Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s only a day since he’s left the hospital and Toshinori already feels lighter. There’s certainly an increase of aches and pains around his joints he can’t ignore. The knowledge that he’s barely held together by a plethora of bolts and screws. A pop in his knee with every step forward he takes, along with building fatigue in his wrist and hand. He’s still not quite sure if he’s using this cane right...

Yet none of it is a deterrent to his mood. Not when he’s free of bed rest for the first time in weeks, out in the sun, ready to see the work being done by the heroes of tomorrow. His heroes of tomorrow.

He’d have a pep in his step were that not something extremely ill advised by his doctor.

And if his junior were not grumbling towards him ready to block his way.

“No. There is no way you’re in any way allowed to be walking around right now. Don’t even fight me on that.”

Toshinori laughs, strained, but not from any lack of joy. He rubs at his chest, the stitches there pulling. “Come now, Aizawa. You really think I’d be able to sneak out?”

Aizawa shoots the deadliest glare he’s probably ever received. “It’s that attitude that makes me think I shouldn’t put it past you…” He sighs. “You know what…if you aren't allowed on campus yet, Nezu and Recovery Girl will give you shit for it later so—”

He turns away but not without a gesture for Toshinori to follow, “Come on.”

Leading the way to Class A.

Class 2-A

A designation that makes his chest twinge with so many things at once.

Though no matter how fast he wishes to get to their destination, Toshinori is limited. Aizawa leads, but never a step too fast, keeping his pace with Toshinori’s slow stride. He’s appreciative, despite the way his fingers twist around the head of his cane. It’s still something he’s getting used to.

“Guessing you already saw class B?”

“Ah, yes, well… I figured if I started with class A…”

Aizawa snorts, “You’d never get to B by the time their bus left… sounds about right.” The younger man runs a hand through his hair, poorly hiding the fondness that slips across his face. “They’ve been clamoring on and on about when you were getting released. Hope you’re ready to be jumped on sight.”

Toshinori is no better though, lips pulling up into a smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Aizawa hums as they begin to round the building to where his forever class waits, likely adjusting their new costumes, readying their bags for the bus, discussing their individual assignments for the next week.  Full of energy, some excitement, and undeniable strength to smile and face the day despite all they’d just lived through. Toshinori nearly stumbles as he tries to push forward that much faster to see it.

“Midoriya already know you’re coming?”

This time Toshinori does stumble, forcing Aizawa to catch him at the elbow. “My apo—”

“Don’t. Just be more careful.”

Toshinori corrects himself as he lets Aizawa steady him back up, “You’re… right, thank you.”

Aizawa gives a low grunt, and waits as Toshinori fixes his grip on his cane. 

“...Guessing he doesn’t know then.”

Toshinori blinks, finding Aizawa cocking his head at him, with the most curious look peeking above his scarf.

There’s still so much Toshinori is…beginning to unlearn. One such thing being the fact that his connection to his successor is public knowledge.

“...He knows I’m off of bed rest… if that’s what you mean.”

He doesn’t mention that said message about bed rest and discharge went without reply. As so many of Toshinori’s recent ones did.

“It’s not… but,” Aizawa says and then under his breath, “Guess that’s better than nothing…”

Toshinori catches it though, and feels it sink beneath his skin, like an accusation.

“I…” he tries, feeling something weigh on his shoulders. “I figured I’d surprise him—” is what he settles on. And as if by muscle memory he then adds, “Them—All of them.”

“Still with that?” Aizawa raises a brow, “There’s really no point hiding in it now.” 

“I’m…not—” He shakes himself from his slight stupor. Just the mention, the thought of all his students, brings certainty into his rebuttal, “I came here today for all of them. As their teacher. That’s not a lie. ”

Aizawa offers quite the look. “Didn’t say it was.” There’s no malice in his bloodshot, yet still piercing eye. Just a raised brow above it. “...The very fact that you couldn’t wait even a full 24 hours after being discharged to come here says enough…”

Toshinori nervously smooths his hair up from where it has started sticking to his skin.

It's late June at this point. The cherry blossoms have come and gone. The joint graduation-entrance ceremony has been celebrated with as much melancholy as fanfare. Students had gripped their diploma’s with fingers now plagued by fine tremors. All Might hadn’t been there to see. Toshinori Yagi had watched the livestream from his hospital bed. The same bed he’d worked so hard to raise himself up from with only the assistance of his bedrail—taking the only step forward he could in his recovery, as his students took steps to begin again. 

He hasn’t missed the way the seasonal sun beats upon his neck. How sweat runs along the length of his spine. How Aizawa sees right through him.

“I simply felt like… I couldn’t afford to miss anymore,” he says, pushing off with his cane to continue ahead, leaving Aizawa a step behind. “Feel free to chastise me for it later.”

The other man follows, this time walking patiently at Toshinori’s side. “I’ll pass on that… though… I’m sure Recovery Girl will take you up on it. And the kids—once they get over their initial excitement.”

Toshinori chuffs, “Trust me, I know. Class B already gave me quite a run for my money…” He doesn’t miss the there and gone in a flash smirk that crosses his colleague's face. 

“I’m sure you enjoyed every second of it.”

He thinks of Young Kendo and Tsunotori dashing forward the second he’d thrown up a wave. The clamor of their classmates soon after, some of them even tumbling off the bus just to run up and greet him. It only took a few minutes before they’d begun lecturing him about being out and about too soon—all said with the brightest smiles upon their faces. 

How on earth could anyone expect him to feel bad about leaving the emptiness of his hospital bed for all that ?

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

A gentle breeze brings a moment of cool relief from the summer sun as well as a lull in the conversation. There’s only the rubber press of his cane’s tip against the concrete and the slight infrequent squeak from Aizawa’s new leg. While Aizawa seems fine to let their walk remain in quiet company, Toshinori can’t quite fight the itch in his throat that bubbles into words.

“I… received some updates in the hospital but… I still have to ask…How… How are they doing?”

The long inhale Aizawa takes tells him enough. When he exhales, “They’re coping…is about all I can say.” Toshinori knows too well what that means. “I think getting out in the field again—keeping busy, just being with their classmates… it’s helping.”

“...I heard about Young Todoroki—about Dabi…and Endeavor…”

Aizawa makes a noise. It’s pained, irritated—helpless. “Don’t remind me…that kid—he—”

“He’s strong,” Toshinori offers, as Aizawa rubs a hand down his face. “So much stronger than all of us.”

“That’s an understatement,” Aizawa hisses, and then, “I told him if he wasn’t ready he could sit this one out but he insisted he was okay. And despite myself… I believe him.”

Toshinori is inclined to agree. “Speaking of sitting out… how is Young Bakug—”

“Pass.”

Toshinori bursts with laughter, “That bad, huh?” Not at all envying Aizawa’s role as homeroom teacher. Said teacher shoves his hands into his pockets, grumbling, “That damn kid… he still has another three weeks of taking it easy. I’m not gonna make it ‘till then.”

“He certainly wasn’t sitting still at the hospital… I can only imagine.”

“Yeah, it’s a nightmare.”

Toshinori grins, mirroring the one poorly hidden behind Aizawa’s exasperation. “I’m sure you’re enjoying every minute of it too, Sensei.”

Enjoying. Relishing. Appreciating the simple fact that their students could be scolded. Could be praised. That they all lived to see another mundane school day.

Aizawa only grunts in reply.

Toshinori asks after a few of the others on his mind—Young Uraraka, Shinsou, Aoyama, having missed the former’s farewell party, and Shinsou’s first day as an official hero student—that by the time Aizawa is done humoring him he can see a swarm of movement. It's a blur of colorful costumes down the path ahead.

He can’t help it—his eyes search for a single hint of green.

“Some of them are still waiting for their new costumes to come in.” Aizawa says, catching him. “Production and delivery from our usual contractors been delayed… considering …so they’re wearing their PE uniforms—along with some gear the support department made.”

“O-Oh! Of… of course.”

“...That includes your kid.” 

Toshinori sputters, but fails to find any clear words in response—or rebuttal? Instead he just wilts. Beneath the sun, and Aizawa’s knowing look. 

“You gonna stop beating around the bush and ask already?”

It’s right on the money, that Toshinori can’t even argue. He can only say what’s been sitting on his tongue since he’d gotten dressed this morning, buttoning up his shirt, carefully pulling on his shoes, scrolling through those messages. The most recent of his that had gone unanswered…no. It’d been lurking even earlier than that.

He swallows, flexes his fingers, and then surrenders. Finally asks the question he’s wanted to all along.

“How is he?”

“I figured you’d be able to tell me.”

Toshinori reels back, “Aizawa, what—you just—”

“Relax. ’m just trying to make a point.” Aizawa waves off the shrill siren of panic blaring in his head. It helps but not with the tension wrapping around his bones, especially when Aizawa states quite simply, “He’s been… quiet. 

Toshinori’s teeth grind.

Aizawa continues, “Only time he talks long enough is when he’s asking how everyone else is doing. Not that that’s any different than how he normally is…it’s just…yeah.” Aizawa scratches at the back of his head, the top of his hair pulled up and out his way, loosening just a smidge. Aizawa turns to him an expression not necessarily grim but certainly no nonsense. “Have you really not talked to him? …The two of you were strapped into neighboring beds for weeks…”

“No, no, I have—I did—it’s just…”

It’s just… 

Even confined to neighboring hospital beds, in the same room, as Aizawa said, there hadn't quite been time to…do much of anything, besides drift to sleep, wake for meals, have their vitals checked, their bandages changed, or greet the rare but occasional visitor. When the opportunities presented themselves they had talked…about Tomura…the battle…the restoration… but... Toshnori’s throat had still been a wreck those first few days and Midoriya…

“He needed time,” Toshinori tries. “I didn’t want to…rush him.”

Things had still been too fresh; the fires of war simmering just outside their hospital room window. Flat on his back, neck in a brace, stuck in place, Toshinori had tried to catch the kid’s face every day after Midoriya had woken up. To get a read and see what was swirling behind those bright and often teary green eyes whenever he did try to broach any deeper subject or… any fresh wounds. 

He hadn’t been very successful. At least not until the day the kid was discharged…

Smile on his face, eyes crinkled with it, as if it’s enough to make Toshinori believe it’s true.

“This is Midoriya, we’re talking about—give him all the time in the world. When it concerns himself—he’s never going to be ready to talk about it.”

Toshinori knows. He knows. That’s why he’s here. 

Aizawa’s brows furrow, “He’s always been uncontrollable with his meddling but… it’s been different. He’s looking everywhere, and at everyone, except himself… you’d have to be blind not to see it for what it is.”

A distraction. 

“He told me,” Aizawa admits, after a pause and a breeze, “During the fight—that he’d passed it on.” 

Toshinori nods, throat tight, chest swelling as well as shuddering. How is it that he can be so full of pride as he shatters with heartbreak?

“He’s as I was after passing One for All down to him,” he explains, unsure of how much Aizawa knows. “There’s still some of the power within him. But… eventually that too will fade.” 

Aizawa replies, not missing a beat, “And how long will that last?” 

“A few months… depending on how often he uses it.”

“...I’m guessing you have a plan?”

They’ve been walking for a few minutes now. The path from the school now leading to its end as finally, finally Toshinori can make out the distinct qualities of his beloved students. Young Iida’s boisterous directions, Kirishima and Kaminari’s laughter, the chatter of Yaoyorozu, Ashido, Hagakure. He turns away from his colleague to where Class A awaits. 

“I have… something…”

Because as he looks into the busyness of the children he finally spots what he’s been wanting to see for days. A head of green, buzzed at the side, curls falling over where Toshinori knows a new scar lies. The boy’s back is to him, carrying heavy bags toward the under-storage of the bus with Young Shoji and Ojiro right behind him. It’s only been a few weeks since Toshinori’s seen him, only a few days since he’s heard from him. Yet for some reason, simply seeing the boy—seeing him moving about—free of bandages, splints, and crutches. Seeing him chatting, lifting, and living his life as if nothing has happened, as if nothing is different—is suddenly overwhelming. 

Every moment since Midoriya had been discharged, Toshinori had wanted to see him. To talk to him. To tell him. The circumstances just… hadn’t allowed for that. 

Escaped villains roamed, city streets were still gaping pits or mountains of rubble. Toshinori had been stuck—restricted to the strictest bed rest he’d ever received. He even had rotating guards to ensure he wouldn’t make a run for it as much as they ensured All Might didn’t have a run in with any unapproved visitor. (He hadn’t been lying to Aizawa about being unable to sneak out). 

Not that he had any plans to. 

He wasn’t the same man who had once refused his sidekick’s pleas. 

Nor was he one who would fail to be what his successor needed.

Quirk or no quirk.

“…I still need to make some calls… and talk with him first, of course. But yes… I have something.” 

Watching the boy from afar, face just out of view, Toshinori fights the urge to bolt forward, grab the kid, spin him around, and spew every word he’s been meaning—needing—to say.

He’d probably fall flat on his face.

“Well, you better get on that something then,” Aizawa drawls, following his line of vision, and then with an unexpected pat to Toshinori’s shoulder, “In the meantime…I’ll do what I can as his teacher. I’m hoping that getting them out and seeing the difference they’ve made…it might help them feel a little less…responsible for the things they can’t change.” Toshinori finds Aizawa offering a small smile, one that can only be expected from a professional hero. Or perhaps of a man, who was once a student, who knew too well at too young, the weight of failure, shortcomings, and loss. “But, just in case, I’ll keep you updated if I notice anything off about him during the week.”

His mood and spirits are lower than they’d been when he’d first stepped onto U.A.’s campus yet Toshinori feels somehow lighter than he has in days as he leans into his colleague’s support. Something—he reminds himself—he’s Allowed To Do.

“Aizawa I…thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” And then with a shrug forward, he snarks, “Time to do yours, All Might.”

There’s a hush as Toshinori looks ahead. The murmur of conversation just barely audible in the distance halts as a gasp resounds. Ashido at the front of the group makes eye contact first, her black of irises so wide he can see them even from here. Suddenly and all at once unprepared, Toshinori throws up a hand, in a half wave, but can barely finish the motion as the air cracks with outcry as heads spin his way and a stampede of feet comes barreling his way

““ALL MIGHT-SENSEI?!””

It’s too powerful to not be affected. Toshinori's worries collapse at his sides as he pushes forward to meet his smiling, teary eyed students halfway. Poor Aizawa does his best to keep them from toppling their recovering teacher over, but Toshinori doesn’t fight it. Who would dare fight against a wave of overwhelming joy?

It's only when he gets his own crinkling cheeks under control and Aizawa’s commands are finally followed to “Give him some space!”   that Toshinori catches familiar green eyes at the back of the crowd. 

Awake at the same time, chatting quietly, just loud enough over the steady push of Toshinori’s respirator and the synchronized notes of their respective monitors—he could hear it in the kid’s voice. 

Could see it in his eyes—moments after he’d shattered Toshinori’s heart, when he’d straightened with a smile and walked from their room.

Knows it's there now too, just below the surface of the boy’s slack jawed shock.

“A-All Might?” 

But he’s here, and he’s going to fix it.

Because that’s what Toshinori Yagi can do.

The first time Inko Midoriya had come to see her son while Toshinori was awake, he had tried to force himself up. 

Admittedly, not his brightest idea, but one he’d tried nonetheless. 

The kid had been asleep, snoring softly, dozing off just as Toshinori had returned to the waking world. The two of them missing each other by minutes once again.

It’s early morning and Toshinori struggles to swallow. The roof of his mouth is dry, and while he could certainly press the call button…

Instead he strains back towards the half finished water that sits just within reach. It’s awkward, maneuvering an arm wrapped tight in plaster, unable to bend, but with some shifting, a groan,  and wiggling of his fingers, he—

Hears the room door slide open and a soft, warm voice fills the room.

“Excuse me—”

Toshinori’s fingers, just grazing the rim of the cup, pull back, spinning the thing so that it’s teetering on the table’s edge as he whips around. A poor reaction with absolutely no regard for his neck brace. But he recognizes the voice, and can’t help the way his body responds, fighting to get upright, to give the woman the respect she deserves.

“M-Mrs. Midoriya!” He exclaims, not at all mindful of the sleeping boy nearby. His mouth slams shut, when he hears mumbling from the other bed, along with the sound of plastic and water ricocheting off the floor a few seconds later. In the doorway, Mrs. Midoriya stands frozen, a plate with a plastic cover in one hand and a bag or two slipping off her shoulder.

They stare at each other but neither breathe, not until there’s a shuffle of blankets and a quiet exhale.

They follow it with their own. Toshinori, practically deflating into the mattress.

“He just fell asleep, I take it?” Mrs. Midoriya asks, carefully pulling the room door closed. “I was wondering, when he stopped answering me…”

“Uh, yes. I believe so,” he begins, peering over to where he can just barely see the head of his successor pressed into his pillow. By the boy’s hand lies his phone, as if it’d slipped from his grasp, pulled from gravity as he was slowly lulled into sleep. “Apologies,” he offers, trying to straighten himself into a slightly more presentable position. “I’m sure I startled you.”

He finds her approaching his bed after a fond look at her now snoring son. She falters, eyes blowing wide, “No, no! I’m sure you didn’t expect a visitor this early! I’m sorry…” She puts her bags on the cushioned chair in the corner of the room as well as the plate on the accompanying small table. “Though…even if it was a little rude to come so early and unannounced…” She turns, shining with a teary eyed smile so much like her son’s that Toshinori finds himself speechless, “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

“I…”

“Oh! Hold on, let me…” she says, before dashing to the sink where she grabs a handful of towels, and then back to where his water had found its untimely end. 

“Ma’am, please, you don’t have to…”

“No, no it’s fine,” she argues, already wiping the mess and then hurrying away to toss the now used towels. “I should have knocked before barging in…Izuku had said you were sleeping.” At the sink she seemingly rinses the cup, before waiting, the sound of water running, as she seemingly refills it. 

Toshinori, settles back against his pillow, the bit of excitement morphing into a heaviness against his bolted bones. “I’m surprised he was awake.” 

The faucet squeaks to a stop. Toshinori watches as the formidable force that is Inko Midoriya shrinks in on herself, as she only does, when it concerns her boy, “He…I don’t think he’s been sleeping… or at least, not well.” She chuckles, the sound dishonest and dry, “Not that I have either.”

That makes three of us, is all Toshinori can think.

She makes her way back to the space between the two beds, her eyes glued to the cup she hands back to him, the straw back in place—a consideration that takes a weight from him. Without the slightest hint of pity she offers the drink to him, holding it steady, so that he can wrap his own hand securely around it. She doesn’t let go. Her other hand coming to wrap around his own. 

Her bangs curtain over her eyes but the tremble of her hands, the grip she holds him with—he doesn’t need to see to know what’s there.

“Mrs. Midoriya…”

“Sorry—I’m sorry, I just—has he said anything? To you?” The quake in her voice is one of desperation. 

But he doesn’t lie, so he can only offer disappointment. 

“I’m afraid, not…he’s been…” He glances past her to where Izuku still lies, breathing as steady as the chirps of his monitor yet still turned away. Withdrawn. Withholding. “Quiet.” Is what he settles on.

“He—He’s been texting me the last few nights, just…asking about the apartment, our neighbors, m-me. But… no matter how I try to ask, he won't talk to me… won’t tell me what’s wrong… I don’t want to push him, not after everything he’s been through. But he only reaches out when he—when he—” she chokes, so Toshinori takes the cup gently from her so that she can move to wipe her eyes. 

“I know he doesn’t want me to worry but—I’m his mother—I can’t help it.”

If he could, he’d hold her trembling hands between his own and offer something more than, “I understand.”

She doesn’t refute that, despite his worming doubt that she should. After all, what could he possibly understand about a mother’s fears? Especially when he was the cause of so many?

“I’m sorry, you just woke up I shouldn’t be—”

“No—You have absolutely every right,” he tells her, forcing himself a little more upright, “This—I can’t imagine how hard this has been on you. It… it’s not the same but… I understand how hard it is to watch from the sidelines, feeling helpless, even after the fighting’s done…”

Her eyes peek out from their cover, dropping heavy tears from her lashes and onto his sheets. Yet she chuckles. “You say that, as if All Might didn’t make an appearance in the final battle.”

“I—uh—that was,” he twitches, wishing suddenly that he could hide the state of his broken body. 

“Watching from the shelter…I thought…” she pulls out a handkerchief from her pocket dabbing the corner of her eyes, though it does very little to help. “I was so—so frightened.”

“But of course…seeing your son—“

She interrupts with a shake of her. “No I—somehow I… I knew Izuku would be alright. Even though he was up against that…villain, I knew he’d win. I knew. I… still have to tell him that. That I—after everything—that his mother believed in him.”

Toshinori stares at this woman, who raised a boy whom by Toshinori’s metric is the greatest hero he’s ever known all while she weeps for her self-proclaimed failures.

“But that’s not what I…when I saw that awful monster…All for One? When he grabbed you—had you a-above his head—” Toshinori’s fingers twitch, an aching need to hold his scarred and newly mangled side. “I thought…” there’s a sniffle, and then a touch of warmth pressing against—somehow through—the plaster wrapped around his arm that all but eases the ache. “I’m—I’m so thankful that…you’re still here with us, All Might.”

The promise he’d sworn to her, almost a full year ago, sits between them unsaid, yet deafening. It echoes over the beeps and rhythms of the room. The signs of the life of both him and her boy. If only he had the words to tell her all that’s swirling in his head. 

But he has to clear his throat, a lump of dehydration likely clogging it, so it’s all he can say but, “Me as well.”

“If…if Katsuki hadn’t gotten to you…I can’t imagine—Izuku—he—”

He can. Toshinori can. He’d imagined it, for so many years. Envisioned it. Ran towards it. Only truly feared it—that vision of certainty—when his life had intertwined with bright eyes, curly hair, and undeserved admiration. 

He’d felt every fiber in his being desperately cry out against it as All for One had grasped him by the throat, raised him to the sky, and pulled. 

“And yet young Bakugou did get to me,” He reminds them both. “You…don’t need to imagine it. All for One is gone. As is Shigaraki, thanks to your son.” He doesn’t mention how the boy feels about that.

Mrs. Midoriya seems to nod, albeit weakly and after getting her soft weeping under some control, “Y-You’re right. It’s—

“It’s over…”

Something uneasy settles over him at her tone, he waits though, not wanting to force it from her. He finally takes a small sip of water as she goes to splash some water on her face. Toshinori sinks into his pillow, eyes closed as he simply breathes. Feels.

He looks up after how much time has passed, he’s not sure, when he hears a grunt as well as the stomp of wooden legs. He identifies it as the room’s cushioned chair as Mrs. Midoriya sets it between the bedsides. She scuttles away only to return again, setting down the plate she’d been carrying before on the bedside table. It’s still wrapped, keeping the apple and knife beneath it safe. She turns, and finds him staring. 

“W-Would you mind if I stayed? Until he wakes up?” It’s asked as if her presence is an inconvenience, a bother, not something that warms the room and makes the sullen quiet all but disappear. It’s only now, he realizes, with the kid so often asleep when he was not, with the conversation at an impasse when Toshinori could push no further, how lonely he’d begun to feel.

“Not at all.”

The two sit in comfortable silence, Mrs. Midoriya pulling back the plate’s clear plastic wrap, taking the apple and knife in hand as he watches her slice and shape the snack.

She stops when one bunny shaped apple slice is in hand. “Would you like one?”

It’s small, thin, the peeled skin faux-ears make it seem unthreatening, “That’s—” it would be fine, wouldn’t it? To accept. But.

He’s still healing.

“That’s alright.” 

Large eyes blink up at him, her lips pressing together, “Izuku doesn’t usually eat them all so… if you change your mind.” She places the small piece on the edge of the plate, pushing it so it’s right within reach.

It’s a gesture, not unlike the simple placement of his straw, that forces him to blink back what might be forming in the very corner of his eyes. “Thank you.”

Between the blinds, morning sun sneaks through, stretching over Toshinori’s bed to catch on long emerald hair. Making it shine. It reminds him… of those early mornings. When his costume was new, and his power fresh, so recently embedded and flowing through him like it was learning the paths of his body as it blazed through his veins. When he’d dash over rooftops, grin splitting across his face. Wide enough it burned, even as he’d stumble. Tripping, and heaving, and soaring, like nothing he’d ever been able to reach before, until, beaming like the sun, Nana would turn and—

“What’s wrong, Toshinori? Can’t keep up?!”

Purpose in the chaos. 

Fire beneath his feet.

A need to measure up.

A reason to exist.

“I think… I know what’s troubling him.”

He can’t exactly bow but he does apologize all the same.

“Whoa! Hey! That’s totally not necessary!” Young Kirishima blurts out as a few of the others chime in to agree.

A pair of gloves flail, “Yeah! You were still in the hospital! Midoriya said you were on bedrest! We’d be mad if you did show up to the ceremony!”

“Didn’t stop me.”

Young Hagakure must whip around, as her boots point in the opposite direction, “Well it should’ve!”

“Yeah…I don’t think anyone should follow your example, Bakugou…” adds Sato with a huff.

Toshinori grins despite himself, “While I appreciate the defense and while you may be right…I still wish I could have been there for all of you as you took this next step forward. You’re all second years! That’s nothing to scoff at.”

“That’s right! We’re senpai now!” 

“Oh—that’s right! All Might, did you get to meet any of the first years!? Aizawa-sensei won’t let us go see them!!”

“You’d just overwhelm them.”

“No we won’t!”

“He kinda has a point. Especially if they met some of our class…”

“Why the hell are you looking at me?!”

“Bakugou! How many times do I have to tell you not to yell?!”

It’s almost dizzying (were he not a retired pro-hero used to being accosted by swarms of press and bundles of fans with hundreds of questions and comments). Yet it's in such stark contrast to the monotony he’d be contained to for the past few weeks as his bones mended. He lets the back and forth sway him to and fro. The colorful conversation. The familiar energetic voices. He takes in the presence of his students like it's a gift. Their laughter. Their enthusiasm. Their hurt, just beneath the shadows. All of it. And that he’s still here, still standing, with a bit of support, to experience all of it. This reality he’s in, that he’s privy to, where he can watch as Aizawa wrangles Bakugou back onto the nearby bench. Listen to Young Ida make a call to order so his classmates' attention is back towards boarding the bus. Chuckle as it pulls a grumble from Sero and Kaminari who give him a wave before jogging over, only to trip over each other's feet as they go.

“Sensei?”

It’s nothing less than a blessing is it not? That he can look upon his students as they appear at his side, only a little worse for wear, carrying so much weight from the mistakes the adults around them have made, and help. 

Looking up at him, with Uraraka by her side, Asui blinks curiously, “Are you coming with us?” 

“I’m afraid not, long distance travel, as well as…extraneous activity, is still off limits for me.”

Uraraka’s expression turns slightly downward at the news, before she seems to catch herself with a little smile, “Well, I guess we’ll just see you in class then when we’re back!”

He must not school his expression well.

The young girl deflates, “Unless…are you not…?”

He waves his hands a bit frantically, desperate to wipe the frown forming on the young girl’s face. He couldn’t have that, not after Aizawa had just told him, all the poor girl had been going through—and had gone through. “No, no! I’ll certainly be back in class! It just may be a bit delayed.” He keeps his constant back and forth with Nezu from slipping out. “I would have liked to be back for the first day but…”

“Your injuries were rather severe.” To the point and with a surface-level monotone to the untrained ear—Toshinori recognizes Todoroki before he’s even walked over. “Aizawa-sensei said you’d be on extended leave for a while.”

Ah yes, that extended leave.

“Well…we’ll see about that…” He itches to sneak his way up to Nezu’s office and tell him once more, this time in person, that he’s quite fit to stand in the classroom. Considering that he’s now been given permission to stand again.

He’ll leave out that said permission has a limit per day. And that he has other discussion planned with Nezu today.

He claps Young Todoroki on the shoulder, pouring all his pride into the boy that he can without opening any recently closed wounds with specifics, “I’ll admit I’m a little restless to get back to teaching you all.” 

“As long as you take it easy,” Young Asui says with sweet honesty, “We were all worried you know.”

Todoroki nods, “It’s true.”

“Well, that’s…”

“Yeah! We’re really really glad you’re here to see us but… we’re way happier just knowing that you’re doing okay,” Uraraka’s cheeks dimple, rosy at the cheekbone, “Deku especially.”

