บท 2: Chapter 2: Childhood
When Toji awoke in that small crib, he found himself confined to a tiny space surrounded by high wooden bars. It had been some time since that first experience of being born, something he never wanted to remember again. "That day was a nightmare," he thought, recalling the cold, the pain, and the humiliation of that first contact with the outside world.
Now, he had learned to recognize certain patterns in his new life. His mother worked away from home for most of the day, so his grandmother usually took care of him. He watched her move around the cramped apartment, worn and devoid of luxury. For someone who had lived in the skin of a warrior, it was a radical change. Poverty was palpable in every corner of their home: peeling walls, an old TV, and shabby furniture barely filling the small space.
He sighed—or at least, what he attempted as a sigh in that tiny baby body—observing from the bars of his crib. "Being a baby is awful. I can't do anything," he thought with frustration, feeling incapable of moving beyond a sway or slight turn on his back. He had tried speaking once, but only nonsensical babbles came out. "The worst part..." his thoughts continued, as the discomfort in his body grew, "...is having to do my business in a diaper. Disgusting."
As if his thoughts held power, a complaint escaped his lips in the form of a cry. He knew this was his only tool, his "best weapon" at the moment. Soon, the sound of footsteps approached, and his grandmother entered the room, wearing that kind smile but talking to him as if he were an idiot. "Really?" he thought, already tired of such excessive attention. However, the eager look in her eyes indicated she was bringing the bottle, which was at least a relief for the hunger starting to bother him.
His grandmother picked him up and brought the bottle closer. Toji gazed at the discolored walls as he reluctantly drank. Sometimes, he wondered how he had ended up in such a humble family. The house—better said, the apartment—was small, with barely the basics, and his mother would come home exhausted every night, as if life itself were draining her. "Seems like I don't have a father," he thought, noting that no one had ever mentioned him.
Once he finished drinking, he felt slight pressure on his back as his grandmother gave gentle pats, making him burp. "Ugh... humiliating," he muttered to himself, as the sensation of relief settled in his small stomach.
Suddenly, his grandmother turned on the TV. With interest, Toji shifted his attention to the screen, hoping for something to distract him from the monotony of his life. At first, there was only a dramatic soap opera. "Seriously?" he thought, resigned, though at least it was better than nothing. After a while, she switched channels and landed on the news. The images showed a series of people being arrested, and the reporter narrated the events. "Why does the reporter have horns?" he thought in confusion. The words "villains" and the name "All Might" sounded clear. His grandmother turned off the TV before he could catch more, then returned him to the crib, locking him back in his "prison."
After a while, fatigue overtook him, and he fell asleep.
The tranquility was broken hours later when he heard the front door. It was nighttime, and the echo of his mother's footsteps resonated through the apartment. He had grown accustomed to hearing his grandmother call her "Yaeko," and after several conversations, he also understood that their last name was "Fushiguro." "Toji Fushiguro..."
"Seriously? Toji Fushiguro again?" he thought, almost feeling a mocking laugh trapped in his chest. It was as if the universe couldn't let go of the joke—a cosmic gag that had been recycled shamelessly. Not only had he been reborn into a new body, but they had also thrown him the same last name, the same damn identity, as if someone in the heavens was enjoying this irony far too much.
"What's next? Discovering my destiny is to die at the hands of some deranged albino?" The thought felt as ridiculous as it was frustrating.
Yaeko entered his room, exhaustion etched on her face, her shoulders slumped under the weight of the day. From his crib, Toji observed her closely, trying to read in her gestures the story she kept to herself. She looked at him with a mix of sadness and tenderness and murmured, "What are you looking at? Do you think your mother is a failure?" Tears welled up in her eyes as she continued speaking, "I'm sorry if you wished to be born into a wealthy family... but this is what you got."
Toji sighed internally as he watched her cry, recalling his mother's harshness. "Here we go again... now come the tears."
