Cereals Always Good With Honey

"Give me the knife."

⚠️TW: ANIMAL ABUSE⚠️
VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED

Izuku woke up groggily, his head pounding and his ears ringing, he felt bile rise and quickly leaned away, his vision was blurry and he was seeing two of everything. Dry heaving onto the white tiled floor made his stomach hurt and groan in its confines. His brain felt like it was flopping around in his mind and not quite staying put.

The covers of the hospital were rough and textured, and the sun shining through the window above the bed reflected off the door in front of him, even if his bed was slightly pushed off to the side. Izuku's cheeks throbbed and he held his head in his hands, a weary look in his eyes. Eyebags faded into his pale skin underneath his eyelids, his arms were bandaged extensively and the hospital gown was itchy. His stomach churned at the smell of antiseptic and cleaning supplies.

Biting his lip he looked around, searching for familiar faces or anything to indicate anyone was there, but he was alone. There was nothing, not a note or a pair of slippers left behind. Izuku put a palm to his forehead, wincing when he accidentally grazed gauze on his cheek. His limbs were kind of heavy, like spaghetti noodles. Nothing he couldn't handle. He vaguely wondered how bad his injuries were, if they were permanent or not. Maybe Bakugo messed him up enough to where he couldn't open the shop anymore.

Ice-cold fear tore through his abdomen and he found tears welling in his eyelids. He wondered how long he'd been asleep if anyone was coming for him or coming to see him. Of course not though. His mommy was long gone, a suicide. He was too much to take care of, too overwhelming, too needy, a burden. Quirklessness was a sickness, one that he had to drag around on his back in hopes no one would see it. It only ended with pain though.

Everyone was always so happy to see him and be in his presence, but what about his Mommy? Why'd she have to go? Why did she leave him?

When he was younger his Mom died, "an overdosage" the doctor had said, but he explained it to little Izuku as the way of life, and that his mom had unexpectedly passed away and he was the first one to have noticed. Then a man came, he wasn't kind, but he wasn't angry either. He was alright to Izuku, and he took care of him too. He brought Izuku home, he didn't hurt Izuku, but he still ingrained the fact that Izuku couldn't do things because he was quirkless and quirkless people were made by God to sit around and watch the Quirked people succeed. Because God made everyone in his image, and no one was useless or imperfect. The man called his quirklessness and inconvenience but necessary in the way of life. And what was a little boy to do when an adult says things like that?

He was always obedient, he was always kind, he always did what the man said, he listened and he was good. But the man was not kind, and he held no sympathy for Izuku. Then another man came along, and he was nicer, he had red eyes that Izuku would gaze into for hours if he could, and a distinct mole on the left side of his face under his lip, soft facial features and slightly grayish hair. Izuku called him Mr. Shigi since he couldn't pronounce his whole name.

Mr. Shigi taught Izuku, he ran a cafe a couple of miles northwest from the other man and Izuku's house, and he'd invited both of them to the place. There they had coffee, there they ate sugar cookies and Mr. Shigi wiped crumbs from Izuku's face with a napkin and smiled so kindly. He let Izuku experiment in his kitchen and make cookies and when Izuku hurt himself Mr. Shigi would put a bandaid over it, kiss it, and sing a little song for Izuku.

He would always do that for his ouchies, even if they were third degrees burns that went to his bones. Mr. Shigi was always kind, so generous. The cafe was a safe haven for Izuku specifically. He hid his notebooks there from the man he lived with--he liked to rip them up. He'd help with everyday chores and sweep the floor, wipe off the counters, even bake if he got the chance.