“Mmm. It’s true. He was really worried.” 

“Come on guys…that’s—”

Some of Class A have already begun boarding the bus. The crowd that had greeted him now dispersed, leaving only the few children at his side. He’s been impatient. Toshinori can admit that. Feels it as fact as his palm rubs sweat that’s pooled there against the head of his cane. He’d told himself to wait. To let the kid come to him. 

How funny is it, just seeing the boy—seeing Izuku—it's like he can feel something slot back into place.

He can’t help himself. 

He reaches out, palm to the crown of Izuku’s head, just—because he can. 

The boy blinks owlishly at him, with a look that’s not quite confusion, not quite sad. It’s almost… relief? Toshinori ruffles the kid's hair thrice to make it disappear.

“My great hero, always worried about others,” About me. “I didn’t have the chance to say it before but, it’s good to see you, my boy.”

“You too…” Izuku’s smile is flimsy, there and gone, as Toshinori pulls his hand away—regretting the moment he does.

“Deku—” Uraraka swings by, Asui and Todoroki following, and tugs on Izuku’s sleeve, “We’ll give you two some time to talk,” She says, an extremely knowing look on her face, one that catches the boy by surprise.

“Oh! That’s—you don’t have to…”

“We’ll see you on the bus, okay, Midoriya?” Young Asui chirps.

“I’ll save a seat for you.”

Izuku seems to accept, “O...Okay. Thanks Todoroki.”

The three give a wave, already off to rejoin the class congregation, leaving Toshinori with only one student by his side.

“You know my boy…While I appreciate the concern…I hope you weren’t too distracted while I lazed away,” is the first thing he finds himself saying.

Izuku whips around, mouth wide, already on the defense, “Wha- You weren’t lazing around! You were on bedrest! Which uh… I know you said you got permission but…I mean, is it really okay? You being up and walking? I saw your message about what the doctor said but wouldn’t it be better to… take it slow? It’s only been a day after all and I heard the doctor when he was going over your PT—and about how much strain the bolts can handle…Walking around so soon, even with a cane for support—wouldn’t a wheelchair be better? The worst of the damage from the fight with All for One was to your legs after all and—”

Toshinori hacks out a laugh. It’s the most the kid’s spoken to him in weeks, and it’s a load of anxious energy and rambling. Not that he’s complaining, practically relishing in it. “Already starting and it hasn’t even been five minutes! My boy, I’m fine. I promise, if I weren’t ready to be out and about I wouldn’t be. My doctors wouldn’t let me!” 

The kid’s shoulders drop, but it doesn’t quite seem like he’s at peace with it, “Oh. That’s…that’s good. I’m…” Izuku takes a breath, and turns back up at him, a soft smile on his face, which Toshinori can’t help but mirror. “I’m glad.”

It gives him a bit of courage. The kind he needs, whenever it comes to these sorts of things. 

“You know…I myself have been a little worried.” His comment raises Izuku’s brows. “I’ve been reaching out but…You haven’t been answering my messages, young man.”

Izuku’s eyes grow wide, “I—I’m sorry, All Might! I meant to get back to you… It’s just—school, and my mom, and there’s…” The wobbly line of the boy’s mouth as he tapers off tells all Toshinori needs to know. 

“Been a lot on your mind?”

Izuku nods, curt and uptight, after a moment. “I’m really sorry…I kept meaning to respond…”

Toshinori sighs, “My boy, it’s fine. I’m teasing.” Izuku relaxes at that with a soft, relieved “Oh…” that seems to take the tension from his shoulders. But not all of it. And certainly not enough of it for Toshinori to feel it. 

The question sits heavy on his tongue.

“There’s been quite a lot going on hasn’t there,” He says instead, like a coward. “With graduation, classes, and your recovery. I’d be remiss not to ask…how’re you holding up, my boy?” 

He tacks it on, haphazardly, but not as an afterthought. Not when it’s pressing against the forefront of his mind, bursting from him, as if he could hold it no longer. 

Would you like to talk about it? 

The reply is what he expects.

“Oh, I’m, um… fine.” Toshinori waits, staring at the boy with silent words. Perhaps Izuku hears them, as he decides to continue, “My arms haven’t been feeling numb for as long as before when I wake up so…that’s an improvement.”

Toshinori winces, reminded of the phantom symptom the boy had described one morning while they still shared a room. Toshinori had frantically reached for the call button when the boy had woken up only to curl into a ball and hiccup: “ I can’t feel them, All Might.”

He’d hit that button a hundred more times than necessary.

“...Indeed.”

Izuku grabs at his wrist, twisting it, with eyes to the ground, “Besides that… things have been okay…I mean, except… I guess you probably heard about Todoroki.”

“I did.” But I’m asking about you, is what he doesn’t say.

“He’s been handling it really well. I think he’s…happy.” He rotates his hand, watching the movement. Even with the gloves, Toshinori swears he can see the new plethora and pattern of scars that lie just beneath the protective fabric. He holds his tongue, though, committed to just listening. Because the boy is talking. He’s sharing. But…Toshinori can’t help though how his mind swirls, with how much phantom pain is being left unsaid. How much pull those new scars are giving. For Izuku, it’s just not something to mention as he continues on about, as Aizawa said so precisely, everyone except himself.

He shares Shinsou’s smooth transition and how Aoyama’s departure went. He turns back, face away from Toshinori’s view, to watch his friends. Uraraka and Todoroki seem to notice, giving a wave, which Izuku gives back.

“Uraraka seems to be doing better too,” he says, as said girl walks up the stairs with a smile on her face. “She—we talked, actually. About… Toga.”

“I see…”

Izuku hums, “I’m not sure if what I said helped her but…I told her…” He wets his lips. “About Tenko…

“And about me.”  

Toshinori’s voice dies in his throat.

“I thought about what you said, All Might, and…even if things did turn out the only way they could…I still…I’m not…I can’t be satisfied. I can’t see it as a victory. At least… not yet. Not until something changes. Something big. So… for as long as I have these embers…” He pauses, fingers curling into a fist. “I’m going to do what I can to change it. For heroes… and for villains. Even if… I um… don’t know exactly what that looks like yet.”

Izuku looks up at him and Toshinori sees it, the remains of his flame still burning inside.

“No matter what, while I still can, I’m going to do my best…together, with everyone.”

His reason. Still there, still strong, despite everything.

“My boy you’ve—”

He also hears it in the kid’s words, the first words about himself in weeks, his resignation towards the inevitable: the end of his role—of his dream—as a Hero. Yet still Izuku’s spirit persists beneath that crushing reality. It is one that simply does not die. That puts pro- heroes to shame and shines light on the dark seemingly bottomless shadows casted by this so-called society of heroism. It's so brilliant and bright, and it’s what let Toshinori ignite with purpose as a symbol those short years ago, and then blaze with it, even stronger than before, when he’d found himself, once again, quirkless.  

It’s the very thing that saved his life. That’s allowed him to be standing here now.

He hasn’t realized his eyes have swelled until Izuku stutters, hands flailing toward him.

“ You’ve grown…so so much. Yet your heart, that heart of a hero, has only gotten stronger. You—” 

Have a path, a purpose, a chance, even quirkless. 

It resounds within him. In the quirkless child he once was. Proven by the very boy before him.

You can. 

You will.

But—

Toshinori still has phone calls to make, ideas to iron out, discussions to have, and the kid has a week long working trip in the edges of Mustafa doing hero work, so for now, he swallows and swipes at his eyes. 

He can’t help fully himself though and so he still croaks, “You’ve made this old man so proud.”

Izuku’s own voice wavers, “You’re, you’re not old, All Might…”

He claps him on the shoulder and laughs, “It’s alright my boy, we all get old eventually. I suppose I’m just…feeling my age now…” He swallows the lump in his throat, and clutches that once scrawny shoulder tight. “It seems like this old man’s finally run out of things to teach you.” 

He looks over Izuku's head, fighting for some control over his emotions. The under-storage is finally closed and the last of the class has trickled onto the bus.

A small voice interrupts. 

“That’s not true…using the embers… it’s not really the same… I’ll probably…still… need your help with that.”

Toshinori huffs, shaking his head. “Still with that? Young Midoriya. You made that quirk your own. In many ways, far beyond what I ever could,” he adds the old habit of self deprecation, slipping out. “You held One for All at its full potential, wielded power that surpassed my own in my prime. The embers within you, I imagine it will feel much like it did when you wielded the power at a lesser capacity.”

He reaches up and pats down the too soft, too unruly hair, fingers just catching on the scar that parts the locks to one side. 

“Have faith in your capabilities and your future,” He stresses as hard as he can, so the boy gets it. “You’re already a more than capable hero on your own.”

Izuku breathes, bangs pressing down over his eyes, as he offers only, “...if…you say so.”

“I know so.”

Hand still sat between thick locks of hair, it suddenly feels like an appropriate moment. 

And perhaps the universe senses it too as before whatever is forming in Toshinori’s head can come to fruition the busdriver blares their horn 

“Midoriya!” Toshinori reels back as the kid practically jumps, spinning around to where Aizawa is hunched in the open doors of the vehicle, seeming to be on the edge of actual impatience. Though it lessens slightly, possibly due to whatever expression Izuku offers back at him. “Sorry kid, but it’s time to get on. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

“R-Right! Right. Sorry, Sensei.”

“No problem, just say goodbye and get on board.” Aizawa squints Toshinori’s way. “And All Might, after this Recovery Girl apparently wants to see you in her office.”

Toshinori catches the phone in Aizawa’s hand and shivers. Well. The freedom felt good while it lasted.

He shakes his head, as Aizawa skulks back inside, “Sorry my boy I didn’t mean to keep you, it seems we’ll have to continue this another time…”

And for a moment there’s nothing, just the engine of the bus rumbling in the summer silence and the warmth and texture of Izuku’s hair against his palm. It pulls Toshinori back down to the present, to where Izuku stands, staring at his feet, making no moves to follow his teacher’s directions.

“My boy—?”

Izuku flinches. “No! N-No… you didn’t. I’m sorry I, kept you, I should,” he wobbles backward toward the bus doors. “Go? Probably.”

“You didn’t keep me but…yes, you probably should,” Toshinori had been smiling but now it’s falling. He can’t quite keep it up as Izuku jitters with new nerves. The kid rocks on his feet, but doesn’t move. He’s meeting Toshinori’s eyes only for them to dart away, and then back again, before Toshinori can feel any dread settle in,  “I guess I’ll… see you in a week, then?” 

A week. It should be enough time for him to confirm with All Might’s American contacts, pull some strings with said name, and offer good news by the time Izuku returns. 

“Yes. I’ll see you in a week,” he nods, and…

Izuku doesn’t move. 

He stares and Toshinori blinks back.  

“Young Midoriya?”

The kid’s arm twitches at his side but besides that he remains still.

Until—

“Could I, message you?” He asks suddenly, speaking it aloud, yet quiet. As if he’d been hoping the question would be carried away with the slight wind so Toshinori wouldn’t catch it. It’s the same quiet Toshinori heard in the hospital, the same one Aizawa described. The one that had brought his mother to tears. “...When I get there?”

Toshinori watches as Izuku shrinks in on himself and wishes desperately he had the power to read minds. What a quirk that would be, to see and hear the thoughts that swirl round in the boy’s anxious and overthinking mind. 

With the power he has now, it's all he can do but answer gently, honestly, “But of course.”

With the hope it’s the response Izuku wants.

“In fact, I expect more than just a few updates from you.” And then with it on his mind adds, “And I’m sure your mother does too. Be sure to let her know when you’ve arrived safely.”

His careful words seem like the right ones, as the tension across Izuku’s face pops into surprise before it smoothes over into something a little less bad for Toshinori’s heart. “Yeah I’ll—I’ll do that.”

But it’s still not enough. 

Won’t be, until he can tell Izuku everything he wants to say right now. Until Izuku stops looking at him like…

“Is there…” Something troubling you, something you’re not saying, something I can do. “... Something else you wanted to ask, my boy?”

He knows, despite the boy’s spirit and his strength, he knows. How hard this all must be. How much doubt and uncertainty must be nestled just beneath the kid’s ribs, straining to break free, as he struggles to keep it quiet and close to the chest. He knows because he’d seen it before with his very eyes as the kid had pulled from his grip, taken a step back, dropped his head low and said—

At his question though, the whites of Izuku’s eyes grow, and he straightens from his nervous hunch. The sun swipes past the shadow of his hair that now only falls to one side, bringing color to the green of his eyes. There’s a shine visible as if a wet sheen has begun to form.

He takes an unsure step forward as the boy’s mouth squirms. “It—It’s nothing, really…I just…”

Something slams open between them, blasting their ears out.

“ARE YOU TWO SERIOUSLY NOT DONE YET?! GET ON THE DAMN BUS ALREADY, DEKU.”

Izuku shrieks the boy’s nickname and Toshinori hacks, iron on his tongue, “Young Bakugou, your heart—!” From inside it seems Aizawa and some students are yelling the same thing.

“M-M-M-My fault! I’m sorry! I’m coming now!” 

Distracted by the chaos through the window, Toshinori whips back to find Izuku already scuttling backwards, out of reach.

“Iz—Midoriya -”

“Sorry, All Might, but I’ll… I’ll see you later!”

“But my boy you—”

“I’ll message you! I promise!”

And just like that the kid stumbles away and onto the bus where his classmates hoot and holler a bit louder at his arrival.

Leaving Toshinori alone, beneath the soon to be afternoon sun, off kilter and unbalanced, all over again. 

And all at once thankful for his cane.

It’d been the afternoon when Izuku’s doctor had given the discharge order.

Toshinori had already been awake, making light conversation with the boy and his mother. Although conversation might be unfair. Mrs. Midoriya did most of the talking. While Toshinori only sometimes chimed in.

On the edge of the bed, Izuku had flexed his limbs, testing their limits, as Toshinori breathed in an unsteady rhythm, not unlike the boy’s mother’s, at the slightest hint of a wince.

“Yep. That’s an all clear from me.”

Mrs. Midoriya scoots her chair back to its original place—right against her son’s bedside. “Does that mean he’s okay to go home?”

The doctor massages his snout, considering, “I would say so, as long as he can continue these exercises at home…that clear Mr. Midoriya?”

Izuku continues stretching his arm in and out at the joint, before giving a concise, “Yes, sir.” The only thing he’s really said all day.

“I’ll send your nurse in then. She’ll go over your discharge papers, and your continued treatment at home and… you should be all set to go home after that.” 

Mrs. Midoriya stands, giving a deep bow. 

“Thank you, again, for everything you’ve done for him. I’m so, so grateful.”

Toshinori shimmies himself up his pillows, “Yes. You and your staff, you’ve all been nothing but excellent. Heroes couldn’t do what they do without men and women like yourself. We’re all in your debt.”

The man flusters, and gives a nervous laugh, “Come now, that’s a bit much! You’re the ones fighting on the front lines. The least I can do is make your recovery that much smoother.” He shoots an apologetic smile Toshinori’s way, “Which…I’m sorry to say All Might, you’ve still got a bit more time to spend here before I can give you the okay to leave. Recovery Girl’s orders.”

Free of half of his casts and oxygen, Toshinori sighs, “Wouldn’t say I’m surprised.” Not when the stitches in his side have yet to come out.

With a laugh the man gives Toshinori’s bed a pat, and grabs his tablet with the promise to grab a nurse to begin the discharge process. 

Though he halts at the foot of both beds, Toshinori expects him to say goodbye.

Even Izuku startles attention grabbed as, like Mrs. Midoriya minutes before, the doctor bows, low, deep and without a word.

Until he straightens offering a nod to Toshinori before he turns to Izuku and says…

“I look forward to seeing you at the top of the hero charts one day soon, Deku.”

And with a that and a smile on his face he leaves, sliding the door closed behind him, shutting the room into an oppressive stilted quiet. 

It’s of course Mrs. Midoriya who finally breaks it. 

“Izuku, w-why don’t you get changed before the nurse comes?” Her chair squeaks as she stands, “Do you want me to grab your sweatshirt or-”

“My sweatshirt’s fine.”

Toshinori lies helpless as the kid stares down at his hands that now sit limply in his lap as his mother slips away. She heads to the overnight bags that have become stored in the corner of the room, looking over her shoulder all the while. 

“Sorry All Might.”

Toshinori bristles, a chill shooting through him, as he whips his head to face him—which he really shouldn’t, even if the neck brace is gone. Across the room he sees Mrs. Midoriya whip around too. And for a moment there’s nothing, not even the throbbing pain of his neck. Nothing except for the next words out of Izuku's mouth. But Izuku only tilts his head with a weak pull to his lips, as if Toshinori’s not about to have a heart attack, and says, “Guess you’re still stuck here for a little while longer.”

Toshinori exhales what is possibly all the air in his remaining lung. 

“Kid that’s… there’s no need to apologize for that.” He throws up a plastered arm to further his point. “It’s simply what I get for going wildly beyond my own limit…” 

Not that he regrets any second of it though... 

He keeps that to himself however as Mrs. Midoriya fusses in the corner of the room. 

“Doesn’t make it any better though…” Izuku tries again. 

“No, I suppose not. But a long and slow recovery is one I’m willing to take.” Especially when he considers the alternative. “I’m thankful… that I’m here to complain about something like that.”

Izuku raises a brow. “I don’t think I’ve heard you complain even once about it…”

“Hmmm, must have been while you were asleep.”

And like he’s found a piece to a puzzle for one he wasn’t even actively trying to solve, Izuku pouts, a disbelieving look in his eyes. The blank, empty expression that had sat there for so long, gone.

He could cry, but doesn’t, thankfully distracted as Mrs. Midoriya walks back with a neatly folded pile of clothes, a chuckle breathing from her own lips. Toshinori smiles weakly, heat high on his face, suddenly aware of at least one audience member that had been present for his bemoaning of IV changes.

“That’s one plus I guess…” Izuku muses, slipping off the shirt of his hospital shift, and into his sweatshirt.

Curious Toshinori asks, “And what’s that?

Izuku stands, sweatpants laid over his arm, “That you finally get the room to yourself?”

It settles over him, as Izuku says it, that the soft snoring, light chatting, mother’s chuckling, and sometimes late night humming—the simple company—will be gone soon. 

“You say that as though I don’t enjoy your company, my boy.” As if his presence hadn’t made these weeks of poking and prodding a little more bearable. 

It’s a reply Izuku obviously doesn’t expect. “I-I just figured…I mean…I know I… snore and stuff…”

Toshinori snorts, “Hardly, I’m likely the greater offender.”

“N-Not all!”

A small giggle, and then a peep as both Toshinori and Izuku follow it to the only other person in the room. “Ah, I’m sorry…it’s just…” Mrs. Midoriya stifles herself with her hand, “When you both were asleep… the noise was quite…something.”

The kid reddens in a flash, not unlike a traffic light change, “M-Mom! You can’t just—” He looks more offended for Toshinori than embarrassed for himself.

The feeling is not unlike the pop of a balloon, the laughter shaking, growing, as Izuku flusters and Mrs. Midoriya wipes tears from her eyes, until it bursts from him. Pure, uninhibited by the usual stutter of his lung or tang of blood on his tongue. Perhaps he has the forced bed rest to thank for that. Or perhaps it's simply because he feels lighter in this moment than he has in weeks, no, years.

It’s why he can’t stop even as Izuku dashes to the bathroom, and closes the door, with a huff, “I-I’m getting changed!” Still completely cherry faced.

It takes a minute for him to settle the jumping of his chest.

Mrs. Midoriya seems to agree, “Ah—excuse me, I haven’t laughed like that in…” She doesn’t finish, but Toshinori knows.

“…Too long.”

“Yes…” 

The light peeking from the top of the closed bathroom door draws his attention in the lull.

“I have to admit…It’s going to be rather lonely here after today.” The thought hits him as rather selfish the moment it slips out, but the blinking surprise on Mrs. Midoryia’s face doesn’t seem to think so. “Though I’m sure you’ll be happy to finally have him home. The back and forth couldn’t have been easy these past weeks.” He thinks of the city’s wrecked infrastructure and shudders.

Her face softens with sympathy as she sits at the edge of the opposite bed. “No…it hasn’t… but… at least here I know Izuku is safe, well cared for…” She picks up the discarded hospital shirt and begins smoothing it out. “I’ll admit I’m a little worried…It’ll be a lot harder to get him to sit still at home…”

Toshinori can’t help the fond smile that plays across his face at the thought, “I can imagine…”

The room fills with only the predictable beeps of Toshinori’s remaining hooked up contraptions. Each feels as though it signals an eternity, as the bathroom door remains closed. 

His mind wanders back, even after moments of such peace, as if one foot is still stuck there, pulling him back to remember their reality.  

Perhaps, by the worried way Mrs. Midoriya’s hands fidget, it's the same for as well.

She had inhaled, sharp, wet, like the world was crumbling down, 

“So he’s…Quirkless?”

“Has he—”

She shakes her head.

It’s what he’d expected but it still has him sighing, words barely a whisper. “Same on my end…”

Maybe there’s some universal irony in it all. A kid usually so open with his emotions, who for as long as Toshinori has known him, has worn his heart so blatantly on his sleeve, to the point he’d actually chastised him for it, is now bottling it up. What he wouldn’t give for said kid, to walk in the room right now with tears cascading down his cheeks, sobbing out every little thing that weighed on his chest—at least then, Toshinori would know where to begin. 

Instead, he lies here, grown adult that he is, with no words to offer Izuku’s mother as she stands and tosses the crumbled shirt in the linen basket besides, “I suppose when he’s ready…he’ll come to us…”

She turns to him, face full of uncertainty, “Have you…brought it up to him yet?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she had said, wet, with her breath hitching so hard he could practically feel it. “It’s just—he’s been so happy. I’ve never s-seen him so happy. And now—”

“Not yet…I’d like to speak with the school first…” He’s not particularly worried. He can’t imagine Nezu saying no but, “I don’t want to promise something only for it to fall through.”

She nods, hand to her chest, as if she hangs on every word. 

It makes him all the more determined to follow through. 

Perhaps he can even get a start on things, having the room to himself. He’d been hesitant to make any calls, or to bring the subject up when Nezu and some of his colleagues had visited. Even if Izuku had been asleep a number of those times, he didn’t want to risk it. 

“But no matter what happens with all that,” he amends, not wishing to leave things on a sour note, “I promise you that I—”

It’s then the bathroom door finally creaks.

Izuku steps out, fully dressed, none the wiser to the discussion taking place until he looks up and freezes, hand still on the handle. “Oh, uh…sorry. Were you two…” He looks between them, almost like he wants to slip back into the other room.

“W-We were just talking, sweetie, it’s fine.” 

Shutting the door behind him, Izuku slinks forward. “Oh…it just felt… kinda, serious…I guess.”

Toshinori’s chest spasms with a huff, “Well when it comes to you, my boy, it often is…” and then again as he speaks a little too quickly, catching the beginnings of guilt pulling those green eyes down, “Your mother was a little worried you’ll have some trouble sitting still at home.”

It does the trick, “Mom…”

“Honey, I just—you know how you get. We have to be sure to do what the doctor said and make sure you take it easy.”

“I know that…I’m not going to do anything stupid…” he mutters, “Besides I-” He doesn’t finish much to Toshinori’s dismay, especially when that look forms across the kid’s face. The look Toshinori knew had been there, for the last few weeks, just out of view, just out of reach, leaving him to only hear in the quiet. The unsaid. To guess what was flying through Izuku’s head.

It makes Toshinori desperate to get out of this blasted bed, rip the wires from his chest, and bend every rule and reality to fix what he knows is wrong.

But Toshinori Yagi is only a man. More now than he ever was. 

He can’t bring Tomura Shigaraki back. He can’t undo the war. 

Nor can he return One for All back to where it should have stayed all along.

“—I have to do those exercises anyway…so I’ll be busy with that...”

Neither adult comment on the short length of time said exercises take. 

“But…um…”

It startles him, Izuku’s voice, its hopeful hint. 

“I could probably still come to visit you, All Might…if it’s alright with you, Mom.”

“Oh, that’s, I mean…” She looks at Toshinori too quickly for him to catch what’s flashing in her eyes. “It’s a long trip from here to our apartment…and to go back? Not to mention so many people will recognize you...” Though her concern is quite apparent.

Toshinori sits up, off the raised back of his bed. Izuku’s attention is on him in an instant. “While I appreciate the thought, my boy. There’s no need for that. Your mother’s right. It’s too long a trip, and it’s probably best to keep you out of the public eye for now…”

“But-”

“You also need rest.”

And I would feel a lot better knowing you’re getting it and safe.

The kid loses the little fight he had, shoulders falling, in more disappointment than Toshinori had expected. 

(Looking back, that had probably been his first mistake)

“Come now…I’ll be out in due time.” 

It’s all he gets to say as a knock on the door interrupts. The nurse finally popping their head in.

“Excuse me—”

By the time the nurse leaves, the flurry of paperwork, procedure, and packing is done, and the conversation from before is in the back of his mind. Replaced instead by how Izuku lingers in the room, even after his mother says her goodbyes and steps out.

“I should probably say bye to Kacchan…” is what Izuku says, running a finger along the bottom railing of the bed.

Toshinori agrees, watching as he does, “Just be sure not to…get him too round up.” 

“...I’ll try my best, but…” He turns to the Toshinori then, an almost genuine smile, crinkling the freckles that still remain on one of the boy’s cheeks.

(And call him an idiot, but at the time, he’d believed it)  

 “…this is Kacchan we’re talking about…”

He sighs, thinking of the many impromptu visits from Young Bakugou, which were so often followed by a swarm of nurses who’d drag him back to his room kicking but not screaming. Still barely mindful of his own condition. “That is… unfortunately true.”

Izuku picks up his remaining bag, shucking it over his shoulder.

“I guess…I’ll see you when you’re discharged then…”

Toshinori nods, “I’ll be sure to let you know when that is.” He has a feeling that date is still a ways away.

Izuku fiddles with the drawstring of his sweatshirt as he nods. 

Toshinori takes him in.

“You know…

His eyes raise to meet Toshinori’s swirling with something intense that he can’t quite read. He’s so different from the lithe and timid middle schooler he met a little more than two years ago, yet even now Toshinori sees that young boy in the young man’s drawn in frame, “I… don’t think I got to say it yet…”

Toshinori waits, “To say what, my boy…”

“That I’m… glad you’re still here, All Might.” 

Ah.

Toshinori swallows the lump in his throat as Izuku continues, “I…couldn’t really help you, even after I said that’d I twist fate with you. If it wasn’t for Kacchan I-” He shakes his head, the thought too much for him. The same as it is for Toshinori. 

“I’m just…I’m glad.” And Toshinori hears it, the wavering in the kid’s voice, the sniffle before the storm, the child buried there, with a grief too big for this world, “I’m—really, really glad, All Might.”

“Oh kid—” He reaches out, grasping the kid’s arm where it hangs useless at his side, the other, already up and shielding his probably watering eyes. “Me too.” 

But instead, relinquishing to the older man’s pull, Izuku stays rooted in place.

“You know I…I couldn’t have made it this far, w-without you. I wouldn’t have had any of this. My friends. My dream. It’s—because of you. All of it. So I just—I have to say it, before I chicken out, o-or before you try to stop me or I—” His breath hitches, and then so does Toshinori’s because—

His boy pulls away. 

“Young Midoriya—”

And Toshinori reels, because it’s so much worse to see, to hear, to live it, even when he knew. 

It’s resignation, it’s guilt, it’s grief, it’s—

Mrs. Midoriya weeping as she says, ‘He won’t talk to me.’

Izuku bowing, eyes to the floor, just out of reach.

Until he straightens for Toshinori to see it. 

The smile he’s forced across his face.

“Thank you. For everything.”

It's goodbye.

“I’ll admit…I’m slightly hesitant. I did see your battle live from the shelter, after all.”

Sat back against the couch in Nezu’s office, now freshened from the school’s central air, Toshinori winces. 

“Ah…yes well, that was…”

“Extreme circumstances for sure.” Nezu hums, light and airy and nothing like the scowl that still sits on Recovery Girl’s face.

“It’s always extreme circumstances with this one,” she grumbles, sat next to the principal, twisting her own cane, like she wishes she could knock him in the head with it for good measure.

That’d be the second time today.

