn't it?

Midoriya walks out. He looks pale, nervous — probably embarrassed about some test result. But then he sees me and smiles.

"Oh! Hi, Shoto! It's your turn, huh? I'm sure it'll be fine."
He means well. He always does. I fake a smile in return.
The only thing worse than the number on the scale is the idea of someone knowing what it means to me.

Recovery Girl waves me inside.

"Okay, Todoroki. How are you feeling today?"
I could say: cold. Tired. Sick. Like I'm disappearing.
Instead:
"I'm fine."
The lie is too easy now.

She nods, makes notes on her clipboard. "Alright, I'll be checking your weight, height, temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, and blood sugar. Clothes off to your underwear, please."

I nod and strip silently. I don't think about how my thighs still feel too thick. How the bones in my shoulders should be sharper. I don't think about how this is humiliating, standing in front of someone while my body is laid bare and still not good enough.

She points to the scale. I step on.
39.6 kg.
She says nothing. I do too. Silence is louder than words.

She hands me a stadiometer to measure my height.
168 cm. I already knew that.

"Sit on the bed, please."

She moves efficiently. Temperature: 36°C. Not abnormal, I'm half ice, after all.
Heart monitor pads pressed to my chest. The machine beeps slowly.
52 beats per minute. That's low, right?

Blood pressure cuff wraps around my arm. Tight, then releasing.
82/50.
I feel nothing. Not even the pinch of worry I know I should have.

Blood sugar check next. A small prick on my finger. I flinch.
0.55 g/L.
Even I know that's borderline dangerous.

She finally looks at me, not as a student, not as a hero-in-training, but as someone she's scared for. Genuinely scared.

"Sweetheart," she says gently, "I need to be honest with you. This level of weight loss over 20 kilograms in two months is alarming. You're very sick."

I keep my eyes on the floor.

"It could be a medical condition. Endocrine disorder, gastrointestinal, even cancer..." she trails off. She's fishing, looking for something in my face. Some reaction. But I give her none.

"Do you... ever deliberately restrict food? Or starve yourself?"

I freeze. My heartbeat echoes in my ears.
"No. I eat." Another lie.

She sighs, quietly this time. Like she's tired of lies but too kind to call me out.

"I'm scheduling a session with Hound Dog. And I'll be speaking to Mr. Aizawa... and your father."

Everything inside me shuts down.

No. Not him. Please, not him.

I nod stiffly and put my clothes back on. She continues writing notes, her expression unreadable.

"You're not cleared for training anymore," she adds. "And you might need a hospital stay. I'm not a physician, but you're showing dangerous signs. Your vitals are concerning."

I walk out before she can finish.
I can't feel my hands.
I can't feel anything but dread.

He's going to find out.
He's going to hurt me.
Maybe this time, he'll go further. Maybe he won't stop. Maybe he'll be disgusted enough by my "fat" body that he'll stop using it. Maybe I'm safe. Maybe I'm not.

I skip every class that day. Every meal. I walk for hours. Around the campus, around the dorms. I burn and burn and burn until I feel empty again. Until the pain returns to remind me I'm still here.

They think banning me from training will stop me? It won't. I'll find another way. I always do.

BMI 10. That's the goal.
29 kilograms.
Only 10 more to go.
I'll get there. I swear.
Even if it kills me.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading !!

Chapter 3: Discussion

Summary:

Wellll aizawa’s trying isn’t he ??

ANYWAY sorry for the mistakes English isn’t my native language 😔

Notes:

Yall take care 🫶

Chapter Text

I hate class.
Everything about today feels heavier. The lights are too bright. My body aches. My brain is fogged. And yet, somehow, Mr. Aizawa's stare feels worse than all of it combined. Like he's watching me unravel and just waiting for me to fall apart.

We're supposed to be answering some written questions about training and hero readiness. I haven't even picked up my pen. I don't have the energy to fake it today. My hands shake slightly when I move them. I feel anxious, no, suffocated.

I scratch at my wrist, trying to ground myself. My nails dig too deep, but I don't stop. Aizawa hasn't taken his eyes off me. Why won't he look away?

He finally gets up from his desk and starts pacing the room, slow and methodical like always. Then he stops right next to me.

"Stay behind after class, please," he says. His tone is flat, but something in it makes my stomach twist.
"Problem child..." he mutters under his breath, probably not meaning for me to hear.

I nod quietly, not bothering to look at him. I roll my eyes when he walks away. What's the point of staying behind? He's not going to understand anything. They never do.

"Alright," Aizawa announces to the class, "the bell will ring in less than a minute. You're dismissed. Turn in your papers as you leave."

DRING.

Chairs scrape the floor, and the class starts packing up. I stay seated. I never really unpacked anyway.

"Hey. Are you okay?"
I turn and see Momo standing beside me. Her voice is soft, concerned. She's smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"Why aren't you packing your things?"

"Aizawa wants to talk to me, that's all." I force a smile back.

"I hope they help you," she says, almost whispering.

Help me? What is that supposed to mean?

My smile fades. She seems to realize she said too much, backs away awkwardly, and waves goodbye before slipping out the door. I don't respond.

I stand slowly, grabbing my backpack. My body feels like lead. My head is pounding. I'm dizzy again — maybe because I haven't eaten in what... over a week and a half now? I've lost count. That miso soup I thought about this morning still hasn't happened.

"You can sit down, Todoroki, if you're tired," Aizawa says from across the room.

It doesn't even sound loud, but it echoes in my skull like thunder. I do what he says because fighting takes more energy than I have left.

I sit.

He pulls a chair in front of me, arms crossed over his chest. He looks more serious than usual. And that's saying something.

"You know why I asked you to stay behind, right?"

"We don't have anything to talk about," I mutter, voice shaky. Just forming words takes effort. My breathing is shallow. Am I really that fat? Is this what fat feels like?

"I'm going to be honest with you," Aizawa starts.
"Recovery Girl contacted your father this morning. You will also have an appointment with Hound Dog. But we need to talk about what's happening right now. You're sick, Todoroki, and it's serious."

Sick.
Not disciplined.
Not focused.
Not driven.
Just... sick.

I stare at the floor. Hatred bubbles in my throat not at him, not even really at Recovery Girl. Just at myself. At how I let this slip. I should've hidden it better.

"Come on, Todoroki," he continues, voice a little softer.
"No one's mad at you. But we all know you've been lying. And it's been a few weeks now, hasn't it?"

I don't answer. I don't nod. I don't move. What could I even say?

"Shoto," he says this time. My name. That hits harder than I expect.
"If you don't talk, I'm going to have to assume the worst. That you lost all this weight on purpose. That you've been hiding something serious. I'm giving you a chance to be honest. Just... tell the truth."

I exhale, shaky and uneven. My body is tired. My brain is tired. I've been cold for days. My fingers are a strange bluish color. My skin is dry and tight. I keep growing this weird soft hair on my arms. My hair's thinning. And yet, none of that feels as terrifying as gaining weight.

Only the weight loss feels right. Even when everything else feels wrong.
I look up. Aizawa is still waiting. I have to say something.

"I just... wanted to lose some weight. That's all." My voice comes out in a whisper.
"I'm not upset about the weight loss. Just... the consequences, I guess."

