Maybe he shouldâve waited just a bit longer. Maybe at night. Maybe earlier in the morning tomorrow. There were too many people on the streets, and those old seeds deep under the pavement grew wilder than heâd anticipatedâ they responded⌠too well to the radioactive pulse. Vines, roots, gnarly barkâ it shot through that predatory company headquarters like it was merely sand. All the concrete crumbled, steel beams creaked and broke and flung through streets, still red from the sheer radioactive energy the infamous Gamma-Burn lets loose.
Smoke clouded his vision, and only a green eye glowed through the fallout at dawn.
The forest kept spreading. Through streets, parking lots, basements, office buildingsâ a concrete jungle was far better than the disgusting smog each factory and car greedily bellowed into the atmosphere. Maybe he was too hasty. Maybe he let out too much energy. Maybe his hands burning in pain shouldâve been a sign to stop channeling more and more radioactive heat through the roots. Just a bit more. Just a little thicker, a little harder to uproot. Just⌠enough to stump the idiot at the top floor, *permanently.*
Sorrel saw the way people ran, screaming and turning away from the plants and the rubble. They could runâ they werenât his targets. Hopefully they were okay⌠maybe theyâd get some kind of light burn from the dust? No matter. He needed to keep going. He couldnât back out.
Pain shot up his arms as he pushed into the ground again. Pigeons started to faint from being cooked alive. Raccoons fell from their trash cans as vines tangled and burned them. Rats bled from their mouths as the dust settled on themâ Sorrel couldnât think of that. He was Gamma-Burn. He was the harbinger of death to the corrupt, and the giver of life to the new. These few animals⌠it was okay if they died tragically, there will be more who can make a home in this reclaimed land. The people who ran, it was okayâ theyâll learn that what he was doing was the right way⌠the only way to deal with the rot on the earth.
A silhouette came into view among the growing weeds. âTurn back!â Sorrel warned, his voice muffled by the thick gas mask he wore. The area was already hotter with the unstable particles buzzing in the airâ Sorrel knew this would be a lethal dose for most normal people. So⌠this wasnât a normal person.
He forced himself up from the ground as he glared and squinted his eyes. A green carapace.
âOh, you fucking maggot!â Sorrel cursed, flinging his hands up in the air and then to his sides where his trusty blades were. He couldnât hold up in a fight right now. His body creaked and begged him to just have a normal morningâ have some food, some coffee, some time alone in a comfy bed, but he had something important to do, for the sake of the new world.
Iâm still atrocious at forums B UT @Baphomini Iâm so glad u like him!!! Also thank u @JewelSerket :)!! I want to draw a lil bit more, thinking about a Fullbody in full villain-wear, also thinking about little intricacies n everything with storylines
Hello fellow gays and gamers Iâm gonna chuck another villain into the mix Sorrel Geiger He used to be an activist popular on social media, known for his environmental advocacy and his human rights and the intersectionality between those. He was an extremely outspoken voice for these issues, and most of his commentary ends with a signature phraseâ âyou should be angry.â He calls out corruption everywhere he can sense it, in society itself with topics of climate change, in corrupt politics, in shady businesses who only care about themselvesâ everywhere he can reach, he will at least try to. Heâs held, attended, and led many protests both on human rights and on environmental conservation (before the incident, that is) and heâs even been arrested a few times due to his protests and passion for standing up for what is right. During a protest, he and the rest of a group raided a nuclear power facility that was polluting important water sources and damaging the environment, with the goal of having that facility shut down or stalled for the sake of the people and animals living in the area and the workers being exposed to awful and unsafe conditions that will cause them illness. The specific facility is famously poor,y built and poorly run, using mostly exploited and underpaid labor, and made by a corrupt private company wanting a hand in the growing nuclear power industry. As Sorrel led the front, a guard threw him into the fucking water of the reactor. He shouldâve died, right? Right? Nope. He came out with glowing green eyes, greenish hair, and white patches of skin similar to vitiligo. Thst was also the moment when he decided that the new civilization he wanted would only be achieved through building on the ashes of the current one, seeing how corruption ran so deep that it had its hold on the very people it was hurting. Heâs now responsible for the murders of many politicians and CEOs, and heâs laid many expansion and construction projects to ruin and grow dense forests from those ashesâ all to make the world better. All so the politicians and businessmen canât brainwash people to causing more harm, and human development takes a better pathâ and, maybe, just maybe, sorrel could fish the beauty of the world out of the rot he keeps having to trod in.
