A person is neither wholly good or bad. The most morally corrupt can selflessly save a life and the morally righteous can ruin a life without remorse. Humans don't fit into clear categories. That is where many make fatal errors in their opinions on others, they stuff people into boxes and are surprised when the person in question doesn’t conform.
That is when victims suffer the most, when a good person does evil.
Shouto doesn’t remember most of his childhood.
Days upon days of supposed training, were completely forgotten.
Interactions he had supposedly had with his family, gone.
Memories of pivotal moments, like his mother hurting him or his brother disappearing, gone.
Shouto felt like he was walking in a headache-inducing daze since he could remember.
Too many thoughts and voices crammed into a head too small, banging against their confines. Shouto had issues sometimes when he tried to make simple decisions because his thoughts warred against themselves.
Shouto could barely remember why he was so scared of his father.
At his gentle call, Fuyumi turned around from the stove and smiled at him. Her voice was equally as gentle when she answered, “Yes?”
“Where is Touya?”
Shouto didn’t understand.
He didn’t understand why Fuyumi’s marble face crumbled.
He didn’t understand why she left the pot on the stove unattended to shamble towards him.
He didn’t understand why she started heaving sobs.
He didn’t understand why she pulled him into such a tight embrace.
He didn’t understand her mumbled, “Sh- it’ll be fine Shou. It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, okay? I’ll protect you. We’ll be okay.”
The mantra didn’t make sense to his foggy mind.
Shouto didn’t understand anything anymore.
Ejder was breathed into an unfair life.
He, a mighty being in which mortals should cower from, stuck in a puny mortal child. His existence seemed to hinge on keeping the small being alive during what is called “hero training”.
This “training”, in Ejder’s fine opinion, was but a word used to obscure the torture this mortal man inflicted upon his son.
Ejder’s first days of life consisted of stumbling around in this ineffective body, trying to defend it from a man who seem determined to slay his own flesh and blood.
This small human body was so unlike his own. Where his body was large, this body was so incredibly small. Where this body was bipedal, Ejder was uncomfortable when his four claws weren’t firmly on the ground. Where Ejder’s snout made speaking without magic impossible, this “ father” expected him to use this unfamiliar mouth to speak.
A dragon in a human’s body.
Ejder couldn’t comprehend which god he’d offended to be placed in such a hellish life.
His existence is now plagued with humiliation. Using powers that resembled his own, but were achingly foreign, to fight a man he should have been able to gobble up with ease.
Especially considering, Ejder couldn’t beat this “ Endeavor ” with such a weak body.
The man in front of Ejder was honorless.
All of Ejder’s memories consisted of being hunted by Endeavor’s flames and taunting suggestions.
His mind should be filled with pleasant rememberings of the sky, his wings, and the sweet crunch of bone snapping in between his mighty jaws. His breaths should be able to switch between flame and ice without “quirk exhaustion”. He shouldn’t have to be stuck protecting this weakling from their sire’s wrath.
Yet here he was, Ejder, der Drache des Gleichgewichts, lay in a heap on the floor. Endeavor loomed above him. The aftermath, a mix of ice, fire, smoke, and steam curled around them in an almost beautiful background. Ejder couldn’t bring himself to raise his gaze, humiliation gathered in “his” belly.
To be beaten again and again by a mere mortal.
To know that he can’t even protect himself anymore.
To know he can’t even protect a mere mortal youngling.
Maybe Endeavor was correct in his assertions of Ejder’s uselessness.
Maybe he wasn’t fit to be a hero.
But Ejder couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that Endeavor was fit for a heroic career either.
Tamisra hated everything she had ever known.
This stupid body
This bullshit world where her pain is acceptable in the first place
Tamisra’s constant state of being was pain. Fire licked up her body, boiling water scorched her face, frostbite caused an annoying-as-fuck shiver, and all the other bullshit memories she was stuck with.
If God or the gods were real, Tamisra wanted to ask what she did to deserve this… life . And maybe tell them to fuck off while she was at it.
Another piece of bullshit?
All her memories were of some pathetic little boy. A boy! Why in the hell would she have memories that weren’t hers. Stuck in sniveling body with thoughts so much more pathetic compared to hers.
And where were her memories?
Why does she know that she likes grapefruit if she has no memory of eating it. Why does she know that she is partially deaf if she hasn’t even talked with anyone? Why does she know that she hates people when she doesn’t remember ever talking to someone.
Why does she know ?
Why is she stuck in this limbo of pain?
Why is she stuck in this bedroom drenched in nothing but black and purple and its tattered and uncomfortable furniture?
If this is the rest of her life, then is life even worth it?
Dabi missed three things from his life as Touya. He missed his mother, his siblings, and being fucking loaded.
His mother is now locked in some psych ward until she either dies or Endeavor decides she won’t pull anymore shit.
The mother he knew is long gone. The lady in that hospital wouldn’t want anything to do with some scarred freak when she’s got a whole situation to deal with already.
Dabi’s siblings probably hate him. Or in Shouto’s case, not even remember him.
And getting money ain’t too hard with the villain life he’s got going.
Dabi just needed to remember, Todoroki Touya is fucking dead . And all would be well, right?