He leans forward, eyes locked on mine.

"You're experiencing serious consequences, Shoto. Your heart rate is dangerously slow. Your blood sugar is low. This is more than just 'not eating enough.' You can't keep going like this."

I nod faintly. "I know. I'll try to fix it. I'll eat better. I didn't mean to go this far. It started with two kilograms, and I felt better at first, but then food started hurting my stomach, and I thought not eating would make that stop. It's not an eating disorder. I swear."
All lies. All of it.

The stomach aches are from fasting too long. I know that. But if I admit that, everything gets worse.

"So you promise to gain weight?" he asks, cautious.

"I'll ask my dad to take me to a doctor. Maybe there's something for the stomach pain. Some kind of prescription or painkiller. It'll be easier to eat then."

He exhales slowly, trying to read me. I hope he doesn't.

"I'll talk to Endeavor myself," he finally says.
"But I need you to understand — your vitals are extremely poor. You need regular check-ins. This isn't something we can ignore."

I grit my teeth.
"Recovery Girl will check them. And if she can't, my doctor will. I promise. Everything will get better soon."
Another lie. But maybe if I say it enough times, I'll start to believe it too.

Aizawa studies me, clearly unsure.

"Alright. I'll call your father. I'm trusting you, but this is serious. You are not allowed to train until your health improves. Understood?"
He waits.
"You're dismissed. Go eat lunch. Try something. Then head back to the dorms. No class this afternoon for you."

I nod. Wordlessly, I grab my bag and walk out.

The second I'm out of his sight, my mind is already spinning.
I'll find something, anything, to raise my heart rate during checkups. There are meds for that. Or caffeine.
A sugary tea maybe. Just before appointments.
That'll keep them off my back.
I can do it.

Getting back to the dorms is harder than it should be. It usually takes ten minutes. Today, it takes over thirty. I keep stopping to catch my breath. My vision keeps going blurry. At one point, I almost collapse, but I lean against the wall and force myself to keep walking.

I'll rest for a while. Just this afternoon. I did a lot already.
Woke up at 4 a.m., walked over twelve thousand steps before class even started.

Not enough.

But after a nap... I can run. I'll make up for it.

I'll be okay.
I have to be.

Chapter 4: Doctor

Summary:

Hope you enjoy 😊
Tell me if I can improve things

Chapter Text

December 7, 2024 – Friday
My dad is picking me up from school today. We have a doctor's appointment. It's funny how I remember the exact date I "failed" training Monday, December 2nd. I don't know why I keep track like that. Just feels like my brain needs to attach numbers to everything lately.

This morning, I weighed in at 38.1 kilograms. BMI? 13.5. Disgusting. I still feel huge. I've been eating just one miso soup a night low calorie, light. I wanted to purge even that, but if I want to act normal around my dad, I don't have a choice. And still, it's barely helping. I'm dizzy all the time. Lightheaded. Shaky. My head feels full of fog.

I'm outside now, waiting in the parking lot. Dad should arrive soon. Since I've lost more weight 1.5 kilograms this week, I packed two small weights in my shorts. They're hidden inside the lining. Just enough to throw off the scale if it comes to that.

To keep myself from passing out, I even ate a sugar cube this morning. Just 24 calories. Hopefully, it helps boost my blood sugar just enough so I can stand up straight and talk without slurring.

"SHOTO!"
I flinch. Of course it's him. That voice. Cold, harsh, always cutting through the air like a blade.

I walk to the car and get in without saying a word. He only sent me one message about this appointment:

– Doctor's appointment. Friday, 3PM. Don't be late.

I answered with a dry, "Okay." I mean, at least I replied. I could've left him on read, but I didn't want to risk making him angry.

The drive is long. Silent. He doesn't say anything for the first half hour. Then, finally:

"You look awful."
He doesn't sound concerned. Just... disgusted. Like looking at me makes him sick. I stare ahead and keep breathing.

"You'll be staying home this weekend."

Those words hit harder than anything he's said all week. My stomach twists immediately. I scratch my temple, already feeling like I'm going to throw up. I've managed to avoid going home for weeks. Avoided the things he does when he's angry, the things he does when he's drunk, or bored, or just decides he hates me. If I go back, I don't know what'll happen. No, I do know.

The rest of the ride is dead quiet. My fingers tremble in my lap, and I feel the sweat pooling under my knees even though it's freezing outside.

We finally arrive. The clinic is clean and cold. White walls. Bright lights. Dad goes to check us in without looking at me. I sit stiff in the waiting room, counting my breaths, trying to keep them even. My legs won't stop shaking.

After about ten minutes, a woman in a pale-blue uniform walks out. "Shoto Todoroki?"

That's M.Abe our doctor. She's kind. Never asks too many questions. Always straight to the point.

I stand and walk with her and my father into the office. We sit in the two chairs across from her desk. She opens a folder and looks at me with a calm smile.

"So, Shoto. I read the report. You originally lost two kilograms due to a diet, correct? And after that, you started experiencing severe stomach pain, which caused even more weight loss?"

I nod. A lie, but one I've rehearsed so many times I almost believe it now.

She makes a note in her file, then leans forward slightly. "Can you tell me more about your symptoms? Do you feel bloated? Early fullness? A burning sensation in your upper stomach? Nausea?"

"Yeah... all of that."
Another lie. I don't have those symptoms the fasting caused the pain, not the other way around. But if this gives me a diagnosis, something medical, something that makes people back off... it's worth it.

Dad remains silent, arms crossed. Watching.

"Sounds like Functional Dyspepsia," she says after a moment. "It's a chronic disorder that can't be seen on scans or imaging. But it's real, and it affects appetite and digestion. It can be triggered by diet, stress, or even changes in gut bacteria."

My dad lets out a deep breath. "Is it genetic?"

"It can be, but in Shoto's case, I believe it's mostly stress-induced. From what you both said, it followed a drastic change in eating habits. Even if it started off as a healthy adjustment, his body clearly didn't react well."

Dad finally chimes in. "Will it affect training? My son can't afford to fall behind."

Of course. That's what he cares about. Not that I'm dizzy. Not that I've lost more than 20 kilograms. Not that my organs are slowing down.

M.Abe gives him a tight-lipped smile. "He'll need to rest and gain weight back before returning to physical activity. When he's healthier, training can resume, but his calorie intake will need to match the workload. We'll monitor it closely."

She types something into her computer and continues, "For now, we'll prescribe acid reducers, prokinetics, and a low-dose antidepressant mirtazapine. It helps calm the nerves in the stomach and stimulates appetite."

We both nod. She prints out the prescription and hands it to my father.

"His heart rate and blood pressure are low, but not dangerously so. If he begins gaining again, they'll stabilize. I'd like to check his vitals and weight every two weeks. If there's no improvement... hospitalization might be necessary."

Dad turns to me, raises an eyebrow. "Did you hear that?"

I nod.

"Have you gained, lost, or maintained your weight since your last appointment?" she asks.

"Maintained." Another lie. I've lost 1.5kg, down from 39.6 to 38.1. But the weights I'm wearing today should help if she checks.

She smiles softly. "Good. Just keep eating, okay? Small steps."

We're dismissed. I follow Dad silently back to the car, trying to breathe as evenly as I can. But as soon as we sit down, he turns toward me, eyes narrowed.

