Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku pinched his lip in thought, nervously twirling his pencil with his free hand. His attention focused not on the finished quiz lying on his desk but on the classroom door. More specifically his thoughts drifted through the door, across the building, and to the infirmary. 

All Might…

Four days and Izuku hadn’t been to visit him once. Schoolwork, training, and Aizawa-sensei’s cautionary warning to not bring attention to Recovery Girl’s infirmary prevented him.

“All Might needs his rest, and you need to focus on your classes,” the Erasure Hero stated, keeping Izuku after class Monday afternoon, “All Might will bounce back without students hovering over him.”

Despite Aizawa’s gruff brand of reassurance, Izuku worried, and he wasn’t alone. His gaze slid from the door to the desk in front of him and his classmate's back.

Bakugou slouched in his seat, hands shoved in his pocket and shoulders hunched. He was in a dour mood and had been since Principal Nedzu visited and informed the class of All Might's disappearance. Bakugou's frustration and anxiety simmered until practical training and sparring rounds where it exploded with his usual precise ferocity.

When Bakugou confronted Izuku the day after All Might's return, Izuku couldn't keep him in the dark.  

“Oi! Deku!”

Izuku jumped in surprise and spun to face Bakugou. His rival stalked up to him from across the training field, fuming as small explosions lit up around his palms.

“Where the hell were you for last night’s spar?” he scowled, eyeing Izuku's overnight bag, “I waited half an hour for your weak ass to not show up.”

Izuku held up his hands defensively, “Ah! Sorry, Kacchan! I couldn’t-”

“Couldn’t -!?" Bakugou bristled, "What kind of bullshit excuse-”

“It's not an excuse. Listen, he’s -” Izuku glanced around the field, still empty in the early morning hours. He lowered his voice, “He came back. All Might’s back.”

A shiver ran up Bakugou’s frame. He tensed, fists clenched at his sides.

“What? When?” Bakugou pressed his hand to his forehead and roughly scrubbed his fingers through his hair, “How?! Wasn’t he taken by -?” Bakugou's throat caught, and he grimaced, silent.

“Y-yeah,” Izuku nodded, swallowing roughly.“He got away, Kacchan. He’s here on campus. In Recovery Girl’s office.” He winced and self-consciously adjusted his hold on his overnight bag, “Which is... technically a secret.” 

“Of course it is,” Bakugou grumbled, exasperated, and set his jaw, “Alright. We keep it a secret," he reached out and grabbed Izuku’s shirt, pulling him toward the open training grounds, “but I’m getting a full explanation. And you’re not getting out of sparring.”

“Kacch- Hey! Classes are - Alright! I’m coming!”

Izuku sighed. He nearly needed to visit the infirmary after that rushed round of pre-class sparring.

“Pencils' down,” Aizawa called out from the front, “Time’s up.”

Barely stifled groans echoed from a few seats, and Kaminari glared down at his quiz like it wronged him.

The Erasure Hero crooked his finger, gesturing to the front, “Pass up your quizzes and-”

A phone buzzed loudly. It almost sounded like - Izuku’s brows rose in surprise as Aizawa casually fished his phone from his pocket and tapped at the screen.

“Pass up your quizzes and remain seated,” he sighed, pocketing his phone, “I have an important announcement.”

Izuku sat up, not missing the way Bakugou tensed in the seat in front of him.

Aizawa scratched at his head and huffed tiredly.

“No questions until I finish,” he said, “Understood?”

A few questioning glances were shared around the class, but all twenty students remained silent.

“Good. I’ll be brief,” Aizawa stated, “All Might was found Sunday and is back at U.A. He will be returning to the dorms tonight.”

A wide grin split Izuku’s face.

He was coming back! After less than a week, he recovered enough to come back!

Gasps of delight and excited whispers briefly filled the room before Aizawa raised a hand to quiet everyone.

“He is still recovering and needs his rest,” Aizawa cautioned. He paused, grimacing tiredly, “Fair warning, All Might does not look the same as before. He was forced to undergo physical changes while missing. Be respectful and don’t pester him about them. It is also imperative that you tell no one outside of U.A. about this until after he has had a chance to handle that himself. Any questions?”

Hands shot up across the classroom, and Aizawa sighed.

“Three questions,” he deadpanned before pointing to Yaoyorozu, “You.”

Yaoyorozu stood, brows furrowed with concern, “What happened to him?”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’ll leave that for him to explain.”

He pointed to Iida, “Next question.”

Iida stood and gestured firmly with his hands, “Will All Might-sensei be well enough to return to his teaching duties?”

Aizawa nodded, “He has expressed his desire to continue, though exactly when remains to be seen.”

Relieved sighs filled the air.

Iida bowed, “Thank you, Aizawa-sensei!”

Aizawa bent his head in acknowledgment, “Last question- Ashido calm down.”

Izuku looked toward Ashido who frantically waved her arm in the air.

“Alright, go on,” Aizawa gestured for her to speak with a shrug.

She jumped up out of her seat, her chair scraping loudly as it slid back, “You said he was found Sunday! Why haven’t we heard anything before now?”

Aizawa nodded, “A logical question,” He paused, “Out of respect for All Might’s well-being, we refrained from disclosing any information until he, himself, was ready.”

Ashido went uncharacteristically quiet and nodded slowly.

She sat back down, face pensive, “I see…”

Aizawa nodded as the class remained quiet and no more hands were raised.

“That’s all for now,” he stated dryly, huddling into his scarf and collecting his sleeping bag from the floor, “Class dismissed.”

As soon as Aizawa closed the door behind him, the class erupted with excitement, breaking off into small groups and speaking over each other and gesturing wildly.

Izuku quickly collected his things, a wide smile on his face and One for All zipping just under his skin.

“Deku!” Izuku heard Uraraka call out. He stood just as she came to a skidding halt in front of him, flapping her hands happily, “All Might is back! He’s here!” She bounced on her toes, nearly floating into the air.

Iida stopped beside her, “I’ll admit, I was worried. Especially after the Kamino Ward villain’s escape, I thought -" He shook his head, a relieved smile on his face, "But it sounds like All Might-sensei is doing well!”

“A-ah,” Izuku stuttered, smile slipping briefly when Bakugou abruptly got up from his desk and stalked toward the door. He straightened and grinned, “Yeah. It’ll be great to see him in the dorms and teaching again.”

“Woah! That’s a great idea!” Kirishima’s voice rose over the noise of the class.

Izuku, Iida, and Uraraka turned toward the front where Kirishima, Ashido, Tsuyu, Kaminari, and Aoyama were gathered.

“What’s a good idea?” Todoroki asked curiously, wandering to the front.

“A ‘Welcome Home’ party,” Tsuyu answered cheerily.

“Yeah!” Uraraka gasped, “We could make snacks and tea! Make him feel right at home!”

