Rough Hands - A T.ShigarakixReader Story

Home.

"I'm sorry Mommy." You cry, clinging onto the hem of the skirt on her dress. "I'm sorry!"
She sighs, a warm and soft hand landing in your hair. "It's okay. You didn't know."
You sob into the fabric of her skirt even though she wasn't mad. The fact was, and is, that the mean, tall, and scary man had hurt her. He'd hurt her because you'd made the foolish mistake of telling him Mom had banned you from using your Quirk after the incident with the bird.
"Please be quiet, Y/N." Mom urges in a whisper. 
You knew the rule was no crying, or at least to do it quietly, even in your private rooms when Mom didn't have any company. It was after one woman had started and then it had set everyone else off too, even the children had started after seeing their moms crying.
"I didn't mean to get you in trouble." You sob, burying your face even deeper into her clothes to try and muffle your sobs and cries even more.

"It's fine." She sighs again. "I'm fixing it, see?" 
She taps your shoulder, and you reluctantly move away from the skirt bunched up in your tiny hands, wiping your eyes viciously so that you vision was no longer blurred, and looking as a pink glow not too dissimilar from your own emitted from your Moms hand as it hovered over her eye.
"It'll make you sleepy." You comment dubiously, knowing that last time someone showed up for Mom and she was asleep, she got punished again.
"I'll be fine." She reassures, giving you a soft smile. "I promise." 
"I don't like it here Mommy." You say quietly. 
Her face crumples slightly, her eyes beginning to water before it snaps entirely, her entire demeanor becoming colder than Mom ever really showed, it only happened when she was about to cry.

"We have to stay here, Y/N." She sighs, removing her hand from your shoulder, the comforting touch being missed the second it's taken away. 
"Why? Sir is mean and everyone's sad." You query, grabbing for her again, only for her to walk away from you. 
She offers no response, just silence, her face still set in stone, completely emotionless compared to how she'd looked seconds beforehand. You don't understand the complete u-turn in her emotions in your young age, you can only imagine it was because she didn't want to get in trouble again.
"Mommy." You call sadly. "If you want to cry, you can cry on my dress. I don't mind." 
"Y/N." She says a little shakily before taking a deep breath, turning around to face you with the same cold look she'd had before moving away from you. "This is our home." 
You weren't sure about that one, and you were sure it showed on your face. Sure, the only ideas you had of what a 'home' would be were from the books the man got you. Warm places, with fireplaces, and rosy gardens. Not places swarming with children and women and scary men as well as the occasional scary guest. You were almost entirely sure that the idea of 'home' didn't include crying women, hurt women and scared children.

Clearly the look of uncertainty on your face isn't what your Mom wants to see. She looks down at you for a second longer before sighing again and dropping to her knees so she's face to face with you. Her hand drops from where it had been hovering over her eye, only to reveal the newly healed black eye that had been there before- her skin looking as perfect as it had before Sir had punched her.
"Listen here." She says, her voice a lot softer than it had been before. "This is our home. You love all your friends here, don't you? And you love all your aunties." 
You shift from foot to foot, frowning slightly, but nodding. You did love the other kids, you were never without company, and because there were so many of you running around, no-one bothered to pester you while you had your nose in a book because there were so many others to play with. The aunties were okay, they looked out for you when Mom was busy, and sometimes would read to you or play with you. You really liked it when one of the women, Hina, would brush and style your hair for the day. She always did it so well.
"I want my own room..." You muse quietly, the sentence not getting a reaction from your Mom.

"If you want to stay here with all your friends, and your aunties, we have to make sure Sir is happy. Do you understand, Y/N?" Mom asks, stroking stray pink hairs out of your face, and looking down at you with the soft smile Mom always gave you whenever she looked at you, the unfriendly, cold look she had been wearing beforehand dissipating entirely.
You just look back at her uncertainly. You weren't sure you did understand. You'd done everything right. You'd been polite to him, and until you'd grabbed onto him, you'd done nothing to upset him, and he still hurt Mom.
"So to keep him happy, you can use your Quirk if he asks you to, okay? But don't go around using it for anyone else, or any more animals."
"But-" You begin to interrupt, only for your Mom to raise a finger to her lips, immediately getting you to fall silent again. 
"If you keep Sir happy, Mommy can save some money, and we can go find a new home, and you can have your own room. Does that sound good?"
Your eyes light up the second you hear the promise of your own room, and you nod eagerly. Just using your Quirk whenever Sir wanted seemed easy enough. Hopefully it would mean you could use it on an animal again, there was a cat under the porch that looked a little sickly these days and-