So uh Heâs got a hideout in the abandoned shipyard close to where the nuclear reactor used to be, where he reclaimed the land and turned it into a thick and hostile jungle, and lots of people live in the same hideout. Think firelights hideout from arcane energy! And while he still needs more development, I def see him with a multi-use radiation-based power from all the radiation he absorbed. This power can be used to force plants to grow quickly, to like 3d burn-zap people out of their life subscription, stuff like that. Heâs still in the process of studying his own power and trying not to die himself from the repercussions, being extremely sick since that accident because he literally absorbed tons of radiation and should Not Be Alive but here he is as a mutant/metahuman! TLDR villain who thinks heâs doing the right thing for humanity because that would be fun to build up
(This was a collaboration between myself and @baphomini! ) âMy⌠real world..?â That⌠that was DEFINITELY some kind of really weird hallucination. It couldnât have been real. How could it be? Tohato was in the void, signing some weird paper, and one second later heâs where he normally is. He didnât want to bring this up to a therapist, or to his dad, or to his uncle⌠it was a one-time thing so far! So⌠yeah. He smiled to the customer. âOf course! What kind of stuffing? Steamed or fried? We have chicken, pork, vegetable, and we also have sweeter versions of dumplings I also find really good!â That customer, unlike the strange masked man, took off their shoes at the entrance of this historic building. A lot politer than that masked man! It made Tohato smile. âIâd love some fried chicken dumplings, please!â The customer responded. Tohato nodded with his usual sweet smile, and he looked over to his dad, Ha-Neul, cooking just a few meters away from him. âAppa!âHe called, We need an order of fried chicken dumplings!â "deur-ryeo-yo!" Ha-Neul called back. The man always defaulted to their first language of Korean when they were focused on a task like cooking. 'I hear you,' as they had said, was also a very common response, not just from Ha-Neul, but among their little family in general. It held many meanings among them. From the obvious meaning of assuring one that they were heard, to letting another know that they were understood not just comprehensively, but emotionally. 'I hear you,' was often said in response to one sharing about a rough day, letting them known that their troubles and pains were not just heard, but felt. It was their secret little language in a way. It wasn't long before Ha-Neul was sliding out the order, calling out the name in Korean as they usually did. As the lunch rush dwindled down, Ha-Neul soon joined Tohato at the front behind the counter, wiping off their hands on a cloth hanging from their apron. They greeted him with their iconic warm smile, "Busy day," they commented, laughing lightly, "Are you well?" Tohato, still standing behind the counter to greet customers, smiled at his dad. He hesitated, his smile a little forced, his brows furrowed, but his cherry-red eyes bright. âIâm fine, appa, just a little flustered⌠how are you?â The kitchen was hot, especially during this time of the yearâŚ. âAppa, do you want some water..? Tohato offered, almost like he avoided trying to talk about that weird⌠experience? He just had. "I'm fine, snowbird, thank you, I'll get myself some water on my way back to the kitchen," they told him almost dismissively then asked, "Have you had a chance to eat yet? I could make you something while there is time." âAre there any leftover noodles? Iâd love those! Tohato chirped as he made his way back to the kitchen. Heâll be back to the counter by the time the dinner rush came through, but there were some regulars that came by in these in-between times and challenged him and his dad to mahjong. Tohato paused, and looked back to his dad. âDo you know where uncle went? We should make some food for him, too, when heâs back.â He still prepared a glass of cold water for his dad while he was in the kitchen, and then took out a nice iced can of jasmine tea for himself. His father nodded to his question, leading the way back to the kitchen as they made way to prepare two bowls of noodles for themself and Tohato, garnishing them with some seaweed and other things laying about, left overs from other orders. They never let anything go to waste. Anything they personally didn't eat was either composted, or collected into slop for pigs belonging to close friends, who in turn provided them with prime pork. As Ha-Neul handed Tohato their bowl, they told him, "Ah, Hyeon-Ju took Mandu to see the vet. He was worried with the way she's been lately, and wants to be safe. He should be returning in time for the dinner rush, I'm sure." Tohato smiled at the thought of the sweet little flock of Easter-egger chickens living in the backyard. All of them except one were sweet, even the territorial rooster, Kong, loved being cuddled. He did notice Mandu had been breathing a little off latelyâ he was glad his uncle took her to the vet. Hopefully itâs nothingâ maybe sheâs just tired! She isnât the brightest chicken, no, but she produces a lot or eggs. If something happened with her lungs⌠theyâd have to send everyone to the vet, just in case. Oh, how Tohato loved sitting there with all the chickens. They had soft feathers, and they were all rescuesâ kind of like him! They were all so kind to him, he saw them as family, too. âOh, didnât Bogsu get broody again? We might have to keep her out of the coop for a dayâŚâ Tohato asked, looking up from the bowl he had a few inches away from his face. Another customer came inâ Tohato quickly put his food down, wiped his face with a napkin, and rushed over to the counter again after quickly thanking his dad.