“And it's Friday! We could have a movie marathon!” Kaminari suggested. He suddenly pointed to Izuku, “Oh! Didn’t All Might-sensei put his old movie collection in the living room?”

A nervous knot twisted in Izuku’s stomach.

“All Might could be tired,” he cautioned. “Aizawa-sensei did say he was still recovering…”  

Iida nodded seriously, pressing his fist to his chin in thought, “We’ll have to take into consideration how All Might may feel. And Aizawa-sensei mentioned something about changes... Perhaps something calmer?”

There was a beat of silence, then Kirishima grinned wide.

“Class President’s on board!” he exclaimed loudly.

Iida jolted and gestured stiffly, “If this is going to be a class effort, it's only natural!”

A few of their classmates snickered at his emphatic response before they collected their things and all headed out of the classroom, swapping ideas. 

“Ah!” Kirishima exclaimed, turning to Izuku as they entered the locker room, “All Might’s favorite movie is that space one, right? The one with the ‘pew-pew-boom’ with the giant spaceship?”

“Oh,” Izuku nodded, “Yeah, but the third one - er - technically the sixth.”

“Great!” Kirishima grinned, “I think Jirou borrowed all three of them last. Hey, Jirou!” He called out to Jirou, jogging to catch up with her.

Uraraka smiled wide, closing her locker with her street shoes on.

“Ah! This is so exciting!” she said, punching her fist in the air. “All Might-sensei will be teaching and living at the dorms again. Let’s throw him a real welcome home party!”

Izuku nodded, smiling, and pulled his shoes from his locker. His nervous exhilaration surged again, and he shoved his feet into his shoes, standing and tapping his toes against the ground.

Iida closed his own locker, glancing at Izuku, “Frankly, I’m surprised you aren’t more excited, Midoriya. I thought you would be the first to the dorms.”

“Huh?” Izuku grinned, “I am excited!”

“I think what Iida is trying to say is, you're surprisingly calm? You didn’t even try to ask Aizawa-sensei any questions,” Uraraka said uncertainly. She suddenly froze with a gasp, brows raised, “You knew! That’s why!”

“Shhhh!” Izuku frantically shushed her, eyes wide in panic as he scanned the locker room, “I’m sorry! I wasn’t supposed to say anything!”

Uraraka huffed but smiled, “We were worried about you, you know.”

Iida hummed thoughtfully, “That does explain your disappearance the other day.”

Izuku rubbed at the back of his head, laughing sheepishly, “Y-yeah… Sorry.”

“That's alright. To be honest, I'm glad you were one of the first to find out,” Iida said and tapped his fist to his palm, “That said, we should discuss how best to prepare the dorm with the rest of the class.”

Izuku smiled as his friends listed their ideas: How to decorate the main floor, how best to arrange the living room for the movie, how many pillows and blankets would be needed, and who would be in charge of food and drinks. Somewhere between the school and the dorms, their classmates joined in on the conversation and soon they were rushing about making preparations.

Despite the cheer, a faint unease stirred in Izuku’s gut. His classmates hadn’t been there. They hadn't seen All Might when he stumbled onto campus carrying the injured nurse. They hadn't seen the blood or chains. They didn’t know about -

"Midoriya! Can you help move the tables?" Jirou called from the dining room. 

"Sure!" Izuku handed off a stack of pillows to Tokoyami and Dark Shadow and jogged across the common room.

No, Izuku smiled, it'll be okay. We’ll make this work.

Toshinori shrugged on his new shirt. The light blue material slipped crisply over his shoulders, and with a careful tug, his spikes - newly polished by Isamu - along with tufts of blonde hair pushed through the dozens of thin, horizontal slits cut down the center of its back. His claw-tipped fingers fumbled with the buttons, but he managed, carefully pinching each between soft claw caps and thumbing them up the line.

He looked up into the bathroom mirror, rolling the long sleeves to his elbows, and straightened as much as he could without aggravating his hips. Despite the many changes over the years and even now, he still cleaned up fairly well.

“Not too bad,” he muttered absently, brushing non-existent wrinkles from his shirt and gray pants. His long, tufted tail swung behind him in his reflection, and a nervous flutter twisted in his gut.

Smile, he reminded himself, It’ll be fine.

Turning from side to side, Toshinori gave himself a final once-over. Recovery Girl had healed the last of his scrapes and bruises. Faint scarred bands around his wrists, ankles, and tail were all that remained of his torture in the basement storage under Rishi General Hospital.

I just need a trim, he thought, collecting his hair and pulling it back in a loose ponytail. "Or ear muffs. Are they always going to stick out like that?" He pinched the tips of his pointed ears and pulled them back and flush against his head. They twitched uncomfortably, and he let them go, wincing as they flicked back into place.

A sharp knock at the door sent a jolt up Toshinori’s spine. 

“Are you coming?” Aizawa asked, opening the door just wide enough to lean against the doorjamb.

Toshinori grinned, sheepishly patting down his bristling hackles, “Yes, yes. Sorry to keep you waiting, Aizawa.”    

He collected his bathroom bag and gave his reflection one last glance. 

“Thank you again for the shirt.” Toshinori tugged on the material, joining Aizawa, “The back works great.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Aizawa shrugged, holding open the door and stepping aside, “Your nurse suggested it.”

Isamu. Naturally. Toshinori chuckled, tail swinging, “I see. Still, thank you for bringing it here.”

Aizawa hummed and turned down the empty hall, back to the infirmary. Toshinori followed behind, his footsteps soft and sure despite the faint ache in his calves.

As long as I can walk to the dorm, I can see the students again. Then... A nervous stutter of his heart stopped him outside the infirmary door.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began uncertainly, “How did the students react to the news?”

Aizawa snorted, a rare amicable smirk on his face, “They were excited enough to be troublesome.” He turned and opened the infirmary door, only glancing back a moment to say, “Quit worrying, and don’t make them wait.”

Toshinori smiled lopsidedly at the blunt reply, a soft laugh bubbling out of him as he ducked into the infirmary, "Of course."

“All Might!” Isamu exclaimed, setting aside a heavy medical book and scooting to the edge of his bed, “Look at you! You look ready to be discharged.”

“I can be thanks to you,” he said sincerely, barking a laugh when Isamu’s face flushed pink.

“I really didn’t do much,” Isamu argued weakly.

Toshinori grinned and gently squeezed the young man's shoulder before turning to Recovery Girl, “As always, thank you for your care, Recovery Girl.”

Recovery Girl twisted in her desk chair and wagged her finger at Toshinori.

“As always? If you really want to show you're grateful, you’ll take care of yourself and stay out of trouble,” she scolded, a playful twinkle in her eye.

“I’ll do my best,” Toshinori chuckled, though they had both agreed on weekly check-ups. 

“Ready?” Aizawa asked, shouldering the last duffel bag with Toshinori’s newly customized clothes.