"I'm sorry..." Yaeko sobbed, reaching out to him. With a deep sigh, she lifted him and held him in a warm, desperate embrace. "It's not your fault," she whispered, as if trying to convince herself.
Carrying him with her, she lay down on the bed, holding him against her chest as her eyes slowly closed. "I'd breastfeed you, but I'm so tired... Mommy needs to rest a bit, okay?" she murmured with a broken voice, already on the verge of sleep.
Toji looked toward the edge of the bed, assessing the safety of his position. "Mother of the year award," he thought, noting that any other baby could dangerously roll off the edge and get hurt. In the end, he decided it wasn't his place to judge.
As his mother fell asleep, hunger began to bother him again. Feeling the temptation and the opportunity right in front of him, he muttered to himself, "Well... her breast milk is supposed to be mine." With some effort, he unbuttoned his mother's shirt and began nursing, trying to ignore the overwhelming sense of humiliation.
With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and surrendered to fatigue as the night advanced in silence and his mother slept.
An alarm blared in the small room, breaking the dawn's silence. Yaeko, still half-asleep, reached for her phone. She found it in the pocket of her pajama pants and, after silencing it, blinked as she tried to get her bearings. Something felt uncomfortable on her chest—a sudden chill—and when she looked down, she noticed her blouse was unbuttoned. Toji was latched onto one of her breasts, sound asleep.
"Again?" she thought, letting out a sigh somewhere between resignation and amusement. Carefully, she detached him, ensuring he didn't wake. It was surprising how this little one managed to do this while she slept. With a tired smile, she thought that if this continued, Toji might end up as a miniature version of some breast-conquering rogue. "He'll grow into something worse if he keeps this up."
Yaeko got up and, grabbing a towel, headed to the bathroom. She undressed and turned on the shower, bracing for the impact of cold water since the heater had been broken for days. The icy water made her shiver, and her thoughts briefly wandered to all the small discomforts of her current life, each one piling up but bearing little weight compared to the responsibility of raising her son. Once finished, she took another towel, wrapped herself in it, and rubbed her arms to warm up. Returning to the room, she quickly checked the bed to make sure Toji was still asleep. "I don't know how he hasn't ended up on the floor with how restless he is," she thought, shaking her head with a mix of worry and affection. Picking him up, she placed him back in the crib.
Back in the kitchen, she searched for the coffee jar only to find it empty. Letting out another sigh of resignation, she opened the refrigerator in search of something for breakfast. The only thing she found was a slightly wilted apple, but she decided to take it anyway and began eating it while rummaging through the kitchen drawer for a breast pump.
After sitting and settling into a chair, she unfastened her blouse and set up the device. She knew Toji would wake up hungry and preferred to leave a couple of bottles ready for when her grandmother took over. After several minutes, she filled two bottles, stored them in the refrigerator, and felt that at least one part of the morning was sorted.
Finally, she grabbed her keys and crossed the hall to her grandmother's room, knocking softly on the door to wake her gently and let her know she had to leave for work. Returning to the crib, she leaned down and kissed Toji on the head, whispering, "See you later." She then left the apartment, the weight of the day just beginning but with one last smile as she remembered Toji's little face, so calm and carefree, sleeping in his crib.
As Yaeko closed the door behind her, a thought flashed through her mind like a cold breeze: "I have to think about the future. Toji can't live off my milk forever." She watched the early morning light filtering through the empty streets as she made her way to work. Every day, she became more aware that time was relentless and that, despite her efforts, her life and financial situation didn't seem to be improving.
The weight of that reality stayed with her, especially during moments like breakfast, when she opened the refrigerator and saw only a few items of food. "The little food we have..." she reflected with a mix of worry and responsibility. She knew that, at some point, this stage of nursing and dependency would end, and Toji would need much more than the little she could currently provide.
With a sigh, she quickened her pace, ready to face another day of work. But this time, something within her felt more determined. "I don't want Toji to grow up lacking," she thought, with a newfound resolve in her gaze. "There has to be a way to give him something better."
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