Tohato wanted to hide away like a termite in wood, burrow into someplace safer than whatever this was. His instincts told him this was absolutely NOT safe, NOT okay, NOT anything he wanted to work withâ but what choice did he have? This thing just⌠pulled him out of reality! Quite literally, too. He looked down at the yellowed paper. The masked man, he said it was a contractâ but that implied itâd have words on it, no..? It didnât, not to him. It had swirling ink that used to be brushstrokes, changing languages, gibberish upon gibberish and words written on top of each other and random images that had no business being on any human writing system. Well⌠Tohato heard somewhere, that dreams, no matter how real they felt, can be figured out if the words are gibberish or if the sky looks offâ the sky definitely looked off, as there was none, and heâd definitely consider the words on this paper to be some strange gibberish ever-shifting like mist on mirrors. So, was this a dream? Did that mean he was safe, in his bed, and this was just a horrifying, extremely realistic nightmare? The mask also⌠seemed to know of Tohatoâs dark past, and that made his pale skin crawl. This could also be a hallucination. Last time he checked, he didnât have thoseâ just flashbacks and nightmares about the past, but this wasnât related to his past at all, and it wasnât some flashback because this is just not part of reality in any way. Tohato shook himself, tried to stretch as far as his scars would let him, avoided even looking at this cursed contract. Maybe, if Tohato just signed the weird paper, this would stop, and he would wake up, and he could just smile and pretend this never happened! And so, the albino silently grumbled to himself about this strange situation, picking up the feather pen and signing where the âblank spotâ was. He watched as the kanji of his name swirled with all of the other splotches of ink, and looked back up to the masked man. âDone. Can I⌠wake up, now?â
With May, late spring and early summer, came pretty festivals and pretty flowers. Sure, the garden started blooming again when March melted the bits of last snow away, but right now was the time when things truly come to life! At least, thatâs how Tohato felt. Warmer weather meant lighter clothes, more tourists, more noiseâ the pale boy still covered himself head to toe, of course. His shirt was thin, flowy, lacy in some places, like a poetâs shirt, and he still wore high-waisted pants out of nice linen instead of warmer fabrics. He thought of wearing a yukata, given the festival and the time of year, but with festivals and warmer months comes more business, and that means a day full of weaving between the kitchen and the seating areaâ and Tohato wasnât too keen on tripping over long fabric while holding hot plates. Ah, too much thinking. Tohato shook his head and focused on the countertop, and then looked over to his dad who was busy pulling some noodles by hand. Someone came through the door. Tohatoâs crisp, white hair fell over his face as he looked down to his bare feet, only wearing socks, and to the other person whoâd just enteredâ still with shoes on, how rude! There were tatami mats in the seating area! These floors are historic! It⌠suddenly got quiet. Why was it quiet? He focused on this rude man, but⌠it just had one of those drama masks. Things were getting slow, things were getting weird. Why was time acting weird? Was this one of those, uh. Didnât that therapist say that he disassociated often? Dissociated? âheyââ The short albino wanted to greet this strange character, maybe offer some socks, somethingâ âHEYââ And said strange character grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanked him out of reality like a rag doll and into⌠what? Time worked normally again. He could move again, but. What the fuck? âHey????â What was this place? Why was he in a chair? Why did it feel like time was being weird? Surely it wasnât him! Maybe it was his own mind being weird again, maybe it was uh⌠it was time loss, wasnât it? It⌠huh? âYes, Mae Tohato.â ⌠NOPE! Donât answer these weird questions! What if this guy wanted to throw him back to the Saeki family? Why did he answer?! How stupid was he?? âI-I mean, what? Whatâs going on? Whatâs⌠whereâ?â This whole place was void! The table was springing from it! What is this place, what is this chair and this table and this weird man!