"Y/N." Your mom says, interrupting you from your train of thought with the sad undertone in her voice. You look back at her eyes, spotting the glassiness in them again. "Listen to me properly now."
You nod slightly, leaning against her, only to be stopped by her, her hands gripping each of your arms to hold you in place, looking you dead in the eye as she holds you there.
"This is really important." She says, making her voice stern. "If any of your friends ask you to help them, you can't, okay? If any of the aunties ask you for help, come to me first."
You frown slightly. No-one had asked you for help yet. And she'd already told you you weren't allowed to use your Quirk.
"You're so young and so kind..." Your mom says, a little softer, letting a small sigh out from her nose. "People take advantage of people like us."
"Take advantage?" You parrot, not understanding what those words mean.
She looks at you, her shoulders dropping slightly.
"It means people like to use our Quirks for their own good, without understanding that it can hurt us. Does that make sense?" 
Her eyes clearly search yours, and you nod silently, a pang of sadness hitting your heart, not really able to understand in your young and kind heart why someone wouldn't care if something hurt you.

"Good girl." She says, nodding slightly herself before loosening her grip on your arms. "Don't use your Quirk for people like that. Ever. Okay?" 
"But how will I know?" You ask quietly.
Suddenly, your Mom pulls you in for a tight, warm, hug. You practically sink into her, relieved that the serious tone of the conversation that you were really too young to be having was being softened by the comfort of your Moms hug.
The last thing you really remember before waking is playing with your Moms long, pink hair as she pets your own. 
Before you wake, you feel drops of wet crash against your skull, and you clutch even tighter onto her clothing with one hand, using your other tiny hand to pat her back gently, like she often did whenever you were crying.

-

You wake clutching onto a rolled up blanket, wet dampening the material on your face, and you gently move away from it, slowly bringing a hand to your face and wiping your cheek softly. 
That was a first.
Your cheek was wet, and your tears were cold against the skin. Slowly, you turn your head to look over at Tomura, as if the fact you had cried in your sleep was something you desperately needed him to not know about. 
You'd only cried a few times in front of Tomura, having never made a habit of doing so. The first time, he'd gotten irritated, you weren't sure if it was because of the display of emotion that he'd not experienced himself for a long time, or frustration with not really knowing what to do with you while you sobbed. By the time you'd finished your 'little outburst' as Sensei had called it, Tomuras neck had new claw marks running down it, blood pooling in his collarbones. The second time he at least attempted to be a little better, giving you one of his patented awkward Tomura hugs which only served to make you cry even more, earning a irritated grunt from him as he pulled away and glowered in frustration at you as you slowly crumpled to the floor, sobbing even harder. It was no surprise his neck ended up the same way again that time either.
The third time- the last time you truly remembered, the pain you'd been in trying to heal Sensei, Tomura had wrapped you up as tightly as his hands would allow in a blanket, giving you a firmer hug than he'd ever done before, and had sat between both you and Sensei until you had healed enough to talk again. 

You had been in a pain-hazed state, but you were pretty sure now that you had the experience of being more intimate with Tomura that you'd felt his rough, scarred and cracking lips press against your forehead as you lay there, whimpering, crying and silently praying for sleep so you could escape the agony flowing through your face and body, and just heal so you could all move on to the next place. Get somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. A new home.
Tomura, thankfully, was asleep. His face lax, stray pale blue hairs fluttering with every small exhale that leaves him. He's in his usual position on his back, with his hands fisted this time instead of open and facing the ceiling. 
You turn your head back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand, giving a small sniff before laying your head back onto the damp, cold pillow. You're a little surprised at yourself. You hadn't cried over Mom for a long time. And you felt a little weird about your body waiting for you to be asleep before allowing you to cry.
You can't help but revisit the memory that appeared in your dreams again and again as you lay there, listening to Tomuras soft breaths as he sleeps beside you. 
The more you think about it, the heavier your heart begins to feel. The more frustration you begin to feel in your blood.
It was one of the very few promises you'd made your Mom in the time you'd had her. Not to allow anyone to take advantage of you- of your Quirk. And as much as you knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, you couldn't help but berate yourself internally for allowing it to happen anyway.