“One moment,” Toshinori held up a finger. He stooped down, closer to Recovery Girl, and lowered his voice, “Did Power Loader happen to bring the item I requested?”

Recovery Girl nodded, plucking a small box from her desk, “He did.” She passed it over and laid her hand on his. A sad but understanding look crossed her wise, old features as she let him go.

Toshinori opened the small box and took out the wristwatch inside. Black and gold, the watch was both analog and digital. He pressed the top right knob and the time and date displayed in blue on the watch’s face.

“According to Power Loader, the GPS tracker is accurate within 25 meters,” Recovery Girl said quietly. “Should you go missing, Principal Nedzu will send your coordinates to the faculty and Detective Tsukauchi.”

“Good. Good,” Toshinori let out a relieved sigh, twisting his wrist and slipping on the watch. He grinned, “Can’t be too careful.”

Recovery Girl smiled and swatted at his side, “Now go on! You’ve been here long enough.”

Toshinori’s grin widened, and his tail swung in a wide arc and bumped against Isamu’s bed.

Isamu chuckled, nudging the over-excited limb with his leg, “See you around, All Might. Hopefully not too often, if you know what I mean.”

“You too?” Toshinori snorted, “Recovery Girl is rubbing off on you already.”

"I'm hardly a bad influence!" Recovery Girl scoffed, "Maybe you'll actually listen to him."

Isamu sputtered and ducked his head, “I’m just glad to see you getting your life back.”

“Me too, young man,” Toshinori said quietly, “Rest up. I’ll be sure to stop by and keep you from getting too bored.” He shot a cheeky glance at Recovery Girl, “Though I'm certain Recovery Girl will find ways to keep you busy.”

She smiled cheerily and patted an intimidating stack of medical books, “A nurse should always keep their mind sharp. I’m sure some light reading will keep him entertained.”

Isamu’s eyes widened at the stack, but he managed an overwhelmed smile, “P…Plus Ultra! Right?”

Toshinori barked a laugh, “Plus Ultra! That’s the U.A. spirit! Take care, young man.”

Flashing a smile and a thumbs-up, he wished them well, ducked through the door, and rejoined Aizawa. They walked in comfortable silence through the familiar halls, empty of its usual bustling occupants, until they reached the main entrance. Toshinori paused briefly and glanced back at how far he'd already come, savoring the small triumph. Then, he pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The soft orange glow of the autumn evening cast long, fading shadows across the campus, stretching the shapes of their own. A chill breeze rustled his shirt and sent goosebumps across his skin.

Toshinori shivered, hackles bristling against the cold, and held the door out for Aizawa. He gestured to his duffel bag, “I can carry that, you know.”

Aizawa grunted noncommittally and said nothing, keeping the duffel slung over his shoulder as he led the way.

Toshinori thought he saw a smile peek out from under his scarf.

Rubbing the creeping chill from his hands, Toshinori asked, “How are the kids? Have they been progressing well? Twenty-two, -three... Damn, nearly a month. I’ve missed too many lessons. I need to catch up.”

“Principal Nedzu had progress reports typed up,” Aizawa said as Toshinori caught up to him, “Lesson copies for the Hero Course are already in your room. As for the students, you’ll see them soon enough.”

Toshinori hummed, falling into step beside Aizawa. As he did, his ears twitched at the scrape-slap of his feet on the sidewalk. He glanced down at his feet and the prototype pair of shoes Power Loader designed for him. They were a work in progress, to say the least. Ultimately open-toed, strap-on sandals, they slipped and rubbed uncomfortably against his claws and pads, but wearing them would keep the floors of the dorm clean.

A small knot in his calf suddenly clenched and his legs trembled with growing fatigue. 

Just a little farther, Toshinori rubbed at his thigh, breath puffing.

Aizawa glanced back and slowed as they rounded the last building, and Toshinori looked up.

The Heights Alliance 1-A Dorm sat ahead, glowing in the fading light. Shadows of their students darted past the windows, none noticing as Toshinori and Aizawa walked up the front steps. Their voices, barely muffled by the door, were loud and boisterous. Shouts of directions, a loud thud, and a curse. Laughter rang out from inside the building.

Toshinori halted at the door, gut tying itself in knots as his tail flicked uneasily. He jumped when Aizawa elbowed him.

“What’s with that face?” the Erasure Hero asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Wh-? Oh,” Toshinori snorted and willed his expression to relax. He chuckled at himself and rubbed at the back of his neck, claws bumping against spikes.

Smile, All Might.

Squaring his shoulders, he grinned wide, opened the door, and walked inside.

The noise rose, a cacophony of music, laughter, chatting, the clatter and sizzle from the kitchen, and what sounded like an argument over how to work Toshinori’s old VCR. Primary colored paper chains arched across the ceiling, more bursting from young Yaoyorozu’s arms. In the middle of them all was a huge, homemade banner that read in star-spangled red and gold:

Welcome Home All Might!!  

Toshinori’s lopsided grin widened, his unease vanishing. He shook his head as he slipped off his shoes.

What was I worried about?

Aizawa sighed as he stopped beside Toshinori, looking around the shared living space.

“They’re cleaning this up,” he muttered, ducking further behind his scarf.

Toshinori gave Aizawa a friendly elbow bump, “Should I announce myself?” he asked in a stage whisper.

Aizawa shrugged.

“I’m surprised you haven’t already,” he deadpanned.

Toshinori couldn’t help it. He laughed, booming loud and devolving into wheezing chuckles.

“All Might!”

Toshinori’s ears perked, and he spotted Izuku waving from the kitchen, a bright grin on his face. His laugh and the boy’s shout caught the attention of his classmates, and they all turned to the front door.

Whatever unanimous cheer they'd planned died in their throats, their smiling faces flipped to shock and concern in an instant. Wide-eyed, his students took in every change, speechless.

Toshinori’s grin faltered. All at once, he was very aware of the tremble in his tired, twisted legs, the droop of his ears, and the cautious wag of his tail.

Then, in the center of the living room, Ashido’s look of recognition caught his eye. Toshinori lifted his claws and gave her a small wave.

“I knew it,” the pink-haired girl whispered, dropping the pillows from her arms. She vaulted over the couch, bolting across the room. “I KNEW IT!!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around Toshinori and hugging him tightly.

Toshinori coughed, stumbling and swinging his tail wide to keep his balance as she pinned his arms in her embrace.

“H-hello, young Ashido,” Toshinori wheezed and managed to twist his arm up and ruffle her hair.

“I knew it! I knew it had to be you under that curtain,” Ashido pulled away just long enough to examine Toshinori’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks, before she pressed her face against his shirt, “We were so worried! And we missed you so much!”

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t cry,” Toshinori fretted, hugging her and patting her back, “It’s alright now. Do you know why? Beca-oof!” His breath was nearly knocked out of him as another pair of arms wrapped around him, then another and another.

