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Pictures and pamphlets and postcards littered the corkboard like a quilted tapestry. Tamaki pinched the first one carefully between his fingers. A bright-faced Mirio beamed back at him, thumbs hooked proudly in his obi belt with an All Might mask resting on the side of his head. A timid Tamaki hid behind him, eyes trailed on the ground as if wishing he had an invisibility quirk. The background blurred with the lights of some festival.
The corners of Tamaki’s mouth tugged into a fond smile. “When was this taken?”
“Which one?” Mirio hobbled around the cardboard boxes that littered the floor. He rested his chin on Tamaki’s shoulder, peering at the picture. “Oh! That’s from the autumn festival. It was your first one after moving, remember? I wanted to show you all the best spots to see the lanterns!”
A flood of long-forgotten memories resurfaced. The smell of fried foods in the air. The sounds of happy festival-goers. Then there was Mirio, tugging at the sleeves of Tamaki’s yukata, leading him through a crowd that he wouldn’t have had the courage to navigate otherwise.
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Mirio let out a wistful hum. “You were so nervous, you manifested tentacle fingers and your chopsticks fell out of your hand!”
“Oh, yeah. That was embarrassing.”
“Sure, but then you saw the lanterns take off and your whole face lit up. I swear you were brighter than any lantern I’ve ever seen!” Mirio regarded the photograph with a far-off look in his eye. “Good times, good times. I think I still have that mask somewhere.” He pulled back, blinking down at the action figure in his hand as if trying to remember why he was holding it. “Right. Packing.”
“Right.” Tamaki's tongue felt like sandpaper. “Packing.”
He didn’t want to think about it too much, but it loomed over their heads like a storm cloud. They had to pack up their dorms and move out. Because, tomorrow was graduation. Tomorrow, everything would change. Tomorrow was full of doubt and uncertainty and it was happening much too quickly and god, Tamaki didn’t want to think about any of that either.
“Where should I put these?” He asked, unpinning the picture from the corkboard.
“Shoebox on the desk,” Mirio called from where he was kneeled by his bed, rolling the figurine in bubble wrap before placing it in a box.
At least they had each other to help out. Tamaki didn’t think he’d be able to pack up his things all on his own. He began unpinning items from the corkboard. An All Might postcard, a bulky envelope from U.A. – probably Mirio’s acceptance. Another photograph. Tamaki squinted curiously at it before groaning.
“God, Mirio, why do you still have this?”
Mirio hopped up and eyed the photograph in question. It was a middle school class picture. Mirio was giving Tamaki bunny ears.
“What do you mean, why do I still have this?” Mirio snatched it out from between Tamaki’s fingers. “It’s hilarious!”
“Oh, sure,” Tamaki rolled his eyes with a grin, grabbing the photo again. No one had bothered to check the finer details of the photograph until it was printed. Mirio had gotten quite the scolding that day. Maybe Mirio needed the reminder. “You got in trouble for it, remember?”
Mirio just grinned. “Totally worth it. And you are not throwing it away.”
“Fine.” Tamaki tossed it in the box.
The left half of the corkboard was now barren, but there was still a ways to go. Another All Might postcard. A take-out menu from a nearby restaurant. Various business cards that he took down without much thought.
But when Tamaki got to the last of the business cards, his breath caught deep in his throat. His fingers hovered over the metallic green lettering – Sir Nighteye Hero Agency. After all this time, it was still pinned to Mirio’s board. Maybe he had simply forgotten about it. But probably not.
Tamaki felt it like a sucker-punch to the gut. He knew that Mirio was still in pain, that he still blamed himself. And Tamaki couldn’t help but worry that Mirio had left the card up on purpose, as a reminder of the guilt.
Mirio hadn’t noticed the way Tamaki had paused, he was too busy unshelving his manga from his bookshelf. Good. The air was already heavy with unspoken words, that would just make it even heavier. With shaking fingers, Tamaki unpinned the card and placed it carefully in the shoebox. Out of sight, out of mind, isn’t that what they say? If only it were that easy.
The board was almost empty now, just a few more mementos. It hurt to see it stripped away like that, like the memories themselves were dissolving. Still, Tamaki moved on to the next items on the board. An omamori from the local shrine. Arcade photo-booth shots from last year. Mirio smiling brightly amongst family members and friends that had come and gone throughout the years. And his smiles must have been contagious because Tamaki found himself smiling in return.