“The last thing I think any of us want is the same to be true for that boy of yours…”

Toshinori leans forward. “And it won’t be. I can—No, I will ensure that.”

“It’s unprecedented though,” Nezu chimes in, chin on his knuckles “A quirkless hero. A quirkless U.A. student. It’s never been done.” He folds his paws together. “I’m sure you recall that when Young Togata lost his quirk, it wasn’t a question that he’d take a leave from classes.”

Toshinori nods without hesitation.

“Ragdoll as well. While I’ve heard she’s adjusted well to her support position, her activities as a prohero were suspended without her quirk. The public safety commission insisted upon it.”

Recovery Girl snorts, eyes rolling. Toshinori simply nods, waiting.

“There’s also the consideration we have to give to how incoming students and parents may respond—after going through the rigors of the entrance exam with their own respective quirks. Having a student remain in the hero course despite losing their own…it may very well create unnecessary hardships and backlash for said student.”

Nezu stares.

“I suppose that could be avoided were this student someone in extremely good standing with the public.” The principal says it in his usual sing-song tone. “And if they were, let’s say, supported but an extremely well renowned and respected hero—something like that, I can imagine, could negate most of, if all, potential pushback…But even then… 

“There’s simply no precedent for the existence of a quirkless hero.”

Toshinori waits.

Until finally, Nezu smirks. 

“Well, that is…

“Until recently I suppose.”

To which Recovery Girl only sighs.

“Sir,” Toshinori starts, grip tight around his knees, “Can I ask for your—for U.A.’s support—in this?”

Hopping over and down the front of his desk, Nezu struts over to him, bounce in every step.

“Were it anyone else…I might be hesitant,” Nezu says.

Toshinori may have spent every penny to All Might’s name but that name still has sway. He’ll don it if he has to, wear it as he grovels. Drag it through the mud. 

Whatever it takes, whatever it takes. 

His forehead hits his trembling knuckles.

A small but warm and firm paw pats Toshinori’s shoulder, forcing him to raise his head. 

“However. After all you’ve gone through, for this nation, this school—our students, I think it’d be quite villainous of me if I didn’t owe you at least one favor.” Nezu stands before him, ever the force of nature that he is. “Though as a teacher yourself—it would do you well not to forget, our school’s purpose All Might.”

“Our purpose…?”

Nezu’s nose twitches, head held high as he winks.

“To raise the brightest and best heroes of tomorrow. To see their potential and mold it into something great. To go beyond and see to it that each and every one of our students is given the support they need to become the heroes they’re destined to be.” 

“I—” It’s been a long time since Toshinori Yagi was a student. A long time since he walked these halls. Izuku had once said it could be any school, as long as he could be a hero, that it didn’t matter where he went.

And that was probably true but…

“Thank you, sir. To you, and all of U.A.”

He’s thankful, from the bottom of his heart, that it was here.

“Of course! What sort of principal would I be if I were to see all that Izuku Midoriya is—all that he can still be—and turn him away for something that frankly, shouldn’t stand in his way? 

“Especially when All Might himself is begging me not to! I’m a fan too, you know!”

A steady rhythm of footsteps and their accompanying cane join in too. “I’m certain you’d be contending with that boy’s entire class and homeroom teacher had you any real intention of standing in his way, Nezu.”

The principal laughs, loud, high, and almost a bit hysterical, “You’re certainly right about that!”

Recovery Girl taps Toshinori’s knee, which has definitely not become damp, with a handkerchief in hand that he almost hesitates to take. As he pats the corners of his eyes her brows raise and she asks her next question with a tone that says she already expects his next answer, “I don’t suppose you’ve spoken with Midoriya about any of this yet?”

“No…not yet,” he says, ashamed to admit that she’s right. “B-But I have spoken with his mother!” He immediately tacks on as the older woman glares at him something fierce. “It’s—It’s just a very delicate situation.”

The self doubt, the overzealousness, the timidness—it had rung loud and clear when Toshinori had first met him. Standing on that rooftop, hearing the boy’s desperation, he’d felt his world shake with the echoes of his old self. Because they were always there, never truly forgotten—not really. You didn’t just wake up one day and forget what it felt like to be born into this fantastical world quirkless.

Even with One for All.

So without it…

‘I-I don’t know if he ever told you—how hard it was for him until high school—how much he suffered, just—just because he didn’t have a quirk.’

“A quirkless hero…a quirkless someone …it’s just as you said Principal Nezu, there’s no precedent,” he says, voice rough and chest tight. “The boy has old wounds because of that… ones that I’d like to treat with care…because I know they’re still there.” His colleague and superior look at him with sympathy, “It’s… taken more than fifty years and meeting Young Izuku to help me unlearn everything this superpowered society has to say about those born without the gift of power.”

Nezu hums thoughtfully while Recovery Girl makes a pained noise.

“I just—” His voice finally cracks. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“And you won’t,” Nezu says, all smiles and hope. “U.A. is here for Midoriya, as much as it’s here for you as well!” He puffs out his chest and hits it with a thump. “Don’t underestimate the power of a private school you know! You use those Mighty connections of yours and we’ll do the rest!” 

“I highly doubt they’ll say no,” Recovery Girl muses, “Especially when it's a favor from All Might himself.”

“One can only hope so…I already asked for quite a few favors with my armored suit and Hercules…”

The old woman clicks her tongue, “Hence why your bank account is suffering for it now.

A direct hit.

“There’s…nothing I can say to that…”

“I hope you’re not thinking of having something that insane made for the boy… ”

“O-Of course not! That was simply because of who we were up against! B-Besides, Young Izuku will be the one to decide the enhancements and support.”

Being that the boy is much more…subdued in terms of spectacular, at least compared to himself, he can imagine something light and agile. An exoskeleton of power to replace the one that had run internal.

“You know speaking of your boy, I certainly hope someone has made it clear to him he’s not about to get kicked out of school the moment he loses the remains of his quirk.”

If a pin could drop. 

“...Shit.”

Nezu taps his chin while Toshinori groans.

“Well, I suppose that’s the first thing to start with.”

And so, Toshinori gets to work.

He starts with a message to Mrs. Midoriya, filling her in as he’d promised to do. He adds the good news too—the certainty of Izuku’s continued academic career in the hero department of U.A. He wasn’t worried really, but hearing it said aloud, that Izuku’s education is secure, that he’ll have a place at his school, with his friends, his teachers, with Toshinori, where he can help him, guide him, support him—he can’t help but breathe out a long breath until he’s sinking backwards into his desk chair like a deflated balloon. 

Though, even if it couldn’t be U.A., Toshinori would still be at his side, no matter what.

He listens to the analog clock of the workroom tick, tick, tick before he sits up to find it. 

It’s a few hours until Class A reaches the hero base of operations for restoration in the city’s outskirts. Still in his hand he glances at his phone, before tapping Izuku’s name.

The kids are probably making the most of the long bus ride. He hopes at least. They’d all seem a bit more upbeat when he’d seen them before they’d left. Like they’re the young children they deserve to be and not the survivors of a way they were forced to be. 

Izuku had promised to message him.

It's perhaps why his thumbs hover awkwardly over his phone as he hesitates to just hit send.

He settles on a nonintrusive message, reminding the kid to, ‘let me know when you arrive safely, my boy.’

Ten minutes, a reply from Izuku’s mother, the continued ticking of the clock, and he still hasn’t received anything back. He’s disappointed, but not terribly surprised. 

The kid hadn’t been responding promptly—or at all—as of late. Even to his own mother.

That knowledge doesn’t do much to ease his discomfort. 

So he does the very rational thing and sends another message, scraping three different ideas before he goes with: ‘I look forward to hearing from you.’

The neediness once it’s sent layers on rather thick. 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

If only he’d recovered sooner. If only he’d been at graduation. If only he’d fought the IV drop of medication to stay awake long enough to hold a full conversation. 

No.

If only he wasn’t a coward.

If only he’d reached out today and grabbed the kid, shaken him, and said: talk to me!

If only he’d done it a hundred times before.

He wanted Izuku to cry, to scream, to mourn. He knew grief existed in so many different forms but a fake smile, a final thank you for Toshinori’s troubles, a deafening silence when he and Izuku’s mother wanted only to talk—it didn’t feel like the right kind of form. But was there even a blueprint for the kind of grief the boy was stuck with?

Well if there was, then said blueprint was him. 

Toshinori knew it well already. 

But Toshinori had been able to mourn. Because One for All wasn’t really, truly gone. And neither was his dream, he’d eventually learn.

Those months where he’d slowly felt his power fade, even as his old self-hatred reared its head, he’d been able to accept it. Because the flames that once spun with a part of his soul were still there, still living, within the successor he’d chose.

It was that fire within Izuku—a fire that Toshinori watched grow and grow and grow—that made the grief, the self-hatred, and the acceptance he’d held since the day Nighteye had screamed at his back All Might’s gorey fate and he’d only continued, determinedly to walk fate’s way—a fire that was not simply just One for All.

But it was a fire now dimmed. 

Ever since his boy had woken up in that neighboring hospital bed.

If nothing else kills him, it will certainly be that. The quiet unresolved grief that Izuku sits in. That he refuses to talk about.

It will certainly kill his mother too.

It’s why Toshinori pulls the small and worn contacts book out from his desk and thumbs to the first page. It’s why he opens his email to the hundreds of messages that have been coming in by the day. 

All Might had sponsor and investor opportunities galore. In the same vein as what Deku has now. The world has seen him, seen his boy, what he could be, and what he still was. 

Toshinori would be remiss not to take advantage of that.

Because for Izuku, 

He sees that heart crushing smile, those poorly hidden tears, the deep bow at his bedside and—

“Thank you. For everything.”

And he refuses.

Perhaps it's that same feeling that follows him into his dreams.

A consciousness of gold.

An ember in the dark.

Broken from the impact.

Desperate to remain a flame.

Because no matter what he won’t—

Toshinori startles awake.

A paper sticks to his face, while a few others go fluttering, and with a few groggy blinks he registers there’s daylight.

Oh, he thinks. I must have fallen asleep while working again.

He looks around, realizing he’s in his own room at the teachers’ dorms, instead of the teachers’ workroom. It’s surprising given that’s where he’d been spending his last few days throughout the week.

Phone call after video call after email after conference call…

He’s thankful things are coming to fruition, but…he’ll be equally as thankful when he can get a good night's sleep after all is said and done.

It’s quite clearly late morning, by the sunlight that streams through his window on the east side of the building. He stretches, feeling the shift and crack of his back as the date and day slowly shift into clarity from his sleep fogged mind. He suddenly feels something click. 

Today’s the day Class A and B are coming home.

Rather frantically he darts about for his phone which he finally finds buried beneath a few papers. He sighs with relief, thankfully it has a charge so that he can make two realizations.

First, it’s already an hour passed the time Class A and B are due to start driving back and second—

There’s a missed call.

Along with an unread message. 

Three actually.

From Aizawa.

His nonexistent stomach all but drops to the floor.

Enroute back

I don’t know what you did to screw things up this badly but 

You better fucking fix it

Chapter Text

Exchanging numbers hadn’t been Toshinori’s idea. 

Though it might not even be fair to consider it a true exchange. 

Not when it had been a small piece of paper. Folded and pressed into the bandaged palm of his hand, so that when he woke, it would offer three things. A number, a name, and a note.

Because Inko Midoriya was nothing if not thorough, as much as she was considerate. 

If you’re comfortable with it. She’d written. 

As if adding her contact info to the miniscule number of names on his phone would make him feel anything else besides grateful. 

(It’d still taken him just short of an hour to take her up on the offer though)

She’d replied to his short, simple, and all at once momentous message with a smile, thank you, and explanation of:

I think it’ll be easier.

For Izuku’s sake.

Maybe that’s why, before he even has the chance to spiral, he thinks to call.

“Something happened with Young Izuku during the trip.”

He doesn’t quite think of his word choice however.

“Wha-! S-Something happened?! Is he alright?! I thought—isn’t he supposed to be on his way back to the school?! Did something happen with the bus?!”

Shit!

“No! No! No—he’s- they’re- he’s fine!” He flails at the center of the room, hands grappling for a reverse button until a deep, unashamed, and thankful “Oh…oh thank goodness,” blows through the phone.

So full of relief it rattles his bones. “I’m so sorry that was…extremely poor wording on my part…”

“No, no! I just…when you said—that something happened—I immediately assumed the worse.”

“As I certainly would! Had we been reversed and that was the first thing I heard…I’m sure I would have the same reaction.” And he did— not even an hour ago from the slap in the face that was Aizawa’s text.

“But…you called because something did happen.”

“...yes,” Toshinori pushes himself to his bed where he all but collapses on the edge. Leg beginning to ache with the pacing he’s been doing.

“Did… did Izuku message you?”

“No… he didn’t. I…” He’s switched the phone to speaker, so his messages stare back at him. From most recent to least, Mrs. Midoriya and Aizawa’s names line the top. His thumb twitches to open the third—to double check—even if it’s pointless. He can already see the last message previewed right there. A short something Toshinori had sent the night before.

A something that had received no reply back. “…haven’t heard from him since last night.”

He’s sure the same is true for Izuku’s mother but he asks anyway, “Have you heard from him?”

He imagines her bangs swaying with a nod. “About two hours ago but… it was just to let me know that he was on the bus and headed back…why?” He feels her voice shake. “ What happened?”

Toshinori’s frown only deepens. The mental image a non-stop movie in his head.

“Apparently…Young Izuku broke down this morning, before he got on the bus.”

“......What?”

This time it's Toshinori who sighs. The sound of it is choppy, as if his lung somehow let water in. Though he may as well be drowning. And now he’s pulling her down with him.

“How did—” 

“Aizawa contacted me. Though I didn’t see it at first,” because he’d been drooling, unconscious on his desk, “and admittedly I don’t know the full details—” because Aizawa wouldn’t—couldn’t Toshinori reminds himself, couldn’t—talk on the phone. Not when he was stuck on the road with said teenager in question. Plus seventeen others. “—but Aizawa said he noticed something was…off, as they were boarding the bus. He pulled Young Izuku aside, but the moment he did—”

Meltdown, Aizawa had written.

Through the phone Mrs. Midoriya’s voice quivers, “He seemed like he was doing better. I…I saw him on TV with his friends the other day and he looked…he seemed… happy, I thought—Oh, Izuku.” 

She hiccups and Toshinori’s own voice catches.

“I know. I…I thought so too.” 

Toshinori had been busy the past few days, that was for certain. The week had every minute of his day swamped—phone calls, emails, meetings, managings— and when it wasn’t he’d be out. Like a light. Though very rarely in his bed. Sometimes on the couch. Swirling in the unconsciousness of dreams that blurred his current anxieties with phantom sensations of the past. He had some moments of freedom. And in those moments he’d sometimes pull up the many live feeds or news stations some of his colleagues had been sharing over the week. The email thread between U.A. teachers continued to update with each added day their students were away. 

It was one such feed, one Hound Dog had sent, that had apparently become rather popular, circulating the media and web—not that Toshinori frequented—as it shared a glimpse of the young hero Deku. 

It wasn’t anything extraordinary, not when the media couldn’t get close enough (U.A. and the teachers on the field made sure of that), and not when it seemed to be shot on a smartphone that had seen better days. It was simply the provisional students from afar, patrolling a recently rebuilt area of the city, waving to citizens as they passed. It was a scene that had soothed the exhausted edges Toshinori’s heart.

A scene that, within an instant, became so much more.

An unfamiliar voice behind the camera, their finger pointing, the students parting, as a bit of green came into view, “There he is!”

The young heroes stopped and a freckled face appeared, blinking in surprise as a ripple of excitement lit up the crowd. Erasing every crick and unhealed crack that still marred the stuttering organ in his chest.

““It’s Deku!!””

Toshinori swallows the lump in his throat. His eyes burning at the memory.

At how bright the boy’s smile had been.

“Aizawa thinks it's the adrenaline of hero work finally coming down,” he explains, thumbing at the corners where moisture had gathered. “In addition to his anxieties about the future, now that they’re returning to U.A.”  Izuku hadn’t actually specifically said—but Toshinori trusted Aizawa’s intuition. He can’t imagine it’d be anything else.

Across the line, Mrs. Midoriya is quiet.

“How are things… coming along with that?”

Toshinori straightens, “Very well actually.” He glances to his desk, where every millimeter is covered by a paper or print out. He’d been keeping her in the loop, though maybe not as well as he could be, certainly not as much as Nezu. Toshinori forwarded the principal practically every email he’d received over the week. Besides a few texts with Izuku, they were really the only people he’d been talking to. He’s still rather hesitant to let her know they're simply waiting on the estimated bill. “More than one support company is willing to financially back the idea. Though they’d like to iron out some details, and I want to ensure their services will continue to be provided in case of damage or maintenance over Izuku’s high school career. Though there’s also the matter of seeing to it that his provisional license will remain—even without his quirk.”

“I…I see.”

In the time he’d known Izuku, Toshinori had learned his patterns. His calms before his storms. 

He recognizes it, the familiarity of it now, from weighted conversations and phone calls over the two years. The building determination as he’d take a breath, the air shaky upon inhale, with tears forming at his eyes, all of it. Toshinori can hear it and say for certain now:

He’d gotten it from his mother.

“Is there, something on your mind?” He asks, opening the floor for her so she knows he’s here to listen.

“I was just thinking…” He waits, giving her the space and time she needs to speak:

“Do you really think…it’d be that terrible of an idea to tell him?”

Toshinori’s phone is against his head, legs against his bed, but he’s no longer in his room. It’s a year ago suddenly. He’s sitting in the private space of the teacher’s lounge, Gran Torino voice rattling around in his head. 

‘You really haven’t told him anything, Toshinori?’

Mrs. Midoriya stutters, as he sways from the impact, unable to think to even be thankful he’s sitting down, “I-It’s just- things seem so positive right now! Do you really think these companies would suddenly…pull out? I want to believe that… after everything Izuku did… that the government wouldn’t just... I’m sorry I don’t know the logistics of it all but…”

Would it be? Would it be that terrible? Even Toshinori’s not sure. He never has been. He’s only ever been sure of one single thing.

Since the moment his life had been flipped on its head, his defeated march of exhaustion and pessimism thrown back in his face by a child no older than he’d been those long years ago. A child who looked at him—at his crumbling, emaciated, hypocritical body— with wide green eyes, filled the brim with as much admiration as tears. At that moment, Toshinori had been sure of only one thing:

I can’t disappoint him.

“—even if they did, or there’s a chance they would—I can’t help but think that despite that, however uncertain it all is…if he were to know that there’s something in the works. That you and the school are trying their best for him—to ensure h-his dream can still come true…”

Toshinori muffles the pitiful noise before it can slip past his lips and into the mic of his phone. 

“I… think that might reassure him, better than anything else right now. Especially if-”

His whole body shudders.

“-he were to hear it from you.”

Because that’s the crux of the matter isn’t it?

Izuku’s waiting for All Might to come through and yet Toshinori is sitting here. Paralyzed. Terrified. 

Mind on his limit. Past in the shadows. Feet on a rooftop. 

He’s there.

Hand at his side.

Death at his back.

Truth on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think there was a reason to.”

“Of course there was!”

Of course there was.

But Toshinori’s Still. There.

In the mud. With rain on his back and Izuku’s hand, just out of reach.

At war. With his body forced towards the sky, his eyes forced to see it, as he’s forced to hear it. His ribs creaking, skin tearing, and only one thought—his last thought— splintering through him. 

That Izuku would have to watch him die.

He knows now—even if some part of him, that angry, grieving, 18 year old part of him, had known but never really forgiven them— why Nana had made Gran pull him from her final stand.

To live that. To leave that. Disappoint, grief—none of that even begins to-

He’s failed and fumbled his way through being a mentor, a teacher, and predecessor. He’s worked tirelessly for a week, doing everything in his power to still let his boy have this one single thing. This dream he deserves. His boy who’d been shackled with One for All’s fate. A fate Toshinori should have freed him of five years ago had he just gotten a better hit on All for One’s face. He knows now but he should have ground that scum into paste. 

And yet through all the work, all these sleepless nights, overseas phone calls, and exchanges with colleagues continents away, Izuku walked the city only a few hours away, none the wiser and all the worse for it.

Which is why he’d finally cracked from the pressure. Weeping quietly at his homeroom teacher’s side the second the hairline fractures in his almost believable smile were noticed. And yet, even then, even as Aizawa had pressed and probed him, Izuku had remained tight-lipped, as to where or what the source was. 

‘What happened to talking to him.’ Aizawa had sent. The shame of it a knife through the screen.

“All… Might?”

He sucks in a harsh breath he can’t quite control. “Sorry, I’m- sorry, I’m…still here.”

Still here and still such a coward, for all the big things that count.

“Apologies I was just—” He shakes his head “—You’re right. Talking to Young Izuku, it likely would be for the best. Even if the finer details aren’t a hundred percent yet…you’re right. Things seem good right now. It would help… reassure him” He bites his lip, holding back the babble that wishes to break. “I’m-” His mouth forms wrong shapes, the muscles struggling to remaining how to speak. “I-”

His cane, sat against the bedside slips, knocking against his knee. Neither of them say anything as Toshinori fights just to breathe.

“Could I make a suggestion?”

He blinks, “A…a suggestion?”

Through the speaker he hears movement, lets himself imagine her in that small, cozy apartment. The layout simple, ordinary, and one he’d only seen once, though it remains a tattoo on his brain.

“It…may be presumption of me. You know this world of heroes more than I ever could…and you’ve been working so hard to make all of this happen, for Izuku, and when you’re still supposed to be resting too-”

It’s rather rude but he can’t help but interrupt, “I-I’m just making calls and throwing my hero name around, it’s really not-”

“Please-”

He immediately—

“Don’t say that.”

—shuts up.

“You’ve…you’re doing so much for Izuku.” An airy chuckle. “His favorite hero, the man he looks up to more than anyone else… moving mountains to make his dream come true. Just knowing that would make him happy beyond belief….

“You have to know that.”

“Mrs. Midoriya…”

“And yet…” She doesn’t finish, leaving Toshinori to wonder until she starts again. “I can’t help but wonder, if it would easier if we…. talked to him…together?”

His cane slips, hits his foot, and rolls on the floor.

“I-I know you don’t want to disappoint him…to dangle hope only for it to be taken away…I, I told you before, about when Izuku was…diagnosed. I understand how you feel… almost too well.”

The memory of her, at his beside, face scrunched with her weeping made it clear that she does. 

“That’s why…if we were to do it together…that way… even if things were to fall through—even if after all your hard work—” he hears her voice waver but never break, “—We can still be there for him.”

This family—Izuku, his mother— they must be rubbing off on him. It’s the only explanation as to why his cheeks feel so hot and his vision so blurry. 

“S-So let's talk to him. W-We can tell him what you and the school have been doing…and that…he can still……that things will be okay, no matter what. I think that’s what he needs to hear, right now.”

Toshinori hisses, fighting only himself, while his leaking eyes fight the heel of his palm, “I think…you’re probably right.”

She lets out a relieved little sound, not quite a laugh, but enough for him to know he’s not the only one who’s weepy. “That’s, that’s good. Then, we can—”

“I-I’ll talk with him,” he says after awkwardly clearing his throat. “Everything you said. I can’t deny it. I thought waiting until things were concrete would be for the best, but that was mostly my own anxiety about letting him down… and letting him sit in the unknown about everything has probably been worse.

“Young Izuku will be back at U.A. in a couple of hours. As soon as he is, and I have the chance, I’ll speak with him. About all this.”

“Oh. Are…are you sure? I could always come down to the school…”

He shakes his head, reaching down to take his cane, so he finally can get back on his feet. 

“No that’s, that's quite alright. I’m sorry for being so…” He laughs at the state of himself. His clothes from the day before are still rumpled against his body, hair flat against his head where it's stuck with what must be dried sweat. He should probably do something about all that.

“You’ve been nothing of the sort…” Comes a whisper, almost barely audible to him. “But… if you’re sure, then, okay. Just…please don’t be too hard on yourself? Or overthink things too much…just talk to him.”

He stops, her voice almost sad as she chuckles.

“…I’m sorry that’s probably rude.”

“No, no. It’s…a little too true, I fear.”

She laughs softly, “You know it's funny…I never thought… ”

He’s pulled some clothes from his closet, readying himself so by the time Class A returns, he’ll be a bit more presentable. Fingers on a fresh shirt as he presses, “Never thought that?”

“That, you and Izuku—All Might and my son—that the two of you would be…

“So similar.”

It’s not the first time a comparison’s been drawn. He’s done it himself plenty of times. Yet it’s the first time it leaves him with a strange need to clutch at his chest. To squirm, the heat of his face slightly unbearable, along with the need to ask what she means. 

He doesn’t get the chance to, however, his phone buzzing, a new call coming through. The number and ID nearly making him drop the damn thing when he looks.

“S-Shit—!”

“Wha-What was that?”

He slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry! I’m sorry about that—” He abandons his closet, where he’d just started to rummage through clothes, and hobbles his way to his desk to all but rip it apart. “Mrs. Midoriya, I’ll have to call you back later.”

“I-is everything al-"

“I’m getting a call from one of the support companies I mentioned—this could be it. Confirmation.”

She goes immediately silent until it clicks with a gasp.

“Y-Y-You need to answer it then! D-Don’t worry about me! Please! I’ve taken enough of your time!”

He finds his paper of numbers and names, and smudges of ink, but pauses at her words. “You absolutely have not.” He corrects, “I promise, the moment I have the chance I’ll message you.”

“P-Please do!”

With that he says goodbye and quickly swaps the call.

And if his limbs are all crossed for good news, well…no one’s there to see. 

He flings the door open, heaving, practically stumbling into the temporary 2-A classroom.

“I AM HE—”

Unable to finish his iconic catchphrase as disheveled, dark, and moody blocks his way.

“—You’re Late.”

“Ah.”

“O-Oh! All Might’s here!

“Sensei! Good to see you!” 

“We’re back!”

Bent over his knees, Toshinori tries very hard to make it seem like he’s not fighting for his life. 

“I-It’s g-good t-to s-see you all t-too!”

A grunt, from the feet right in front of him, “Breathe before you pass out.”

He takes the advice. Feeling a little less he’s about to fall over or that he needs the frame of the door to remain standing. Aizawa’s brows are deeply furrowed when he finally looks up. Around him some students have gathered. 

“Sensei…are you alright?” Young Yaoyorozu asks, her concern earnest and polite, as she always is.

“Y-Yes, apologies, just had to catch my breath.” watches as the concern fades as he straightens, disappearing once he gets a more confident smile on his face. Peeking around Aizawa’s side, Young Jiro and Kaminari lose their cautious concern as well and pop out. “I got caught up in some work and missed your return. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you all before some of you went home!”

“So you, ran here.”

Toshinori offers an innocent smile to his scowling colleague, “Ah, briskly walked is what I’d say.”

Across the classroom, a booming voice bursts forth, “Sensei, are you, perhaps looking for Midoriya?” Waving his hand, like he’s warning his classmates to make way, Ida slides into the small circle, Aizawa stepping away. Just barely a pointer finger to the eye.

“Ah, well…” Toshinori feels something catch his tongue. “I came here to see all of you, but…”

“You just missed him,” cold brutal honesty says at Ida’s side. Young Todoroki has Young Shoji and Koda trailing behind him. “He just left with Bakugou and everyone else who's going home for the weekend.”

A swear is just barely held back behind his lips. 

He’d been afraid of that. No matter how fast he’d wrapped him that phone call, how quickly he’d showered and dressed and rushed across campus to catch Nezu, he knew there was still a high chance. He’d accepted missing Class A’s immediate arrival but he’d hoped that he’d at least be able catch them at the classroom. 

But as he looks about the room his worst case scenario is here. The students remaining are mostly those taking advantage of the dorms for the weekend—or rather those who can’t, or simply don’t want to, go home. Restoration for many of them was going to be more than just a brand new apartment complex.

“I wanted to go with them as well,” Young Ida’s dramatic exhale pulls him back to the children in front of him. “Especially since Midoriya seemed rather down…But Class A’s meeting notes won’t summarize themselves!”

Yaoyorozu bounces, fists clenched, “We’ll get it done in no time together!...Though we probably won’t catch up.”

“All Might probably could…If he were to head out now.”

Toshinori catches the expectant eyebrow raise Aizawa offers. An olive branch and chance at escape.

