Hospital Room
The silence stretched between them like an ocean—vast, cold, impossible to cross.
Mother and son stared at each other across the sterile hospital room, neither speaking, neither moving. Years of absence, of hurt, of complicated feelings condensed into this single moment.
Tsubaki looked at his mother. Really looked at her.She was thinner than he remembered. Frailer. The years in the hospital had taken their toll, leaving her looking like a shadow of the woman from his childhood memories. But her eyes—those gentle eyes—were the same.
Those eyes that used to watch Shoto with such worry. That would check on his younger brother after training sessions, making sure Father hadn't pushed too hard. That would comfort Shoto when nightmares woke him in the night.
Those same eyes that had rarely looked at Tsubaki with the same concern.
'It wasn't that she didn't love me,' Tsubaki thought, something heavy settling in his chest. 'It was that she was so consumed with protecting Shoto from Father that I became 2nd place.'
He remembered being five years old, coming home after Father had dismissed him from training. Again. "You're not worth my time," Father had said, his voice cold with disappointment. "Go away. I have important work to do with your brother."
Tsubaki had found his mother in the kitchen. She'd been preparing tea, her hands shaking slightly—they always shook in those days, a side effect of the constant stress.
"Mom," he'd said, his voice small. Young. Still believing that someone in this house might care that he'd been rejected again. "Father said I'm not worth training. He said I'm too weak."
She'd turned to him, and for a moment—just a moment—he'd thought she might say something. Might tell him it wasn't true. Might tell him he mattered.
Instead, she'd asked, "Is your father pushing Shoto too hard? Did he seem angry during training?"
Not "Are you okay?" Not "That must have hurt." Not even "Your father is wrong."
Just worry about Shoto. Always Shoto.
Tsubaki had stopped going to her after that.
What was the point?
'Father called me weak. Called me a failure. And when I needed someone—anyone—to tell me I was worth something, she was too worried about Shoto to see me.
I was a ghost even to my own mother.'
The silence continued. Rei's hands were clasped together so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, but she didn't speak.
'What do you say to a son you failed?' she thought desperately. 'How do you apologize for years of neglect? For being so consumed with protecting one child that you abandoned another?'
Natsuo cleared his throat, the sound loud in the quiet room.
"Fuyumi and I should... go call the doctor," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Let them know Tsubaki's awake."
Fuyumi looked torn, her eyes darting between her mother and younger brother. "But—"
"Come on," Natsuo said more firmly, gently taking her arm. "They need to talk. Alone."
Fuyumi hesitated, clearly wanting to stay, to somehow mediate this moment. She and Natsuo had their own complicated relationship with their family—they'd been born with only their mother's ice quirk, making them "disappointments" in Father's eyes. But their mother had always shown them love, had always cared for them even when Father barely acknowledged their existence.
But Tsubaki... Tsubaki was different.
He'd been born as Shoto's twin. The failure before the masterpiece. And while Mother had poured all her worry and attention into protecting Shoto from Father's increasingly harsh training, Tsubaki had been left in the cold.
Fuyumi had watched it happen. Had seen her younger brother slowly close off, become colder, more distant. Had watched him stop seeking comfort from anyone, stop expecting anything from their family.
Had watched him become a ghost in his own home.
"Okay," Fuyumi said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "We'll be right outside if you need us."
She and Natsuo left, closing the door softly behind them.
And then there were two.
Rei took a tentative step forward, her hands still clasped together as if holding onto herself for support.
"Tsubaki," she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "I—"
But the words died in her throat. What could she say? What words could possibly bridge the years of distance between them?
She'd heard what happened. The villain attack at the USJ. Her son—her son—had fought a monster designed to kill All Might. Had nearly frozen himself to death protecting his classmates. Had almost died.
What mother wouldn't be terrified by that? What mother wouldn't rush to see her child, to make sure they were okay?
But when she looked at him now, lying in that hospital bed, she saw the cold indifference in his eyes. The way he looked at her like she was a stranger. Like her presence meant nothing.
And she realized with crushing clarity:' This is what I created. This distance. This coldness. I did this.'
During her years in the hospital, she'd had time to reflect. Time to think about her failures as a mother. She'd hurt Shoto—physically scarred him in a moment of breakdown. That guilt would never leave her.
But Tsubaki...
She'd failed him in a different way. Not through violence or rage, but through absence. Through being so consumed with one son that she'd forgotten to see the other.
She remembered visiting hours at the hospital. Fuyumi and Natsuo had come regularly, their faces always worried but hopeful. Shoto had come once, his expression complicated and pained.
But Tsubaki? Not once. Not a single time in all those years.And that hurt more than anything else.
Because it meant she'd failed so completely that her own son didn't even think she was worth visiting.
'I need to fix this,' she thought desperately. 'But how? How do I reach someone I pushed so far away?'
The silence stretched on. Both of them lost in their own thoughts, their own pain.
Finally, Rei forced herself to speak.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "When I heard what happened—that you'd been hurt, that you might not wake up—I was so worried. You're my son, Tsubaki. I... I was terrified I might lose you."
Tsubaki didn't respond. Didn't even acknowledge she'd spoken. His expression remained neutral, empty, like he was looking through her rather than at her.
That lack of reaction hurt more than any words could have.