"Hope, beyond any reasonâ- itâs inherently human, isnât it? Itâs why I hold onto it still. Itâs the only thing I feel I have left."
Basic Info
Name
Mae Tohato, formerly Saeki Tohato
Mae is a Korean surname from his adoptive father. Saeki, his surname from birth, consists of the following characters: ĺ´ - ăă - mental sharpness ĺş - ăă - foundation His given name, Tohato, consists of the following characters: ć - ă¨ă - tender, gentleness 鳊 - ăŻă¨- pigeon
Nickname
Callum, an âeasier to pronounceâ western alias.
Tohato or MaeHato, by close friends and family.
Little Ghost, by his his adoptive Uncle, Mae Hyeon-Ju, when Hyeon-Ju tried to talk to Tohato while Tohato hid away in the alleyway behind the cafe.
Age
20
Gender
Assigned male at birth, identifies roughly as masculine. He/him pronouns.
Sexuality
Homosexual
Relationship
Single, but has a really big crush on his dormmate, Eli.
Family
Tohato is the youngest of 19 children, all but one of which are twins or triplets. His mother, Saeki Shiori, is the lethal head of an organized crime syndicate that almost entirely runs the underbelly of Japan. Tohato never knew his fatherâ he was a mild-mannered and mellow man, but he was murdered shortly after Tohatoâs birth by no less than Tohatoâs mother and wife to the poor man. Tohato has a twin, but he didnât get to know them well because of his motherâs treatment to him specifically. Since escaping his family, he was found by two Korean brothers, Hyeon-Ju and Ha-Nuel, during a snow-storm, cared for, and subsequently adopted by Ha-Nuel. Now, instead of the infamous Saeki name, he goes by Mae, helping his dad and his uncle run a Korean cafĂŠ in one of the busiest tourist areas of neo-Tokyo.
Type
Light â Chaos
Afterimage
Wings upon wings, eyes upon eyes, hands upon hands⌠an abomination difficult to describe, a being with a shining, porcelain âmaskâ as its face, an event horizon, that absorbs all light and emits a haunting halo with every color visible to the human eye. Cracks leaking this light, primarily red, line the strange creature where parts of its body peak from a haunting red fabric. What was once a white pigeon, full of light and hope, got corrupted into a cosmic horror by Tohatoâs own chaotic mental state. When it is calm, its body is almost translucent, pliableâ like wax, if wax could absorb and store light within itself. Iridescent light still swirls around that body, its hands and its wings, and the feathers that fall from its body still shine a gentle white, but not even light can escape such a broken soul. Its eyes glow with all its color and power, but.. somehow, it still looks red, bright, demanding more light to consume.
Mirror Artes
Anti-Gravity: Around this strange afterimage, physics may⌠stop working as it should, due to the nature of chaos. This allows objects around the creature, as well as the creature itself, to float around on command. Objects close in proximity can also float towards the user, or be propelled away.
Stellar Cry: A burst of pure light stemming from soule energy emits from the afterimage akin to the beam of a neutron star, along with an ear-piercing scream. Depending on how close someone is, this Arte can temporarily blind and distract, and serve as a beacon to focus attention to.