Kirishima grinned up from between Uraraka and Asui, visibly holding back tears, “Because you’re here!”

Relieved laughter and "welcome back"s surrounded Toshinori as he attempted to pat the head of each student surrounding him. Stumbling on unsteady legs, he chuckled and shot a helpless look at Aizawa who shrugged.

Toshinori grinned, You’re no help!

His tail swung happily, bumping into a few of his students, “Ah! My apologies Hagakure!”

You’re no help either! Toshinori thought, pressing the base of his tail down trying to keep it still.

Jirou cocked her head to the side, pointing between him and Ojiro, “Hey, you two match!”

Hagakure jumped up with excitement, “You’re right, Jirou! Look Ojiro! Tail buddies!”

Ojiro blushed furiously as his tail wagged. Toshinori couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him. His tail matched Ojiro’s pace, and he shook his head with amusement.

Feeling a tug on his arm, Toshinori looked down.

Ashido pulled him along towards the tables as Yaoyorozu spoke, “We set up refreshments here. We weren’t sure what kind of drink you would prefer, so we have teas - green, black, and herbal, fruit juices, and water if you prefer something simpler. Would you like to start with tea?”

Toshinori stared at the varied brands in front of him, These kids work fast…

Smiling, he replied, “Gree-, ah no, I think I’ll have some herbal tea if you don’t mind.”

Yaoyorozu nodded, “Of course! Next, are the snacks. We have a couple of films prepared, and a movie night would not be complete without snacks.”

The class vice president led him across the dining area, students trailing behind - each grabbing their preferred drink and snacks. Gesturing firmly, young Iida reminded them not to crowd the refreshments and to collect their snacks in an orderly fashion. Ashido remained latched onto his arm, refusing to let go even when they settled on the couch.

Toshinori smiled gently, reaching across and ruffling her hair, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ashido nodded, pulling pillows and a blanket around them, and snuggled closer as her eyes locked onto the screen. Iida dimmed the lights and everyone gathered around the couch where Toshinori sat. He looked around, listening to the quiet murmurs of his students as they settled. His tail tuft thumped softly when Izuku sat on a pillow by his legs. The boy gave him a small smile, his shoulder just brushing the side of Toshinori’s calf, before turning his attention to the screen.

Toshinori gasped as trumpets and brass blared from the speakers, filling the air with an all-too-familiar tune. They didn’t… He smiled lopsidedly when he saw the film’s signature golden letters light up a starry sky. They did.

Chuckling, Toshinori let his tail slide off the couch and rest on Izuku’s shoulder, and settled in for the long ride.

The class - his kids - pressed close with dozens of blankets and pillows. There were no questions about where Toshinori had been or about what happened, or why he looked the way he did. They were just happy to have him back.

“Someone has to save our skins!” shouted the movie’s heroine to the cheers of Toshinori’s students. He huffed a quiet laugh, slowly nursing the fresh cup of ginger tea young Bakugou quietly handed him. The warmth of the blankets, pillows, and his students huddled close lulled him into pleasant dozing.

As much as Toshinori loved these movies, his attention drifted. It shifted from student to student, eventually landing on Aizawa cocooned inside his sleeping bag against the wall. A soft, contented smile lit up Toshinori’s face.

Thank you. All of you.

Naomasa pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing away the paperwork on his desk. The office was quiet in the late-night hours. Even Sansa had gone home for the night. Naomasa rubbed at his temples and stared at the short letter delivered by the chief’s secretary.

The third-party investigative team led by William Howard Wright is hereby authorized to work under Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi on the Rishi General Hospital & Yagi joint case. Further details will be decided at the discretion of the Head Investigator, Detective Tsukauchi.

Signed,

Chief Kenji Tsuragamae

Naomasa sighed and flipped open his laptop, “Alright. Let’s see what you have to offer.”

Toshinoumu & Izuku, Toshinoumu Ears, Tail Jail by Art-of_Zirio

Chapter Text

Wrapped in warmth and the slow, quiet snoring of his students, Toshinori breathed in deep and sighed. As peaceful as he was drifting in dreamless sleep, a growing ache in his neck and back coaxed him steadily awake. He stirred slowly, eyes opening and ears twitching at the immediate hum of protest. 

Ah, Toshinori smiled softly at the mop of pink hair pressed against his arm. Stifling a yawn, he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark, easily making out the sleeping figures piled on the neighboring couch and pillows across the floor. Did you all stay because I dozed off? He checked his wristwatch and grunted in surprise. It was nearly two in the morning.

Toshinori brushed his hand along his student’s back, half embracing her, “Young Ashido…” He chuckled as she curled against his side and muttered softly, “Ashido, your bed would be much more comfortable than my shoulder. Come on."

Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and mumbled sleepily, “W’lcome back, ‘ll Might.”

Affection warmed Toshinori’s chest, and he patted her head, “Thank you.” He looked around again and spoke softly, “Do you think you could help me wake your classmates? They'll wake up stiff if they sleep on the floor all night.”

Ashido nodded and, yawning widely, twisted to wake Hagakure curled up next to her on the couch.

Toshinori grinned, the tip of his tail flicking happily. Or at least, it made a valiant attempt. He looked down, gaze following the line of his tail off the couch and over Izuku’s shoulder. The boy was deep in sleep, using Toshinori’s tail as a pillow and clutching onto the tufted end.

Toshinori shook his head and bent lower, giving Izuku’s shoulder a soft squeeze.

“Come on, my boy,” he goaded quietly, gently tugging at his tail, “Time to go to bed.”

Izuku stirred, and his grip on the tuft tightened marginally, mumbling, “F… Five m’ minutes?”

“Midoriya,” Toshinori snorted, resting his hand against the boy’s warm, curly locks. He shook with suppressed laughter as he tried and failed to free his tail. Finally, he sat back up and ruffled Izuku’s hair. “My boy, I need my tail and you need to go to bed. Up you get,” he chuckled, pushing Izuku up to stand.

The boy dropped the tuft and swayed briefly, still half asleep, before nodding and wandering toward the elevator with a few of his classmates Ashido had been able to rouse.

“G’night All Might,” he yawned. “See you tomorrow.”

Toshinori’s tail swung contently as he stood, “Goodnight.”

He turned, bending to wake Sero when his tail bumped against someone.

“Apologies, Young Iida,” Toshinori said softly, chuckling when Iida nodded absently, rubbing at his eyes, and attempted to straighten his glasses.  

Half-asleep, Iida’s stiff movements were even more pronounced as he tried to wake Kouda. Once he’d managed to direct more of his classmates toward their bedrooms, each student mumbling a passing goodnight to Toshinori, Iida began to pick up cups and plates around the room.

Toshinori patted his back and nudged the boy toward the elevator with a soft, “That can be done in the morning. Get some rest.”

