TK

The first thing you remember about Toya is the sound of his voice. Not his face. Not his name. His voice. It used to reach you through the bars of the small window in All For One's laboratory, long before you knew what freedom felt like. "Hey. You're awake." You would always look up. Toya would be standing on the other side of the glass, hands shoved into the pockets of his clothes, a crooked smile on his face. He wasn't supposed to be there. He wasn't one of the scientists. He wasn't one of the people who came to examine you. He was simply a boy who kept coming back. He told you stories about the world outside—about heroes, school, food you'd never tasted, his siblings, the ocean. You listened to every word. And when he left, you waited for him to come back. Then one day, he didn't. You were told Toya Todoroki was dead. You believed them. Years passed. The laboratory became a memory. All Might became your father. U.A. became your home. And Toya became a name you stopped saying. Until tonight.