Beauty of the Universes: the beauty of the universe is how everything can happen, and in the theory of the multiverseâ everything DOES happen. With an extreme and dangerous release of soule energy, the user can force a ânew realityâ in a situation, akin to how Murphyâs law deems that everything that can happen will, be it for better or for worse.
Abilities & Skills Practical Abilities
Creativity: Tohato went to college on a scholarship because of his art. He has a lot of talent with most forms of visual art, and an extremely creative mind full of new ideas. His artistâs eye sees the beauty of everything, and it lets him think of unconventional solutions to problems and strange but beautiful methods to show a new piece heâs thinking of.
Cooking: ever since he was adopted into his new family, Tohato played an active role in the kitchen. Now, he knows dozens upon dozens of cozy recipes like the back of his hand, and he knows how to stay safe with cooking even the strangest ingredients.
First-Aid: Tohato was the only person making sure he didnât die in his youth. Thus, he knows a lot about first-aid. He can stitch up wounds, bandage things up, put broken limbs in a splintâ he also knows a good amount of traditional medicine for whenever he fell ill.
Reputation: while heâs detached from his birth surname, he still knows the Saeki name is an infamous name associated with heinous crime. Even though he was the hated child, used and sold around by the yakuza only for his body, the fact he even has an association could scare many away from hurting him. That said, those who know a bit more of the Saeki family would see his reputation more like a useless outcastâs, even if he didnât choose that.
Other Abilities
Hiding: if there were ever a champion for hide and seek, Tohato would be it. He can be quiet as a mouse, still as a statue, and heâd shove himself into the tiniest corner he can just to avoid being perceived.
Singing: one of his hobbies is singing, and he sings fairly decently!
Dissociation: more of an unhealthy coping mechanism than an ability, but the ability to entirely switch off has helped Tohato keep existing in the past and he hasnât been able to undo that coping mechanism in stressful situations quite yet.
Likes
birds
fluffy blankets
mandu like his dad makes
Dislikes
literally his own skin
being too close to people
any loud noises whatsoever
Strengths
resilient
clever
caring/empathetic
Weaknesses
mobility-impaired
unstable
poor memory
Appearance
The most noticeable thing about Tohato, and what he dislikes the most about himself, is the simple fact he was born with albinism. His eyes are wide and round like lychees, and his irises are a bright pinkish-red like the lycheeâs outer shell. His skin is white like fresh snow, but his hair is somehow lighterâ like wisps of light or paper brushed out of his pale face. Heâs rather short and scrawny, standing at 5â1, and he always slouches slightly, his shoulders tense and his hands tucked close to him. Tohato wears as much clothing as he reasonably can, covering every inch of his body before it makes him look even stranger than he already is, but under the layers of fabric, the young man has layers upon layers of scars on his back along with ink, and deep, old wounds on his legs. His left leg looks a little off, a little weakâ old wounds, torn tendons on that leg that he couldnât fix on his own, gave Tohato a permanent limp. Nowadays, Tohato has a rounder face with âdumpling cheeksâ like his dad says, and a body-type he happily calls âsquishyâ because of his uncle describing it that way. His face, his eyesâ heâs quite beautiful, in the way tragic sculptures of death and suffering give the same ethereal air. Even thought heâs not related to his dad by blood, many people say they resemble each other, and it makes him smile.