“Yes, All Might-sensei,” Iida replied with a barely stifled yawn, “Have a good night.”

Toshinori chuckled, “Rest well.”

When the elevator doors shut, he sighed and leaned against the couch, taking in the familiar, empty room. He smiled fondly at the party clutter left behind, the blankets and pillows scattered across the floor, and the Welcome Home sign and paper chains strung up on the walls.

"They really are something else, these kids..." he thought, absently running his hand along the back of the couch.

His claws snagged against something.

Hm? ... Oh.

Huffing, he pressed at the small puncture in the cushion where he'd fallen asleep.

“At least it’s just one,” he reasoned, brushing his claws back over his spikes. The tip of his tail flicked curiously as he bent and ran his hand up the crease between the cushions.

Maybe if I sit along here…

Toshinori shook his head and stepped around the couch. He picked up the abandoned blankets and pillows, gently folding the blankets and setting them with the pillows on the couch. His ears perked in satisfaction, falling into his comfortable routine as he moved into the kitchen, collecting dishes as he went and placing them into the sink.

Then, he stumbled.

Sh-, he caught himself and braced against a counter, glancing down at his legs, and frowned as they trembled with fatigue. Already hit my limit…

He carefully righted his feet and ran his hand over his face, “It has been a long day.”

Taking one last look at the room, he walked the familiar route to the elevator.

The doors slid open with a cheery double tone and Toshinori stepped inside. Careful to curl his tail into the smaller space, catching and holding the tufted end to his chest, he thumbed the glowing 2F button - and grunted, grabbing the railing as the elevator lurched upward. Toshinori’s legs wobbled, and he heaved a rasping breath, relieved when the doors opened again with a soft bing!  

He and Aizawa shared the once empty second floor on the girls’ side - an unspoken barrier between the girls’ and boys’ living spaces. His room was the first on the left, its door propped slightly open. He pushed through the doorway, sparing a glance at the nameplate hung just above the peephole.

    All Might
Toshinori Yagi

The inside of his room was almost exactly how he left it. His bed was neatly made and his desk cluttered with notebooks, papers, and pill bottles. The moon and distant campus lights filtered through his partially drawn curtains. The only immediate differences were the paper bags left beside his closet, the duffel bag Aizawa carried for him left on his bed, and on his desk, a large manila folder with what he could only assume were the lesson plans for the weeks he’d missed.

Toshinori stepped inside, letting the door close behind him as the overwhelming feeling of home washed over him. He breathed deeply, walked over to his bed, and lowered his torso onto his comforter with a deep groan.

Was it always so soft? He wondered, fingers curling in the sheets and ears drooping sleepily. His tail swayed, and he grunted as it bumped roughly into his desk chair.

Not yet, he reminded himself.

Rolling, Toshinori sat up on the edge of his mattress and unzipped his duffel bag. There were only a few items inside. A couple of casual outfits that would fit his changed body lay on top. Beneath them, his bathroom bag and a large container filled with the specialized antacids Recovery Girl prepared. Toshinori paused, rubbing at the place where that new… His new organ was, and popped one of the antacids in his mouth. The faint burning in his chest faded, and he set the container next to his other pill bottles.

He dug to the bottom of the duffel bag and pulled out his nightclothes, a pair of sweatpants, and his old U.A. hoodie. Recovery Girl was kind enough to help cut a line down the middle of the faded hoodie’s back, stopping where his spikes did. It was a shame to cut the fabric, but… it was necessary.

Toshinori changed and tossed his worn clothes into the hamper at the end of his bed. The familiar motion bringing a small smile to his face. Snagging his toiletry bag, he stood and made his way to the bathroom.

When it was decided they would stay in Heights Alliance, the rooms between his own and Aizawa’s were renovated into private bathrooms. Each included their own shower and tub, as well as a washer and drier, much to both teachers’ relief.

Toshinori pulled the door open and flicked on the lights out of habit.

Shit! He flinched back and squeezed his eyes shut, the sudden bright light sending a stab of pain through his skull. Toshinori rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes, resisting the urge to slap the light switch down. Squinting carefully, he blinked away the spots in his eyes as they grew accustomed to the light.

His tail swung wide in irritation and knocked against the doorframe, sending another dull jolt of pain up his spine. Twisting around, he glared at the limb, hackles bristling.

After a moment, Toshinori sighed. It’s fine.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he forced his tail to still. He rolled his shoulders and dropped his bag onto the bathroom counter, reaching out and turning on the sink. He splashed his face with water, brushing the water back over his hair.

Toshinori let out a slow breath, leaning against the counter as his legs trembled. His tail drooped, tuft sweeping across the laminate floor. Adjusting his stance, the sound of his claws scraping the floor echoed off the walls.

Just a little tired. This is nothing, he thought, plucking his toothbrush and paste from his bag and quickly brushing his teeth. He spat and placed his toothbrush in its holder.

A slight tickle made him scrunch up his nose. He sneezed.

“F- !” Fuck! Toshinori clutched his side, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his chest burned. He stumbled over to his toilet as his gut clenched again, coughing and retching bloodied acid. His legs collapsed beneath him, and he clutched the seat, capped claws scrabbling against the porcelain.

“Sh-,” Toshinori panted and wheezed, whole body aching as he weakly spat, “Shit.”   

Leaning against the wall, he frowned as his hand brushed against the floor. He lifted it and stared at the dust coating his palm and fingers.

All Might knocked on his ass by dust, Toshinori huffed a laugh and shook his head, letting his hand fall back to his side.

Arms shaking, he pushed himself up, resting momentarily on all fours before standing.

Toshinori looked around, frowning and ears drooping. A thin layer of dust coated every surface. His shoulders slumped, and he quietly washed his hands.

Blinking wearily and brushing his hands on his hoodie, he trudged back into his bedroom and flicked on the small desk lamp. Dust swirled in the soft orange rays, and he wrinkled his nose, looking away. Bending, he pulled open the bottom desk drawer and grabbed a water bottle.

He quickly downed the water to rinse the acrid taste from his mouth. Glancing back at his collection of bottles, he hummed. I’ll need to get some more.

Toshinori tensed as he felt another sneeze, tail curling under him as he braced, and sighed with relief when it didn’t come. Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin, he carefully lowered himself onto his bed and stretched. He eyed his pillow and flipped it over.

I’ll change the sheets tomorrow.

Curling under his covers, he couldn’t help groaning quietly. His eyelids drooped, and his tail curled tightly around himself.

His body ached, his chest burned, and there was still so much to do and adjust to… but a small smile pulled the corner of his lips.

Tomorrow...

Naomasa took another swig of coffee, grimacing at the burnt, bitter taste, and glanced at the clock on the wall.

They’re late. He set his mug down and flipped the coffee maker’s switch to reheat the coffee on the table.