"We're stopping by the house before I drop you at the dorms."

My whole body goes cold. "Why?"

"I didn't ask for commentary."

No. No. No. I can't go back. I haven't been there in weeks. The last time I stayed overnight, he came into my room. I told myself that maybe if I looked thin enough, maybe if I looked disgusting, he'd stop touching me. But that didn't work. He didn't care. Nothing makes him stop.

The drive is quiet, except for my ragged breathing. He doesn't notice. Or maybe he does and just doesn't care.

Twenty minutes later, we pull into the driveway.

I feel the familiar ache in my chest, that deep, gnawing kind of fear. I can't move. I don't want to get out of the car. I don't want to go inside.

But I do. I always do.

I need help.

Chapter 5: Again

Summary:

Shoto’s story is sad in it 😔
Sorry people

Chapter Text

"H-How..."
I was crying, collapsed on the floor, the weight of everything crushing me. My voice trembled, barely even a whisper under the sound of my own sobs.

"STOP ACTING LIKE A FUCKING CHILD! GET UP. I'M DRIVING YOU BACK."
My father's voice thundered across the room as he swept everything off the desk, sending papers and pens flying at me.

I struggled to my feet, my body barely obeying. Every muscle screamed. My head hung low, eyes catching a glimpse of the floor beneath me streaked with blood and a cloudy white substance. I felt hollow. Dirty. Exhausted beyond reason.

He smirked, stepping out of the room like nothing happened.
"Get your things. Meet me in the car." His voice was cold, robotic.

Does he enjoy this? The violence, the control, the humiliation? I don't know. Maybe it's just power. Maybe it's hate. Maybe it's both.

I didn't clean up. I didn't care anymore. I grabbed my bag, shoved in whatever was lying around, and went out to join him. The driver wasn't there. Probably on vacation. So it was just us, just him, and me, and the suffocating silence.

The car ride was quiet. Too quiet. No words, no music, no glances. I was too scared to breathe loudly. My skin burned under my clothes, every part of me aching. But I didn't dare shift in my seat.

When we arrived, I reached for the door handle, desperate to get out. But his hand shot out, yanked me back.

"You're disgusting. I only came because it's been a while. You're going to gain weight, or I'll force feed you. Understand?"
Then he shoved me out, like trash being tossed aside.

He drove off without another word. I stood there, frozen. Everything inside me felt shattered. My legs could barely hold me. My vision blurred. My lower back ached like it was caving in. I didn't know how I was still standing.

I forced myself to walk into the dorm building. The warmth inside hit me like a wave, but not in a comforting way. The scent of food wafted through the halls thick, greasy, nauseating.

The common area was full. Everyone gathered around the tables, chatting, eating. I could barely look at them.

Iida approached, his walk stiff and precise. "Todoroki! Dinner is essential for recovery and proper bodily-"

"I know," I cut him off, voice flat. "I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed."

"But, Shoto..."
I didn't even look up to see who spoke next. I couldn't. My body was too heavy, too broken. I dragged myself to the elevator and up to my room.

Once the door closed behind me, I felt the sting of tears I didn't even realize I still had. I needed to clean myself. I felt the filth blood, semen, sweat clinging to my skin. I grabbed a hoodie, sweatpants, and some clean underwear, then headed to the bathroom.

I showered for over two hours. The hot water didn't soothe anything. My skin still crawled. But I'd done this before. Too many times. So when I finally crawled into bed, I just lay there, staring into nothing. The hunger gnawed at me, but the exhaustion won out.

I fell asleep in pain.
__________________________________________

December 20, 2024
I woke up weaker than ever. My hands were trembling. I could barely sit up. My skin was paper-dry, my nails cracked and bleeding, hair thinning more every day. I was cold, even under layers. Class was a blur nothing stuck. My brain felt foggy, like I was floating above my own skull.

But... 34kg. I hit 34kg.

BMI 12.
I'd done it. I reached the goal I'd been chasing for weeks. But it didn't feel good. Not like I expected. It felt terrifying. I couldn't stop thinking about the next number. BMI 11. Then 10. Then single digits.

But deep down, I knew. I wouldn't survive that long. Not because of my body. Because of my mind. Because of this spiraling obsession that's consuming everything I have. One day, I won't be able to take it anymore. I'll die at my lowest weight. That's how this ends.

I'm getting weighed in an hour by Recovery Girl.

So I put on my short, compression-style underwear, the one with little pockets. I load them with small weights. Then I fill myself with water until I can barely breathe. Step on the scale in my room: 40kg.

Perfect. She'll believe that.

I drag myself to the infirmary, legs like concrete. Everything hurts.

"Hi, sweetie. You know what we're doing today, don't you?" Recovery Girl's voice is gentle, kind.

I nod silently. I'm too tired to pretend today.

"Okay, first off, how are you feeling? Eating well?"

"Yeah... I'm fine. Getting better, slowly." Lies. BMI 14 and 12 don't look that different, right? She won't notice, right?

"Alright. Go ahead and undress, then step on the scale."

I do what she says and watch the numbers tick up:
40.0kg

It makes me furious. That's not my real weight. I want to rip the weights off and scream. But instead, I just stand there, silent.

"Hmm... Not a big gain, but better than a loss," she says, half to herself. "Still far below a healthy range."
She glances at me. "You've still got signs of malnutrition your skin, hair, nails. Let's check your vitals."

I get dressed again and sit on the exam bed. She checks everything in silence.

"Your blood pressure and blood sugar are low. So is your heart rate, a clear result of extreme weight loss. Are you feeling faint? Dizzy? Tired?"

That catches my attention. Maybe she can fix that part. Maybe I can keep losing and stop feeling like this.

"Yes. All the time."

She nods, jotting something down. "We'll book a blood test over winter break. I'll also create a personalized meal plan for you, I have the certification. You'll start it at lunch."

I nod again. I don't plan to follow it. I don't care about the blood test either.

She dismisses me, and I head back to class. I don't even remember walking. Everything's blurry. I just... exist.
__________________________________________

Class ends. I didn't even notice the time passing.

"You know you can leave now, right?"
I blink. It's Aizawa. He's crouched next to my desk, arms crossed.

I start putting my things away, but he keeps going.

"So, Recovery Girl says you gained a little. Not much, but something."

I exhale loudly, hoping he gets the message: I don't want to talk.

But he ignores it. "We both don't want to have this conversation. But come on. You look like you've lost five kilos. You're not BMI 14, let's be honest."

I snap. "You know my weight. Recovery Girl told you, sir. Whatever you're assuming, I'm doing my best."

"If you say so. But you look worse than you did two weeks ago." He sighs. "Anyway, you start the meal plan at lunch. Your sister's picking you up at 2PM, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. You should eat in the teacher's lounge."

"I can't. My meds are at the dorms. I'll eat there." Half a lie. Half truth.

"Alright. Take care of yourself over break. If you improve, you can start light training again. Nothing intense."

I give him a fake smile and walk out. Straight to the infirmary.

Recovery Girl hands me the meal plan, all cheery and warm. Like this isn't going to be hell.

It's going to be rough.