Personality
Tohato is a very timid and quiet person, like those toeless pigeons avoiding the people who wander about the streets. His eyes are bright, beautiful, but often distant and glassyâ vacant. As much as he tries to hide or deny the past that gnaws on him, he still knows the disgusting void the underbelly of the world has. He isnât a very organized person, unaware of how he can put life in a neat and fancy order like other people do, but maybe itâs not a bad thing! Heâs got the, uh.. âeccentric artistâ energy, apparently. His memory has voids upon voidsâ he may often ask questions multiple times, forgetting the names of people he just met, lose hours of time and ask something like âwe were just at the cafe a bit ago, and itâs night now, what happened?â Heâs often acted different, tooâ very slightly. Sometimes heâs even more scared âthan usual.â Sometimes his timidness becomes snappy and full of rage. Sometimes, even, it appears he regresses to not trusting any people and seeing hiding as the only option. Heâs not quite aware of all that, though. It seems heâs in denial most of the time, actually. He assures people, and himself, that heâs just fine, or that he just needs a minute, and that heâs perfectly healthy and level and what-have-you. Beyond that, Tohato is a caring, kind person. He checks up on everyone, almost anxiously, saying strange things like âjust wanted to make sure you were still aliveâ or âjust needed to see if you were still you, sorry!â He worries, cares, and yearns for connections with others, but heâs also just absolutely full of fear, of anxiety that heâs too strange, or that heâs doing something wrong, or that the world around him is wrong.
Background
WARNING!!! Tohatoâs backstory is one full of trauma and pain. There are mentions of severe and criminal child abuse, neglect, and suffering. TL/DR: Tohatoâs mother, a yakuza matriarch, hated him for being albino and hurt him for it. He eventually ran away and found temporary relief with some other street urchins who also ran from their families, until that little band of street urchins got dissolved due to police arresting many of the older members of that found family. Tohato spends a bit more time on the streets, finding refuge in an alleyway behind a cafe and meeting two brothers who tried to help him. A snowstorm hit, and Tohato almost succumbed to frostbite but was saved and later adopted by these brothers. Now, he goes to university to study the arts.
Since the moment Tohato first drew breath, he was absolutely hated. His mother looked at him, at those snow-white wisps of hair and that hauntingly pale skin, and then at his healthy, larger, dark-haired and peach-toned twin. She knew right away that this child had something wrong with him. âIt,â sheâd prefer to use. Out of 17 previous kids, this being her 8th or so birth, she knew something strange would happen eventually. She just didnât know just how much sheâd hate seeing the inevitable in her arms. Saeki Shiori, the matriarch of an infamous Yakuza running the underbelly of almost all of Japan, couldnât have some weak runt clutching at her chest! All of her children were strong, healthy, vicious, perfect for keeping the family business alive and well. Just what the hell was this?! What the hell was Tohato?! An albino, useless and strange and other, something to be hidden away lest it would taint the rest of her beautiful children. Shiori would go so far as to kill her husband for daring to produce such a creature with her. This thing, it wasnât her child. Even as those wide, red eyes gazed up at her, even as they pleaded for a motherâs love, she rejected Tohato and quite literally locked him away. Somehow, Tohato was still alive by the time he could walk. Thin, small, but alive. In that dingy library he was trapped in, all he could do was wait by the door for his mother to perceive him or one of his siblings to take pity on him. One day, as Shiori glared at the corridor leading to that library, eating a feast with her real children and doting on Tohatoâs twin, she realized something: Tohato was a freak. People like to see freaks. People like to use freaks. Maybe the waste of breath could actually be of use, maybe it could actually contribute to the family. That was when Tohato learned his body didnât belong to him. His voice didnât belong to him. His thoughtsâ he wasnât allowed to have them, he just had to endure. The more people he saw that day, the less heâd be forgotten. The more people he saw that day, the more food he might get, the more attention he might getâ maybe, just maybe, heâd even get praise. As he grew, he slowly realized that each scar he gained from âpleasingâ another customer, each bruise, each bitemark⌠his mother hated him all the same. His mother didnât see him as human. His mother barely saw him as an animal to keep alive. He just made enough supplemental money for his mother to justify him continuing to liveâ His life wasnât even his own. That was when he decided dying on the streets, in control of his own existence, would be better than dying from his family burying him alive or snapping his neck and âputting him out of his misery.