Chief Tsuragamae had assigned a small conference room to the joint investigation. Copies of files from the Yagi Abduction case sat out on the table, including images of Toshinori’s torn and bloodied clothes and the shackles and chains collected from Recovery Girl’s infirmary.

Naomasa frowned down at the images, frustration twisting his gut.

The door clacked as Sansa walked in and held it open.

“Just in here,” the feline officer gestured inside and stepped back as William Wright passed him. Following the English foreigner were five others, a mixed group to say the least.

“Detective Tsukauchi,” Wright strode forward and shook his hand, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Naomasa replied with a nod, glancing curiously at the others.

Wright turned to the five, gesturing politely to Naomasa, “This is Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, Head Investigator for the Yagi case.” The foreign investigator turned back to Naomasa.

“These are my colleagues,” Wright said and gestured to each person in turn.

“Jean-Baptiste Bellamy, Empath.”

Bellamy was an older man, perhaps mid-fifties to early sixties. Dark skin and tightly curled hair with a dusting of gray, and wearing a soft, burgundy sweater vest, the man smiled wide and gave Naomasa a firm handshake.

“A pleasure,” he said, voice deep and warm. The pleasant smell of woodsmoke and old books seemed to surround the man.

“Alba Tyto, Perfect Recall,” Wright continued.

A short woman stepped forward. Though Wright had implied her quirk was memory related, she obviously inherited a heteromorphic Owl Form quirk. She had the head, wings, and talons of a barn owl. Her golden-brown and white feathers fluffed happily, dark eyes closing as she bowed.

“Good to meet you,” Tyto said, her whistling voice heavily accented.

North Eastern European? Naomasa wondered.  

He bowed in return, “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Tyto.”

“Mary- ah,” Wright turned to face the white-haired woman, “Would you prefer to be introduced with your given name, Meari?”

The woman smiled and shook her head, “Mary is fine. Mary Shin, at your service, Detective Tsukauchi.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small jar of dirt, and smiled softly “My quirk is Blooming Trust. It’s better if I show you.”

Lifting her index finger, she let it hover over the jar. Naomasa tilted his head and watched a small black pebble fall from her fingertip. Hitting the dirt the pebble - Ah, no. - the seed sprouted and a small green succulent with purple stripes grew.

Shin frowned, lower lip pouting, and ran her fingertip along the purple streaks, “I'm sorry if we’ve made a poor first impression, but this is for you.”

Naomasa blinked at the proffered succulent, and its purple streaks widened, “Thank you?”

“Oops! Oh no... I suppose I did that in the wrong order,” Shin’s cheeks colored with embarrassment, and she bowed in apology - her long white hair draping over her shoulders, “You see, this plant grows with communication. It’ll never get larger than a common houseplant, but that’s beside the point. Blooming Trust. With communication and trust, the plant thrives. Without trust… it will turn purple and wither.” She laughed weakly, “I should have read the mood and explained first.”

Naomasa regarded the young woman in front of him, She’s certainly earnest. And she isn’t lying as far as I can tell.

Shin’s expression brightened, “Ah! There we go!”

Naomasa looked down at the small plant as a few purple stripes faded and the plant visibly grew wider.

Oh, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he set the plant down on the table.

“Thank you,” Naomasa said, “It’s lovely.”

Wright nodded and nudged a young man forward.

“This is Genji Tsuda-”

Naomasa’s face remained impassive as he chuckled internally, genjitsuda. Reality and truth, huh? I’m sensing a pattern.

“He’s our newest member but specializes in interrogations. He is sure to be of use,” Wright stated, his hand not leaving the younger man’s shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, Detective,” Tsuda said quietly, averting his gray-eyed gaze.

Naomasa gave the shy, young man a careful once-over. He was small and fairly nondescript, short black hair and no mutation quirk features that would stand out. He couldn’t be older than twenty. Bent posture, folded arms, and a closed-off expression -

He does not want to be here.   

“A specialty in interrogation?” Naomasa asked. He noticed Wright’s grip tighten marginally on the young man’s shoulder.

“My quirk,” Tsuda muttered, “Speak no Evil.”

“I handle the questioning, while he observes,” Wright explained, a professional smile on his face, “He’s still in training, of course, but he helps us greatly where finding the truth is concerned.”

“Ever plan to introduce me?” the last person asked with a cheeky grin.

“I saved the best for last,” Wright said, his grin growing genuine, “This young lady is Ms. Vera Lang.”

“Young!” the round, middle-aged woman laughed, “You flatter me, Bill.”

Lang stepped forward, a white and red cane tapping just in front of her, and reached out her hand.

Blind? Naomasa thought curiously, stepping forward and shaking her hand.

“My quirk is Hear no Evil, if you were wondering what a blind woman was doing here,” Laughter lines crinkled at the corner of her clouded eyes as she grinned. “So what’s your quirk, sugar?”  

“Ah.” Sugar? Naomasa’s passive mask broke, and his face warmed at the sudden use of a pet name. He cleared his throat, glancing at Sansa who seemed to be suppressing a laughing fit, “Enhanced Perception.”

“Well! Wouldn’t you know it!” the blind woman pulled Naomasa’s arm and threw her arm around his waist, “Wright, he would fit right in with this dysfunctional family. You had me worried for no reason. Don’t be so skeptical of everyone!” Lang swung her cane low and smacked Wright’s ankle.

“He’s killed more than a few of poor Mary’s plants,” she stage-whispered to Naomasa, “Take care of that one, please.”

“O-oh?” Naomasa stiffened in the woman’s half-embrace, shooting a helpless look at Sansa. The feline officer’s ears were pressed flat, and he covered his mouth as he shook with silent laughter.

The bell around Sansa’s neck tinkled, and Tyto swiveled her head to look. Sansa stiffened, fur fluffing bashfully, and hid his hands behind his back in an attempt to appear professional. Tyto clicked her beak and tittered with amusement as Sansa shrunk back at her gaze.

“Now that we're all introduced,” Lang mercifully released Naomasa, patting his chest as she wandered to the table, “Do I smell coffee?”

“Ah, yes ma’am,” Naomasa bent to fix her a cup but she waved him away.

“I’ve got it,” she said, fingers ghosting along the table and finding the disposable cups.

“Please, allow me,” Naomasa reached over, grabbing the coffee pot.

Lang smiled wryly, “If you insist, Detective.”

Naomasa pulled a chair out for Lang, filled her cup, and gestured to the table, “Let’s get right to the matter at hand.”

He paused as Wright and his colleagues sat before taking his own seat and gesturing for Sansa to close the door and join them.

“In front of you are all the documents regarding the Yagi Abduction case,” Naomasa began, a flicker of familiar guilt flaring in his chest, “Toshinori Yagi called and entered the vehicle of his usual driver, Hibiki Genji. However, earlier that night, his driver had been murdered. The man driving the vehicle then abducted Yagi and brought him to the storage facility at Rishi General Hospital. The location you were observing, correct?”    