Sensei had found you in a vulnerable state. You'd had no cool down time between the time of  the loss of your Mom, the injuries of you trying to heal Mom, childishly thinking you may be able to bring her back to life, and being taken in by Sensei.
You were so relieved to have a friend in Tenko, a quiet home, with only you, Tenko, Sensei and Sensei's helpers that you had overlooked the clear favouritism, the clear lack of interest in your health, and every other red flag. You missed Mom, sure. But you'd slowly begun to forget about her over time, the memories gradually coming back the less you were around Sensei.
You knew it was ridiculous to blame yourself, you were a child, no older than four or five when Tenko had found you crawling on the streets and taken you to Sensei. You had been raised in a home full of fear. You had no way of telling that something was a red flag back then. 
You couldn't help but feel a little sour about it all though. As much as it wasn't your fault you ended up in Senseis hands, only to be used to aid Tomura and nothing more, it also wasn't Tomuras fault that he was led to believe that you were less than him over the years, it wasn't his fault that you were essentially expected and made to fix him over and over again. 
He'd been a lot softer, a lot more considerate since the loss of Sensei. He was still abrupt, abrasive and rude at times, but there were more thanks, more acts of consideration than before. 
Your eyes begin to prickle again, and you let out a small huff of frustration at it. 

You felt like your mind was splitting into several pieces. One part of you was numb, you just wanted Tomura to wake up so you could get on with the day, you didn't want to think about Mom, or how you would have disappointed her if she was still alive. Another part of you was infuriated at Tomura, frustrated that it had taken him so long to consider you even a little bit. A third part of you was filled with hatred towards Sensei, a man you'd tried so hard to impress, to get the same kind of respect and affection he gave Tomura, taking injury after injury, reading and reading and reading to try and learn something, anything that would get you the same kind of recognition that he gave Tomura. Only for it to never really happen. Another part of you recognised there was nothing you or Tomura could have done to stop things from working out the way they did. You were both kids. You were both groomed and molded into whatever use Sensei deemed you suitable for. There was a loyal bond between you both that you would never change now. The final part of your mind just really, really missed your Mom. A woman you barely knew before she passed. You felt as though you were finally mourning what could have been if she hadn't been killed so viciously.
"What's wrong?" A deep, raspy and sleepy voice asks from behind you, and you feel the bed shift as Tomura rolls, presumably to face your back.

You wipe your face again, giving a small sniff. "Nothing." 
There's another shift, and you can see Tomuras pale hair from your peripherals, him having lifted himself up with his elbow to look down at you.
"You're crying." He says, the tiniest hint of disbelief in his voice as he says it.
You don't offer a response, taking his own habit in your stride. Just completely shutting the conversation down in silence before you have to admit any single one of your thoughts. A tiny part of you wanted a hug. Some kind of comfort. But you knew Tomura, and you knew he never knew what to do when faced with emotions that weren't anger, happiness or nonchalance. 
"What's wrong?" He repeats, making no effort to move to comfort you.
You remain silent again. The only time Tomura had ever said anything negative about Sensei was way back in the bar, when he'd noted that you weren't taken very good care of. He was still under his spell, still adoring of Sensei to a fault. And you were smarter than to admit your slight feelings of hurt towards his actions towards you over the years, his trained selfishness. 
He stays hovering over you for a few more moments, and you can only assume it's because he's awaiting a response that was not going to come.

There's a silence as he drops back down, and at the feeling of a fisted up hand making contact as it wraps around your torso, dragging you back into his chest, you let another small sob leave you.
"Bad dream?" He asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
You shake your head, frustration bubbling at the tears that were beginning to stream down your face again.
"Then what is it?" He asks, the usual snappiness that you'd usually get when you refused to tell him something straight away a little softer than it'd usually be. A small surprise considering how frustrated he usually got whenever you cried before.
You just shake your head again, trying to choke back the tears, to try and uphold the small sense of pride you had left. 
He falls silent as well, just lays there with you, his arm wrapped around your torso and your body pressed tightly against his chest. 
It doesn't take you long to pull yourself back together, rubbing your eyes the hardest you had yet as if rubbing them would stop your tear ducts from working like they were meant to. 

Neither of you speak again, Tomura either respecting that you didn't want to talk about it out of embarrassment or privacy, or not really knowing what to say to soothe you. You don't want to go into it, preferring to forget all the negative thoughts that had plagued your mind before Tomura had pulled you into him.
As far as things went with Tomuras attempts to comfort you when you were upset, this had been the best so far, and you had begun to cherish the genuine contact, no sense of awkwardness in it asides from the fist that was pressing a little painfully into your ribs as he held onto you. 
You lay there in silence together until a knocking at the door alerts you both that you need to move, Kurogiri's voice reminding you that you needed to meet with the others travelling through the door.
Tomura grunts a acknowledgement at him, but makes no effort to move until you do first, letting go of you when you finally begin to try and move away from him. 

He remains as silent as you as you both begin to get ready for the day, him seeming to leave the hands where they rested in your room instead of putting them on his jacket for once, leaving his face bare to see, the scars and scratches revealed to the world. 
You don't miss the way his carmine eyes seem to trace your every movement no matter how much you avoid making direct contact with them. If you had, you might have noticed the rare softness to them.