â He was lucky enough to escape shortly after he figured out that plan, with an idiot who rented him for the hour not accounting for the windows of a living room being able to open. What now? Tohato was lucky enough to hide away with some kids like him, living on the city streets in who-knows-where and looking out for each other. Of course, Tohato couldnât trust any of themâ every person he knew had hurt himâ he just knew he had to be there, or else heâd probably die. How else would he get food? How else would he get shelter? How would he keep warm when winter struck? He just had to endure. Tohato would count the days, now that he had light to work with. The sun hurt his eyes and his skin, but he was happy enough to see it, to feel it whenever he pleased. He knew he was around 15 years old when he escaped, and now he knew 195 days had passed since he first joined that little gang of street urchins when police found their hideout and arrested half of the older âbig siblingsâ for being involved in crime. Tohato felt deep sadness, some deep and hollow feeling in his chest, to see the first home he knew suddenly shatteredâ that was where he learned to read and write. That was where he learned math with his younger âsiblings.â That abandoned shack, those dozen or so kids like him, all of that was his new life that he cherished so much, and the rocks that fed and protected them all as they huddled up and kept each other safe had been thrown into cars with loud sirens. Living on his own would be much harder, Tohato knew, but he couldnât bear people leaving him again. He just had to endure, just a little more. He couldnât bear the wee-woo of the sirens or boom of loud voices, he couldnât bear the bang sound and acrid smell of guns or the sight of everyone scrambling and him being stuck hiding from strangers who took everything away. He wandered, as much as his tiny, scarred body could. This is why he was barely outside on money-making dutiesâ he limped and stumbled around, his scars and old wounds tightening his movements on his back and legs. Three days. It took three days to find a place Tohato felt like he could live on his own in. An alleyway behind a cafeâ there was running water from a faucet that didnât make him sick, overhangs that could shelter him, warmth radiating from the walls, edible things in the trashâ if he just hid well enough, he could stay here. Five days passed before Tohato noticed a hot meal in front of the trash, meticulously wrapped in a little cloth. He couldnât read all of the words in the paper attached to the cloth, but⌠they called him a little ghost, and told him to keep warm with this food while autumn gave way into winter. The next day, a man with a warm smile sat by the door. Even though Tohato stayed as quiet and still as he could, the man had that wrapped food in one hand and waved him over with another. Tohato wondered why this stranger was being so nice to him, why he wasnât disgusted or afraid or tried to shoo him offâ he couldnât refuse the food, it was more than his mother gave him in a week and more than the generous scraps in the little gang of children he was in, but he kept his distance just in case. Fourteen days later, and this stranger gently offered a blanket with the food. âI think youâll want this, little ghost,â the man said. âOur door is open if you need it, okay..?â Tohato glanced over to the other man, the older one with smile lines on his face, the one that always tried to give Tohato space. He could hear the twoâ he figured out they were two brothers running this cafeâ talking about him whenever they thought he wasnât around. They didnât talk about him with disgust, and it surprised Tohato. Instead, he heard things like âshould we try to bring him in?â âHeâll trust us in his own time, heâs clearly scaredâ âhe has a limp, what if he canât make it to another shelter when a winter storm hits?â âI just donât want to scare him awayâ âWe need to keep an eye on him and make sure heâs okay, even if he doesnât trust us.â 33 days passed, each day getting colder and each look from the brother who sat with Tohato became more and more concerned. Each day, Tohato himself felt like he was shivering a bit more, sneezing, passing outâ that brother that sat with him offered him tea. That tea tasted bitter, but it was warm, and the warmth of the food and the warmth of the wall and the warmth of the manâs smile helped Tohato just a bit more than he thought it would. The storm hit the next day. Tohato huddled in the blanket, but he was still cold, cold cold. He felt so tired, he felt like every snowflake that blew into his hair and face weighed 20 poundsâ as much as he hid away in the corner of the alleyway, as much as he huddled under the overhang with the warmth of the pipes, inches upon inches of snow piled up on his feet and soaked through his torn-up shoes. He decided to just sit by the doorway, and wait for the brothers, the strangers who cared about him and gave him food and worried about him when he wasnât