Yuji Itadori Scars Novels & Stories

Below it, another name. RENJI MORI. Hayate closed his eyes. The lamp at the end of the room flickered. A man stepped from behind the cages. Thin. Grey-haired. One side of his face pulled tight by burn scars. He held a chain in one hand. At the end of it knelt a boy no older than twelve. The boy looked up. Same dark eyes as Hayate. Same scar through the left brow. Hayate made a sound I had never heard from him before.

Hanzo explains making my blood boil in anger for him. No wonder he got upset, he only tried doing the right thing and got beat for it. “My step father tore me up pretty good and gave me my scars as a parting gift when he pulled me off the kid,” Hanzo points to his side, Reika pushes forward as my hand moves down under his shirt and my fingers trace his scars.

Izan tensed, but I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was drawn to the scars, and like a moth to the light, I reached out to see them. I carefully touched one, and it immediately opened and began to bleed. I looked at Izan with fear and saw his discomfort. Those scars were not normal. Something was going on, and I had to find out.

What did it even matter? I stared at the scars on my back in the mirror for many minutes after I got out of the shower, scars that had been inflicted on me by my mate and his father, scars that’d stay there forever. I’ll never be able to wear any dress that reveals my back because of those scars. I traced the thickest of them with my index finger, starting from my waist all the way to my middle back. My fingers couldn’t get all the way so I stopped and sighed. Zayden did that to me.

It was packed full of heavy-duty stuff like field surgery and a series of small vials of medications whose labels featured print so small you couldn't even read it, and a scalpel and a set of tweezers that looked like they were intended for something a little more specific than removing splinters. Somito shrugged off his jacket, and when he took off his shirt, pulling it over his head, Sofia's eyes went wide. Not for the reasons one might expect, of course. He had scars across his muscular chest, but she'd seen those before, lots of times during their training sessions. But there was an assortment of three brand-new slashes across his left pec and down across his ribs. They were deep, like a

“Not just good – amazing.” “One hundred percent amazing,” Jo said solemnly. “Thought so.” Scars held out a huge hand and she took it, felt the raised skin there. Without even looking, Jo knew that he had more scars on his hands and briefly wondered what he must look like under his jeans and blue t-shirt and cut: she’d heard from Jinx that the fire had burned Scars so badly, he’d needed reconstructive skin grafting on his back and legs. “It’s a pleasure, Jo.”

“Wife, I know you are already awake. Talk to me, please?” Only then did I open my eyes. I wiped it while my vision was still a little blurry until my vision cleared and I saw Yuichi’s face. I frowned as a prerequisite. I looked at his face. “What happened to your face?” I asked when I saw the bruise on his lower lip. There were a few scars. “Nothing, it’s just... I got into a minor accident.” “Accident!?” I got up and checked his face. “What kind of accident did you have bruises and scars on your face?”

He steps over toward me, then leans down to pick me up. When his shirt comes into contact with my wounds, I nearly fall apart in tears. “Those look nasty, almost as bad as the ones Jackson left when you were but a child. So sad. Here you just got those scars healed and Jay tore them right back open to make new ones. Maybe we can get these to go away as well.” “You’re a monster.”

The Adversary Dark Prince (POV) When people notice the jagged scar on my arm, their eyes often widen with worry, and they jump to conclusions that are far from the truth. It's a common reaction, especially in a world where scars usually hint at pain or violence. But this scar tells a different story—it's not a sign of suffering; it's a symbol of something beautiful and meaningful in my life. Each curve and line of the scar represents resilience and a deep bond that has lasted through challenges, showing that not all scars are reminders of hurt. Instead, it reminds me of love and the strength I've gained along my journey.

The wound is still here, and I know that it's opening again. I touched the scars on my chest, near my heart. I winced as soon as I felt my scar in my chest. Until no, I still don’t know what really happened, or what caused this wound of mine. School Accident, that's what he told me. I don't know, but I did not believe in him. I was about to go the garden when my phone beeped. … +639********* to Tatiana: Hey. I hope you are doing good. I talked to someone about your condition.