Chapter 6: Home

Summary:

He’s really sick 🙁 I am putting shouto through hell…

Anyway, the chapters aren’t long for now, I’ll probably rewrite a new one with the same plot but with longer chapters.
I just wrote on Wattpad before writing here. I just feel like ao3 is better.

I hope you guys enjoy the fanfiction, I am trying my best to explain as much as possible how anorexia can feel like ( my personal experience, which means that you can feel different, everyone is different!! ).

Trying my best also to write every day, but with my problem at high school it’s a bit hard 🙂.

Sorry needed to talk to someone lmao

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"I trust you, Shō, okay? Take your meds, follow the meal plan, and rest as much as you can, alright?"
I nodded silently. Fuyumi smiled, gave me a last look, then walked out to her car.

Just like that, I was alone. The entire vacation, just me.

Dad's off to Okinawa, some hero training emergency. Apparently, he's mentoring a batch of new recruits.
Fuyumi's going on a trip with her new boyfriend. I didn't even know she had one. Like... okay? Cool, I guess. And Natsuo's tucked away in his apartment on the opposite side of Tokyo.

It's perfect.

No one around. No one watching. I can do everything properly this time. If things go right, I'll finally make it into the 29s.
34kg already feels too heavy. Way too much.

And the best part? Dad left strict orders: I'm not allowed to leave the house at all during break. No appointments. No doctors. No blood tests.
I'm honestly relieved.

When Fuyumi picked me up earlier, we stopped by the supermarket. Got everything I'd need for the meal plan Recovery Girl gave me.
Not that I'll eat it. I'll just stash the food somewhere, pretend I'm following it.
They'll think I'm cooperating.
And I'll keep shrinking.

...I've been standing here, staring at the front door for ten minutes. I should probably move. Do something.

Whatever.
I head to my room, finally change out of that suffocating uniform and into real clothes. Something loose. Comfortable.
Then I start pacing the house. Just walking laps. Moving burns calories. Every little bit counts.

I should eat something small. The dizziness is getting worse. But I can't bring myself to do it.
I just can't.
__________________________________________

I knew i should've eaten something.
I knew it.

Now my head feels like it's filled with cotton. My thoughts are all jumbled, slippery, like trying to catch smoke with bare hand.

I grip the edge of the counter, my knees buckling just slightly. A warning.
Everything tilts for a second. I blink hard. No, no. Not now.

I shuffle toward the couch, dragging my limbs like they've been dipped in concrete. Every step sends little black dots dancing across my vision, and my stomach clenches with hunger that's not even painful anymore. Just allow, empty.

I reach out to steady myself against the wall, but i miss.

The next thing i feel is the floor, cold against my cheek. I don't even remember falling. My fingers twitch uselessly. I try to push myself up, but my arms won't listen. It's like my body forgotten how to be mine.

I close my eyes for just a second.

Just a second...
__________________________________________

I don't know how long I was out.

Minutes? Hours? Everything's foggy. The floor is unforgiving against my side, and my limbs are stiff, like they've turned to stone. I try to blink the blur from my eyes, but even that feels like work.

My mouth is dry, so dry. Like I've been swallowing dust.
I manage to shift a little, dragging my hand across the hardwood. Cold. Smooth. Real.

I'm still here.

Did I pass out ?

I try to push myself up, but my arms trembles under me and gives out halfway. I close my eyes, breathe.

Or try to.

Everything's heavy. My limbs, my chest, even my thoughts. There's a buzzing in my ears, low and steady, like the sound of and old TV left on in another room. I hate it.

I hate that I let it get that far. But more than that, I hate the part of me that relieved.

Relieved that I am empty. That I've lasted this long. That the number are still going down. Even if I am on the floor. Even if I can't move.

I blink up at the ceiling, letting the silence stretch. I'm so tired. But I can't give in. Not yet.

Tomorrow I'll eat something, maybe. A low cal thing.

But not today.
__________________________________________

The number are going down, everyday. This morning i am 30kg. I'll be 29 tomorrow.

I don't remember what hunger feels like anymore.

Not real hunger. Not the kind that rumbles in your stomach and makes your hands reach for food. That faded weeks ago. Maybe months. What's left is quieter. A cold ache that sits deep in my bones, humming through me like white noise.

I'm sitting on the bathroom floor again. That's where i end up most days, back against the cabinet. My reflection in the mirror doesn't surprise me anymore. It doesn't even scare me. Just look fat, i feel really fat.

No one's here to stop me.
No one's really been here at all.

I pull my hoodie tighter around my frame, even through I'm already wearing two layers under it. My hands shake as I try to stand, but i ignore it. That happens sometimes. It'll pass. Everything passes if I sit long enough.

Except when it doesn't.

I make it to the hallway, slow and careful, like walking through water. My vision dips sideways for a second, and I grab the wall. My vision skips, went quiet again.

My legs feel like paper

I think about food. Just for a second. Not to eat it, just the idea of it. The warmth. The weight of it in my hands. But my stomach turns before the thought can settle. I don't want it. I don't need it.

I just need... control. Still. Always.

But when i try to take another step, the floor tilts. And this time I can't catch myself.

I hit the ground hard.

A soft sound of skin against wood, and then nothing.

My cheek presses against the floor. It's cold. Comfortingly I close my eyes for a second.

Just a second.

Because if I get up too fast, I'll faint. Again. If I stay here, maybe I'll rest. Maybe I'll feel better.

I tell myself I'm okay. I always do.

But this time... I don't think I believe it.

Notes:

Love you all

Chapter 7: Back to school

Summary:

Oh boy.

Okay HUGE TW. Shouto face huge consequences from severe anorexia, its sad 😔
But anyway hope you guys like that ! Again sorry if i make mistakes i am not native !!
Love you all

Chapter Text

The end of the weeks goes the same...

Monday.

The sunlight is pale through my bedroom window, I rub my face, fingers trembling. My body feels strange, like I've been underwater for too long and everything's moving too slowly. My head hurt.

I don't have time to think about that.

School. I have to go to school. The driver is picking me up today.

And it's not like I can miss it. Not now. The world has to keep spinning. I have to make it through just one more day.

I pull myself up and stand, my legs shaky, like they've forgotten how to hold me. I lean against the wall to steady myself.

I decide to weight myself, even tho I don't have the energy anymore. It's the only things that keeping me alive. I enter the bathroom, the bright light is destroying my eyes.

I hold on the lever as I walk up to the scale. The cold floor under my feet is making me shivering, i am used to it anyway.

I take all my clothes off, with the last bit of energy i can find in my body. And step on that scale. The one who destroyed me.

28.1kg

That it, bmi 10. Ultimate goal bmi, but it's not even making me happy anymore. I just want the number to get lower and lower.
__________________________________________

By the time I get to the front door, I fell lightheaded again. I press my palm against the frame to stready myself and blink rapidly, trying to push away the dizziness. It's fine.
Everything's fine. It'll pass. It always does.

When I finally get to school, the walk feels like a long tunnel. My feet are heavy. I don't really see the people walking by. I don't hear the chatter, the sound of lockers opening and closing. Everything's strange in my head.

Suddenly I'm in class, Mr.Aizawa's voice is distant, like I'm hearing it underwater. I can't focus on anything except the emptiness in my stomach. It's been days since I last ate. The hunger is a constant buzz in the back of my head.