Rei's hands trembled. "Please," she tried again, her voice cracking. "Say something. Anything. Are you... are you feeling okay? Do you need anything? I—"
"I want to leave," Tsubaki said flatly. "When the doctor clears me."
His voice was emotionless. Clinical. Like he was discussing the weather rather than speaking to his mother for the first time in years.
Rei flinched as if she'd been struck. "Tsubaki, I—"
"That's all," he interrupted, still not meeting her eyes. "I'm fine. Everyone survived. I just want to go back to school when they let me out."
'He has more to say,' Rei realized, watching his face. 'I can see it. There's anger there, hurt, years of pain he's holding back. But he won't let it out. Won't even give me that.
He's shut me out completely.'
Rei opened her mouth to respond, to try again, to somehow break through the walls her son had built—
A knock at the door interrupted them.
"Excuse me," a doctor said, stepping into the room with a clipboard. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are ending. We need to run some tests and give the patient time to rest."
Rei looked torn, clearly wanting to stay, wanting to continue trying to reach her son. But she nodded slowly.
"I understand," she said quietly.
She turned back to Tsubaki, her eyes pleading. "Please... stay safe. Take care of yourself. I..." Her voice broke. "I hope we can talk again soon."
Tsubaki didn't respond. Didn't even look at her.
Rei felt tears sliding down her face as she turned and left the room, her heart breaking with every step.
Outside, Natsuo and Fuyumi were waiting. They looked torn, their expressions reflecting the pain of witnessing their broken family's latest wound.
"Mom..." Fuyumi started, reaching for her mother's hand.
"I'm fine," Rei said softly, though her tears said otherwise. "Let's... let's go back to my room. He needs to rest."
The three of them walked down the hospital corridor together, leaving Tsubaki alone in his room.
Tsubaki stared at the closed door for a long moment after they left.
Then he turned his gaze to the window, watching the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the city.
'She was worried,' he thought distantly. 'She said she was worried about me.'
Something in his chest ached—an old wound that had never properly healed, now torn open again.
'But where was that worry before? When Father was calling me weak? When I was training alone, pushing myself to exhaustion trying to prove I was worth something? When I needed someone to tell me I mattered?'
'She was worried about Shoto. Always Shoto.'Tsubaki's hands clenched the hospital sheets.
'I can't blame her for that. Father was brutal with Shoto. Someone needed to protect him. I understand that.' But I needed someone too. 'And there was no one.'
He took a slow breath, forcing the emotions back down. This wasn't productive. Dwelling on the past wouldn't change anything.
He tried to distract himself by thinking about the fight with the Nomu. About how his quirk had changed during that desperate battle—how his ice had moved with more control, more power, responding to his will in ways it never had before. How he'd evolved in the face of death.
That was worth analyzing. Worth understanding. If he could replicate that level of control, if he could tap into that power without nearly dying...
I could become stronger. Strong enough that no one could ever call me weak again. Strong enough to be number one.
But even as he tried to focus on tactics and training, his mind kept drifting back.
Back to his mother's face. The tears in her eyes. The pain in her voice.
Back to being a child and invisible in his own home.Back to years of feeling like he didn't matter.
The doctor entered again, interrupting his thoughts.
"Alright, Mr. Todoroki," the doctor said cheerfully, checking his chart. "Let's run some tests and see how you're recovering. Your vitals have been improving steadily. If everything looks good tonight, we should be able to discharge you tomorrow morning."
"Okay," Tsubaki said, his voice flat.
The doctor conducted the examination, checking his temperature, his heart rate, his neurological responses. Tsubaki went through the motions mechanically, answering questions when asked, following instructions.
"Remarkable," the doctor muttered, making notes. "Your body's recovery rate is impressive. The hypothermia should have caused more lasting damage, but you're bouncing back faster than expected. Must be your body adapting to your quirks power it truely is extraordinary."
"Can I leave tomorrow?" Tsubaki asked.
"Barring any complications overnight, yes. We'll do one final check in the morning, but you should be cleared to go." The doctor smiled. "You're a tough kid. Whatever you did out there—fighting those villains—you should be proud."
Tsubaki didn't respond.
The doctor seemed to sense the mood, his smile fading slightly. "Get some rest. If you need anything, just press the call button."
He left, and once again Tsubaki was alone.
The sun was setting now, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. The city lights were starting to come on, thousands of tiny points of illumination against the gathering darkness.
Tsubaki watched them in silence, his reflection barely visible in the window glass.
A ghost looking at a world full of light.
'Tomorrow I'll leave,' he thought. 'Go back to school. Keep training. Keep proving myself.
Keep moving forward.'
'Because that's all I can do.'
'That's all I've ever been able to do.'
But somewhere deep in his chest, in a place he'd locked away years ago, something ached. A wound that wouldn't heal. A question that wouldn't be answered.
Did I ever matter to anyone?
Or was I always just... second?
The darkness outside deepened as night fell.
And Tsubaki sat alone in his hospital room, surrounded by the sterile white walls and the steady beeping of medical equipment, trying very hard not to feel anything at all.
To Be Continued...
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Author's note
Hope you enjoyed the chapter
I this is a bit earlier than normal but after so many comments on the last one and the power stones I decided too upload another chapter. I think you'll enjoy the next arc as it's one of my favorites and probably yours too and yes we are going to see a stronger like it was said in this chapter his quirk changed during the Nomu fight.