“Y-Yes, you’re probably right…”

“I’ll text him,” Todoroki offers, “I think he was actually looking for you anyway.”

The spasm of his throat catches him off guard, “H-He was?”

Todoroki nods, “He didn’t say why but…there was obviously something on his mind. He was crying before getting on the bus after all…” A few “What?!”s interrupt. “I’m guessing you already knew about that from Aizawa-sensei though...”

Toshinori has no chance to say anything in response to that though, the other students piling onto the comment in an instant as Aizawa tsks.

“I-I knew it! He was upset about something!” Ida demands.

Still crowded in the corner of the room, Young Sero and a few of the other boys look scandalized. “Todoroki you should have said something if you noticed!”

“I did. I asked him if he’d been crying.”

Young Kaminari’s jaw drops with disbelief, “Dude! You know how Midoriya is! You gotta be more sensitive about this kinda stuff!”

“I thought I was.”

“Not enough!”

“...I’ll text Bakugou then.”

“That’s even worse!”

Aizawa’s dissociative stare grows blanker and blanker, until his eye twitches, a sure sign the man is about two seconds away from telling them all to be quiet. Toshinori takes a step back, wondering if this would be a good time to make his escape. 

Neither happens though, not when Young Jiro pipes in, with a surprised, “Oh!” It draws everyone’s attention to her though hers is directed towards him, her remaining ear jack pointing at her phone. “Ochako said they're still at school.” Her thumbs move at a rapid speed, across her phone’s screen. “Her and Tsuyu just left but Bakugou’s at the entrance with Ectoplasm...apparently Midoriya’s not there…”

Small, shy, and prickling Toshinori’s skin at thought, Young Koda adds, “You…don’t think he’d leave by himself…do you?”

“He wouldn’t dare. Both him and Bakugou would earn demerits for breaking the buddy system and leaving their chaperone.” Aizawa drawls, and then with a clenched jaw, “Also…” His eye twitches. “Do you think we could all stop Crowding The Door.”

A few squeaks and the students close by scuttle away, allowing Aizawa to slip by and into the hall. A clear indication he should follow. Though Toshinori doesn’t, not yet. Not when Young Todoroki and Ida remain, tension in their shoulders, worry written into their frowns.

“He probably won’t come back if I just told him to…I told him he forgot something, and should come back to the classroom” Todoroki says, with the smallest bit of guilt as he glances at his phone. “But… he’s not answering.”

Ida’s worry morphs into something bordering on distress, “Did… something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Aizawa says, tone sharp, enough that both boys jump. The man sighs, rubbing at his head while Toshinori amends, “Young Midoriya’s fine...I just need to speak with him about something.”

Across the room now lounging back in a chair, Kaminari snorts, “Yeah how many times did we hear that right before the war…all while Midoriya was running around for days straight.” It’d be rude if it didn’t warm something deep in Toshinori’s heart. “Uhh…N-N-No offense, All Might!”

He smiles, “None taken, young man. You’re very much in the right and I must say that I appreciate your deep concern for your friend.”   

Yaoyorozu ever observant, uses it as a chance to jump in, “Then…Is there anything we can do?” 

His worn, and ever bright young heroes. Toshinori is sure they’d ask how they could help even after moving the very moon for a friend.

Aizawa knows it too.

“You all can stay here and finish your work so we can get back to the dorms on time.”

“But!!” “Aizawa-sensei!”

“No buts.” He must shoot a glare at them, because even without seeing it, Toshinori feels it, the kids all shrinking under it as he shivers. “Leave this to your teachers. You just got home from a week long work trip, dealing with the media, villains, civilians, and… overzealous fans.” There’s a hiss in those words that Toshinori will have to hear more about later. “Midoriya’s not the only one dealing with stressors. Before thinking about others you need to think of yourselves.” And then under his breath so that only Toshinori hears, “That’s why we’re in this mess in the first place. ” 

There’s a sullen compliance that fills the classroom at their teachers’ words. Though it dissipates slightly as Aizawa’s adds, “That’s not a scolding, just a reminder… What you’ve all been doing for one another is more than enough.” 

“If you say so…” Kaminari pouts, Koda sulking along.

“Now give me a second to talk with All Might in the hall.” Aizawa shoves his hands in his pockets and walks just out of view of the classroom’s gigantuous door. 

“All Might?” 

Young Ida pulls him back before Toshinori can follow, the boy all sharp edges and tight anxiety along his posture. Though when he looks up there’s determination in his eyes. “The thing you need to talk with Midoriya about…is it perhaps regarding…One for All?”

Still so used to biting his tongue about such things, Toshinori hesitates. 

The rest of the students and their light chatter hush at the mention.

“We all know he transferred it, in order to beat Shigaraki, but…he hasn’t said much besides that…” Ida admits, while behind him Jiro, looking stricken, almost whispers, “ After everything…I’m sure it’s a lot.”

That cloud of worry and self-despair closes in, because it is. A little part of him had hoped the kid would at least talk to his friends…but old habits were hard to break.

He knows that well.

Which is why—

“I believe it is…” He offers, his students wide eyed and mouths opened at his confirmation. “Which is why I want to speak with him…to…reassure him.”

Todoroki's expression twists into one not too far from horror and outrage, “Wait…without One for All can Midoriya not-”

He holds a hand up. “I don’t want to share too much, especially without him here. But for right now, believe me when I say everything will be fine,” and as he says it like he can believe it. Because at the moment he does. It feels within reach. He just needs to let Izuku know. 

“I simply ask the same Aizawa did, and take care of yourselves while you all do as you always have done and be there for Izuku as his friends.”

A smile forms, real and full of legitimate confidence, brought on by the earnest care of his students who are…staring at him he realizes, mouths agape and blinking eyes. 

His head darts about, running over what he’d just said, “What—Is something wrong?”

Ida’s glasses seem to tilt off his nose. “You um, called Midoriya…by his first name, sir.”

A few snickers in the back. Yaoyorozu covers her mouth, as Kaminari leans towards Young Jiro and the others with an extremely amused smirk, “And without a honorific too.”

Toshinori's brain skids to a stop, grabs the gear, and shifts into reverse. As he goes flying backwards down the road of conversation he catches his mistake, and lights up like a match. He’d been talking to the boy’s mother so much! He hadn’t even realized!

“That was—” He tries not sure of where to even begin. “It was- just a slip of the-”

There’s a sharp ping before he can, Young Todoroki’s knowing stare slipping into surprise. “Oh, it’s Midoriya, he said he’s headed to the classroom.” 

Young Sero in the midst of laughing over Young Ojiro and Kaminari’s shoulders, gains some control. “He’s seriously still here? I figured he’d left already!”

Todoroki shakes his head, “He said he’s coming from the staff room.”

“Hmmmm…probably looking for his favorite teacher...” 

“Well if that’s the case, I think we can leave it to All Might, right?” Young Shouji’s voice is deep and without teasing despite how the others giggle.

Another low tone joins, barely an arm’s length away from Toshinori’s ear, making him almost jump. “Are you done yet? If the kid’s on his way he’s gonna eventually be here before-”

“S-Sorry Aizawa! I’ll be right there.” He gives a wave to his students, but all but flees from the room as they continue to snicker.

“Bye All Might! Say hi to Izuku for us!”

He doesn’t bother correcting them. 

He’s not sure there’d be any point.

“Don’t say anything,” he grumbles at Aizawa’s smug, almost amused smirk. 

The man shrugs, “You’re handling your favoritism well it seems.”

He glares, though it’s admittedly halfhearted. 

“Don’t give me that look All Might.”

He slides the classroom door shut, muffling the continued laughter inside.

“You wanted to talk?”

Aizawa grunts an affirmative. “Only about one thing and then I’ll let you go…I pretty much told you everything earlier anyway…”

Toshinori nods, thinking back to their back and forth. Short, concise, rathe…undescriptive messages. It’d gotten the point across though it’d also made it clear that Aizawa was… a rather poor texter.

Said man sighs, leaning against the wall. Toshinori can see his eyepatch, the bridge of his nose blocking his full expression from view.

“You message him over the week?”

It’s not at all the question he expects, if he were even expecting a question. Toshinori’s the one with those, still unsure of how badly Izuku had fallen apart before the trip back. 

For now he just replies, “Of course.” 

He may have been busy this week, perhaps to the extreme, but whenever he’d noticed a message from Izuku he’d respond as soon as he could. He hadn’t heard that much from the kid. But now a little part of him itches to open his phone. “Why do you ask?”

Aizawa shrugs, “My own morbid curiosity…and just…something he said.”

Toshinori’s hair immediately stands on end.

“Something he—what did—”

The hall resounds then with a squeak and then the rush of a student’s feet. There’s panting, stumbling, and the rhythmic movement of it that has Toshinori spinning because somehow he recognizes it before Izuku’s there just a few meters away.

He’s breathing heavy, mouth open, as he sputters, “A-All Might!? What’re you-”

It’s funny, he hadn’t really considered it before. 

But as the kid takes a deep breath, coming to a stop, pushing his perhaps overgrown hair out of his eyes, it occurs to him:

How long a week really is.

“What’re you doing here?”

Izuku pads a little closer, and Toshinori itches because it's not close enough. It’s been hours so obviously his complexion looks fine. No red, swollen eyes, nor tear stained cheeks. 

Just knowing it’d been there is enough to make his chest squeeze and pulse stutter. Desperate to reach out a hand and bring the kid in.

“I’m here looking for you, kiddo…admittedly a little late, I nearly missed you...”

“No, that’s-” Izuku stops right before he’s quite close enough for Toshinori to reach out and fluff up his head. He instead peeks around his boney shoulder.

 “O-Oh! Sensei…you’re, um…still here…too?”

“Me and the rest of your classmates,” Aizawa says, thumb jutting back over his shoulder, which with rather perfect timing, leads to the door bursting. Though only a crack.

Young Kaminari’s head is the first through, “Hey Izuku! Back already?”

Izuku flounders, mouth gaping like a fish, “Wha-huh? Why- I’m- Todoroki was the one who said I left my notebook...”

Young Todoroki follows next, “Sorry, I was wrong, it wasn’t actually yours. Meant to text you.”

Izuku blinks a few times, “That’s um...fine?”

Young Ida next along with his hand. His head faces upward, as if he can’t look at his friend as he lies, “A-Apologies Midoriya, we should have checked the notebook m—more thoroughly!”

“No- that’s o-”

Young Sero pops in at the bottom, mouth barely stifling his laughter, “H-Hey Midoriya you gotta hear this! Just a few minutes ago All-”

Aizawa stalks past, rips the door open, and the stack of students comes crumbling down. Toshinori and Izuku jump back at the fallout.

“Alright that’s enough. I thought I said to finish those class reports!” A chorus of laughter answers falling back into the classroom though Aizawa doesn’t follow. He turns to Izuku, says nothing, scratching his head and then with a sigh, “You should probably head back down…Ectoplasm will start to wonder.”

“Oh uh yeah, you’re right…I should probably—” Another blink, and then horror seems to settle. “K-K-K—” He squeaks. “—Kacchan!! He’s gonna be so—I told him I’d be quick!”

And like he’s a rocket about to take off, he spins on his heel, ready to fly. 

A bolt of panic strikes through him at the movement because Izuku’s right here, he’s finally right here! And he’s practically about to go zooming away before Toshinori can do or say anything. He’s practically jumping forward to grab him, but, with a grit of his teeth, before he can even form the kid’s name, he realizes.

It’s too far, his reflexes too rusty, and he misses.

Thankfully…Aizawa’s there. 

He keeps Izuku’s heels on the ground with a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Relax. Bakugou can wait.” Izuku glances at him. “Besides, I thought you wanted to talk to All Might?”

He looks confused, Toshinori cringes, but Aizawa clarifies, without missing a beat, “Todoroki mentioned it.”

“Oh uh, I did but…” Izuku wobbles back round to partially face Toshinori, and despite being at arm's length it’s like he’s lightyears away. “I figured you were busy?” 

Toshinori fights whatever pain wants to show on his face at the tepid, way Izuku words it.

“My boy, I came down here looking for you …Young Todoroki said you went to the staff room? We must have just missed each other.”

Toshinori takes a step forward, cane secure at his side, and clasps Izuku by the shoulder. The muscle there is tense, coiled, like he’s ready to dart though he can’t feel hurt. The mere touch whisps up something warm in his soul.

“I also heard from Aizawa that… you had a rough start to the day.”

The kid’s clearly surprised, but not shocked, catching his two teachers together must have been enough of a clue. “It…wasn’t that big a deal…I was just tired from the week, and overthinking again.”

He squeezes.

“Why don’t you tell me about it? As we walk back.” 

“Oh um, I wouldn’t want to leave Ectoplasm-sensei waiting…or Kacchan…… especially Kacchan.” 

“I’ll shoot him a message. That you’re walking All Might back,” Aizawa offers, and Toshinori hopes the man sees every bit of thanks conveyed through his eyes. “As for Bakugou…Ecto will keep him in check.”

“If you’re su-”

“I’m sure.” Aizawa waves Izuku off, “Just try and take it easy. Alright, kid? I’ll see you Monday.”

Izuku nods, “See you Monday, sensei…”

For Toshinori, Aizawa offers nothing more than a quick glance but he catches what’s burning there.

The threat in Aizawa’s eye.

He can’t say it aloud but as the classroom door closes and Toshinori’s left with Izuku at his side, he swears to himself that he won’t screw this up.

“What is it about Izuku Midoriya, that makes you think he can sustain this type of hero career?”

It hadn’t been his first conference call and certainly his last. It hadn’t even been the first time he’d been given a question like that. 

It’d been the middle of the week. He’d been tired, almost drifting off as he fought the headache that came with fighting the existing gates and red tape in a superpowered society.

But it had been those words, that phrasing, the clear misunderstanding of all that kept his very heart going, that startled him awake.

He’d answered. He must have. 

His answer must have been good too. Based on the response he’d received, the opportunity presented, the doors that had opened. 

Yet it’d been like a glaze had filtered his vision, a roar in his ears. 

He’d felt something burning within. A single word his answer:

Everything.

He’s been recovering well, all things considered. And while he could be getting a bit more sleep, he’s following doctor’s orders and mostly staying off his feet. 

At this point, he could definitely be walking at a faster pace. 

But Izuku doesn’t need to know that, especially when Toshinori wants to take their conversation slow.

“So…you wanna talk about it?” 

The kid cringes, eyes darting about. The shaven half of his head has begun to grow in, nothing too noticeable unless you’re looking. It’s a much more striking look for him, though Toshinori finds himself appreciating it just for the fact that he can catch his expression. Those unruly curls no longer there to hide it.

“Is it okay if I say…no?”

“It is… but I think we both know that talking about it helps, more than anything else. But whenever you’re ready.”

Izuku says nothing to that.

Toshinori holds off on pressing further for the time being. “What was it that you wanted to talk about?” Izuku raises a brow at him, “You were looking for me in the staff room, weren’t you?”

“O-Oh that… I was just-” He looks away, eyes to his feet, where his school slippers match the pace of Toshinori’s cane. “You weren’t there when we got back and I…” It’s unusual and alarming, how much the kid seems to be suddenly struggling with his words. A week ago, only a week ago, when Toshinori had seen him off, Izuku had been rather tight-lipped. Quiet. But this…this nervousness, it harkens back to what feels like an eternity ago. Back to when he’d first met the kid. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers, hoping to cut Izuku's nerves where they fray. “I meant to be there when you all arrived but…something came up…” He struggles for the correct information to give. “An important phone call. Though a good one all things considered.” 

Izuku looks up and Toshinori catches a sparkle of curiosity. “Am I… allowed to ask what it was for?”

It’s the exact response he’d been fishing for and he can’t help but grin. “But of course, I was hoping you would.”

It’s small but Toshinori still gets a smile.

“Okay, then…what was the phone call for?”

“Well…for you my boy.”

The kid’s eyes are as wide as saucers. He points at himself like his own body’s a stranger.

“M-Me?”

Toshinori snorts, “Who else?”

His ears flush, rather easily, an observation Toshinori couldn’t previously make with his mop of hair in the way. “I guess, I just, didn’t expect that…I thought it’d be something for the restoration efforts, or U.A…. not me.”

“Nope, it was for you.”

“O-Oh…”

Toshinori can’t help it. He’s always been an entertainer at heart.

“You’re not gonna ask what it was about?”

“I mean…if you want me to…”

Of course I do.

The absence of the kid’s usual enthusiasm is a blow to the heart.

He resolves to do something about that.

“It was an international call actually.”

“Int—Wha— Huh? An international call—about me?”

Toshinori chuckles, “Yes, you. And… it’s actually part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

They reach the stairs, and Izuku stops, offering a hand, though Toshinori waves him off. He’s perfectfully fine with the rail and simply taking it slow.

“I heard from Principal Nezu, that he reached out to you, about your placement in the hero course, going forward.” Izuku walks alongside him, not ahead or behind, just taking each step at a time. Hand not hovering but twitching each time the cane leaves the floor. It seems to freeze at Toshinori’s words though.

“Um, yeah…he did.” They get to the first landing, and as Toshinori takes a breath, Izuku keeps his gaze away. “He called my mom too, which was, um, nice of him…I guess you knew about it, already?”

“I did,” Toshinori answers, “Nezu told me that same day he reached out to you and your mother…I was a little surprised you never said anything.”

“Oh…sorry…I meant to…”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sure it was a lot to think about.” 

The kid doesn’t reply, and as Toshinori readies himself on for the next flight of stairs, he begins to think he won’t. 

“I’m just wondering how long it’ll last.”

It’s a blow, no matter how much Toshinori had expected it. Despite how well he knows this kid. 

To hear the doubt and disbelief. To look back over his shoulder, and see that usual sharp and shining gaze clouded and distant, eyes anywhere but at him. 

“There’s no contingency, kid,” he forces out, as certain and confident as he can. Voice trying not to break. “You’re a hero student of U.A. from now until you graduate. I’m certain Nezu told you that. ”

There’s that look on his face again, faraway, not really here at all. Toshinori can catch it as Izuku joins him and they both make their way down.

“He did…but…” And for a moment Izuku speeds up, walking ahead, leaving Toshinori to stumble behind. “What does that really mean…?” At the bottom, Izuku waits, back to him. “I… sent you a message…about how the strength of the embers have been feeling…” 

“You did?” Toshinori thinks back, trying to place it. “I don’t think I saw that…”

Izuku continues without comment, “It was just something I noticed… how the remaining power of One for All is so much lighter—or not as intense, I guess. You were right.” He rolls his shoulder. “It’s like before, when I’d output it a lower percent. Except this time that lower percent is my limit…or it should be.” Toshinori’s stopped, only a few steps away, watching as that broad back of his boy heaves with a sigh. “All this time with One for All it was like…my body had a limit, but the power didn’t…I could go higher and higher until that final battle…and now…”

“Now you don’t know its limit.” 

How little it’ll take, until those embers blow away.

Izuku nods. 

“It’s strange though...even though the limit’s changed…I thought I’d start to feel it fade, at least a little as I used it but…it sort of, stayed the same. Like…it’s been consistent.”

“That’s good then,” Toshinori tries, finally beside him. “That may mean you’ll have it for a while longer at least when compared to myself.” He thinks back, to that flickering fire of power, how he’d shielded, fanned it, and tried to keep it for the remaining months that he had it. “I’ve thought about it more recently. Reflecting on things…and it’s possible even I may have been able to carry the remains of One for All a little longer…had I not been forced to push myself…not that I regret it though,” Toshinori assures him, not wanting any guilt about things that he can’t change.

“At the very least if that’s the case, as long as there’s nothing extremely extraneous, things may be a bit smoother for you... It’s easier to adjust when the power slowly fades…rather than vanishing all at once I suppose.”  

He gives the kid a shake on the shoulder, which sparks some warmth in his fingers. A pull to carry on, as he turns to head down the hall. That warmth disappears, however, after two steps, as it's clear he’s not being followed.

“…Midoriya?”

Still with his heels right up against the final step, Izuku rubs a hand up and down his arm. 

“Kid…?”

“What happens after it does though…I…” Izuku still won’t look at him, eyes straight to the floor. “I know Principal Nezu said that I-I’ll have a place here but…what does that even look like…if…”

It’s the moment he’s been waiting for, and he steadies himself as Izuku says it.

“…I don’t have One for All.”

Oh.

It twists something in Toshinori that he’s avoided saying it all together.

“That’s actually what the school and I have been working on.”

The kid raises his head slowly, until he finally meets Toshinori’s eyes. There’s confusion, uncertainty, anxiety— everything Toshinori had expected to see—along with the one thing he’d feared the most. 

Hope.

It’s almost as though he’d brought flint to a stone. 

“Is…” Izuku’s mouth twists, until understanding settles. “…Is that what that phone call was about?” He asks it as if he can’t believe the answer.

Toshinori nods, fighting for a smile the boy can rely on—can believe. Maybe even more than a phone call from U.A.’s very own principal. “That’s right.”

“W-Who was it with?”

“An international hero and support agency in America.”

Izuku looks positively flabbergasted.

“I’ve been in contact with them and they called today to say that they’re willing to support you—”

“Support me? H-How—”

Toshinori huffs, though not unfondly, “Kid, I’m getting to that—” Izuku stops, though he’s obviously just barely holding back, his brain likely a whirlwind of questions “—they’re actually an old connection I know through Shield Industries. Full of veterans and active pros, who’d be a great help, many of whom were just starting out when I started hero work in America. I’ll admit I did use my name…but they knew yours just as well. You’re quite the big shot over there now, you know.”

Izuku almost looks faint. Whatever relief Toshinori had begun to feel, at finally spilling what he’s been toiling over the last week, dissipates like steam in the air as he reads the shock on the boy’s face. 

It’s not happy surprise he finds there.

“What…does that mean exactly?”

“Well…it means they’d take you under their wing through school and, hopefully, well into your career—they’d provide you with the resources and finances you need…” The kind I can’t provide. “There’s still a little to work out. Like your input. And the fact that U.A. doesn’t want you to become some kind of brand mascot, which is why I’m-”

“But I’m quirkless.”

Toshinori’s jaw snaps shut so fast it locks. 

“I’ll be quirkless…it’s only a matter of time…”

“Kid… ”

“And I just-” He makes a sharp noise through his teeth. “Why am I the one getting special treatment? Togata-senpai had to go on indefinite leave without his quirk,” Izuku says mostly to the floor. “Why should I be any different?”

The question hits him from all directions, unsure of where to even begin.

“And- What’s some support company gonna do- I mean- without a quirk I can’t-”

“You can.” Toshinori tries to interrupt him. “You proved that already. To the world.” To me. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that. That’s the very reason why I’m already planning to fly out to-”

“W-Wait. Fly out? Fly out to where?”

Toshinori blinks, unsure why the kid’s getting hung up on that, “To their headquarters.”

“And that’s…”

“In the states.”

This is not how this was supposed to go. 

Izuku was never supposed to look so…

He’d prepared for the kid’s disbelief, he knew it was there after all. Words of reassurance were never truly enough. Izuku needed to see reality bend in front of him, by his own hands. At the moment, Toshinori couldn’t do that, which is why he’d hoped that at least his own words could be enough. They had been...before

But right now they’re not. So clearly blatantly not.

“W-When are you-” Izuku starts and then clamps shut. “When are you leaving?”

Toshinori had known he’d been working with glass but…he’d been careful. So, so careful. 

Hadn’t he?

“Monday.”

So gutted.

Why? How is it so obvious that he’s broken something and yet he doesn’t know what?

“And, and what happens when-” Izuku asks, “You—you go, you meet with them, and then what?”

He takes a step forward. “Then they help you.” He tries to reach out. “Give you a way to keep being a hero even without-”

“I don’t want it.”

If Toshinori feels like he’s been slapped, Izuku looks it. As if those words had slipped out, well beyond his control.

“My boy… what—”

And now that they’re out, it seems he can’t stop. 

“I-I don’t want it. Th-That support company. Those heroes, I don’t—” His voice borders on anger, if it weren’t for its crack of despair. “That’s not what I want.” 

“Midoriya—”

He takes a step back, just out of reach, shaking his head.

“I’m—I don’t—”

And now he won’t look at him, Izuku won’t look at him.

“I-I’m—I’m sorry, All Might, but I—Kacchan’s waiting so I have to-”

“—Izuku.” But Izuku doesn’t answer, not even for his name “Wait. Wait. Talk to me kid, what’s going on? What—”

He pulls his hand away too fast for Toshinori to get a good grip. Like a flinch, like he’s afraid or enraged. It has him fumbling, gaping, reeling with it because it’s letting Izuku’s dash around him, on his bad side, so there’s really no hope when Toshinori tries to dart after him. His fingers just barely brush the kid’s own. But he can’t grab him, can’t reach. 

He nearly falls, only his cane keeping him upright, long enough so he can catch himself on the wall. 

He’s in no position to chase, leg shrieking with a sharp warning pain. It’s all Toshinori can do but desperately call after him.

But as the hall echoes with frantic footsteps, not once does Izuku look back.

By the time he makes it to the entrance, Izuku’s already gone.

It’s the first time he really curses his condition. Leg aching, lung straining, he can only walk by the cubby in the getabako he knows is Izuku’s and despair at the indoor shoes that are neatly in their place. 

Replacing the red sneakers he’d hoped might still be there.

“Hey.”

Sharp, rough, and yet slightly subdued. Toshinori whips up and finds a familiar figure at the entrance standing hands in his pocket, head slightly cocked, and usual scowl on his face.

“Young Bakugou…you startled me…I…didn’t expect you’d still be here.”

“Yeah, well. I am.”

The kid doesn’t say anything else, just stares, blankly. The stitches on his cheek have been removed, though a ragged scar remains. He’d joined the week-long work trip but hadn’t been allowed to engage in combat, instead doing observations. The fact that he’s carrying some weight on his shoulder, even if it is a simple overnight bag, is at least a positive sign of his slow but steady recovery.

“It’s good to see you, my boy. You look well…” Toshinori clears his throat, “Shouldn’t you be with Ectoplasm?”

“Not gonna ask about Deku?”

Toshinori bites the inside of his cheek and draws blood.

“Whatever, just stick your head in his cubby and mope, see what I care,” Bakugou huffs. “You two have been pissing me off all week.”

Toshinori catches that, and by how red eyes flash, he recognizes it as bone thrown. “All week? Young Bakugou did something-”

“Not everything’s about heroes and quirks you know.”

The entrance is silent, save for the slight breeze just outside. It’d probably be enough to blow him over were he standing in it.

For now he’s simply speechless.

“That’s all I wanted to say. So I’m going home now, hag’s gonna be on my ass if I’m late…”

“Is… Young Midoriya still at the gate…?”

Mid-turn Bakugou shoots a look over his shoulder. “And what if he is?”

Ah.

“Not like you’re gonna make anything better if you go over there right now.”

Hence why Young Bakugou is here. 

A clear and intentional blockade. 

“I…I see…I… suppose you’re right…"

It leaves Toshinori with nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no way to fix all the pieces that lay broken before him.

He can only stare down at them, wondering where exactly he’d gone wrong.

“One more thing.”

Bakugou doesn’t turn back around. He stands at the entrance, adjusting the bag over his shoulder, an obstacle for the sun that tries desperately to break through, and grunts.

“Get better at answering your damn phone.”

He doesn’t go back to the staff or classroom. 

He’s little more than a walking corpse right now, were he to see a student or fellow teacher… he doubts he could pull himself together for the bare minimum of hellos.

Even now sat upon a small bench on his way to the teachers’ dorms his retinas’ burn with only one thing:

That disappointed grief engraved in the lines of Izuku’s face. 

Head in his hands, he groans.

How on earth had he screwed up so badly?

Aizawa’s going to kill him. Maybe he should.

With a heavy sigh he runs a palm down his face, the drag painful, and very little comfort. 

He’d been so so sure he’d been doing the right thing. He thought…well, he thought he knew what Izuku needed. What he wanted.

“That’s not what I want.”

It breaks him all over again.

What do you want, kiddo? What can I do? How can I help?

Whatever it was, Toshinori would do it in a heartbeat. The sky was the limit, and if he had to go further, plus ultra dammit, he’d do it.

He just…

He wants Izuku to be happy.

