Erase Herゾごホ

魅力 - attraction

Loneliness. A word I hadn't known since the beginning of my godforsaken summer vacation. I wrapped myself up with men double my age, constantly suffocating on their cheap cologne and mediocre sex. I laid in my bed, staring up at my ceiling. Emptiness. A word I hadn't known since I found myself in Shouta's bed. In Eraserhead's grasp. I've painted myself in confident colors when all I am is a sham. Funnily enough, I get myself involved with a mess like Eraserhead. Of course, I would never recognize the man who works in the shadows. And he would never recognize me without seeing the effects of my quirk. I would hope no one would recognize me anymore, but ink last longer than blood unfortunately. I extended my hands in the air ahead of me. Spreading my palms, inspecting the burns laced around my fingers.

(Y/n) Todoroki.

Mother passes in house fire, likely caused by daughters inability to control her quirk. Daughter suffers third degree burns as she tries to dig her mother's body out of the fire, and is rushed to the hospital as a result.

Endeavor denies any relation to (Y/n), orders a DNA test to be done. Did the number two hero cheat on his wife?

DNA test comes back positive, Endeavor saves estranged daughter from local orphanage and steps up as father and family man as he atones for his mistakes.

(Y/n) Todoroki.

Born as a result of an affair between a quirkless nobody and the number two hero, Endeavor. Failure to control her quirk leaves her in a suffocated like state, and correct usage of her power causes her to burn parts of her mouth, tongue, ect.

(Y/n) Todoroki.

Quirk: Breathe fire

I've tortured myself for years, reading each and every article over and over and over again till the very printing was burned into my eyeballs. I've replayed the scene of my mother's death over and over and over again, constantly fucking accusing myself if I had done this different, if I had grabbed this instead of that, that maybe she'd still be alive. That maybe I wouldn't be so fucking alone. It's all the same. The same sob story everyone hears in all those damn Disney movies. Except I'm not a fucking princess. I'm a murderer. My mother is dead and I'm the cause. My father hates me for just existing, he can barely bring himself to pay for my living expenses without even so much as breathing in my direction. Bastard. It took eighteen, god damn, years for the media to finally leave me alone and focus on newer and fresher things. Things like Stain. Hero killer or not. I'm just glad to finally be out of the public's eye. That's why I told myself this summer vacation would be special. No one would recognize me, no one would bother me. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted. Who I wanted.

I heard the door to my balcony creek open, and my eyes barely had enough strength to flit over to the windows. Shouta was hunched over on the railing, his capture weapon floating around him gently. I sighed heavily. Of course he knows where I live. So much for avoiding a clean break. Nice one, (y/n).

"Shouta coming to my window at 3am is very 'Twilightish'." I mumbled, covering my face with my open hand. I heard him hop off the railing and I rolled on my side to see him leaning against the edge with his hands in his pockets.

"I don't know what that this." He admitted, looking up into the night sky. "You didn't respond to my texts." I sighed, I haven't bothered checking my phone since our run in two days ago. I couldn't bare the look he'd give me when he'd tell me he couldn't-, didn't want to see me anymore.

"I haven't been in the mood." I lied. I mean, it wasn't a complete lie. I thought about trying my time in 'Sakura', again. Just moving on and pretending my little dream with Shouta, was just that. A dream. Time to come back to real life, little girl. But for some reason. Every time I stood in the doorway to the bar, staring inside. I couldn't bring myself to go inside. It just all felt so wrong.

"I don't understand why you're so embarrassed at your lack of control over your quirk." He grumbled and I rose an eyebrow. Is that what he thinks this is about? I sat up in bed, not bothering to fix myself in his presence anymore. He's seen the worst? Right? The straps of my tank top slid off and my frizzy (h/c) hair, fell off my shoulders.

"Shouta." I deadpanned. He can't be serious?

"It's a simple thing to learn." He waved me off. "I can help you in my spare time if you'd like. Or I can suggest someone who can-."

"Shouta." I said once more, making his eyes shoot up to mine. I was at a loss for words. If I tell him who I am, and he doesn't know, will I shatter the image of me he has in his head? But if I don't tell him, will I look like a stupid kid with false hope? Or worse, he finds out in the future and is more disgusted by me than he could ever be. I bit my lip at my choices. This is a chance for me to cover this little slip up as nothing more than embarrassment over lack of control. Or a chance to come clean. "What are you doing here, Shouta?" I asked, coming out a bit more tired and worn down that intended. He closed his eyes, pressing off the railing and finally walking into my room. He sat on the ledge of my bed, turning his body to face mine.

"I came to see you." He said bluntly, his fingers reaching up the skin of my shoulders and fixing my straps for me. My face flushed red as he inched closer to my lips.

"Why?" I asked, feeling a familiar burn in my throat.

"I'm not sure."