I can feel my skin stretching across my bones, my clothes really loose on me. Sitting is really hurting, my bones against the wood of the chair is so painful.

The bell rings, but I barely hear it. The classroom is a blur around me.

I lower my head to look at my thighs. Wrapping my hands around my right thigh, moving up and down. I can wrap my hands all the way up to my hips.

I can't even think straight anymore.

"-ki...sho...to" I raise my head towards the voice. Mr.Aizawa. I can't totally hear him.

I don't know what to do anymore, nothing's right anymore. And of course it shows, I've lost weight. More than 10 kilograms since they started worrying.

I hear sounds next to me, a touch on my shoulder.

I breath a little and concentrate on his voice. My teacher is trying to have a conversation with me, I guess.

"Shoto, tell me the truth. You look deadly skinny, bony. You used to be very skinny but now..." i just feel the tear going down my cheeks "you're dying. I don't even think you'll be able to live 2 weeks more."

I open my mouth, but I don't know.

I breathe and scratch my thigh as I force myself to speak. "I-...tried to lose weight... it got out of control"

"So...do you have that condition they diagnosed you, or you've been lying and you starve yourself on purpose to lose weight ?" He asked. It's getting harder to concentrate.

"I- starve..."

He nods and get up. "Shoto, we're going to recovery girl."

I tried to get up, but can't. I start crying heavily, out of control. Why can't I move anymore... why can't i...

"Hey hey hey, shoto, it's okay, I'll carry you there okay ?" I calm down a little.

He doesn't really talk to me during the «trip» to recovery girl's office. Everything feels like cotton.

I am dying, my heart feels so slow...

3rd person's PDV

Aizawa knock on the door, recovery girl let them in. Aizawa put shoto in the infirmary bed.

"Oh my gosh. Is that shoto ??" Recovery girl say as she walked towards shoto's barely dying body and start touching his cheeks, they're so cold. "I don't want to know what happened, I am calling the hospital right now."

She run to her phone and immediately call the ambulance. Mr.Aizawa sit in the bad next to shoto. He's not conscious anymore, his heart rate is very low. Aizawa can't even hid his worries. Not anymore.

His student was dying from anorexia, and he couldn't even helped him before it got out of control. He's dying now, probably hasn't eaten in a long time. He told himself .

"I knew it wasn't that stupid functional disp...thing, I was something else... something bigger." Aizawa says.

"They're coming, aizawa, he's getting help. I just hope he'll survive..." she says as she hid her guts from concern.

They both stay quiet till the ambulance arrives. Recovery Girl kept checking his heart rates, getting lower and lower.

The ambulance arrives and take Shoto in charge as soon as possible.
__________________________________________

Shoto's in intensive care, monitored. They managed to save him, but it was very late, he'll probably be in a coma for some time.

They all arrived at the hospital, Endeavour and Fuyumi. They got back from the trip during Sunday's night. They feel so guilty not checking on Shoto the next morning.

Natsuo still in his way to the hospital.

Aizawa went in the ambulance with Shoto, he's sitting in a chair in the waiting room, with shoto's family. All full of concern. With a lot of thought going inside of their head.

Will he survive ? Is he going to be able to recover ? Will he have consequences ?

They can't have answers right now, the doctor told them that when he wakes up, it's still possible that he doesn't make it through the week. Depends on his body reaction.

So they all stay there, unable to move due to the worries. Feels like theirs feet's are glued to the ground.

He will survive...he doesn't have a choice.

Chapter 8: Hospital

Summary:

Endeawhore being himself as always… ugh

Chapter Text

"I had no friends, didn't talk to anyone for a long time. It seems horrible but I could concentrate on the weight loss... they didn't asked any questions since they didn't knew me..." I say, tears down my cheeks

"anorexia make people lose theirs emotions, personality. It's the reason you've been alone for a long time. People would've come to you otherwise, but talking to someone who's only thinking about weight and food is hard." The doctor say. Trying to comfort me, but i know nothing will comfort me.

I am laying in my bed, monitored, with that painful tube in my nose.

I've been in the hospital for a month. I hate it, but i need to act like I am getting comfortable you know ? Of course i feel better, i was at heaven's door a month ago. Doctors and nurses told me that i had chance to survive, they were really scared for me, thinking i wont make it through the night. But i did.

I don't know if it's making my «happy» or just angry. I don't want to gain any weight, i want to be as skinny as possible. But apparently what i want is being dead so... I don't even know what I want anymore.

But I can assure you, being able to move is good. Being able to think is not the best tho... I still have flashbacks of before and during the moment I was waking up from the coma.

"Shoto...my shoto. I love you so much... you're going to get through it I promise you"
I hear someone say, I think it's Fuyumi...
Everything is low and fast around me

"You're loved sho...dad will be better with your I promise. You're too young to get through this..."
I tried to answer, but I couldn't move my mouth.

"Do you feel better physically? I know mentally it's still very hard, but are you able to move correctly?"

"Yes, getting up is still hard but I manage it." I say, not being a liar for once...

He note something in his notebook and lift his head up, smiling at me.

"It's normal, you've been only hospitalised for a month and gained 6 kilograms. You're still extremely underweight. But now you can't have any more increase in your nasogastric tube, you'll gain healthily." He say, still worry. "you're only bmi 12, better that bmi 10 but still very low, how do you feel about your bmi right now?"

"It's hard, but I think... I am okay with the weight gain." I responded, lying.

"Okay, we're good for now, don't hesitate if anything." Mr.Tanaka smile at me and leaves the room. My room...for now.

I lean back on the bed, the thing that is feeding me start ringing, meaning the end of the feed. Ugh, I hate it every times...

"SHOTO !"

I turn my head towards the door, my dad is there. He looks angry, in his hero outfit.

"You're getting out of the hospital. NOW." He shouted.

"W-what ?? Excuse me what ? Did the doctor allowed me to go home ?" I asked, totally choked. Jaw dropped.

He walks towards me and pull the blanket out of me.

"Get up NOW. I am discharging you, right now. I don't want you in the hospital, you're being childish. Like not eating was hard ? COME ON HOW OLD ARE YOU !!! YOU'RE NOT DYING ANYMORE STOP THAT NONSENSE !!" He grabs my arm and pushes me out of my beds, I start crying. Very concerned of what he'll do to me... I don't want to get rape and beat anymore... please stop.

"That it you're being disrespectful towards me, I am signing a paper, you leave when I want ! I AM YOUR FATHER ! YOU WANT TO STAY HERE ? WITH THAT UGLY TUBE IN YOUR NOSE !"

He then push me on the ground, detaching the tube off the monitor and walks away. He breath to calm down and turn to me.

"Get up, pack your things, the nurses will be there in a few minutes."

I do as he instructed me, my bones are so painful. He probably left bruises on my body. But i don't think more and start packing my things, will I die out of the hospital ?

Walking is still very unstable, i can walk but I haven't been allowed to walk in a long time. I had to go to the bathroom with a nurse holding me... I don't even want to think about it anymore.

A few minutes later, my things are packed. Next to the door, I am sitting in the edge of the bed, looking at the door, waiting for the nurse to come in.

And he did, the nurse came in.