But apparently, he’d gone about it all wrong. And while he’d like to say this is only about his impending quirklessness, along with the prejudice against the mere idea of a quirkless hero embedded in society and the boy's brain, but right now, he’s not even sure. Izuku had finally, barely, been slightly forced to talk about it and it hadn’t made anything better. Rather, he’d been obstinate, unwilling to budge or even listen to the prospect of being a hero with his quirk. 

At least when he’d left the hospital: defeat across his shoulders, resignation in his eyes, and forced smile on his lips…actually Toshinori’s not sure which is worse. He’s leaning towards the present. There hadn’t been a single tear. It’s what makes his hair stand on end more than anything else. This felt…like a snap. Like Izuku had been hit by something he wasn’t prepared for. No tears, only…grief. So strong he’d run from it. From Toshinori, as if even looking at him would make the boy sick. 

It can’t just be quirklessness.

At least that’s what he thinks, as Young Bakugou’s words come back to the forefront, each and every time he goes around in his head.

It’s why he's sitting, sun on his back, phone in his hand. His finger hovering over Izuku’s name.

He didn’t have any missed calls. Nor unanswered messages.

He’d…been answering his phone…hadn’t he?

If it wasn’t about quirks… and if it wasn’t about heroes then…

He opens the messages, without much fanfare, finding his last message still sitting there. From the night before.

Yes! I’ll see you when you return! Good work this week, Young Midoriya!

Nothing, no response. In a few hours it’ll be twenty four full hours. 

He scrolls up.

We’re back at the U.A. base for the night. Aizawa-sensei says we’re leaving early tomorrow morning. 

Will you be at school tomorrow?

Izuku had been messaging over the week. More than he had been between leaving the hospital and heading off on this trip— which still wasn’t much. He hadn’t thought too much of Izuku’s question at the time but now… he can’t help but read a little more into those words. 

Izuku had gone to the staffroom. Todoroki had said Izuku wanted to talk with him. When he’d seen the message last night Toshinori had thought Izuku was just inquiring if he’d be there or not. But it’d been late and he’d been distracted. He’d drifted off and hit his desk, using his papers as a pillow not long after his own response.

He scrolls up.

Only one more day! Hang in there!

His own message. Sent earlier the same day, a response to…wait…

He hadn’t noticed before but there were actually a few messages from Izuku. Toshinori had only answered the very last one…Thursday had been a little swamped but…

See you Friday

Something twists inside him as he scrolls…

Sorry, good luck with work

Up.

If you’re busy that’s fine.

Up.

Been having weird dreams. Remind me of the vestiges dreamscape.

Up.

Haven’t really been sleeping lately.

Are you free to call tonight?

Twist, twisting. He continues, as anxious sickness swirls. He covers his mouth as a trend continues.

I’m doing okay! Don’t worry about me though, glad to hear today went well! 

His own message, only one a response to Izuku’s own:

Hope you’re doing okay. Today went well over here.

And missing everything that came before. 

When you still had the embers, did they ever plateau 

Or was it a steady decline

Just wondering

I raised my output today to lift some rumble but after it felt pretty much the same

Still weaker definitely 

Was it like that for you?

Izuku said he’d messaged about the embers and there it is staring right in front of him. 

How many had he missed? How many had he seemingly ignored? How—

…no. He knows how.

He’d been busy. Yes, for Izuku’s sake, but still—as he scrolls and scrolls he finds more and more of the same pattern over the entire week. Even that first night. 

He remembers suddenly. Because Izuku had asked, he’d put into words what he wanted.

“Could, I message you…...When I get there?”

What he needed. 

Finally settled. Sorry, meant to message earlier but we went right onto patrol when we got here. Sorry again, for not really messaging you back. I just, got in my own head about stuff. I didn’t really say it before but it was really good to see you.

Hope you’re resting well, and your day was good?

And, Toshinori had responded.

The next morning.

He’d fallen asleep. He’d been falling asleep. At his desk, in the work room, he’d been taking calls and answering emails, and keeping Nezu in the loop as well as the boy’s mother but—

But what does that matter?

It doesn’t.

It doesn’t even matter what his reply had been. 

All this time… he’d been working and working and working so hard to make Izuku’s dream into reality. To finally answer that question he’d asked Toshinori the moment they’d met. Because he didn’t want to let him down. 

He couldn’t.

No…it was just that he couldn’t wait around with his own anxious energy—waiting for when Izuku would be ready to talk. 

But he’d been ready. 

Maybe not ready to talk about everything but ready to talk. To receive comfort. He’d been reaching out this whole damn time and Toshinori had simply missed it.

What can he do except hang his head and force himself to endure the strain of his old and new scar tissue.

This was everything he had in his arsenal, and he’s ruined it. Done the very thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t—

“Ping~ Ping~”

He sits up, slowly, like the zombie that he is, just enough to see what’s lit up his screen.

And then sputters, nearly dropping the damn thing.

The name at the top a sudden bombshell among the rest. 

Izuku messaged me that he’s suddenly staying over Katsuki’s…

I’m guessing…things didn’t go well.

Halfway through opening the front door to the teacher’s dorm, he pauses and bows, even though she can’t see.

“It’s entirely my fault.”

“No, All Might, please. You can’t put this all on yourself…” Mrs. Midoriya makes a rather exasperated sound. “ He’s never done anything like this before…I’ll have to apologize to Mitsuki…I mean, staying the entire weekend… ”

He continues anyway, the guilt bending his back down, even after his shoes are slipped off. “I should have been more attentive. Instead I neglected his care—I’m not surprised he ran off when I tried to talk with him…I…” he hisses, “...Hurt him—and I wasn’t even aware.”

“I…” She trails off. Toshinori drags himself through the building, a strike of defeat cutting through him when he realizes he’s got to take another set of stairs. But… he’s in no rush, and the kid’s not with him…and if he’s honest he feels like shit. 

“I think we both underestimated how much all of this was affecting him.”

His finger presses the elevator call button with a sigh, wondering if that was the understatement of the year. 

Mrs. Midoriya clears her throat. “I…know you were hesitant earlier today but…”

He perks up, not at all expecting her to bring up that suggestion again. “You think we should speak with him…together.”

“I do,” she says clearly happy he’d caught on, yet there’s a sharpness to it. No room for argument. “I don’t want to call it an intervention exactly but…I feel like there’s more going on with him. More he’s not saying…more than just… quirklessness.”

That expression of grief flashes across his mind. He sways with it, so harshly he needs to steady himself, as the elevator begins to rise.

“I agree…”

“I’m worried” she sighs, “And I’m sure he knows it which is why he doesn’t want to come home. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to put more pressure on you.”

“I assure you, you’re not. I…honestly if I had listened to you from the start things may not have come to this…” 

“Oh! No! I just thought-because I’m no good by myself. Whenever I have to talk to him, about anything, I just,” she laughs, “I burst in tears!”

He chuckles, “That’s alright. That’s much better than me... I so often struggle with the right thing to say…” and then with a snort, “I wouldn’t have made it this far were it not for those teacher self help books.”

She’s most definitely laughing at him, even if it’s muffled. “Y-You’re kidding.” 

He joins her, unable to help himself, “I wish I was.”

They laugh to themselves, a moment of peace, and when the elevator finally dings he feels a little bit lighter. 

“So…how should we go about this…”

There’s another sigh but not as heavy, most likely her seeing what lies ahead. “Well…I’d rather not force him to come home…”

“I think that’s wise. And…at the very least it seems he confided in Young Bakugou.” Unlocking his room’s door he steps inside, tapping the lights, before loosening his tie. “I…was going to message him… though I don’t really expect a response.” His room is a mess from earlier. Clothes and empty hangers thrown across his bed, which is still unmade. He walks over and lets himself sit. Though it's Mrs. Midoriya’s words that let him actually settle. 

“You should. Even if he doesn’t answer…it would mean a lot.” He can feel her smile from here. “I know Izuku and I just know he’s beating himself up about all this.”

Toshinori huffs, knowing how right she is. “That boy…” 

If only Izuku knew how much Toshinori was doing the same. 

“...All Might.” 

He’s started pressing into the aching part of his calf, massaging it, but the way in which she says his hero name makes him listen in. It doesn’t often bother him. Never does honestly. But for some reason, right now, he also finds himself… wanting to correct her use of it. “I know they’re all expected to be back at the dorms Monday…but…is there any way Izuku could come home instead?” 

That would be the soonest time. 

“I’m sure things are busy for both of you. And if it’s an inconvenience for a teacher to escort him back I could still always come to the school. But if he could come home…then you could come too.”

He’s supposed to be getting on a plane Monday. A jet, from the American support company. He’d only told the details to Nezu and then Izuku. They were a bit old fashioned, wanting an in-person meeting, but they were the company offering the most. Sponsorship, resources, everything Melissa would need to build another armored suit. Any kind Izuku wants.

“I think… Izuku and I would both feel better if you didn’t make that commute…at least not without a hero.” He can’t help but glance at his desk. “It’d probably be best for the two of us to come to you. Though I’d have to ask one of the other teachers to tag along…I’m not much help as an escort…” 

If he wants to make this happen. He needs to go.

“It might be a lot to ask of you, coming all the way out to our apartment…”

But if he’s honest, he’d already decided to cancel. 

The very moment Izuku had said no.

“Not at all. Monday you said?” He sends a quick email off to Nezu to let him know his decision, without a single hint of regret, as it goes.

“I’ll be there.”

Somewhere in the dark

A piece of himself 

Cold with the distance

Buried beneath

Still clinging

Sill won’t—

Chapter Text

Not expecting is not the same as not knowing. 

Which is why, after saying his goodbyes to Mrs. Midoriya, Toshinori still tries. He writes out his short paragraph of a message, screens it with Mrs. Midoriya, and as soon as he receives her okay he hits send. 

And then promptly tries to find something to do.

Clothes in his laundry basket, papers neatly stacked, phone in arm’s reach so by the time his room is presentable he’s back at his desk chewing crackers into paste as an impromptu dinner. They go down like dry pills, a sensation he’s all too familiar with these days, rough, thick, lodging in his throat so he’s drinking water until it goes away. 

And still, his phone does not ping. 

So he tries something else. 

He thumbs through the skyscraper of papers on his desk until he finds the single hefty packet he wants. Perhaps it’s a waste of paper, but he’s always preferred to have such things in hand. To run his finger along the lines as he reads, scrawl notes as needed, and stick tabs for his scrambled brain to remember later.  

He settles the thing in front of him, as he takes in the title, before he can even flip a page, his head flashes with one of the few pictures saved to his phone. One with a wobbly smile full of pride at the results of his hard work, pictured on a, at the time, brand new license. 

He pushes the 27 page packet of legal jargon on provisional and standard licensing to the side.

He just…doesn’t have the spirit for it right now. 

He tries his hand at lesson planning next, pulling up his old, frankly subpar, plans from this time last year. His extended leave is still ongoing but that too will eventually end—why not get a head start on his lessons before then?

But once again, he doesn’t get very far. He skims his documents, parsing through the activities, as well as the questions he’d planned to ask during them. He almost shakes his head at how differently some—most—of these lessons turned out. Not bad necessarily, just different. The unpredictability of teenagers he supposes. Though nothing shows that better than the Notes to Self section he finds at the bottom. His own observations, of strengths and weakness, and his own way to help, paired with specific student names. It was a habit he had started, in the attempt to be a bit more reflective.

To be the teacher these young heroes deserved. 

It’s only natural then, that he happens upon a few that are jotted beneath his successor’s name.

Growth, progress, pride. It’s all there in words as well in between the lines. He remembers, having to force himself to keep it short. These were plans to be submitted after all, he couldn’t very well be writing a book about one single student—especially when a certain sharp eyed coworker would give them a look over for feedback and review.

But how could he? How could he keep short how far Izuku had come? Leaps and bounds. A journey Toshinori had been given the privilege to watch as a mentor as well as a teacher. Every step of the way.

One he’d like to continue watching, for as long as he’s still here.

And oh…he wipes at an eye and surrenders.

He’s really not going to get anything done is he?

He can admit when his heart isn’t in it and that his head is elsewhere. Specifically on the device that sits quietly nearby, just close enough, so if it were to sound, he could reach.

But it doesn’t and it hasn’t and even though he figured that would probably be the case it doesn’t lessen the hurt of it. 

His curtains are already drawn. If there’s any remaining sunlight staining the horizon he can’t see it. There’s really nothing else to do except abandon ship and head to bed. 

He slips off his day clothes into sleep wear, slow and carefully as the bend of some joints are still sensitive to such movements. When he does climb beneath the thin summer sheet of his bed and settles down, only the shadows across his ceiling greet him. He should try to shut his eyes. Rush to the end of this day and the start of the next the only way he can.

There’s been no sound, no vibration, no reason to look and see exactly what he already expects. Not to mention the light would be bad for his eyes. 

He checks anyway.

To the darkened room he makes an exasperated sound, when he brings the artificial phone to his face and finds nothing new except the time. 

“What am I doing…?”

This sort of night—the dark, the loneliness…the dread—is not a complete stranger to him. It’s been awhile, but he remembers it well. 

Those years after All for One, the many nights after he thought he’d won. The nights when he’d lie in bed, clutching hot pulsing scar tissue, until he could no longer bear it, crawling to the edge, vomiting off the side—ignoring phone call after phone call from those who cared. He’d thought those nights had been brutal, the slow, sacrificial but still self-inflicted suffering, as he refused to embrace anything but his own self-destruction. All so that he could continue to serve. 

But it’d been the after—the overwork, the isolation, the tapering off of those same calls and messages as the only people he had left learned the hard way that no matter how much they tried, as long as he was All Might, he’d never answer—that had been worse. Those nights alone, unable to sleep, with nothing to do but curse his decaying body that continued to waste away along with the number of hours when he could still find any value in his shadow of a self.

He knows all too well when and why those nights had stopped. 

He can only hope, come Monday, they’ll be able to end before they can start. 

And even if they don’t, even if he’s somehow screwed things up beyond repair, it’s not about him or his sleep, or his despair. 

It’s about Izuku. 

It’s about mending whatever break is in his boy’s heart. The damage he had put there. Intentional or not, he can feel it all morphing into an impassable ravine the longer he waits. Growing larger and deeper until eventually, no matter how much he tries, he won’t be able to reach the boy on the other side.

His chest shudders and his eyes well.

Come Monday, he tells himself. Come Monday.

There’s two days in the way and his room is silent. It provides little comfort. Not when all he can see is Izuku ripping his hand away.

Did he ruin things?

It feels like he has. 

He’d said as much to the kid’s mother.

And…

“Even if you had…Izuku would forgive you.”

Spoken softly, kindly, in the exact same way she had the day she made him promise to live.

“I think you underestimate…just how much that boy lives for you, All Might… ”  

The guilt is still biting at his heels, begging to eat him alive, but it feels like he can kick it off for the time being. Enough that he can press his cheek to his pillow, letting it smear away the single salty tear track, so that he can try to finally drift.

Because come Monday, this time, he won’t be alone.

Dreams are unusual for him.

Nightmares even. 

Too committed to the waking world to have them.

Too exhausted to remember them. 

Yet.

He’s somewhere. 

Somewhere far from the waking world.

Buried

Without form. 

Broken

Without sense.

But still burning

With only a feeling.

Still here

He has to hang on. 

Even as the wind blows the other way.

Cling

Even as they’re shattered.

Cling

Even as he remains the only piece.

Cling

He’ll still hang on.

Don’t—

Hang on.

Won’t—

Hang on. 

To that little boy, crying out in the distance.

“Ping~ Ping~”

Toshinori whips up and nearly tumbles out of bed.

He catches himself, before face can meet hard floor. 

And breathes. 

He’s covered in a cold sweat, brain wracking for a fragment of a memory beyond just the lingering pressure in his chest. He can’t. 

Until he jolts.

Remembering exactly what had woke him.

He nearly rips the charging cord from the socket as he grabs at his phone. Like a sledgehammer to the head, whatever veil of sleep had been there obliterates into tiny pieces.

He didn’t expect a response. He didn’t. He doesn’t.

He half expects it to be Mrs. Midoriya again despite the hour—whatever the hour. Maybe a co-worker. Hell, Gran on a brand new cell phone despite the older man’s absolute insistence to never invest in one, is more likely.

But no.

Because lo and behold, against all odds, once his pupils adjust to the light, Izuku’s name stares right at him.

As well as a single message.

If anyone should say sorry it should be me

He didn’t doubt her but—Mrs. Midoriya was right.

There’s a tightening in his throat like a noose as his boy buries himself in guilt that should be no one’s but Toshinori’s own.

He’s jittery, adrenaline still burning through his body, from his forgotten dream but he swipes the screen open without hesitation. There’s a correction twitching in his fingers but before he can put it to words, another message comes through, making things worse.

I’m sorry

And another.

About everything

They pop up so fast Toshinori can barely follow.

You’ve been doing so much for me and I didn’t even take the time to listen

Instead I just ran off like a stupid kid  

I trust and respect your opinion. I’m sorry if today I seemed to say otherwise  

That fight-or-flight pumping of his heart stutters and stops as the whole thing drops like a stone. This kid. This kid. Apology after apology, when it’s Toshinori who should be—he’s almost angry. Did he even read his message?

He can’t ask though as the final message comes through. 

When you’re back from you’re trip and willing to meet I’d like to hear more about the support company and heroes you mentioned that I’d be working with

He can’t help how his brain halts. He barely registers the mention of the canceled trip and deal that’s probably fallen through. He skims over the details—hyper focused on that one single word.

That ‘willing.’ 

As if Toshinori has to deliberate on whether or not he wants to see Izuku. As if seeing Toshinori and talking with him is something the kid has to bow and respectfully ask for. As if Toshinori would actually be mad at Izuku for all of this—enough that he may not be willing to meet with him. 

Prying a child from a burning car. 

Pulling a drowning teenager from a river.

Socking a villain in the face who dared to put any young one in danger.

All of that came so easily, along with the bright smile and words of comfort he always offered after, compared to this. It hits, as it has many times before, how completely inept he is at whatever this is.

Being a mentor? A teacher? A predecessor?

None of those titles seem to fit with how lost he feels right now. 

They can’t help him find the words he’s supposed to say. 

All he can find is an image of Izuku, sitting in the dark, much like himself, with only his face aglow, as he types apology after apology. When it’s Izuku’s hero who owes him one. Owes him a thousand. Because burden after burden after war after loss and Toshinori couldn’t even do a simple thing like pay attention to his damn phone. He’d done everything wrong in the name of making things right. And in the process, only exasperated the hurt.

If Izuku feels even half as bad as Toshinori does right now…if he’s beating himself up even a fraction of the way Toshinori has been all night…

Inko’s laugh tickles in the back of his head.

“I never thought…that the two of you would be…”

Pulling him back.

“…So similar.”

He doesn’t have the words he needs to say. The words to fix this. 

He can’t bring those perfect sayings or catchphrases to the surface that he so often did when he’d pull a stranger’s shaking and trembling child from disaster or sorrow. 

He only has the words he wants to say.

So he says them.

Young Izuku, 

Please do not apologize and even more so, do not call yourself stupid  

I threw so much information at you after such a long week and after neglecting your messages

I don’t blame you at all for running off

I should have spoken to you about everything from the start

I do not want you to feel pressured into anything, especially when it concerns your future

As soon as we both can, let’s sit down and have a proper talk. I want to hear everything that’s on your mind.

He lets it sit, trying not to sweat, fingers only slightly crossed. But not for long, because soon enough, a reply appears.

I’d like that

It’s enough to make him cry.

As would I. It’s been too long

And he almost ends it there. 

It’s late. Too late to dive deep into everything or anything, not to mention over text. And he doesn’t dare do it alone. He’d promised Mrs. Midoriya…Inko… (and when had that distinction begun). For his own sake as well as Izuku’s—to avoid tripping over his feet and splatting straight on his face again—he needs to wait.

But something unexpected bubbles up. Something he wants to say, that crawls up from where it’s sat, festering, for too long, to even know when it had started or from where it had come. He could say today, in all his missteps and regrets, but that’s wrong. He could say he’d felt it with that quiet distance between their neighboring hospital beds but it’s been here before then. Before they had their separate roles to play in a building war. Even before those dark, anxiety ridden days and nights, driving Hercules through abandoned streets, when he’d watch and watch a GPS signal to ease the helpless, fearful part of his mind. Terrified that at any second it that blinking dot on his map would up and disappear.

It’s always been here this small wisp of selfishness, along with every bit of pride as his boy, found his stride. Ever since a part of him realized that that once little middle schooler had begun to outgrow him.

He types it out and for a long while only stares. 

I’ve missed you, kid

He can’t explain why a single sentence feels like he’s pushed his fingers into his chest, ripped the throbbing organ out, and dropped it at his feet for everyone to see.

Perhaps because it's the truth. Not wrapped up or hidden. 

Toshinori misses him. 

His silly, over enthusiastic, prone to nonsense fanboy of a successor.

Who surprises him—and yet doesn’t—once again.

Sorry, I’m just realizing how late is it, I hope I didn’t wake you up

Toshinori can’t help but shake his head at the kid’s nonsense.

He erases the small, single sentence. 

Not at all, I was happy to hear from you. Though I fear I’ve been the one keeping you up my boy

You haven’t. Izuku types back. I was already awake

Toshinori glances at the time, and feels fresh worry at the kid’s seeming insomnia.

Though Izuku immediately replies that he’s going to attempt to get some sleep so he can breath with some relief before replying the same. As well as a polite goodnight. 

Until two messages come through.

Also I was happy too

When I saw your message

Toshinori smiles, a fragile little thing, as he hangs onto those words, like their something precious. Because they are.

Guess I’ll see you when you’re back from your trip?

There’s some details that he’s not up to adding so he doesn’t. He keeps it simple.

Yes. I’ll see you soon 

Sleep well kiddo

He doesn’t expect another response, not when a comfortable end to the conversation has been hit and his lack of sleep is catching up to him.  He never expected anything to begin with. He plugs his device back in and places it at his bedside. As he settles into bed, head against his pillow he’s a little more thankful and a little less in turmoil that he has two days to get through before he can see the kid in person, that it’s a little easier this time to drift.

He’s already asleep by the time Izuku’s reply comes through.

You too 

The next day passes without event or any other word from Izuku. 

Toshinori spends it as well as he can. He gets himself out of bed and into a routine, so he doesn’t simply wait around. He can’t take a morning run, not as he is right now, but he can walk, and that works quite fine. He takes the scenic route across campus, accompanied by the tap of his cane as he enjoys the warmth of the sun on his back, as he makes his way to the Mess Hall. 

It’s pure luck that he stumbles upon Ectoplasm there. The first box on his list of things to do before Monday already halfway to completion. 

Voice deep, distorted, and almost mechanical as ever, yet Ecto manages to make his “Morning, All Might,” sound cheerful.

Toshinori chuckles, placing his tray down before taking the seat his colleague offers. Ecto even shifts over his grilled fish to make room. “Good morning, to you too. It’s rare for you to be up so early, isn’t it?” He’d settled on rice and miso soup, himself. 

“I have some practice lessons with students today,” Ecto replies, taking a bite, Toshinori assumes, the action hidden by the man’s high collar costume. “Figured I’d get a head start.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Mmmm it was more that I highly suggested they attend, than me volunteering for them. Better to do it early in the year.” The man chuckles, “You should see their test scores. They need it.”

He’s once again thankful that he teaches and grades nothing but heroics. “I can only imagine,” he muses. 

They lull into a comfortable silence as Ecto finishes his meal and Toshinori slowly works his way through his. Small bites, fully chewed into mush, it's his usual routine for eating, when he actually does it. But he’s trying to be better. Healthier. And not simply for himself. But for the days ahead. And who he spends them with.

He takes a sip of his soup wondering how to broach the subject of Monday when Ecto speaks.

“You know…I never saw you yesterday,” he starts, gently, testing the waters, with his rippling voice. “Eraser said you and Midoriya were coming down together…but you never did.” Toshinori stares down at a chunk of tofu in his soup. “And when Midoriya showed up he was…”

“Upset?” Toshinori finishes for him.

“Something like that,” Ectoplasm hums. “Get into a disagreement?”

“...Something like that.” 

“Mmm…Well,” Ecto rumbles, placing his chopsticks across his plate. “It’s you two so I’m sure it’ll  all work out fine.”

It’s said so easily despite being from a man who likely knows a little more of the situation than he’s letting on—chaperoning Izuku and Young Bakugou on their long commute home. Seeing the former come dashing down the hall, throwing on his shoes, before fleeing from the school. Anguish and maybe anger on his face. 

Toshinori can admit he’s still beating himself up about it all, maybe not quite as much as he had been last night, but enough to make him want to cling to his colleague’s words as the truth. 

“I appreciate that…”

“Of course.”

There’s another lull, long enough that it feels like a good enough time to ask. But Ecto beats him to the punch, once again.

“After Midoriya…” He doesn’t finish but Toshinori catches the implication. “You didn’t happen to run into Bakugou, did you?”

He blinks in surprise. “I did actually.”

“He give you a hard time?”

He thinks to Young Bakugou, tame, despite something fierce simmering below the surface as he stood in Toshinori’s way.

Ecto looks thoughtfully across the hall. It’s not as busy as usual, not with students on campus eating in their own dorms and many teachers heading out to help their fellow heroes throughout the city. “Though I don’t suppose you’d say even if he did.”

Well, Ecto’s got him there.

“No, no. Young Bakugou was fine. He just…wanted to give me a talking to, I suppose.” Toshinori can’t help but laugh as he thinks back. “He’s never really held back even when it comes to me. It’s something I can appreciate.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Ecto says, “But…if you say it was fine then…I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“How about yourself?” He asks, to which Ecto offers his ever jagged grin. “I hope you didn’t have a hard time taking them home?”

“Not at all. It’s not as busy where they live so we avoided most crowds. And they were rather quiet themselves.” He pauses to adjust his exaggerated collar. “Though I was a little surprised when Midoriya suddenly said he wasn’t going home.”

“He stayed over Young Bakugou’s, yes?” He states, rather than asks, on reflex. 

Ecto turns to him with his unblinking wide eyed stare. 

“Oh? He told you?”

The last clump of rice Toshinori has between his chopsticks plops back into his bowl.

“He—no, he didn’t- it…was his mother actually.”

“Now that’s something I’d like to hear the story behind.”

Oh, shit, he knows that voice.

Perhaps his good luck has run out.

Where Ecto had been cheery, Aizawa is less so, glaring down at him, over the two trays he has balanced in both hands. Though the familiar little girl at his side very much makes up for him. Smile wide, face practically glowing with it as she waves with both hands the moment she sees him, “Good Morning Mister All Might! And Mister Ecto too!”

“Good morning to you too, Young Eri,” he smiles back, her enthusiasm infectious. Though he quiets it into a shy smile as a single eye continues to stare down at him. “Aizawa.”

“All Might…Ecto.” Aizawa acknowledges back, placing the two trays on the opposite side of the table, Eri already climbing into her seat as Ecto echoes their hellos. “Surprised to see you down here, All Might. You’re usually holed up in your room ‘round this time.”

“I needed the change of scenery.” He keeps the fact that he’d missed dinner the previous night and needed a fuller meal to himself. “How about yourselves? Aren’t you two up early today?”

Aizawa shrugs, “No more than usual.” But little Eri practically explodes in her seat. “Yeah! Because we’re going out today!” 

“Oh?” Toshinori says, peeking at Aizawa who avoids eye contact as he hands Eri a spoon before snapping his chopsticks apart. “Where to?” He can’t imagine anywhere but the immediate area around U.A.

“Shopping!” Eri squeaks a little loudly, and then seems to catch herself, as if she’s made a mistake—despite none of the three heroes around her making a comment, taking in her joy like the gift it is. Her reigning it in is an old learned habit—scar—but she’s come so far, because there’s no heartbreaking apology that follows. She only sits back in her seat and says with a little less volume. “Mr. Aizawa said he’d take me out today, so I can buy some things…”

“Some things, eh?” Ecto pries, trying to keep the little girl’s excitement going. “Anything specific?”

“School supplies,” Aizawa drawls, stuffing his mouth with some food, like that’s not a revelation that has even Ectoplasm stiffening at Toshinori’s side.

Toshinori tries to control his shock, with Young Eri so close by. “Really?” She nods excitedly, unaware. 

Aizawa keeps his expression neutral and reaches over to pat her head, “She insisted. Need to get a new backpack and everything. Only way to make it official.”