“That is correct,” Wright answered, flipping through the files and pictures of the scene. “This man, Yagi, was imprisoned and tortured?”

Anger and guilt twisted Naomasa’s gut, but he kept his face professionally neutral, “He was.”

“Toshinori Yagi was a friend of yours?”

Naomasa froze and met Bellamy’s sympathetic gaze.

Empath… right.

Naomasa sighed, folding his hands together, “Yes, Toshinori Yagi is a very close friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy said, “You have been through a lot. It is admirable that you would go so far for a friend.”

Admirable? Naomasa thought he would choke, his emotions tumbling past, too fast to process. Anger, guilt, disgust - sadness, longing, regret - relief, hope, determination. Me? No… Not me. He didn't have to leave alone that night. Shouldn't have-

Bellamy’s eyes widened with alarm, and his voice softened, “You shouldn’t bottle up all of those feelings.”

“I’m aware,” Naomasa replied honestly, but he smiled, “It’s nothing I can’t handle, but thank you for your concern.”

Wright gathered the papers in front of him, tapping them against the table, “I see you have the beginning and end down, so I assume you’ll need the gaps filled? You expect some of our observations may help?”

Naomasa nodded, “Correct.”

Humming thoughtfully, Wright pressed his fingers together, “If I may, these pictures don’t make it clear what happened to Yagi. Where is he now?”

Tyto’s head snapped up, “While we’re on this track, what does this note found in the vehicle mean? I don’t see the connection.”

Shin flipped through her copy of the files, “‘Keep them. I’m making another.’ Who wrote this?”

Lang tapped her fingers against the table, “You’re asking the wrong questions first, dears. This abduction… It’s calculated. The note is personal. Detective, just who is this friend of yours?”

Naomasa sighed, brushing his hand through his short hair.

These people… They’re quick, I’ll give them that.

“Toshinori Yagi,” he began, “We are using his given name to avoid an unnecessary uproar. This detail has not been made public. I will appreciate it if you keep it that way.”

After a few small nods of agreement, Naomasa continued.

“Toshinori Yagi is retired Pro-Hero All Might.” Naomasa gestured to the note in Shin’s hands, “His abductor was one of his oldest enemies.”

Wright’s eyes widened marginally, and he glared at Alba, “That was All Might? Alba, you didn’t recognize him from the photos? The press conference?”

Alba’s feathers ruffled, and she spoke in rapid English, “Do you know how many faces I have memorized? A bit of background is necessary for Perfect Recall to work, and you know it!” She clicked her beak and nervously preened one of her primary feathers, “Though, after that news coverage, you’d think any of us would’ve recognized that man…”

Naomasa’s expression was blank, his voice quiet, “Excuse me?”

Six heads turned to face Naomasa, and Bellamy gave the detective a wary look. Naomasa stared at each one, gauging their reactions, quirk gathering every detail. His eyes settled on Genji who shivered and sunk deeply into his seat, glancing furtively at Wright.

Naomasa followed the young man’s glance, and his gaze bore into Wright, “Could you let me in on what you mean?”

Wright straightened and returned his stare, “What we mean?”

Tension crackled in the air.

“You said you had photos,” Naomasa clarified slowly, “and that you should have recognized All Might… From this, I can only assume you stood back and watched as a man was taken and imprisoned in that building. Am I wrong?”

Wright sighed and sat back in his chair, hands folded in front of him, “No. That was an error on our part. Our own investigation took priority. Yes, we had cameras stationed around Rishi to monitor the area for suspicious activity,” He turned to his left, holding out his hand, “Mary, if you would.”

“Ah- yes sir!” Searching through her bag, Shin pulled out a folder and handed it to Wright.

Wright pulled out three photos, and Naomasa’s anger surged as the first showed Toshinori being dragged into the storage facility.

“At the time, we thought this to be a common mugging. An ordinary, if frail-looking, man robbed of his coat and shoes, and left in the stairwell of an abandoned building. He would get up and walk away, penniless, but otherwise unharmed. We dismissed it. We weren’t looking for muggings. Which leads me to this next picture.”

Wright flipped it over, “Nurses were carting food and medical supplies in and out of the building, and we believed we were onto something. You see, we’ve been following paper trails and transactions for years - supplies, money, names - always lacking a solid human connection, but fully tied with organized crime. We haven’t just been to Rishi. Jean-Baptiste and Alba over here were in charge of canvassing Jedha only two months ago.”

Naomasa listened carefully, so far Wright had only given him the bare minimum.

Wright reached for the final picture, “And then we had it, a link to our endgame. These nurses were making something. And we thought we finally grasped something tangible until your forces cracked open the storage building on the same day.

“We’re honestly not sure what it was, but that something -”

“Wright-” Bellamy cautioned, but the foreign investigator continued.

“Or one of them at least - escaped,” Wright flipped the final picture. "I believe your newspapers call these things 'noumu.'"

Naomasa saw Toshinori. He pulled the photo closer.

Son of a bitch.

When Naomasa saw Toshinori for the first time, he was changed and tired but… Not like this. He appeared like he had in that damn video. Shirtless, hair matted with blood, pants torn to shreds, and chains hanging from each of his limbs, Toshinori was photographed mid-stride on all fours and carrying Nurse Isamu on his back.

Wright’s voice lowered, “It may be wise to keep an eye out for any reports about this thing wandering around-”

Crunch.

“Hey! What-?!”

Naomasa looked down at his hands, the enlarged picture lay crumpled and torn at his fingertips. His hands shook, and he clenched them together, dropping the damaged photo.

“Not a thing. Don’t -” Naomasa’s throat tightened and he clasped his hands together, “Don’t call him a thing. Toshinori isn’t-”

Chained - bloodied - pacing like an animal… Suffocating in that white room...

“Sir?” Naomasa looked up at the sound of Sansa’s voice.

“You said he’s safe,” Sansa reminded softly, “He’s alright.”

Naomasa nodded, covering his mouth and sighing as he collected himself.

“There’s been,” he took a measured breath, “a misunderstanding. The man in both the first and last photo is Toshinori Yagi.”

All for One reached out, hand closing around Toshinori’s face -

Toshinori jerked awake, claws slashing out and tail crashing against the floor. His legs were pinned, wrapped and pressed together. He kicked the binding away and scrambling to sit up. His breaths came in shallow gasps as he looked around the unfamiliar room. It looked like his but too tall, too-

Oh, he was on the floor.

His shoulders sagged as he forced his breathing to slow. Pushing himself back, Toshinori leaned against the edge of his bed and grimaced. His cover lay near the bathroom door where he kicked it. Jagged tears marred the fabric.