"Hi, so it's time, you can go out. We have to take the ng tube out first." He walks, hold the tube as he take it out. It's really itchy, I sneeze multiple times.

It feels so much better without it... I feel like I am living again, oh my gosh.

"So shoto should-" he start saying, getting cut off my my father. "We don't want to hear it, I know what I need to do about MY son's condition. Have a great day" my dad says, grabbing me, my things and walk outside of the building.

His hand on my upper arm is extremely painful, I hate it. I keep crying like a child, I am so scared of him...

"SATORI OPEN THE CAR TRUNK !" He shout at our driver.

We arrive at the car, my dad gives, well throws my luggage to Satori. He push me inside the car as he goes inside too, sitting next to me.

"How did I manage to fail the only son that had potential." I hear him, but I don't respond. What the point, he will beat me to death, probably raped me till I get tear in two...

"Shoto. Do you know that the doctors think i am beating you ? They even asked me if I've been sexually abusive with you ? So. Have you told them something? Are you being disobedient?"

What ?? I never said anything...

"No I promise i never said anything..." I respond, scared as always.

"Anyway, they won't suspect something like that again. I promise you." He says, looking at me.

I feel my breathing getting out of control, what has he done ? They tried to save me... I should've talked to them.

I am a failure

Chapter 9: Help

Summary:

Small chapter^^

Anyway, Shouto’s dad is horrible for letting him out like that 😭

Chapter Text

I don't remember what it's like to be full without hating myself after.

It's Monday morning. I'm standing in front of the mirror, my uniform hanging off me like i borrowed it from a stranger. I can see every bone sticking out. My collarbone are sharp, my hips jut out like warning, and my thighs haven't touched in months. BMI: 11.7. I checked again this morning, just to be sure. Dropping again.

I should've been in the hospital longer. I know that. The doctors knew it too. But it wasn't up to them. My dad pulled me out three days ago, stormed in and signed the discharge papers like he was doing me a favor.

Crazy. That's what he thinks this is. A phase. A choice. He doesn't see how deep this runs. How loud it is inside of my head all the time.

Since coming home, I've lost another kilo. I weighted myself twice this morning, just to be sure it wasn't a glitch. I felt fear. Then relief. That's the cycle.

I don't want to get better. I'm not ready. Everyone thinks recovery is this brave thing, this beautiful transformation. But they don't understand, it feels like dying. Like losing everything I've built.

Food terrify me. Gaining weight terrified me. But losing control? That's worse.

My body is cold all the time. My heart is very slow. I get dizzy standing up, and I can barely focus in class. But at least I'm not disgusting. At least I'm not weak.

That's what the voice tells me. The one that counts calories and tracks every gram. The one that screams when someone says, "just eat."

By the time I get to school, I'm already exhausted. The hallway spins slightly. My hands tremble when I try to open my locker.

Midoriya sees me and freezes. I see the horror flicker across his face before he tries to hide it.

"Todo-...Shoto ?" He says, like he's not sure it's really me.

"Hey." I mutter. My voice doesn't sound right. It's too thin, like the rest of me.

"You- God, you look" he stops himself. "Why are you here ? You shouldn't be here."

"Endeavour says I'm fine." I say. It's the truth, even if it's a lie.

He reaches out to touch my arm. He flinch, there were only bones left, I know. And still, I feel fat.

"You look so...dead" he whispered. "Shoto, you're-"

"I know." I say.

The world shifts. My knees buckle. I hear him shout my name an everything goes black.

And for a moment, just a moment, fainting feels easier than explaining.
__________________________________________

Midoriya's Point of View - infirmary, later that Morning.

We've never been close.

Not because I didn't want to be, shoto just never let people in. He was quiet, focused, distant. Not rude, not cold, just...untouchable, like there was always something more important in his minds. I guess I thought he liked it that way. That maybe he needed space more than he needed friends.

But now?

Now he's lying on the infirmary cot like a shadow of the person I remember from three months ago. Pale. Sunken. Unmoving.

I sit by his bedside, staring at the shape of him under the blanket, if you can even call it that. He's all angles now. His collarbone juts out like it's trying to break through skin. His wrists look too fragile to lift anything heavier that a pencil.

BMI: 11.7
That's what Recovery Girl muttered under her breath when she looked at the chart.

He was BMI 10 before going to the hospital.
Ten.
They said his heart stopped.
Two months. That's all it took to nearly erase him.

I don't know what to do with the guilt curling in my chest. I noticed. Everyone did. We watched the weight melt off him like snow on pavement, fast and quiet. But no one said anything, he's Todoroki, after all. Always in control. Always composed. Always fine.

Except he isn't. He hasn't been.

And now he's back at school, three days out of the hospital, like nothing happened. Like he didn't almost die. Like he didn't walk back in here wearing a uniform that hangs off his bones and a dead look in his eyes.

I don't think he even saw me when I said his name. Just said "Endeavour says I'm fine" like it's a magic spell.

And then he collapsed.

I called out, caught him as he went down, but I could feel it, how light he was. How scary light. Like holding paper. Or air.

Now, I'm just watching him breathe. Trying to make sense of all the signs I didn't connect soon enough. The long sleeves. The way he started missing meals without excuse, without shame. Like food was the enemy. Like his body was a battlefield and he was determined to win by disappearing.

Wa never really talked.
But I still should've said something.

I glance toward the door. Aizawa's outside, probably making a call. Probably trying to get someone, anyone, to see how bad this really is. Because it's not just a student skipping meals. It's not about discipline. It's not a phase. It's killing him.

I look back at Shoto. His face twitches in his sleep, a muscle pulling near his eye like he's in pain even now.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

He doesn't hear me. Or maybe he does. Maybe that apology is for me more than him.

I just know one thing for sure, whatever happens next, I'm not staying silent.

Not again.

Chapter 10: Finally

Summary:

They found out 😔

Chapter Text

The lights hurt.

They always do, but this time it's worse. My skin feels too thin, my body too hollow to belong to me. I feel my heartbeat in the back of my skull, slow, confused, a machine running out of power. I don't want to be awake. I want the quiet of unconsciousness again. At least there, I couldn't hear myself think.

But I hear them before I open my eyes.

Midoriya's voice. Soft, cracking around the edges. He's saying my name. Again. Like he's been saying it for a while. Like it's a rope and he's trying to pull me out.

And then another voice. Deeper. Calm, but tense.

Aizawa.

I blink.

They're both here.

Midoriya's sitting beside the bed, hands curled so tightly in his lap they're white. Aizawa stands near the foot of the cot, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his eyes don't move from me. They're heavy.

I shift, trying to sit up. My arms barely hold me.

"Easy," Aizawa says immediately, stepping forward. "You fainted. Again. You're severely underweight, and from what Recovery Girl told me, you were discharged from the hospital far too early."

I say nothing.

"What were you thinking coming to school?" he presses. "You had a cardiac arrest less than a month ago. This isn't something you push through, Todoroki."

"I'm fine," I rasp.

Midoriya flinches. Aizawa doesn't react, but something flickers in his jaw, tight and sharp.

"You're not fine," Midoriya says quietly. "You're not even close."

I look away.

Because I know what they're trying to do. They're trying to help. And help means staying. It means recovery. It means other people knowing. Asking questions.

And that means he will find out.