“Because! When you start school you need a brand new backpack…that’s what Kota says,” Eri argues, looking up at the man who tousles her hair so softly that not a single lock falls out of place. “I gotta do it all right so that way I can do real school someday. A-And then I can study to be a real singer!” She says with a determined puff. 

Aizawa snorts, “You are doing real school.” 

Eri starts to pout, cheeks puffed out, like they’ve had this argument before, “But I’m the only student here… it doesn’t count.”

“Home school, huh?” Ecto ponders, to which Aizawa nods, “The U.A. version of it. Using a classroom, on a more rigid routine.” And, ah, that makes more sense.

“But it's still not real school.”

The girl’s little white pigtails fall over her shoulders, casting shadows around her face. The ball of energy she’d been teetering towards moping. 

It pulls at Toshinori’s heartstrings enough for him to jump in. “It’s still a very big step! You’ve come so far and should be proud!” He reassures her, and sure enough, shiny red eyes blink up at him. “I’m sure before you even know it you’ll be in a classroom with so many students your age learning and having fun.” 

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Aizawa snorts while Young Eri smiles and says quietly, “You think so?”

Toshinori slips on his old, but reliable smile and throws in his signature thumbs up. “I know so.” 

“Right…Right!” Eri chirps, her cheer returned tenfold. “I just gotta practice! And then I’ll be able to go to real school like Kota, a-and Deku, and Lemillion!” She pumps her fist, even more determined than before. She looks to Aizawa at her side, as if for approval or to share her excited energy. It’s subtle, only because Toshinori’s looking, but as if from nowhere he sees Eri’s expression falter. Her posture tips just the slightest bit towards the man at her side. 

“...Though… I guess Mr. Aizawa won’t be there…when I go to real school…” 

It’s almost instantaneous, how quickly Aizawa softens, faster than Toshinori can think, and then huffs, like Eri’s concern is truly the silliest thing. And when he places his hand back on the crown of her head, fingers careful not to brush the broken stub of her horn, it truly is, the silliest, most nonsensical thing.

“It’ll take a lot more than public school to get rid of me,” Aizawa says. “If I have to sit at the back of a classroom and glare at some teachers and annoying kids, so be it.”

Toshinori feels it in his bones, the happiness that glows on Eri’s face.

It only gets brighter when Aizawa distracts her and subsequently him and Ecto, with another topic. Eri’s choice of backpack and pencils.

It’s the correct topic to choose because she blooms with delight, talking a mile a minute and even taking out a picture she’s stored in her little shoulder bag. And, he can’t fully blame himself, it’s still a constant in the back of his mind, but for some reason it tugs on something raw and sad, and longing as he can’t help but compare Eri’s excitement to Izuku’s sparkling green eyes and endlesses, intense muttering at the mere mention of something the boy loves.

The pull of sadness ends though when Eri gets a curious look on her face, the kind Toshinori realizes Izuku also sometimes gets, when he’s come up with some innovative idea. It’s been awhile…since he’s seen that. Eri, puts her spoon down, and then beams as she extends an invite. “Do you wanna come with us Mr. All Might? Could he come with us, Mr. Aizawa? And Mr. Ecto too?”

“You mean…shopping with you?”

Young Eri’s pigtails swing back and forth rather violently as she nods. 

Ecto hums, the sound like a digital vibrato. “That does sound like fun but I have some lessons this morning…” A hand comes sneaking out of his coat to check a watch on his wrist. “It’s getting close to that time too. I should probably head over to the classroom.”

A sullen storm cloud is practically visible over the little girl’s head. “Oh…”

“But maybe All Might here can join.”

He swears Ecto’s grin grows a little wider. 

“M-Me? That’s-” Like the phantom strength of One for All in his veins, the polite refusal is about to come out—simple muscle memory for his tongue. A habit of cutting a thread before it can even be spun. But Eri’s expectant eyes shine up at him and he can’t bring himself to let her down. He peeks at Aizawa, unsure how far the invite extends. “I mean, if you don’t mind me tagging along…”

“You allowed to be walking around?” Aizawa says, unbothered.

Toshinori almost rolls his eyes, “I am.”

“Then no, I don’t mind.”

Eri cheers, yanking Aizawa by the arm, back and forth as a kind of thank you. A little too hard as the pro-hero loses some fish from his chopsticks. On the other side a chair squeaks and Toshinori finds Ectoplasm on his feet, chuckling at the sight.

“Heading out?” Aizawa asks, ruffling Young Eri’s hair to get her to stop, as Ecto grabs his empty tray and dishes, along with Toshinori’s, ignoring his protest.

“It’s about that time. It was good chatting with you all. Good luck with backpack hunting, Eri, maybe with All Might tagging along he can keep Aizawa from getting you anything…too tacky.”

Aizawa speaks to his food, “My taste isn’t tacky.”

Ecto ignores him. “And All Might,” Toshinori perks up, “Try not to stress too much. Like I said before, things will work out.”

In his peripheral vision he sees Aizawa cock an eyebrow, but for the moment he ignores it, jolting with the sudden reminder of the one thing he needs to ask. 

He tries not to feel Aizawa’s eye on him the entire time he does. Though it’s hard not to, especially when it’s pressure continues even after Ecto leaves, they return their trays, and they head out from the Mess Hall, Eri skipping along as she leads the way. He takes a moment to pull out his phone and send off a message to Mrs. Midoriya about good news.

“So, you gonna tell me why Midoriya needs an escort home Monday, why you’re tagging along, and not to mention, why you have his mother’s personal phone number?”

Ah, there it is. He must have been waiting for Young Eri to be out of earshot.

He opens his mouth but Aizawa clicks his tongue, “You know what, never mind, I don’t wanna know.”

“It’s not as bad as you seem to be thinking.”

Aizawa roughs his own hair, “I’m sure it’s not.”

“It’s not.”

“...So you’re not telling the kid you’re dating his mother.”

It’s been a long while since he’s spit up blood, but that’s the thing that does it.

“Wha—No! ” He immediately throws a hand over his mouth when Eri looks back over her shoulder at his shout. He hisses much more discreetly, “What on earth made you think that?!”

“Nothing, really, that’s simply the worst case scenario.”

“Me...dating Young Midoriya’s mother is…the worst case scenario.” There’s something a little hurtful about that. 

“Don’t give me that look. I don’t mean—You telling the kid some outta pocket crap when he’s got a bunch of other shit on his plate was the worst case scenario.”

“And you thought that was me…dating his mother.”

Aizawa doesn’t look at him. “Not the point.”

Down the path Young Eri hops from stone to stone, one small foot at a time. Content to find joy in even the simplest moments, like a walk to the store. Every so often, after a few hops and steps at a time, she looks back, the smallest glance, as if to check that he and Aizawa are still there.

Each time she does Aizawa gives a little wave that has her smiling and returning to her innocent game.

He can’t explain why but watching such a scene, it slips from him.

“You weren’t off the mark though. I screwed up again.” 

Aizawa makes a noise to let him know he’s heard. That Toshinori can say more if he wants. 

“His mother and I are going to sit down with him Monday to…talk. And I can’t stop thinking,” He feels that weighted stare on him and tries to elaborate. “What if I just…do it again?”

“You probably will.” 

His jaw could break if it were to shut any tighter. 

It eases though, as Aizawa continues. “That’s not a you thing…that’s just how it is when you’re…raising kids,” he says, his gaze straight ahead, ever watchful of the little girl who skips and giggles beneath the blue sky and sun. 

When he turns away he offers Toshinori a smile, though it’s a near thing to a smirk, “Third time’s the charm right?”

“...For the kid’s sake…I hope so.”

Aizawa rubs the back of his neck, considering. 

“...worst comes to worst, bring something with you to uh…give him…as a backup. Trust me, it works…I’ve… done it before.” Toshinori must look confused. Aizawa sighs. “You have your wallet on you don’t you?”

“You’re saying I should…buy something for him? Isn’t that…a little…insincere?”

Aizawa shrugs. “It’s something nice to—I don’t know. It was advice from Mic. Don’t shoot the messenger.” He glances down the path and then away, grumbling. 

But Toshinori follows his previous gaze, and now that he’s looking he can’t help but notice the new rainbow ribbons in bouncing pigtails as Eri skips along. 

On her way to pick out a plethora of brand new first day of school paraphernalia.

He can’t help but smile.

“I wouldn’t even know what to get.”

Aizawa gives him the hardest side eye he ever could. “You serious?

“We’re going to a stationary store. Do you know how many All Might themed notebooks places like this have available?”

And so Saturday ends with a single notebook in hand, themed, albeit subtly, with his own superhero-ed self as well as the successful giggles of Eri as she grabs at Aizawa’s fingers, swinging his arm as they walk back, toting her new backpack with pride.

It's a familiar yellow—a sun all on its own.

Monday comes, before he knows it—and before he’s ready, if he’s honest. 

He sleeps in on Sunday, his restless workaholic nights of the past week—past 40 years—catching up to him. Though when he wakes from his extra two hours it's with the sensation as if he’s been elsewhere, lost, and restless. Not at all recharged or ready to face the day.

Luckily Sunday turns out to be even more uneventful than prior. 

He actually finds it in himself to look over his hefty packet on hero licensing. The legalities of such things never of major importance to him in the past. Now however, he goes through it with a fine tooth comb, ensuring that he's knowledgeable enough about how quirk-having comes into play with the validity of a provisional license. As well as the eventual earning of a standard one. That way if he has to, Toshinori can go to bat. 

Not that the Public Safety Commission would be much of an opponent—being almost nonexistent. And under new management. 

There’s really so much in their favor. It all depends on one thing.

What Izuku wants. 

Which is why he sticks only to reading, nothing more, nothing less. Enough so that he has another tool in his pocket for whatever Izuku chooses—whatever he wants. 

For some reason, in the face of that prospect of choice, there’s fear. There shouldn’t be. But there is. Bubbling up, sick of festering, bringing sleeplessness the following night.

As well as what he assumes are nightmares.

He wakes to Monday, a weight on his chest, rush in his blood, and hand stretching out towards nothing but his ceiling. He doesn’t remember the dream, he never does, but the sensation stays. The desperation remains. The feeling that something has slipped just out of grasp.

But dreams, feelings, they’re just that. 

Especially in the face of Inko’s confidence from the night before.

It feels strange to call it a “plan” but he supposes that’s what it is. This strange yet fitting collaboration between them. All to sit Izuku down and just…talk to him. As well as listen. To every complaint, opinion, and upset that’s been buried within.

It does feel a bit like an intervention, considering it's under the guise of coming home for an evening and an invite to dinner.

Which, the latter…the kid doesn’t exactly know about. 

And now Toshinori’s beginning to sweat. 

He’d admittedly put it off, not exactly sure what the right course of action was—or the right thing to say. Would knowing that Toshinori canceled the trip be a relief? A disappointment? He doesn’t quite believe—even though Izuku did say he was open to the idea—that Izuku believes it. After all, every other thing the kid had said only seemed to say that he was convinced there was no way off this track he was on. Or that even if there was a way—one that Toshinori would painstakingly pave—somehow, despite everything, Izuku still didn’t think he deserved it.

That was Inko’s theory.

One that tore through Toshinori's chest because, yes. 

That was probably it, wasn’t it?

A solution, an alternative, an answer to this impending change to quirklessness. It didn’t matter what it was, you wouldn’t, couldn’t want what you didn’t think you deserved.

It’s a sentiment that…Toshinori knows all too well. 

But if he can unlearn it, or at least begin to, in all his stubbornness, then so can Izuku. He’s still young, despite how much the last few months have aged him, and he deserves to know, to feel, how much he’s owed.

Slipping on his tie, looping it carefully, pulling it tight, Toshinori can only pray it all goes right.

And if it doesn’t…He glances at the small brown parcel waiting comfortably on his desk.

Then hopefully Aizawa’s advice is sound.

Maybe he should’ve gotten that limited edition All Might pencil sharpener-figure he saw… No matter how painfully awkward and slightly tacky the-

No, no. It's a little too late for such wishes. He should be thankful he at least has something which he slips into his bag. He pulls on his suit jacket and grabs his cane. It’s a little early but the sooner the day gets started the sooner it’ll be over. Or at the least, the school day will. 

And he’d like to be on time for the morning meeting. He doesn’t want to miss anything important, even if he is on “leave.”

Nezu knew from the start that that distinction would be taken with a grain of salt.

He hadn’t checked the weather, but as he makes his way out of the dorms, to the front stoop, he notes the possibility of some overcast. The outside world is shaded in a grayish blue, the morning sun still journeying up, and hidden by a few stray clouds. They’re due for some rain, after a rather long week of heat and endless summer sun. Though at this time of year it will likely do little for the ever oppressive humidity. Something that thankfully melts from his skin when he reaches his destination. 

It’s early enough that not many students are trickling in. Those in the dorms aren’t usually the earliest birds, understandably, with such a lax commute, but a few have a routine, that much like himself, they’re unable to break. Such students stumble in, stopping to switch their shoes before heading off on their way.

He should expect then, that the students who had headed home for the weekend, would be arriving about this time too. He rounds the corner, busy blotting his forehead dry, when he finds himself greeted by familiar yellow. Bright despite the entrance's muted outside light.

He’s crouched on his knees, back to him, top of his head only visible thanks to Toshinori’s height. Were anyone else to see him, he’d appear no different from any other U.A. But he’s not. Never was. And so it takes only a glance for Toshinori to see that it’s him, even before he registers that yellow, well worn backpack.

“My boy?”

Izuku jumps, spinning to look over his shoulder. 

“A-All Might?!” 

And then nearly tips over.

“Be careful!” 

He’s much too experienced to fall though, a year of training and actual hero-work more than enough so that he can catch himself before he goes face first into his shoes. 

Toshinori is still there at his side, in a flash. Just in case. 

“Sorry, I just- you- uh surprised me—I thought…“ Izuku stands those bright red shoes in his arms. “Weren’t you taking that trip today?”

Oh, when had he placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder?

He pulls away, so Izuku can move to replace his slippers with his sneakers. 

“I was,” Toshinori starts, feeling his hairline begin to bead with sweat again. “But something came up…”

Should I really not tell him?

Izuku’s eyes seem to search for something, but besides that the kid’s face is relatively unreadable. “...Oh…” So different from the last expression he’d seen in person.

“Nothing bad, though…I promise.” 

“That’s um…good?” Izuku offers, floundering it seems as much as he is. “Did it…get rescheduled?”

There’d actually been an offer for a different date, emailed late Saturday night. The company's point of contact still hyper focused on the chance to jump on funding Japan’s young superhero, Deku. Which could be a concern, if All Might wasn’t dealing with them directly.

“Not yet,” Toshinori says, “I wanted to wait to talk with you about it first.” 

Izuku actually looks surprised at that before he flashes with something like regret. “I—I’m sorry, you didn’t have to—Friday when I said all that stuff—“

“Kid. I already told you. There’s no need for an apology.”

“Right…” 

He doesn’t exactly sound convinced.

“I’m uh, not free today,” Izuku explains, “My mom asked me to come home tonight…I sorta ended up staying at Kacchan’s for the weekend and not going home… But maybe tomorrow? If you’re free that is.”

Toshinori finds his weight uncomfortable upon either foot. Inko has said not to say but he feels the truth bubbling up, “Actually, about that-”

“The hell?”

Oh dear.

At the end of the short walk of cubbies, Young Kacchan offers quite the piercing glare.

“Weren’t you supposed to be off in some other country, All Might?”

“Kacchan—”

Toshinori’s not surprised he’d heard from Izuku. 

“I was but, plans changed, rather last minute.” He glances at Izuku who's too busy running over with flapping hands to meet his friend halfway, perhaps as damage control. “I was needed back here,” he decides on.

Young Bakugou was always quick to catch on.

“That so,” he says, sizing Toshinori up until he finds whatever he's looking for. He waves off Izuku’s anxiousness, and trudges over to meet him halfway.

“The two of you came with Ectoplasm, yes?” Toshinori asks, when the silence sticks a little too long like the humidity wafting through the doors. “How was the commute back?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Izuku answers, slightly distracted. While Young Bakugou, rolling his eyes and neck, complains, “Long. I’m sick of freaking taxis.”

“Well public transport’s just a little too risky right now… especially for Deku and Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” he says, unable to contain even a smidgen of pride. Not that he tries.

Bakugou whips his head away so Toshinori can’t see his face, “Yeah no shit! Doesn’t mean I have to like it!” But the red tips of his ears aren’t well hidden. 

Even Izuku’s are a tint of pink, a smile trying to play on his face. “It wasn’t that bad, Kacchan.” 

Bakugou glares. “Yeah, for you! You slept the whole friggin’ way!” 

Toshinori turns to where Izuku is reddening, arguing against the allegation. “Have you not been sleeping well?”

“N-No, I’ve been sleeping I’ve just-”

“Liar.” 

“Kacchan! Would you stop?!” Izuku says, more exasperated than angry.

Bakugou however, hisses back, “Then how about you tell the truth!”

Izuku flinches while Bakugou winces, as if neither had been prepared for such a snapback, or the detail let slip.

Toshinori stands, in the sticky entrance way, between the two boys, not unaware that they’ve gained the attention of a few eyes. It’s a minor detail, when compared to the pressure building from his racing thoughts.

“Tell the truth about what, exactly?” 

It’d been such a familiar pleasure to have Izuku meet his eyes, that now, when he pointedly looks away, Toshinori knows he’ll be feeling the sting for days. 

“Nothing,” Bakugou says, “Not my place to say.”

“Kacchan. Stop.”

There’s no nonsense in the kid’s tone. Though Bakugou takes it in stride and simply turns away, throwing up his hands in what must be surrender. 

Toshinori however, is in no way ready for that to be the end of it. “Young Izuku.” He says it quietly, just for him, so that it gives the desired effect. Green eyes flickering up at his given name. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing…” Izuku massages his wrist, eyes darting away to where a new flock of earlybird students are coming inside. “Kacchan’s just annoyed.” 

“Somehow I doubt it’s nothing…and I would say he seems more concerned than annoyed.” And he does. Bakugou skulks his way out of the cubbies, looking back over his shoulder, and doing a rather poor job at pretending he’s not. Izuku doesn’t notice, head down, as he begins to follow slowly behind. He doesn’t say anything so Toshinori tries cross the bridge and ask, “Do you want to-”

“Can we just—” It’s not a snap. Izuku never snaps, at least he never has at him. “Talk about it later.” 

There’s a not at all subtle tsk of the tongue at that. Though Bakugou doesn’t turn around to claim it and Toshinori, nor Izuku comment. 

“Of course…That’s fine,” Toshinori replies, even though it’s not. How could it be? It’s another later. It’s continued quiet. It’s an added meter to the expanding distance between them. 

But it’s also exactly why he’d accepted help.

“This isn’t exactly the place for a full conversation,” he says, offering a sad smile he disguises as apologetic to three whispering students behind them, a bit impatient to get to their shoes. He contains a sigh and reaches out to cross the distance he can, hand back on Izuku’s stiff shoulder. “We’ll postpone it for later.”

Izuku nods, without any real conviction, or commitment, as he rejoins his friend, who glances over with a scrunched expression from what can only be worry. A reflection of Toshinori’s own.

But for right now it’s fine. 

Because there’s a gift wrapped notebook in Toshinori’s bag and only a few hours to a school day. 

Later is what Toshinori’s waiting for.

Late turns out to be a washout.

That early prediction of overcast only grows darker and darker throughout the day, until the clouds finally explode with rain. Toshinori watches, feeling as though he’s about to be hit with such a torrential downpour, with how every wall of the school is a spotless, barely there, window. 

It’s almost as if nature is making up for lost time. 

Toshinori spends his own time wandering the halls and greeting students as they pass. There’s not much work to be done—or that he’s allowed to do—so he just enjoys the company of colleagues and students alike.

He even confirms with Inko for the third time her choice for dinner.

He doesn’t point it out but he can feel the apology there, each time she asks, for simply not knowing and needing him to explain his particular organ-loss procured diet following the first time she’d asked. Like mother like son he supposes, which is why he reassures her it’s fine. He didn’t exactly go advertising his life alternating injury—though perhaps his body did—it’s only natural she wouldn’t know.

But now that she does…it makes something flutter softly in his chest, the care and consideration she gives. Though it almost makes him want to apologize, for all her extra effort. This was all for her son’s sake after all. She could have just offered Toshinori tea and he'd be fine. 

Thinking back, he can’t even remember the last time he’d been invited to someone’s home for dinner. 

Which, admittedly, is a detail of the “plan” he’s still not entirely sure of or how it’s going to work out. What with Izuku not knowing he’s tagging along.

That is until the final bell of the day. 

He’s clasping his work bag shut and making innocent chatter with Mic and Vlad about their classes after they’ve strolled in looking about as well as you can for a Monday, when there’s a knock on the door. 

It slides open with a very familiar, “Excuse me…”

Mic’s smile is as blinding as it is mischievous. Toshinori’s regretting sharing any of his woes during the morning meeting.

“Well look who it is! It’s Mi-dor-i-YA!” He points from across his monitor, asking, “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Like he doesn’t know. “Looking for All Might?”

Toshinori fumbles his cane as Izuku stutters.

“He’s probably looking for Ectoplasm, right kid?” Vlad asks, coming in for the save, to which Izuku nods, and Toshinori reminds himself to breathe. Though it makes it very hard to, with how his two fellow teachers are trying a little too hard not to look at him. Mic is failing. Vlad continues, “He just went out to wait for the cab. I’d suggest waiting at the entrance for him so you don’t get soaked outside with him.”

Mic hums in agreement, “Yeah that guy doesn’t care about getting rained on.

Izuku doesn’t seem to notice, simply straightening his backpack with a, “Thanks, Sensei. But I brought an umbrella so it’s fine,” Before pulling the compact, portal thing out. All Might colors. Of course. 

He fidgets in the doorway, instead of making to leave, fingers running over the yellow straps across his shoulders before tightening around them. He really looks like he wants to bolt, which Toshinori expected, but he doesn’t. He actually takes a step into the room and meets Toshinori’s eyes. Before glancing down to the briefcase in his hand. “Are you leaving, All Might?” 

Oh this is the tricky part now. 

“Not yet,” Toshinori settles on, for the first time questioning an Inko Midoriya decision. 

Izuku worries his lip, and Toshinori realizes the kid’s going red. “I um…needed to ask you something…”

Toshinori’s crossing the floor to his side, before noticing how the reddening of his freckled cheek gets worse as green eyes flicker to the audience behind them. 

“Want to step outside?” he asks, and Izuku silently agrees. Though, Toshinori can’t help but notice, it’s with a bit of urgency. Toshinori lets him lead the way, turning back to give a polite goodbye but Mic, ever an agent of entertainment, pipes up first, “Guess the Mido-Might duo is off! See you both tomorrow!”

And then adds a thumbs up. A clear good luck.

Even Vlad gives one too. Though a little more subdued. “Stay dry out there.”

It makes it a little easier when Toshinori closes the door and finally turns to Izuku waiting in the hall. He can make sure it’s with a smile. “What was it you needed to ask me, my boy?” 

The stormy outside does little for the hallway in terms of light. The fluorescents above them are harsh and rather cold in comparison to what should be natural warm sunlight around this time of day. 

Izuku looks as if he fights an entire war in the shadows of the rain, before he finally answers. “My mom she…” He almost thinks steam is about to come billowing out of the kid’s head.

“Your mother?” 

“You’re probably busy,” Izuku immediately interjects, “And I told her it was rude to just—spring it on you. But she wouldn’t listen…she…” 

Oh. That was her angle.

Izuku is red as a tomato when he finds his way to finally saying it. “She said… she wanted to thank you, and because you were—or because we’re both out of the hospital now, and I’m back from the trip, so,” He’s almost whispering now, “She wanted me to invite you over for dinner.” 

He tacks on a hurried “sorry,” right at the end.

But Toshinori doesn’t let him finish. 

“That’s very kind of her.” Feeling very proud at his level, neutral sounding answer, and a little bad how much the kid is obviously spiraling. “I’d love to join, if you both don’t mind.”

Izuku yanks out his phone like it’s a life line. “Right! Right, I’ll tell her you can’t, I mean it was so last minute a-and sudden and Ectoplasm-sensei would have to-

“Wait… what?”

Izuku stares at him like he’s grown three heads.

“I’m free this evening,” Toshinori tells him. “And I’m sure it’s no trouble for Ectoplasm.” Considering he’d already asked the man. “And don’t worry, I can make my way back to campus by myself.”

“But—dinner…it’s… is that okay?” His eyes dart to Toshinori’s side. “You don’t even know what she’s making.”

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

“I mean she did—it’s—nothing special. Just uh, fish, with sides and stuff…” 

Toshinori assures him, “Then that should be fine.”

Izuku looks like he still wants to argue.

“You…don’t have to... I can just…give her some excuse.” 

The rain falls upon every surface outside with no room to breathe and so every moment of silence is not. It’s a continuous pounding of individual drops that all come together to make a somehow seamless chorus which fills the space. 

Toshinori can barely register it though, not when Izuku’s embarrassment has morphed into something else.

“You still need rest don’t you? And…I’m sure you’re busy…you really don’t-”

“Izuku,” he says as warmly as he can. “I’m never too busy to spend time with you.”

A flash of lighting breaks, the first of the storm.

And in the milliseconds it takes before its impact crackles, Toshinori sees it.

The disbelief across Izuku’s face.

“You know, the other day I went out with Aizawa and Young Eri.”

Toshinori had thought the halted conversations and oppressive quiet of the hospital had been skin crawling then he truly knew nothing. Because it's nothing compared to the cab ride to the Midoriyas’ home, thus far.

He can't quite decide what's worse: the monotonous back and forth of broken wipers that squeak with every moment of dead air; or how Izuku, barely a seat apart, has curled into himself, practically flat against the passenger door. He seems to watch the rain as it splatters across the window, each drop bleeding into the next. 

Only broken by the occasional rumble from the outside storm.

And Toshinori’s attempts at conversation.

Turning only enough to gaze at the back of the driver’s seat, his own feet, and the square of cushion that separates the two of them, Izuku’s answers have been short. Ending before they can even begin. Classes, friends, homework, lunch, the weather, the work trip, whatever Toshinori could think of. Smushed between a rock and a hard place with Ecto and their poor taxi driver at the front, and the dying conversation in the back, Toshinori has been itching to open his work bag.

Because at least inside there’s something. Something to try and fix this.

The mention of Eri's name is a precious thing, a light in so much dark that even Izuku, as clouded as he must feel, perks up. “You did?”

Toshinori nods at Izuku’s question, unzipping his bag slowly, knowing he’s watching the movement rather than him. 

“It was an errand of sorts.” His fingers find the thin parcel, stuck between his notes and folders. “But while I was with them, I…” It’s such a little thing, yet he struggles to get it out. “Well I know how quickly you go through your notebooks.”

He peeks up and green blinks back. 

“You…got me something?” 

“It’s not much,” Toshinori defends, all the more conscious of the gift’s size and simplicity. “I saw it and…thought it might be something you’d like.”

Izuku takes it, hands curling around the sides, bringing it close, until it’s sat in his lap. So carefully, as if it were a piece of glass.

“You can open it up, you know?” 

Izuku blinks as if from a stupor, “Oh—right, yeah, sure, lemme just—“

He pulls at the wrapping’s seam that goes right down the middle. The folded flaps come loose so easily that it all, almost immediately, comes free, revealing the soft hue of blue inside.

His mouth forms the smallest “o,” taking the notebook in hand as the torn brown says fluttering in his lap. “It’s—”

Toshinori tries to control the urge in his leg to bounce. “Again it’s nothing much…but-”

“All Might themed, huh?” Toshinori finds Ecto peeking over his shoulder—curiosity getting the better of him. That jagged smile is as wide and knowing as ever as he says, “Good choice.” Toshinori scratches at his cheek, fighting the heat that’s spreading there. He supposes the yellow emblem of iconic All Might bangs dotted across the cover aren’t hard to mistake or miss. 

Izuku turns the Campus notebook round and round, inspecting its simple design. It’s not the first thing Toshinori’s ever gotten him, and definitely not the most extravagant. Birthdays and holidays have come and gone in the time they’ve known each other. But Izuku looks at it, running a careful hand down the back, before opening it up and flipping through the pages like—

It’s the most precious thing.