there. The door opened right when he stopped shivering, when his hands were blue and clammy and his eyes were glazed over like layers of ice had settled on them. The soup that the brother held spilled, and he heard yelling for someone named âHa-Nuelâ as he felt the warmth of a personâs hug. Tohato woke up on a floor that felt like tile, with the weight of maybe three blankets on him and the crackle of fire in the distance. He wasnât dead. He didnât die on the streets. That brother who sat with him and handed him the warm food was frantically on the phone talking about some ambulance and some kid needing emergency care, and the brother with smile lines sat on the floor next to him with crinkled brows. He decided to stop counting days the second that brother with smile lines cried from happiness at seeing Tohatoâs red eyes gazing up at him. The inside of the cafe was cozy, welcoming, cleanâ and, the upstairs had an apartment the brothers lived in, along with a spare room. It took Tohato maybe a week to understand that this little spare room with a closet and a bookshelf and a bed was safe, and his. The first conversation with the older brother went like this: âHey, little ghostâ can you talk? Whatâs your name?â Tohato, at that moment, was huddled away in a corner of the room with the fluffy blankets that made him feel safe. The brother with smile lines was on the opposite side of the room, close to the door. Tohato wasnât used to his voice being his own, or his skin being his own, or his breath being his ownâ was his name his own? It was now. â⌠toâŚ. Tohato.â And the older brother nodded, and then said "What a wonderful name, and I'm sure it holds great meaning. May we know your age? I would guess ten or eleven, but I don't much like making assumptions..." â⌠sixteen.â He still remembers the shock in the manâs eyes, followed by questions and questions and more questions that didnât register in Tohatoâs head. That man was Ha-Nuel. That man, with his brother, Hyeon-Ju, would make sure he knew what a happy life was like. Tohato saw Ha-Nuel as a father since that day in a doctorâs office where Ha-Nuel wouldnât leave his side, and told the doctors off whenever they gawked at him or questioned how he was still alive. The cafe and the upstairs apartment felt a little emptier when Hyeon-Ju, the brother with the warm smile who sat and talked to him that time ago, had to serve in the Korean military for a year and a half. but, this time, Tohato knew that his uncle with the warm smile would return, and he also knew heâd definitely be alive to hug him again. Tohato was a year older when Hyeon-Ju returnedâ and it worried Tohato, because his dad said Hyeon-Ju would probably be back after two years. It turned out that Hyeon-Ju came back without one of his legsâ but, Tohato smiled at him and said they could go to the doctor together! Tohato swore heâd drown the past. He already knew his memory was like a tapestry slashed through by lion clawsâ torn, unsightly, horrific. He wanted to pretend life with his dad, the dumplings they folded together, the jokes uncle said every time a plate shattered, the sounds of the diner, were what he had all his life. He wanted to pretend he was normal, that his memory worked beyond stupid, unsightly flashes and pain, that his hair and eyes and skin werenât something he wanted to escape and that his body didnât hurt and creak from the years of abuse. Another year, and he got his general education fully sorted with his family and with that tutor that was kind and gentle and patient. Tohato stopped counting his birthday by when he noticed the seasons cycling back into spring, and instead chose the day his family brought him inâ January 8th. Now, he was 20. He was Mae Tohato, and he was drawing like he loved to do, this time for grades in college, to be judged my strangers. Heâs happy that his family is close enough to him, now. He refuses to be anything but happy. He didnât get to feel happiness until, what, four years ago? He refused to see his past, what he remembered of it. He still doesnât look at himself in the mirror. But, oh. That art, those surreal brush strokes and chaotic lines, is beautiful, eye-catching enough to give him a scholarship to a great university. He was Mae Tohato. He had endured enough, he wasnât an abomination, he didnât need a stranger to talk to, he wasnât hurt, he wasnât forgetting things left and right, he wasnât fearful of everythingâ he told himself all that. He wanted this new life to be everything. It was his only option, it was all he had left. He survived. He still survives. He will keep surviving.
Tohato is severely mentally ill and his father is in the middle of getting him treatment and diagnoses for his issues. The only thing is, Tohato doesnât want to talk to strangers about his past and he doesnât want to be told how different and wrong he is all over again. Trauma is a beast, engorged and fatty on Tohatoâs lifetime of pain, and that is a beast that Tohato doesnât want to slay or even acknowledge just yet.
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