All that was left was a single photograph. It was of Mirio, a toddler this time, soaking wet and cheering from where he was perched on the shoulders of some B-list hero. Tamaki knew the story behind this one. He knew it by heart, had heard Mirio recite it enough times to hear the inflection in his head.
“… and then the bridge wasn’t under my feet anymore. I was in freefall! The next thing
I knew, I had gone splash! in the river below. If a pro-hero hadn’t been patrolling the banks at that exact moment, I could have been a goner! And that’s when I knew…”
The smile on Tamaki’s face faded.
“… that’s when I knew, I was gonna be a hero too!”
Mirio didn’t tell that story much anymore.
And dammit, Tamaki really didn’t want to think about that right now. Not when there was so much worrying to do already. But Mirio was… Well, he was Mirio. He was a friend, family, home. And Tamaki tried being hopeful for his future. But a part of him mourned for what Mirio had lost, and he couldn’t stop the fog of anxiety from overwhelming him. He couldn’t stop his shoulders from shaking. Couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes.
“Tamaki…?” Mirio’s voice swam around in his head. “What’s wrong?”
Tamaki braced himself against the desk, knuckles turning white against the wood. “It’s nothing,” he lied, but he knew his voice was a dead giveaway. It shook too much.
Mirio was by his side in an instant, because of course he was. His eyes widened when he saw a photograph between Tamaki’s fingers. “Oh, Tamaki—"
“—What will you do now?” He gasped out.
An arm circled his shoulders, pulling him close. “Oh, don’t you worry about me!” Even Mirio’s voice was smiling, in a bittersweet sort of way. “I may not have a plan yet, but I’ve got the whole world ahead of me!”
But… being a hero had been Mirio’s whole world, for so long. Had been both of their worlds. Even when they’d gone their separate ways for the internships, they were always going to come back together again. And now… Now…
“I didn’t think I would be alone,” Tamaki’s voice caught in his throat. “Whenever I imagined myself as a pro, I always imagined you right there with me. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“But you don’t need me.” Mirio’s voice was strained. He pulled Tamaki into a proper hug, the kind Tamaki never wanted to leave. “You can do it, all on your own. I know you can.”
“Yeah,” Tamaki found himself agreeing. Somehow, Mirio always knew how to calm him.
“No matter how anxious you feel, you can overcome it. You’re going to be an amazing hero. Yeah? Because you are Suneater.”
Tamaki melted into each comforting word.
“You’re gonna save all sorts of people,” Mirio continued. “And to do that, you gotta work with Fatgum. Be his sidekick, yeah?”
“Yeah…” Tamaki took a deep, steadying breath. “About that… I already accepted his offer.”
Mirio froze. Then, he pulled back. “You did?”
Tamaki nodded. “I’m moving to Osaka at the end of the month. I’m sorry,” he turned away, bringing the back of his hand to wipe at his nose. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
When Tamaki first glanced up, Mirio’s face was unreadable. He just stood there, blinking in surprise. Then, his face broke out into a big smile, just like in the pictures. And Mirio’s smile really was contagious, for somehow, Tamaki was smiling again as well.
“Hey, look at you!” Mirio gave Tamaki’s shoulder a fist bump. “Flashing those pearly whites. You are well on your way to being a proper pro! And you did it all by yourself. I am so, so proud of you, Tamaki.”
Mirio’s strong arms wound their way around Tamaki again, and Tamaki mirrored the motion, giving into the embrace, and it felt like home. A home he didn’t want to leave behind.
“But what about you?” His voice was too quiet, barely above a whisper and muffled by Mirio’s neck.
“I’ve got options now. I can go to university. Or, travel the world. Who knows where the future will take me?” he ran his fingers through Tamaki’s hair. “But I’ll be fine.”
Tamaki tightened his hold. “Go with me.”
“… What?”
“I don’t need you there, for me to be a hero,” Tamaki muttered, and for the first time, those words felt true. “But it would be easier. In the beginning, at least. So, until you figure out what’s next for you…”
For a moment, only silence surrounded them. Then Mirio let out a breath, and it sounded like a sigh of relief.
“I would like that very much.”