Toshinori fights the tightness in his throat, “...you like it?”

“I….” Izuku places it back in his lap, “I love it…”

Toshinori can tell that’s not all though. 

“But…you…you didn’t have to.”

In some ways, Izuku is correct. Toshinori didn’t have to. Walking into that store with Aizawa and Young Eri, he could’ve stuck to following them around, despite the younger man’s advice. He didn’t have to make a beeline for the notebooks. Didn’t have to find the hero themed section. Didn’t have to fight his own embarrassment to pick the one that now sits in the boy’s lap.

In the same way, he didn’t have to get up this morning. Take his pills at the scheduled time. Shower, dress, and reread Inko’s texts. 

Head to work early despite his leave. Join the morning meeting. Take notes on his students’ growth and the weekly concerns. Greet said students with a smile and grateful ear as they could still smile back and find excitement for the days ahead. Listen as Izuku’s friends whispered their concerns at the end. 

But that would be like saying that he didn’t have to breathe.

“No, I didn’t have to…I wanted to. That’s reason enough isn’t it?”

He doesn’t miss how those ravaged fingers, covered in too many patches of tender skin, tighten their grip around the insignificant gift.

It loosens when Ecto’s voice breaks the stale cab air.

“You might want to put that in your bag, unless you want it to get soaked.” The vehicle comes to a rolling stop, the sound of its blinker and constant click, click, click over the pattering rain. “We’re here.”

“I-” Izuku fumbles, unzipping his backpack to hide the notebook away, before tugging out his umbrella. “I’ll get out first.” And he does, out into Mother Nature’s ever pummeling weather, shutting the cab door before Toshinori has a chance to stop him. 

A new voice joins the mix, “Hooo boy, teenagers,” The sharp slanted eyes of their driver meets him in the rearview mirror. The older man throws up a fist. “I got a few of my own you know. So I get it! Hang in there!”

“O-Oh, he’s n—” 

His own door opens and when he catches Izuku, waiting, umbrella in hand, he stops himself. 

There’s a distinction that could be made.

But instead he just says, “Thank you.”

Toshinori takes the umbrella for the two of them, given his height, but the moment he does Izuku decides he’d rather run ahead, braving the storm, to wait at the building's stairs.

Ecto rolls down his window, “You know, if you need me to, I can wait.”

Toshinori waves that off, eyes following Izuku as he dashes through the rain until he’s shielded under the apartment complex’s roof. “No, no. You’ve already done more than enough. And you have to come back early tomorrow. I'll be fine making my way back.” 

Ecto doesn’t look entirely convinced, but the hero doesn’t question him. “Just make sure you message when you’re leaving—this areas safe enough with the overloaded patrols but still-”

“It’s where the hero Deku lives,” Toshinori finishes. “Don’t worry, I will.” 

Ectoplasm stares at him, almost strangely, though as always it’s rather hard to get a read on his expression, “Well…if anything changes…let me know.”

Toshinori blinks, “Uh…yes, I’ll do that.” 

Ecto gives a jut of his chin, “Good luck.”

As the window rolls up, Toshinori steps out of the way, watching as the taxi pulls away. Leaving nothing in the way for him to follow the path Izuku has already taken.

Climbing the stairs to the apartments on the second floor, he can’t help but be reminded of his first visit here, a full year ago. Same season, different reason, with injuries from a battle that rhymes.

He says as much to Izuku, shaking out the All Might umbrella, before handing it back.

“Oh, yeah… I guess it was this time last year.”

“A whole year since you all started living in the dorms,” Toshinori adds.

He recalls entering the Midoriya home that day prepared to do some convincing. Who would’ve predicted he’d leave that visit with a promise in hand. The weight of it heavier than anything he’d ever been expected to carry.

Not a burden though, he thinks, cane in hand, with a leg that’s just a little tense from the weather and a lung that works well enough. Because despite the aches and pains, he can turn to the boy at his side and see his eyes far away as he thinks back to that very same day.

“It’s the last door, right?” Toshinori asks, as they reach their floor.

“Yeah, I’ll um, get my key.” He fumbles for it, and Toshinori can’t fight his smile at the familiar hero that jingles on its chain.

They get to the door, Izuku leading and Toshinori patiently following, but before the key and mini All Might figurine can reach the knob, it opens.

“Oh!” 

It’s the same sweet, airy voice he’d heard on the phone, too many times in the past few weeks to count. No difference really. But hearing it attached to the short, smiling woman before him, hair tied half up in that almost heart wrenchingly familiar style—some additional nerves swell.

“Welcome home!” Inko says, directed towards her son, but turns to Toshinori and carries on, “I saw Izuku’s location was close so I figured you might be—” She quickly opens the front door a bit wider and ushers them in. “C-Come in! It’s really bad out isn’t it and—Izuku! Your uniform’s all soaked! Didn’t you have your umbrella?” 

Her hands flutter over Izuku’s damp shoulders as he kicks off his shoes and shies unsuccessfully away from the fussing. Toshinori gives a small bow at the threshold and “pardon the intrusion,” before crossing.

Ink- Mrs. Midoriya catches it, stopping her waving hands so that Izuku can escape and shuck off his backpack. “Oh, A-All Might, please you don’t have to do all that. I’m just glad you could make it.” 

“I’m sorry it was so last minute.” And ah there’s a bit of humor in her nervous smile. He can’t help but find it as well. Nor can he help his snort as he catches Izuku’s grumble, “Really last minute.”

“Not at all,” he replies, just as she’s whirling to chastise her son. “I ended up being free today so it worked out. Thank you for thinking of me.” 

He takes his shoes off slipping into the pair of guest slippers she offers before ushering Izuku into his own room. 

“Dinner’s almost ready, but you have enough time. Change into something dry.” 

“Mom, it’s fine-”

“You’re not eating in your uniform, Izuku. Now go.”

Toshinori straightens up just in time to catch the defeated squirm of surrender on the boy’s face. But there’s also a little more there besides a kid’s annoyance at their mother’s fussing. It’s the hesitance to leave, Izuku looking between him and his mother as if he were leaving his mentor in the lion’s den. Toshinori closes the gap with a chuckle and a pat on his shoulder. 

“Go on, my boy, before you catch cold,” Izuku looks at him with a question, but Toshinori continues on with a squeeze. “I’m fine…besides… I don’t think your mother bites.”

Red like a firecracker. “Wha-I didn’t-”

“Just kidding my boy.” To which Izuku glares.

Mrs. Midoriya laughs, “I’ll put some tea on in the meantime. I’ll show you to the main room All Might.”

“Ah, yes, thank you, I believe I remember where that was. And tea would be lovely.”

He gives Izuku one last smile, which seems to do its job and ease some tension from the boy’s shoulders—he’d felt the tightened muscles beneath his hand—before he slips into his room. The All Might themed door plate with his name, a dead give away.

He follows Mrs. Midoriya further into the apartment—a short trip—just down the hall, until they reach the main room that smells warmly of fish.

The curtains are drawn, no reason for them not to be with the gray on the other side. Yet the room is as bright as he remembers. Simplistic in its decor, but lived in. Scratches along the wood. Cushions worn from use. It’s warm, in a way that harkens back to the blurry days of his early childhood. When he lived in a home made for just two.

“How was it?” He startles, pulling himself away from a nostalgia he doesn’t often remember. “The um, drive here?”

Mrs. Midoriya, winds her hands together, palm almost grinding her knuckles. 

He decides on, “Not terrible.” Not wanting to lie. “Just quiet, but…that’s really nothing new. He seems a little more spirited now that he’s home, though,” he says, softly, listening for a door at the other end of the apartment while he tries to follow her into the small kitchen. “Can I help?”

She waves off his offer. “You’re supposed to be our guest. Besides, it’s only tea,” she dismisses, before padding into the kitchen. “Why don’t you take a seat? The couch is probably more comfortable.”

He does just that. 

Cane between his legs, so it doesn’t try and slide away he can admit he’s feeling a little on edge. Too much to relax back into the cushions. Spine straight, palms sweaty, he tries to close his eyes, and listen to the opening and closing of cabinets, running of water, and clinking of what must be a teapot and cups.

The plan is to wait until after dinner.

In—Mrs. Midoriya had thought the familiarity and privacy of home would make Izuku a little more susceptible to opening up. And even as a stranger in said home, Toshinori can understand her thinking. Every inhale in, makes his jittering soothe a little bit more. 

Not quite enough though. 

His eyes open as he hears the careful steps of slippered feet, right before Mrs. Midoriya rounds the couch, tray in hand. She kneels on the small sitting cushion, placing it on the small coffee table. Outside, in the distance, the skies rumble.

“Thank you,” he says, unsure if he’d said it the first time, and unwilling to let that stand if true, as she prepares his cup. She only smiles back, shy, and with a shake of her head, “Of course. Something as simple as this…it’s only tea…”

Reaching out to grab it, his fingers stop. 

“Actually,” he finds himself saying, not entirely clear himself on where he’s going, his mind whirling, finding his feet at the end of a trail he hadn’t been following. “I gave him something.”

Inko looks up at him, eyes fluttering up from her own teas’ puff of steam, in surprise. “Oh?”

“A notebook.”

She exhales, the sound almost forlorn, her hands twisting around her cup. “You know him well. I’m sure he was overjoyed—especially since it was from you…”

“But…” He tries, struggling to say it properly, to express the nagging feeling in his mind. “The way he looked at it…it was like…”

He couldn’t believe it.

Quirklessness. Worthlessness. It all went hand in hand. Toshinori knows that. He knows. He just doesn’t understand, his mouth dry, hands cold, thoughts running back, to all the befores, why the kid had looked at him and seemed to still think that.

It haunts him, that cleared beach. Those little words:

“...I’m too blessed.”

Toshinori doesn’t get to say any of that though. He doesn’t get to finish. Both he and Inko sit up as the hallway door opens up. The kid of the hour slipping inside, dressed in sweats and a loose t-shirt.

“Izuku,” Inko breathes, “I was starting to worry, what was taking you so lo-”

“Did you guys plan this?”

Oh and now Toshinori’s heart is racing. 

If he were holding his cup it’d be soaking tea into the small rug beneath his feet right now. Much like how his cane tips to the floor. Which is to say his poker face must be as bad as Inko’s, her smile twisting into a nervous wreck. He too was never a good or capable liar.

Not when Izuku is looking at them with something worse than disbelief. 

Toshinori tries to speak, getting to his feet, but three things happen.

“My b-

“Izu-”

“Don’t.”

All three of them freeze. 

Braver than him, Inko finds the will to speak. 

“Is it really so bad if we did?” She stands too. “We’ve, All Might and I, we’ve been worried about you, Izu…”

It’s so similar to Friday and Izuku’s so close to the door. Another arm’s length away, where if they don’t take this slow, don’t say it gently, he’ll slip away, leaving Toshinori empty handed once again. 

Leave him devastated.

He already is as frustration and anger paints the lines of Izuku’s face. Poorly hiding the hurt.

“You don’t need to…I’m fine.”

Inko sucks in a breath, but it borders on a hiccup. “Izuku…You wouldn’t come home all weekend.” He looks away. “You barely talk to me when I call…you won’t tell me what’s wrong. I’m trying but you keep pushing me out, honey, I just-”

Inko looks back to Toshinori in the silent space of a second. And it’s like he can see every wordless thought swirling in her head and vice versa. Because the shapeless panic that’s swarming every fiber of his being is there, reflected so clearly in her eyes.

“So you decided to- what? Have an intervention? To bother All Might about it-”

Toshinori finds some air in his lung at how Inko’s face pales, clearly stung. “Young man, you’re allowed to be upset, but I’m just as complicit in this as your mother. We planned this together. There’s no need to be hurtful.”

The words seem to hit, slightly harsher than he intends, because Izuku’s eyes border on leaking over at them. He turns away, scrubbing his face. “I can’t- I’m not doing this.”

“I-Izuku!”

No, no. 

A forgotten piece of himself, that he’s been neglecting, ignoring, and forgetting flares to life. It makes his vision narrow, as the boy spins, ready to flee, and all too ready to leave him behind. He can’t understand it, the origin of such strength, because his mind goes blank with only his reaction: 

To cross the gap and reach him.

Izuku whirls back at the contact, and oh, those fat, rolling tears fall freely now.

He tugs against Toshinori’s hold but—

He Won’t.

“This is hard, I understand that. You want to run away from it, I know that feeling all too well. But my boy, ” his voice breaks, no matter how hard he tries. “It’s not going to go away. No matter how hard you try and distract yourself, or avoid it—the pain of it will just continue. And it will only get worse.” A small noise leeks out in response, the plip plop of tears falling across Toshinori’s hand where it’s wrapped as tight as he can get it around Izuku’s wrist. He cares little for his screaming leg as he kneels down, willing to do anything to find those overflowing green eyes where they hide. “Your mother and I are worried, in the same way your friends are because we- we don't want you to suffer, my boy.”

A sniffle, the same kind as Izuku's own follows as Inko takes her place at his side. “Please honey, we just- we just want you to talk to us.”

Toshinori nods, even though right now, talking seems out of the question, as the tears only worsen. The dam that Toshinori had been knocking at, hoping to open, beginning to burst. 

He’d expected the fallout—the pain, the hurt, the grief—Toshinori wanted it. As much as Inko did. But expecting it, wanting it, is not the same as knowing it. 

And his heart breaks all over again, in a completely different way, as he sees it all overflow Izuku’s breathing hitching as he tries desperately to fight it.

But it seems some of their words get through, because as his grip loosens, Izuku doesn’t run. His hand slips into Toshinori’s as he quietly sobs, wiping hopelessly at his tears. The flashfire of anger gone. It had only been a means to scare them off after all. 

Inko, overwhelmed with her own running eyes, can only place her hands over his and Izuku’s own.

It’s that touch that seems to give Izuku the strength to speak, “I—there’s so much, and it’s so stupid—I don’t even—”

Toshinori shakes away the blurring of his own eyes. “If it’s upsetting you even a little bit then it's not stupid.” Which pulls a whimper from him, making Toshinori’s own voice stick. “Whatever it is, Izuku, we’re here to listen.”

“Let us help you, sweetie.”

Outside is a swirling storm, cracks every so often in the distance, where the sky splits apart and strikes the earth. Rain floods the streets, many which still lie covered in rubble, from a war they all lived through and an aftermath which their still fighting to win. 

But as Izuku breathes, shuddering and long, Toshinori finds his own world come together. The first real victory, in a long list of losses. 

“Okay.”

Somehow they pull themselves together and do dinner first. Sat around the Midoriya’s coffee table. 

Inko brings the fish, and relents enough to let Toshinori bring the sides once Izuku’s sat on the couch, nursing his swollen eyes. Still sniffling, but only as often as the now disappearing thunder sounds. When they’ve all finished, chewing mostly in silence, only stopping once or twice, as Izuku drips a few unprompted tears into his rice or when Toshinori comments on the deliciousness of the food, he helps Inko carry the used dishes back. Neither of them letting Izuku help. Not that he fights them.

It’s after all that that they find themselve all sitting, with fresh tea, finally ready. 

Izuku doesn’t sip his. He just lets the warmth fog around his face. Eyes, looking down to where the heat originates.

Toshinori sits in front of him, perhaps a little improperly, on the coffee table. Inko takes to Izuku’s side, without comment, and places her hand gently on his back.

“I don’t know where to start,” is how he begins and if Toshinori’s honest he feels like he’s tipping overboard on the same sinking boat. 

They’re finally here, after weeks, and he doesn’t know the first thing to say. 

“That’s okay.” 

Inko says it like it is, and it suddenly clicks how much better it is with her here. “Start wherever, and we can just…go from there.”

Izuku brings his cup down. 

“I guess…

We can start with school.”

Toshinori swallows. 

“Wh-What about school?” Izuku’s eyes hang low, while Inko’s dart to Toshinori in panic. “I thought…Are things not going well?”

Izuku’s grip tightens over his too hot cup, in a way that makes Toshinori a little nervous, but he doesn’t dare try to take it, lest he interrupt what comes next.

“No, things are…fine.”

Toshinori knows what that implies, “Fine as in… for now, they’re fine.” Izuku winces. “That’s what you’re thinking…am I wrong?”

A U.A. hallway. 

A gutted expression.

A fear of: How long it’ll last.

Izuku says nothing.

“Principal Nezu called though,” Inko says, mostly to herself. “Izuku, he spoke with you…”

“I know that.” It’s only as harsh as the wobbling voice can allow it to be.

“Are you…” Toshinori clasps his hands together. “...concerned about your placement in the hero course?”

“No.” And then. “Maybe…” he sighs, head flopping down. “I don’t know…I know what Principal Nezu said. What you said—and even what Aizawa-sensei said…to try and reassure me.” Toshinori hadn’t heard about that last one. Not to say he’s not surprised. “I know no one wants to…kick me out.”

“But… you think it might still happen.”

His shoulders fall. Inko wraps an arm around their deflated width. 

“I just don’t know why it shouldn’t.”

If a pin were to drop…

Inko lets out a weak sound of distress. “Izuku.”

Toshinori jumps in, feeling like, for the moment, he has a better handle. “Is this about Young Togata?” Izuku shrugs. “You mentioned him before…I’ll admit, when I spoke with Nezu his name did come up.”

“Then…why?”

Why me and not him.

Toshinori is struck, not unlike he’d been outside Young Togata’s hospital door, hand raised. The death of his ex-sidekick—ever friend—still so fresh.

“If I said I could give you my quirk—?!”

“Why not?” He stresses, “U.A. is not the same school it was last month, nor is it the same school it was at the start of last year. Decisions made in the past don’t have to be the standard going forward,” he says, watching as Izuku slowly, slowly looks up. “Perhaps the opportunities you have now are a privilege but with foresight I think many will see that they’re ones that should have been provided all along.”

Aizawa had frequently scoffed at the unfairness of the Hero Course Entrance Exam whenever it came up. A test that prevented bright stars like Young Shinsou from getting their start. That pinholed so many into what could be considered valuable and useful about themselves as tied to their quirks. Toshinori gets it—wants to scoff right along with him now.

“But how is that—”

“Possible?”

“Fair.”

Inko almost hisses, startling Toshinori back from any chance at reply, “Isn’t it?”

Izuku shrugs, “Other people might not think so.”

Toshinori has no chance as a sudden fierceness overtakes the woman at Izuku’s side, “Izuku. Look at me.” The moment he does, her eyes overflow. And while Izuku’s don’t there’s not doubt a wetness to them. “You’ve worked so hard, harder than anyone—Yes, you have. I-I’ve seen it. I almost wish you’d rest more, but I know how important your dream is and I—” She takes a deep shuddering breath. “I told you that, when you started U.A., that I’d support you with everything I have. But I—I should have supported you back then too.”

“Mom no, that’s not-”

“Let me finish,” She practically hiccups with the demand and Toshinori can feel his own eyes burning with it. 

“I’m your mother. Even if you do have the strongest quirk in the world  I…I’ll always be worried. Watching you from U.A., fighting that villain, I’ve never been more scared. And also…more sure. Watching you—I saw it. What I should have been seeing all along. The hero in you, Izuku.” A crumbling sound breaks from Izuku, beyond his control. “It’s not because of a quirk. It never was a-and maybe if I had supported you back then. Had done a better job of teaching you that…” Wild green bangs swing back and forth back as she slides off the couch, to crouch before him, taking those trembling hands, that slosh their still full cup of tea. 

“I’m sorry, Izuku—I made you think for so long-” Inko heaves a sob, “But you always—always—could have. And you still can. ” 

“It’s not—I’m not.” But she doesn’t let him finish. 

“And that’s why—if anyone. Anyone. Even tries to imply you don’t belong at U.A.—Your mother will fight them.” And the way she swears it, Toshinori believes it. Almost fears it. Izuku too as he gapes. She spares a glance to Toshinori behind her and despite how his mind is still reeling from the last few minutes she must see something concrete as she continues— corrects, “We’ll fight them.”

He nods, “Th-That’s right.” He swallows back the quiver in his throat and looks at Izuku to confirm it. “My boy, you’re as much a student of U.A. as you are a true hero. No one can take that from you. Not Nezu, your teachers, students—no one that matters will take that from you. No one wants to.”

No one.

Except Izuku himself.

It takes a gentle hand but Inko slowly pries the cup from her son’s trembling hands. She passes it to Toshinori where he places it securely on the table behind him. He stares at it as he continues forth.

“I think that brings us to the other matter.” What so much of this is about. “Why you think this is all something debatable.”

Izuku whispers the name so softly, as if, were he to say it too loud it would blow away with the outside wind, “One for All…right?”

“...yes.”

Without any cup to hold, Izuku clutches the fabric over his knees.

“I mean, I transferred it.” Something about the way he says it, sends a chill down Toshinori’s spine. “I’m…quirkless again.”

Toshinori waits, Izuku seems to search his face.

“I… I don’t know what you want me to say?”

And doesn’t that reach between his ribs and twist his insides something awful.

“I want you to say whatever you want, my boy.” Whatever you feel, whatever you think, whatever’s being weighing on you all this time. 

Izuku tries to fight to hide it, but Toshinori can see those cracks in his mask—the emotion—despair, disappointment, disbelief—they're banging behind it, begging to come free.

“You’re allowed to feel—whatever you’re feeling. You willingly transferred One for All, yes… but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to grieve it.” He reaches out, where he hasn’t this whole time, letting Inko take the lead. She feels him move and shifts back so he can pull Izuku’s hands together to hold them in his own. So small, he covers them both completely with a single palm. Consoles the slight tremor there, and tries, not to make it still, but to let it know he’s there, and will be, as it takes its course. 

“I grieved it too, you know.” And Izuku’s eyes blow wide, as if he never even considered. “And don’t think for a second that was because of you, kid—it’s simply because…at its core, it was a loss. Something I’d learned to live not unlike having another limb. That one day was gone. That I had to then learn to live without.

“And it was— has been hard. My own worth…it got so wrapped up in my work. I-” Don’t want that for you.

Say it.

“I don’t want that for you.” He squeezes those scarred, ravaged, nearly lost, hands. “I want you to see your worth beyond your quirk, beyond what you do for others, beyond me. You’re a hero, my successor, but that’s not all you are. You’re-”

A warped sound slips out and despite how tight Toshinori holds those hands, they slip—rip from his and dart to try and stifle it.

W-What did he say?

Inko swoops in, “Izuku, Izuku.”

Izuku shakes and shakes his head, eyes shut tight, back and forth. It’s enough to jostle Toshinori from his shock. To realize the noise had been a sob.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-” He feels the violent way the boy’s chest shudders just by watching. “I can’t.”

“If you don’t tell us what’s wrong—we, we can’t help. Please sweetie.” 

“I-It’s-I,” his voice trembles, “Y-You’re saying all this but I- I don’t know how- I don’t what it looks like—” Izuku looks up at him with such desperation. Pleading, for what Toshinori doesn’t quite know. 

“What what looks like?” He presses. 

“I—I don’t know-” Izuku groans, “Everything?” A single tear slips and there’s so many questions Toshinori wants to ask. But can’t as Izuku croaks, “Y-You want me to talk about it—to try and get better. But I failed. T-Tenko’s dead. One for All’s gone. I-I know I said I’d do my best—with whatever power and time I have left but it’s so much and without-” His eyes dart around Toshinori’s face, not settling, until they finally slam shut, his body shifting away like it's a crime to say, “It just feels like I can’t.”

Had that week doing restoration been too much? Seeing destruction and doubt, as well as faith, along with all of society’s faults, had pushed him over the edge?

Toshinori doesn’t know, he just grabs at those hiked up shoulders, and swears, with fire on his tongue, “That’s where you’re wrong. You can. And you did. The world isn’t on your shoulder, my boy, and know one expects it to be.” He can’t erase away the failures and weight that may always sit there, that Izuku may always carry with Shigaraki’s name but every hero had loss, and Toshinori is damned if he lets the kid carry it alone. “Didn’t you hear your mother? There’s no time limit, Izuku. Even when the embers run out. We’ll pave a way for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He gives the boy’s entire body a gentle shake begging for those familiar green eyes to just look, so that he’ll see Inko on her knees, hands folded against her collar as if in prayer, nodding to every thing Toshinori says, while he borders so close to tears. 

“But-that’s what I mean,” Izuku whimpers, his eyes opening just a sliver, and like an image of his mother, he clutches his chest, as if struggling to breathe. “That’s not- I don’t have One for All any more so-” Green meets blue, and Toshinori feels his own eyes water. “Why ?”

He repeats, as if he’d never heard the word before, “Why…?”

“Izuku. My boy, my—You have to know. Deep down, somewhere in you—” He chokes while Inko gasps. Izuku folds into himself, head to his knees, quaking beneath Toshinori’s hands as if he’s asked some horrible truth. “Izuku—You’re a hero.” He shakes him, drives the words into him. “Whether you have a quirk or not. Whether you’re quirkless or not. You’ve always been and always will be a hero and if that’s what you-”

And his voice catches the fear there, the possibility, one that he hadn’t given himself the chance to really think about. About what all it brought and all it took.

It shudders from him, “—If that’s what you… still want. We’ll make it happen. This—One for All—it changes nothing. You ca—”

“You’re wrong!!” 

Head still down, not looking, but his whole form trembling. 

Izuku’s breath catches and Toshinori knows—maybe as well as Inko knows—as the kid lifts his head that they’ve broken through. Those choppy inhales, the swell of tears, the misshapen tremble of his mouth. It’s as heartbreaking as it is relieving. 

“You’re…” His lips wobble, the telltale shine streaks across the white of his eyes, “You’re wrong.” His voice is almost a whine and it dries Toshinori’s mouth of words as he’s stuck in place, staring at his boy who finally, finally opens up. Tearing apart as he rasps, “It-It changes—e-everything—”

It’s still, just barely, held back, but a stream of tears come sliding down.

Inko is no better, cheeks wet, she climbs back on the couch to wrap herself around her son. Izuku falls into her willingly, too busy fighting the spasm of his lungs. Toshinori can’t imagine how he looks. One hand still clutching the sleeve of Izuku’s t-shirt like he’s keeping its shoulder and the body attached from freefall.

He waits, not long, as those cracks that had begun to leak are plugged up, Izuku regulating, and pulling himself away from his mother’s arms. She tries to keep him but he wins out, wiping away the evidence that keeps cascading down his face. Toshinori waits.

His hand slips down the boy’s tight shoulder and arm. His thumb passes the edges of the compress sleeve that hides perhaps the largest scar but not the only one. Not when the texture of rough surviving skin ghosts against his fingers, as he wraps them around the thin joint of Izuku’s elbow. Sometimes, in moments like right now, when Toshinori takes Izuku in, looks at him and sees so much the hero that saved the dream of a once forgotten quirkiness boy along with the symbol who had kept that same boy hidden inside—Toshinori also sees a body in a hospital bed.

He sees a grimace across a feverish face. The purpling bruises of broken limbs. The bandages and plaster wrapped around, at the time, freshly ruined skin.

He sees and remembers: a phone call on his day off. Izuku’s name on a list. An endless walk down a long hallway. A quiet hospital room, filled only with his own pulse in his ears and the ravaged puffs of air from a too small body that had ripped itself apart to fight as hard as it could to save as much as it did to survive.

Toshinori remembers that summer day sometimes, like he remembers it right now, feeling the new scars across his boy’s skin, watching the grief and fear that ruins his still young face. 

Remembers how he’d only had time that day to push these same sweaty tangled bangs aside, before he was whisked away to save the one student he still could. A single thought had pierced through his brain at the time like a bullet. Like it does now.

Heaven and earth.

He. Won’t.

“Izuku.” He speaks, so softly, thumb rubbing a gentle side to side in the kid’s too warm skin. “Do you really think…I’d let that happen.”

Izuku slowly, cautiously, like he’s never done it before—meets Toshinori’s eyes. 

“You’re right,” he begins, with a breath and a squeeze. “Losing One for All. The war. Tenko. It’s changed things.” He knows he can’t stop them so he lets Izuku’s tears flood and bead until they slip down his chin. He waits for the shuddering exhale that follows before he adds, “But not in the way you think.” 

While his eyes overflow, despair changes to confusion.

“I tried to- I wanted to tell you, what I’d been working on last week but…I believe I went about it all wrong… and I was so wrapped up in…trying to open doors for you that I… I neglected you.”