And he'll be angry.

Not just the yelling kind. Not just the silent fury that creeps into the house like smoke. The other kind. The kind that doesn't leave bruises where people can see them. The kind that makes me flinch when hands get too close. The kind I can't explain, even to myself. The kind I'm not allowed to name.

Midoriya reaches out instinctively, like he wants to touch my hand—but I recoil, fast and instinctive, pulling my arm under the blanket before he can make contact.

They both freeze.

Aizawa's eyes narrow just slightly. "Todoroki," he says slowly, cautiously, like he's stepping around glass, "is there something you're not telling us? Something about home?"

My throat closes.

Say no. Say no. That's the rule. That's the only way this ends cleanly.

But the silence hangs too long. My hands start shaking under the blanket. I want to disappear into the bed. Into the floor. Into nothing.

"I just need to go home," I whisper.

Midoriya looks like I've stabbed him. "Home isn't safe, is it?"

I don't answer.

Because if I say it out loud, it's real.

Because if I say it, they'll try to take me away. They'll make me stay. And if he finds out I said something, if he thinks I made him look weak, if he thinks I disobeyed.

I can't.

Aizawa kneels beside the bed, his voice softer than I've ever heard it. "You're not in trouble, Shoto. But I need to know if he's hurting you."

I can't breathe.

Because yes.

Because sometimes his hands are cruel. Because sometimes he looks at me in a way no father should. Because he says it's my duty to be perfect, to carry his name, to belong to him. Because sometimes I wake up and I don't know if what happened was a dream or a memory.

But saying it? Saying it makes it real.

And if it's real, then it's mine forever.

"I said I'm fine," I snap, too loud. It shakes in the air like glass.

They both stop. Neither pushes again.

Midoriya's voice cracks. "You don't have to do this alone."

Aizawa stands from his crouch. His face is unreadable, but his tone leaves no room for argument.

"Midoriya," he says calmly, "I need a moment with Todoroki. Alone."

Midoriya hesitates. "But-"

Aizawa cuts him off with just a look. Not cruel. Not cold. Just... serious. And somehow that's worse.

Midoriya nods slowly. He stands. His eyes linger on me, searching, pleading. I don't meet them. I can't. If I look at him now, I'll break.

The door clicks shut behind him.

And then it's just me, Aizawa, and the sound of the machines tracking my heartbeat, slow, fragile, betraying everything I'm trying to keep buried.

A moment passes. Then the curtain rustles. Recovery Girl steps in quietly, eyes tired but kind. She stands at the foot of the bed beside Aizawa, and for the first time in years, I feel like a child again.

Not in the warm way.

In the helpless way.

Aizawa speaks first.

"We weren't going to confront you like this. Not now. Not when you've just passed out. But..." He pauses. His voice is steady, but lower. "We can't let this go on."

My pulse stutters.

He looks me dead in the eye.

"We have proof, Shoto."

I stop breathing.

"We've been concerned for a while. The weight loss. The bruises. The sudden discharge from the hospital. The way you flinch when someone raises their voice." He pauses. "But this... this goes beyond what we expected."

"What... proof?" I ask, barely able to force the words out.

Recovery Girl steps forward now, her voice gentler than his. "One of the nurses at the hospital filed a report. She overheard a conversation between your father and one of the doctors. He threatened them. Said you were exaggerating. Said you were his 'responsibility' and he'd 'deal with you himself.'"

My stomach twists violently.

She continues, softly. "There were also injuries noted in your hospital file. Older ones. Ones that didn't match the explanation you gave. Marks on your thighs. Your hips. A cracked rib healing badly. Things that looked... deliberate."

I close my eyes.

I want to sink into the bed. I want to scream. I want to run. But I can't even sit up without my vision going black, let alone stand.

"This isn't just concern anymore," Aizawa says. "It's investigation. And it's protection. We've contacted authorities. Hero Commission, child welfare. You're a minor. You've been abused physically, emotionally. Possibly sexually."

The last word lands like a fist.

My jaw locks.

"No," I say.

Aizawa doesn't blink. "Shoto-"

"No," I say again, louder. "You don't understand. You don't know what you're doing."

Recovery Girl steps back, hands up. "We know you're scared"

"He'll kill me," I whisper. "If you make this worse. If you accuse him. He'll make sure I pay for it."

Aizawa's voice is steel. "He won't get the chance."

"You don't know him like I do." My hands are trembling. "He doesn't need quirks to hurt people. He just needs control. And if you take that from him, he'll find another way. He always finds a way."

The room is too quiet after that. My chest is heaving, but my lungs barely fill. Every inhale hurts.

"I don't want help," I say. "I just want this to stop. I just want to go back to... before."

"Before what?" Aizawa asks, quietly.

Before I was weak enough to be noticed.
Before I was a liability.
Before I told anyone.

"I shouldn't have said anything," I whisper. "This is my fault."

"No," Recovery Girl says firmly. "None of this is your fault."

But the words don't land. Because when you've been told for years that obedience is survival, silence is safety, and suffering is strength.
Kindness sounds like a lie.
And help feels like a trap.

I curl in on myself, shaking.

And Aizawa, he doesn't push again.

He just sits down beside the bed.

And stays.

Because maybe he understands:
The first step isn't trusting someone else.
It's surviving the moment they finally believe you.

Chapter 11: Trying

Chapter Text

Aizawa's POV

I've seen a lot of things in this job. Burnout. Panic. Trauma. Kids breaking under pressure no child should ever be under.

But nothing prepares you for this.

Shoto Todoroki, curled up in a hospital bed like he's trying to disappear. Skin stretched too thin. Voice barely a whisper. And eyes—those eyes—dull with fear. Not of failure. Not of pain.

Of his father.

Of the consequences of being found out.

He says he doesn't want help. That he's fine. But every word trembles, like he's lying just to survive saying them out loud.

Recovery Girl and I lay it all out. The bruises. The threats. The silence. He hears us. He flinches—but not at the truth. At the idea of someone believing it.

He says, "He'll kill me."
And I believe him.

Not literally, maybe. But there are worse things than death, especially when they come in the form of control. Isolation. Power twisted into something intimate and cruel.

He thinks this is his fault. That if he'd just been stronger, quieter, more obedient—this wouldn't be happening.

That kind of thinking doesn't come from nowhere.

I've had students lie before. I've had them protect the people who hurt them. I've seen the loyalty fear can create. But I've never seen a kid so broken they'd rather vanish than be saved.

So I don't argue.

I don't tell him he's brave. Or strong. Or that things will be okay.

I just stay.

Because right now, my job isn't to fix him.

It's to make sure no one else gets the chance to break him again.
__________________________________________

Shoto's POV - Two Hours Later

The room is quieter now. Aizawa hasn't spoken in a while, just sat there, making it clear he isn't going anywhere. I stopped shaking eventually, but the numbness hasn't left. It sits heavy in my chest.

There's a knock at the door.

Aizawa rises immediately. "That'll be the officer."

Officer.

The word slices through the fog in my head.

"I didn't ask for this," I say, voice hoarse. "I didn't want this."

"No," Aizawa says. "But someone had to."

The curtain draws back slowly. A woman steps in. Plain clothes. Soft eyes. She doesn't look like a cop, but I know she is.