A whisper, “No All Might, you-you didn’t-”

“I did, kid. I hurt you. And Friday was a disaster that- shouldn’t have caused you any more distress… but it did so…” He pauses, only when something wraps around his free hand. Inko. Still a present force, she squeezes his hand so strongly that his voice can’t possibly waver when he says, “…I want to try again.”

“Is this… about the support company?” Izuku asks, and Toshinori can hear it now, that vulnerability in his question, as if he’s asking something deeper than Toshinori can tell. 

So he shakes his head. “No. We don’t even have to start there.”

“But—

“There’s so much more than just that, Izuku,” Inko jumps in. “Honey… All Might’s been working so hard to make sure you have everything you need. So that nothing gets in your way. So that your dream can come true. We just didn’t want to say anything-”

Toshinori takes over, “I didn’t want to say anything…in case something fell through. But nothing did…This probably could have been avoided, had I not been such a coward, and just told you all of it from the start,” he admits mostly to himself. 

Izuku shakes his head, “But the trip, you said-”

“I canceled it.”

Guilt pulls green eyes to the floor, seconds after they grow wide. “Because I said I didn’t-”

Toshinori doesn’t let that stand, he forces Izuku to look at him. “Because you needed me here. And because we can start small. With something as simple as speaking with Young Hatsume in the support department.”

Izuku blinks, droplets scattering across his lashes. Inko’s trembling hand can barely cover Toshinori’s own, but its grounding, as he rights all his wrongs. “Wh…What?”

“For a support item,” he says blasé, because he can see so clearly the doubt and confusion across Izuku’s face. “Something you can start using now, that will help you adjust. Which was why I- that was my thinking all along, my boy. That even though you still have those embers of One for All, it shouldn’t stop us from beginning to plan.” 

“…plan?” 

“Yes. Plan.” 

And Izuku just stares at him, mouth parted wordlessly like he never once even considered.  

“For how you can be a hero…even without your quirk.” 

Toshinori doesn’t let his eyes break away from widening green. Not for a second. Not even once. “You taught me that, you know. And it’s a lesson I should have been teaching you right back—but that’s my mistake—so I’ll start now. All this time, Izuku—since the second we— no, since the very moment I felt you transfer One for All—a part of me had already begun to think about what we’d do next. How we’d begin to transition you. The type training you’d need. The items you’d use—though that is heavily up to you…”

“W-Wait…I—I don’t… what’re you—All Might—"

Toshinori feels the resistance but as Izuku tries to pull back, Inko pulls him close and keeps him from fleeing as his whole body seems to display that wants to. He lets her hand go, so he can grab the kid from both sides and hold on.

“The suit Young Melissa created for me. I’m sure you saw it? It was rudimentary and untested but…the possibility is there,” he explains. “We can have something like that made for you too. Though…” He can’t help the huff of a laugh. “I’m sure you’ll have quite a few thoughts about the design.” And even Inko, quietly weeping, seems to agree with a light happy sound and smile.

He speaks his next words to her as much as he does to Izuku.

“But that’s just one possibility you can choose from. Everything I’ve done, this past week, that support company. They’re all just different ways and methods so that we can make that dream of yours come true, and even more importantly, so that your mother and I know that you have something reliable to help you…to protect you.” Inko swipes at her eyes, nodding to herself, as Toshinori brings his focus back to his foolish, foolish boy, who had been suffering for so long. Enduring the weight of what he thought was a deserved end. Toshinori brings a hand up to card back the mess of green curls that still remain on one side. “I’m sorry,” he admits, and feels a weight lift when Izuku does not pull back, even as he startles. “I’ve failed you again, haven’t I?” 

Izuku looks nothing less but distraught. “…You haven’t…How could you—I—I’m the one who-”

“Let me have this, would you?” He laughs, a wet splatter from his mouth. The tears in his own eyes just barely contained, or perhaps not, his own cheeks hot. “You've been suffering—carrying this weight—this fear. For weeks. Thinking that—”

That everything was over.

Toshinori rubs his thumb over freckles, the few that are left. He smears a tear there only for another to fall, and it’s all he can do but heave a sigh. He can’t help but regret the feeling of it a rock in his remaining gut, because he could have said all this from the start. But they’re here now. And that’s all that matters.

And it feels like that, until Izuku speaks, bringing everything back to a screeching halt.

“Why? ”

Toshinori can’t answer and neither can Inko it seems. The silence echoing across. 

“I don’t- all this- it’s so much- too much- Why would you? For me?”

“Because you deserve it, Izuku,” Inko weeps, and Toshinori’s one more heartbreak away from joining her. “You deserve it.”

“Kid, it was only a year ago… don’t you remember?” And Izuku looks through him, like he doesn’t. “It was right in this room that I promised your mother that I would stand beside you, raise you, make your dream come true. You kept your promise, twisting fate to keep me Here. So no matter what you think has changed, not matter what may be different, I intend to keep that promise until the end of my days. Because you—“

“But I…” It croaks out of him with tears sliding down. “I don’t have One for All anymore.”

Inko breaks, “I-Izuku, that’s-” 

Like a fire, desperate for air, Toshinori leaps forward to cup both cheeks, feeling the ragged scarred skin, and buzzed hair of the other side. Was this Toshinori’s fault? Had he been wrong all along? How deeply had this boy intertwined his value with the gift of One for All? How much of Toshinori’s old self would he find reflected back at himself until the universe deemed him forgiven?

“My boy—Did you not hear a word I said? That Doesn’t Matter. One for All was simply a path. One that at the time—in my own narrow view—was the only one I saw for you. But you. You showed me. Over and over and over again, that I was wrong. You can, Izuku,” he finally can’t fight the break in his voice, “Inko said it first but—It’s the truth. You always could.

“It’ll be different, and hard but I’ll be with you every step of the way,” And Toshinori practically wheezes with the familiar promise, “We’ll do our best together, okay?”

There’s a pause. One heavy, that leaves Toshinori’s pathetic excuse of a lung to shudder until there’s a change before him. Like finding the key to a lock he hadn’t even known he’d been fighting to open. Izuku wavers back, as if in shock, and in the smallest voice he’s perhaps ever spoken in he repeats Toshinori’s wording as if it’s something sacred, something forbidden, something he never dared to even think—

“…together?”

Tears, tears, tears. Overflowing, down his face. Like disbelief. Like relief.

Said in the tiniest voice, like a child—

With wide red eyes, unsure of the world and its love, and its promises—reaching out to ask—

The silliest, most nonsensical thing.

It’s hard, so hard, to ask his question. To see his fear confirmed—answered. “Izuku…Did you think… I wouldn't?”

The crumbling expression says it all.

Not everything was about heroes and quirks.

“My—Izuku.” He can barely speak, barely breathe, barely move. Struck in place as if impaled, by how simple, how small, how monumental, how devastating, how stupid!  “Of course, together. How could you— I’m not here because of—Did you really think that—”

Of course he did. Of course he would. What nonsense was Toshinori even asking?

Something he had thought so obvious, a fact—a law of his entire universe—had been a flimsy and final nail in the coffin of a lonely child, who loved so hard and yet had learned over and over from such an early age that he’d only ever lose.

Izuku’s face is white, like his worst truth has been ripped out of him, like a festering, disgusting, hidden wound. And Toshinori is nothing less than a desperate parent, searching through layers and layers to find it. So he can press his hands to it and stop the red, the pus, the pain from spilling, rippling, and ripping his child apart.

“All this time…you thought-”

“You said you—didn’t have anything left to teach me,” Izuku confesses, like a ghost, leaving behind words that will haunt Toshinori forever. “I-I knew we’d see each other at school—that you’d still be my, my teacher but I just figured there wasn’t—I passed on One for All, and we—you—that was the entire reason—there wasn’t any reason for you to—”

For him to stay.

Because no matter how brightly he shined, no matter how high he soared, this boy—Toshinori’s brilliant boy—still refused to change his belief that everything he’d earned was nothing short of a miracle. One that could so easily slip from his hands. Even Toshinori’s presence—crouched before him, cupping his face, begging him to just believe—it was something that could—no, would just one day end. A fact. A truth. 

Something he actually expected.

“It’s stupid—I know it is! That’s why I couldn’t—” The tears begin again in earnest as Toshinori remains frozen in place. A crack, crack, crack, as he splinters apart. “I didn’t—it’s always just easier to be ready—just in case. And it wasn’t like this at first! When I left the hospital, I knew everything was over, and I was okay. I was okay with it! U.A., One for All, b-being a hero. But then…when you—you said you didn’t have a-anything left to t-teach me—I’d thought—I had this feeling—but then you said it and I realized what that meant. That I didn’t have One for All. That I couldn’t be a hero. That I couldn’t be your successor. That it was ending—that you—you wouldn’t—” He chokes, breath stuttering, hiccupping like a child does with the force of their crying.

“Izuku. Izuku. ” The soothing words he gathers are from autopilot. His brain nothing but static as the boy gasps. “Breathe, son. You need to breathe.”

But Izuku just shakes his head and rips himself from Toshinori’s arms.

Inko cries, standing, hands reaching out, as she begs, “Sweetie, please, you need to—”

“—and you didn’t text me!”

It’s not static, it’s a flatline.

Izuku looks ashamed, for only half of a second, before he shatters. 

“You—you weren’t a-answering. And—and when you did—I was in my own head and it felt like—like—" Like he didn't care. "And then I-I came back and you were talking about other h-heros and some company and—and America. Just like—" He doesn't finish, there's a distraught gasp, at his side. "I-I thought—that—”

His body must have some outside puppeteer because Toshinori's mouth mimes the horrific words, “That I was going to leave.”

A keen of frustration as much of relief leaves the boy’s lips.

Izuku’s chest spasms, the crying back and almost hysterical now. Inko tries to bring the boy towards her chest, but he twists away. Toshinori catches him again. And holds. Holds him even as Izuku slumps backwards, eyes welded closed, like he’s run out of fight, like going limp is the best he can do. “You thought—that I was going to America…that I was passing you off to some other hero—that I was leaving. Because you were—”

Izuku shout-sobs, perhaps for the first time truly snapping at his hero. “It’s stupid—so—so s-stupid—I know you—that you wouldn’t just—that you wouldn’t. But my stupid brain—I just kept-” He shields his face, as he confesses, “When you said America I-I kept thinking back to when I was little—e-even th-though it never b-bothered me before—even though I can barely remember him—”

A small hand twists at his shoulder, a warning, before Inko falls to her knees. Her descent buffered only by her grip.

“I-I always had mom and it was fine—growing up I was fine. Bullies and school and I didn’t have friends but it was fine—” It wasn’t, he wasn't. “But then I—I had you too and you were here and you cared and you believed in me, and I was—scared. That whole stupid trip. I just- kept getting in my own head. And even though Kacchan told me it was stupid. That you’d never just- that I should just talk to you—I was scared. It felt like I was losing everything—just like when I was kid again—q-quirkiness again—just me and m-mom again—!”

Deep, lung rupturing sobs resound, taking any last sensible thought from the boy’s mouth as he simply fights to breathe. 

Toshinori can’t.

Eyes burning, lung failing, he clings to his boy desperately for a sign, signal, or revelation on how to fix this. This wave of sorrow and fear and loneliness his boy is drowning in. One that maybe he could have prevented, in a thousand different ways.

“Izuku,” he whispers, looking as he always has for the words, to say what’s burning within him.

Fingers at the front of his shirt halt him, before he can even begin.

“I’m—I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid a-and selfish but I—I Just—”

Izuku, his brilliant selfless, unrelenting Izuku, straightens to meet his eyes and whimpers out the worst thing Toshinori has ever heard.

“I don’t want you to leave—”

A deep shuddering gasp echoes at his side but Toshinori can’t hear. Can’t breathe. Can’t think. He can only see what’s breaking apart right in front of him. Tears on a scarred cheek. Despair in flooded eyes. Desperation clutching at the front buttons of his shirt. 

“Please—just Don’t Leave.”

Without any thought, Toshinori’s body moves on its own. 

He gathers the boy up, in, against him, like he’s no older than a small child. One lost and frightened and seeking the comfort of the person he trusts—he needs—the most.

By some grace—some miracle—Izuku comes willingly, a high pitched noise croaking from his throat. Hands grasp for something solid as Toshinori presses the boy flat against his chest. Like letting down an anchor, he tangles his fingers in the boy’s hair and gently guides him down until sobs are muffled against his shoulder. It takes seconds to turn and press his cheek into Izuku’s hair, but in that time, his collar dampens. His entire body shakes. His chest concaves. Izuku grabs tight and hangs on for dear life, fingers twisting and tightening in Toshinori’s shirt, like if he doesn’t the man will actually disappear.

It obstructs his airway, like the bubble of blood he so often felt. It makes it so difficult to find what he thought he’d said in so many words, a year ago, with his knees in the sand as he held his boy tight and thanked every power that be that they had both somehow survived.

“Don’t you ever—ever apologize,” he croaks, crushing the boy in his embrace. “You have nothing, absolutely nothing to apologize for. I’m—I’m sorry, Izuku. So, so sorry that you ever thought—that I ever let you think—for even a moment, that I would ever be anywhere else except by your side.” He breathes those words into soft curly hair.

The kid is the earth as it quakes, pieces splintering apart.

“A-All M-M’gh—”

Toshinori holds them together until he can feel the epicenter settle. 

“Izuku…my boy. Please.” Slowly, with movements too slow, eyes overflowing, the kid does. He swipes a few tears away, and nudges a thumb at a still trembling chin.

Toshinori breathes, long, meditated, and thinks carefully before he can speak. 

He begs that this time, he gets it all right.

“Do you remember…that day… when I told you about Nighteye’s vision?” 

The kid hiccups but nods.

“Then you remember don’t you—the reason why I’m still here.”

More tears, but this time the kid doesn’t nod. He hesitates. As if even now—even with Toshinori holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, because he is, the very center of Toshinori’s world—he still can’t believe it. “I-I—”

Toshinori takes the boy’s cheeks in his hands again. One scarred, the other not. He smooths the rough skin with his thumb, traces the freckles like a path to be followed.

“It’s you. It’s always… always… been you my boy. And it always will be.” 

His purpose in the chaos.

The fire beneath his feet.

His very reason for still being.

“I was never here for One for All. I was here for you and your dream. And it's because of you that I’m here now...alive and well…” Izuku’s lip trembles and Toshinori presses on. “That’s why I…” He thinks over the last few weeks, replaying it in his mind, “Why I tried to move heaven and earth to make that dream still happen for you. Because it can…and because it's yours. I wanted to give you—as I had with One for All—a gift you deserve.

A twitch, an attempt to shake his head. “But what if—what if I- I can’t?”

Toshinori finally sees the devil’s advocacy for what it is. 

“I’ll still be here. Even if you can’t or you don’t or you fail. I’ll still be here. I’ll still be here even if you wake up one day and decide, ‘you know what, I quit!’ I’ll still be here. 

“Because you could quit U.A., quit hero work—take up art, or knitting, or anything—it doesn’t matter. Because I swear to you, as long as I’m alive. You never—never have to be afraid of me leaving—I am not leaving—Izuku, I—I need you to know that—that I—

“I live for you.”

There’s Inko sobbing against him and the ending of a once steady rainfall just outside, but Toshinori stays steady. On his knees holding this boy who has become a son in everything but blood, staring into those wide green eyes, he begs for one single thing. 

For Izuku to believe him.

It feels like a miracle as one…two…three pairs of tears drip down his face. And as his chin wobbles Toshinori realizes he’s lost count. 

“Al—l Mi-”

“I’m not leaving, Izuku. I—”

Thinking back, he’s not sure he’s ever voiced these words. To his mother. To Nana. To anyone. 

As he pushes unruly hair back, and watches with his own eyes the mending of Izuku’s soul, all he can wonder is why.

“—I love you, kid.”

And for a moment it’s quiet.

Oppressive, unrelenting quiet.

A whimper.

A pull at his shirt.

And then with a rupture: 

Quaking chest, heavy breathes. 

The dam breaks.

And Izuku wails.

And as if it were the very thing he was born to do, Toshinori pulls his boy in and holds him.

“I-I—I—”

“It’s okay,” He says over and over and over again. “I’m here,” he says, knowing in this moment it means more, and promises more, than any other time he’s sworn it in and with his entire life. “I’m here, Izuku.” 

He is nothing but soft, endless reassurances of which he hopes he never runs out, as he rocks his boy. He hopes that his voice won’t fail and his heart won’t burst, despite the growing lump in his throat and weight on his chest as he rubs his cheek against soft, untamed curls, and anchors Izuku through his waves of grief as well as relief, as he creaks out one last time, “Don’t go. ”

The truth. 

“I won’t.”

He never could. 

It’s another weight though, gentle at his side, one he’d almost forgotten that reminds him to breathe. To loosen his hold and stop clenching his jaw, even if the very reason for his still beating heart, and warmth in his veins, is held in his arms. The weight is as steady and grounding as it is wrecked, because it's Inko, eyes red, cheeks wet, hair ruined, and dark circles all there that mirror his own from the faint kitchen light as she looks at him. As she rests her hand over his own. Their fingers fit between each other, as she joins him in rubbing up and down Izuku’s still shaking spine. 

He sees it, shining in her eyes, his own words, promised back to him.

And just like that.

Like he’s just been a piece, searching desperately for others. Ones that fit, that make him whole. 

He feels the shatter of impact.

A flame rising from the dark.

A refusal to listen, a refusal to let go.

He can’t.

He won’t.

He never did

And for a moment it’s like a crack of lightning. 

A flash, white, like lightning, or an explosion, because it burns through his blood like the sun. It's as if he can breathe again. As if he has a second lung. 

He’s one and two. His feeble, still healing body and the part of him within that power he’d once helped spin. He is it as much as he sees it, like looking in a mirror. And it’s in the same way that he knows, said part is only a fraction of itself.

Yet when it bursts, the determined face of gold slipping away, it's no longer a shade, or a shadow.

Or an ember.

A single piece, but a flame all the same, that does not—for one second—flicker.

Inko’s gasp pulls him back. As does the loosening of the arms around him.

And that’s when he sees it. 

Gold. 

Swirling across Izuku’s skin. Bundling him. Protecting him.

“Isn’t that-” Inko whispers, as Izuku, wide eyed and speechless, blinks down at his palms. “One for All?”

The yellow spirals of gold that form that familiar cowling certainly harken back to that once great power he'd passed down, but it's not at all the same.

Toshinori gapes, "No, it's-"

“It’s your piece,” Izuku states in wonder, his face red, blotchy, and dripping with his last remaining tears. “But I—How?”

Toshinori has no answer. 

“I was having these dreams but I thought—I mean how could they be…One for All…the vestiges...it was all...”

And he still doesn’t, even as Izuku’s words spark a forgotten sensation from his recent restless sleep.

A broken piece in a dream, looking for something lost, waiting for the minute he could grab on. 

And never let go. 

He has no answers, only laughter as it bubbles up from him, his own cheeks wet, with relief, as well as something unmeasurable the moment Izuku’s teary laughter joins his own. He pulls the kid into another hug, feeling like he has more than enough to live and sleep well for a hundred years.

And as Inko joins, wrapping them both up as best she can—another hundred more.

an epilogue for an epilogue

It’s not the first time, notebooks are strewn about her coffee table, but it is the first time that the mess is accompanied by Japan’s now retired Symbol of Peace.

As well as the first time, said symbol sits on her couch with her son’s head resting on the edge of his lap, finally surrendering to the need for sleep.

It’s also not the first time she’s served tea at 2 AM.

“Thank you,” All Might… Toshinori Yagi says, as she hands him a fresh cup so that she can place the tray down and take the blanket over her arm to wrap it carefully around Izuku’s curled up form. She pulls the pencil from his hand, finding Toshinori offering to take it and place it by the still open notebook at his side. 

“You know… I still remember…” she says, knowing exactly why it’s slipping out, as she tucks the blanket around her forever little boy’s peaceful face. “...when I could just pick him up and carry him to bed.”

She’s not surprised to find the soft smile when she looks up.

“It’s things like that that make me wish my body were in better condition…” He reaches out and tugs the All Might themed blanket up just a smidge, so it rests just below Izuku’s chin. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wake him?”

She shakes her head, “This is probably the best sleep he’s gotten in weeks…though your leg…I hope it’s okay.”

He chuckles, and it's low, familiar, and one that reminds her that this truly is the hero her son had looked up to with sparkling eyes for more years than not. 

“A numb leg is a sacrifice I’m very much willing to pay.”

He brushes his fingers through those wild locks she knows all too well. That she once struggled in the early mornings before daycare to comb through while they bounced as Izuku chattered on about how excited he was for when he’d finally-

“But is it really alright? I don’t want to intrude…for so long.”

His silly consideration pulls her from old sad thoughts.

“Of course it’s alright. As long as you don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” she looks down at Izuku who snores on, dead to the world, “Though… you might have to take Izuku’s room if he doesn’t move. Don’t worry, his All Might posters and merchandise are at school.”

Toshinori laughs, “I appreciate that but a little fanboyism is healthy to the soul.” And then, towards the child in his lap, “Besides…I’m not sure I have the heart or strength to move him.”

She can only smile and swipe at her eyes. 

“Ah…I’m sorry I didn’t mean.”

Such silliness, “No, no. It’s just-”

“A lot?”

She nods, watching as he closes the little notebook as his side, its first pages already filled with notes and diagrams galore. The light blue and yellow accented cover hadn’t been one she’d recognized when Izuku had come running from his room with numerous others, barely contained in his arms, before he’d thrown them across the table—ever the analyst. Even when only moments before he’d been gorging her heart out as he sobbed out his own.

“No, not really.” She smiles at that little notebook, and the hand that passes it towards her. “Overwhelming, yes…but not at all in a bad way.”

Toshinori hums, “…I feel the same.”

She takes a seat on the floor, close to the couch's edge.  

“I hope he doesn’t get mad that I called him out…”

“Mmm…I’m sure he won’t mind too much.”

Inko sighs, “You’d be surprised. I don’t think he took a single day off last year.” 

“Then one certainly won’t kill him,” Toshinori laughs.

“How about yourself?” 

“Me?”

He raises a brow, setting down his tea as she sips her own. “You called out too didn’t you? Maybe now you can start resting like you should.”

His grin is a little embarrassed, as he scratches at his wild blonde hair.  “You’ve got me there. Though…next time he wakes up, we probably won’t be able to stop him from telling his friends.” She agrees with him there, Izuku had been this close to waking up Katsuki with a phone call. Her and Toshinori had gotten him to agree to wait for morning because there was so much happening and Inko wasn’t sure it was a good idea to wake up the explosive teenager with a heart condition in the middle of the night.  “I should let the school know before then.”

“True…but that can wait for tomorrow can’t it?” She reaches up to the edge of the blanket where she can just graze Izuku’s hand. 

“It can... though we might have to endure my colleagues spamming me with quite a few questions until then.” He shakes his lit up phone, a plethora of messages filling the screen. It occurs to her, the missing context. A teacher staying at a student’s house...a student with, for all intents and purposes, a single mother... She flushes, concentrating on her son and his sleeping face. 

The silliness of it all.

“I hope this doesn’t get you into any trouble…”

“Besides some teasing—which trust me— I have already received. I’ll be fine.” He jostles with a laugh, as Izuku grumbles in his sleep, legs stretching out not unlike a cat. It's been so long since Inko’s seen him so restful. “I suppose my favoritism wasn’t well hidden to as many as I thought it’d been." And then adds, voice quieting, as he looks down, “Though in retrospect…” Inko’s gaze follows, watching as he lifts a hand to push the hair back just over Izuku’s ear. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have hidden it at all.”

The words are too heavy and Inko’s throat too tight, so she—or they both, let them sit. 

Toshinori breaks the ice. 

“Young Izuku’s father…” And oh, she supposes it was a matter of time for him to ask. “Is he…?”

Inko simply shakes her head. It’s all better left unsaid. For tonight that is.

“I figured—or rather, I assumed. He only ever spoke of you, in terms of family.”

“It makes sense…” Inko pets down rather frizzy hair that falls just past her round cheeks. The weight there, a consequence of so many things over the years. So much pain, so much which had haunted her son, some so much more than she knew. 

“…but, thinking back…that’s not entirely true.”

All Might—Toshinori—blinks at her, surprised, not unlike herself, speaking before she’d really thought.

“I just mean…Whenever there was something he was looking forward to. Or worrying over besides me… it was you he’d always think of. Always you he’d mention—who he'd want to tell…even before he met you…even if it was just talking to a little action figure…a poster or screen.”

The man before her, who’d once been a symbol of the unreachable in her life. A reminder of all she couldn’t do or give Izuku as a mother, looks at her like he’s about to shatter apart. As if he still didn’t know or could barely understand. As if her son hadn’t fallen to pieces, building the thickest walls of grief imaginable, at the very thought that said man would one day leave.

She hums rather than laughs, focusing back down on the comforting circles she now rubs into Izuku’s back. So similar, she thinks, not for the first time.

“I can’t help but think back to right before U.A. Before I knew you were there for him.” her voice hitches with old pains, “He had been so lonely at school. He’d come home, everyday a little quieter, a little more timid, a little less like himself—and then, all of a sudden, he brightened up like—like he was that little boy again—watching your rescue videos, wearing your costume. Full of life and hope. Like he’d—he’d been brought out of the hole he’d been falling into…” Of which she couldn’t pull him out. “That was all you. You saved him in a way I never could, that I never did.”

“Mrs. Midoriya…”

“Inko…” She corrects, for not the first time. “Please.” 

All… Toshinori…smiles shyly. It’s small and sad but still filled to the brim with exactly what she needs. “...Inko.

“Please, don’t be so hard on yourself. And please…don’t flatter me so much. I’ve messed up so…so very much.” Toshinori looks down at the boy asleep in his lap, with so much fondness that Inko chokes with it, throat clogged from its weight. “It’s thanks to you, and how you raised him that I even met him as I did. You say I saved him… but it was just as true for me. The boy I met that day two years ago… that was all you.” 

Inko sees something cross the blue of those shadowed eyes and suddenly, she can’t stop herself from reaching out for his hand, clutching it between her own. 

Her voice wavers, failing to start. Unable to put words to all she wants to say to him. This man. Who’d carried the weight of the nation on his back and yet spoke of her son—as if his life, his admiration, his existence was so much heavier.

I could only raise him because you were there too. She so badly wants to say. Behind the screen, but unwavering, and present. Giving him hope and protecting his world until the moment you met him and you gave him everything I couldn’t. 

She sniffles, throat still not working, and viciously wipes at her eyes. She finds when they’re clear, another man sits before her, one so clearly out of his depth, hand sweaty between her own, as he twitches with the clear struggle of how to solve her lifelong fault of being so easy to tears. 

This time she does laugh, full and easy, and even harder when the sound actually seems to startle him. 

And then they both freeze, as Izuku groans from below. 

They let out a harmonized breath of relief when he simply turns over to bury his face closer to Toshinori’s torso. 

It takes a moment. Takes watching Izuku still fast asleep, as he clutches blindly at Toshinori’s white shirt who only smiles in return, but Inko finds it.

“You know…”

He blinks up at her and away from where he’d just begun to brush his fingers through Izuku’s hair with such careful attention to the new long scar there. 

“If what you said is true then, perhaps it would be fair to say that… the young man, the hero Izuku is now,” she finds herself smiling too, so full of pride and love, “As much as it was because of Izuku and his own strength, as well as his friends and teachers-” Everyone who had come into to his life since U.A. and made it all the better—all the brighter. “It was also us.”

She looks up at Izuku’s hero, at All Might, and sees only a man…a father…a partner…hanging on her every word. 

Sees the man named Toshinori. The man who chose her son. 

“So let me just say… thank you…” she offers it softly, watching and waiting, as he presses his finger and thumb to his watering eyes, before she adds as much as she can in far too little. “Thank you…for loving my son.”

His breathing hitches, and there’s a soft murmur from her—their boy. And how right it feels to think that, to share that. Finally. With someone who sees Izuku for all that he is and always has been. 

“No I—” Inko waits as he exhales, long, hard, and shuddery, forming his reply with such care, as he takes her hand. “I should thank you.” She can’t fight the tears as with his other hand he caresses back Izuku’s bangs oh so gently, like it’s his whole world, and whispers,

“Thank you… for having him.”