"Shoto Todoroki?" she asks gently. "I'm Detective Mori. I work with Hero Commission Welfare and Abuse Intervention."

My throat dries out. I don't answer.

Aizawa stays nearby. Close enough to ground me. Far enough to let me choose.

Mori kneels by the bed. "You don't have to tell me everything today. We've already opened an investigation. Multiple medical professionals have documented injuries, and two U.A. staff have submitted formal concern reports."

I blink. "You already...?"

"Yes," she says. "Quietly. Carefully. We've been watching for a while."

I feel sick. Exposed. Like they've been looking at me this whole time and I never knew.

"We're coordinating with the hospital," she adds. "And we've made contact with your mother. She's safe. She's... worried about you."

The mention of her sends something cracking inside me. I haven't heard her voice in months.

"He'll deny everything," I say flatly.

"I know."

"He'll twist it. Say I'm unstable. That I'm lying."

"We've heard that before," Mori says. "From a lot of kids. And we still believed them."

I close my eyes. My body aches in places even bruises didn't touch.

"What happens now?"

"We build the case," she says. "We make sure you're safe. We take it from there. But most importantly, you're not going back to him."

My heart stutters. Safety. It's something I haven't felt in years. And now it's being offered like a promise.

I don't answer.

I just nod.

Barely.

But it's the first yes I've said in a long, long time.
__________________________________________

Endeavor's POV - That Evening

It's late. The house is quiet, too quiet, but the stillness doesn't sit right with him. He's been pacing the study, the files scattered on his desk, details of U.A.'s most recent recommendations, reports on his son's behavior, the cold, clinical language that only makes his temper flare more.

This wouldn't be happening if Shoto had just listened.

Endeavor's hands grip the edges of his desk. His son was a failure, and yet again he was undermining his authority, twisting everything into something unrecognizable. But it's different now. There's something in the air tonight. An unfamiliar tension that crawls under his skin.

He doesn't know yet that the investigation has started. But soon, he'll understand what this quiet is.

The knock on the door comes. Too controlled. The one person who doesn't fear him anymore.

"Enter." he barks.

The door creaks open, and a figure steps into the room. A high-ranking officer from the Hero Commission. Her face is expressionless. She's come here for a reason. A reason that doesn't involve respecting his authority.

She wastes no time.

"I'm Detective Mori," she says firmly. "I'm here regarding your son, Shoto Todoroki."

Endeavor's jaw tightens. "What about him?"

She steps forward, her eyes sharp, and for the first time in a long while, Endeavor feels a flicker of unease in his gut. She hands him a thick folder. It's the kind of folder that makes your palms sweat, even before you open it.

"An investigation has been launched. Multiple abuse claims have surfaced. You're being investigated for endangering your son's welfare."

The words hang in the air.

Endeavor's mind races. The nurse. That damn report. The one thing he couldn't control, couldn't bend to his will. He thought he could silence it, make them forget. But there it is. In his hands. Reality sinking in.

"Those are lies," he spits, voice rising.

"I don't believe it's a matter of belief, Mr. Todoroki," Mori says coldly. "It's a matter of facts. Your son's injuries. Medical records. Statements from U.A. staff."

Endeavor slams the folder down onto the desk. "My son is ungrateful. He's weak. You have no idea what he's put me through. What I've done for him. I've shaped him into something better than anyone else could!"

The detective's gaze hardens. "Your son's body, Mr. Todoroki, is not an instrument to be molded. He is a person, and he has rights. You do not own him."

For the first time, Endeavor feels the air shift, the silence press against his chest like a weight.

His mind is racing, but he can't move fast enough to stop this. The investigation. The authorities. The commission. They're all closing in. And this time, there will be no way out.

He doesn't know what to do. The reality of it is almost too much to grasp. His fists clench, the power at his disposal meaning nothing when it comes to protecting his image now. He has no control over this. No control over his son. Not anymore.

"Your son is in danger, Mr. Todoroki," Mori says one final time. "And so are you, if you don't start answering some very difficult questions."

The door closes behind her.

Endeavor is left in the silence. His hands are trembling, his thoughts scattered. His reputation, his control, his legacy, everything is slipping from his grasp.

And for the first time in years, he is confronted with a reality he can't overpower.
__________________________________________

Shoto's POV - Later That Week, During the Interview

The room is small. Too small. The walls close in, and the weight of being in a place like this feels different than the sterile hospital rooms or classrooms I've been in.

Detective Mori sits across from me. She's not like my father, her eyes aren't filled with anger or accusations, but with something softer, more patient. Her partner, a tall man with a quiet demeanor, stands by the door, keeping watch.

I wish I could close my eyes and pretend it's just another day. But the reality is too sharp, too loud in my head.

"Shoto," Mori starts, her voice low, careful. "We know this is difficult. You don't have to say everything right now. But we need to ask you some questions about what's been happening at home. It's important that you tell us what's been going on."

I don't respond. I can't. If I speak, it'll feel real.

"Do you feel safe at home, Shoto?" she asks again, softer.

I swallow hard, the words stinging in my throat.

"No," I finally whisper, though it feels like a betrayal. I feel like I'm betraying him. I feel like I'm betraying myself.

Mori leans forward just a little, her eyes never leaving mine. "Can you tell us what's been happening? We know you've been hurt. Physically, emotionally. But we need you to explain what's been going on."

The memories come crashing in. The harsh voice. The shouting. The punishments.

I look down at my hands. "He... he pushes me. When I don't do what he says, or when I don't meet his expectations. When I'm... weak. He gets angry."

Mori nods, gently. "How does he hurt you, Shoto?"

The question makes my stomach twist. I want to disappear. I want to say "no, I'm fine" and close the door on this, like I've done for years. But I can't. Not anymore.

"Sometimes it's... physical. Slaps. Hits. He-" My voice cracks. I force myself to continue. "He doesn't always stop when I tell him to. He... sometimes he takes it too far."

The words feel too much. They feel like acid in my mouth. The truth always feels like too much.

"And has it ever gone beyond that?" Mori asks, her voice still calm, but with a new weight.

I freeze. The question hangs there, suspended between us. I don't want to answer. I don't want to admit it. My mouth goes dry.

I don't even want to think about it.

But I know what she's asking. And I can't lie to her anymore.

I nod, slowly, my head heavy. "Yes."

There's a beat of silence. A long, heavy one. I can feel the pressure of their eyes, but I can't look at them. I just want it to stop.

Mori doesn't rush me. She waits.

"When did that happen?" she asks gently.

I shake my head. I don't want to answer that. I don't want to think about the moments when I felt the most helpless, the most alone. When my body wasn't mine.

"It... it's happened before. I don't... I don't know exactly when." My voice is barely above a whisper now.

Mori gives me a small nod, a quiet understanding. "Shoto, I know this is difficult, but you're not alone. We are going to make sure you're safe. You don't have to go back to him."

I squeeze my eyes shut. If only that were true.

But there's no going back now. The words are out there. And even if I wanted to pretend it was all a lie, the truth is already written in the papers. The bruises on my skin. The scans on my file. The proof in the quiet moments when I couldn't keep pretending anymore.

I'm trapped, but in this small room, with Mori's careful, steady presence, maybe, just maybe- I can find a way out.