Snagging another water bottle from his desk, Toshinori cleared his throat and drank as sweat cooled on his skin. He eyed his room, frown deepening when he spotted claw marks etched into the floor.

Even here… Toshinori sighed, exhausted, and glanced at his watch.

7:32 a.m.

His eyelids drooped, head bobbing. Absentmindedly, he noted he’d left the light on…

Toshinori jerked with a curse, shooting up and immediately regretting the quick motion. The room spun as vertigo hit, and he fought the urge to gag.

“Okay. Okay…” He patted his chest, calming his pounding heart.

He clenched his eyes shut, lifting his wrist, and opened them slowly.

9:08 a.m.

Alright. Toshinori sighed. An hour and a half. I just fell asleep that time. I just…

“Sh-” He sneezed. “Shit! Fine! I’m up!”

Toshinori walked to the sliding glass door, pushing the curtain aside, and slid it open. Fresh air swirled into the room, and he took a step onto the veranda, taking several deep breaths. His eyes adjusted quickly to the morning light, and leaving the door open, he got to work.

Toshinori ripped an old shirt and tied it around his face as he set off to clean. Determination powered his limbs. Starting in the bathroom, he wiped down every surface, eliminating the troublesome dust. Sweat began to bead down his back, collecting in his ridged mane, but he shook his head, stubbornly refusing to stop.

Finishing the bathroom with a mild cleaning spray and a final wipe-down, he moved onto the bedroom. When his legs wobbled, he took another drink but otherwise ignored them. He needed this done.

Two hours later, Toshinori pressed at his back and stretched, feeling his bones pop. He untied the cloth around his face and smiled.

Clean.

He let out a small laugh and patted his abdomen as it gurgled, muttering softly, “One last thing, first.”

Toshinori took a quick shower, rinsing off the remnants of his troubled night and productive morning. Toweling his hair dry, careful not to bump his loose third spike, he stepped out of the bathroom with fresh clothes and fresh thoughts.

Cool air brushed his skin, and he slid the glass door shut with a shiver.

“Alright,” Toshinori rubbed his hands together, “I could go for a late breakfast.”

He straightened his shirt and snagged the lesson plans from his desk before leaving his room behind.

When the elevator opened, Toshinori was surprised to see the dorm’s shared space fairly empty. Slowly making his way toward the kitchen, he smiled, smelling the lingering sweet and savory scents of his students’ breakfasts.

“All Might-sensei! Good morning!” Kirishima waved from the dining area, Kaminari and Sero sat nearby and waved in greeting.

“Good morning,” Toshinori grinned, tail swaying happily. “What are you three up to?”

“We’re about to go to the training fields,” Sero said, “Present Mic’s supervising sparing until 3 p.m.”

Toshinori’s grin brightened, and he gave them a thumbs up, “Great!” He glanced around, spotting only Bakugou sitting on the living room couch, and asked, “Young Bakugou, are you going sparring as well?”

The boy glanced up from his textbook and shrugged.

“Ah, I asked, but he wanted to study,” Kirishima said, shooting his friend a cheeky grin, “Offer’s still open!”

“Hair-for-brains,” Bakugou grumbled, turning the page.

“Are the rest of your classmates sparring?” Toshinori asked.  

“Nah,” Kaminari shook his head, “Midnight-sensei took the girls to a bathhouse with the girls from 1-B. Pretty sure Midoriya was dragged out by Iida. Something about a volunteer thing they promised to do. Not sure where everyone else is.”

“How’re you feeling?” Kirishima asked suddenly, not quite returning his gaze.

Toshinori smiled at Kirishima, “Much better.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, tracing around the small spikes, “If you have questions, please don’t be afraid to ask.”

The three boys nodded soberly, and Toshinori huffed a laugh.

“Don’t fret,” he said, clapping a hand on Sero’s shoulder, “And don’t let me delay you any longer. Have a good time and work hard.”

“Will do, All Might!” Kaminari crowed with a grin.

Toshinori grinned wide as the boys left before turning his attention to young Bakugou. The boy sat, bent over his textbook, at the far end of the couch.

“Good Morning, Bakugou, my boy,” Toshinori greeted as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Morning,” came the oddly subdued reply.

Toshinori glanced back at the boy, catching Bakugou quickly return his attention to his textbook, a small frown on his face. Quirking an eyebrow and flicking his tail curiously, Toshinori gestured to the front door.

“I’m surprised you aren’t out sparring,” he said, carefully watching the boy’s face.

Bakugou’s expression remained impassive as he shrugged, “I wanted to read ahead.”

“Ah,” Toshinori hummed with a sage nod, “Very studious.”

Bakugou grunted in reply.

Toshinori opened the fridge, briefly taking inventory, and pulled out a couple of eggs, cheese, chives, and red bell pepper.

Omelet with toast sounds nice, he thought, coughing lightly at a tickle in his throat.

Toshinori made quick work of rinsing the pepper, finding a pan and cutting board, and started his tea. Adjusting his stance, claws clicking against the wood floor, he sliced half the pepper into strips and then diced them. The familiar motion and smell were relaxing, and he couldn’t help but smile contently. His claws barely getting in the way, he continued his cooking, spraying and tossing his bits of pepper into the heated pan. He let them cook a while as he cracked and whisked his eggs before pouring them into the pan.

Toshinori kept an eye on Bakugou all the while, catching the boy watching more than a few times. He hummed as he plucked his toast from the toaster but said nothing. It wasn’t curiosity that made the gruff boy watch him. It looked more like barely contained concern.

Curiosity Toshinori could handle. He was still practicing accepting others’ - especially his students’ - concern...

His tail flicked thoughtfully as he slid his finished omelet onto his plate beside the toast and jam. Gathering up his lesson plans and a cup of tea, Toshinori walked to the living room and plopped himself down next to Bakugou. He didn’t miss the way the boy tensed. Instead, Toshinori moved his tail onto his own lap, took a small bite of his toast, and began reading through his papers.

I’ve missed so much, Toshinori realized with a small frown, flipping through page after page of completed topics and tests and sipping at his herbal tea. He set aside the students’ other subjects and focused on what was covered in Foundational Hero Studies. They were studying hero ethics and had already gone over the importance of hero licensing, the historical debate of whether professional heroes should be paid or volunteer, and the rise of organized heroism out of vigilantism.

Toshinori hummed, tail tapping the couch as he read through Aizawa’s notes on the practical exercises. His breath caught in his throat, and he coughed roughly. Grimacing at the copper and acid tastes, he reached for his tea.

Shit. His mug was empty.

Toshinori sighed and stood.

Pain shot through his chest and his legs wobbled as a coughing fit seized him. He stumbled.

Holy shit. Damn it. Not-

Firm hands gripped Toshinori’s upper arms and steered him back to sit on the couch.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” young Bakugou grumbled, taking Toshinori’s mug and stalking to the kitchen.

“Th-” Toshinori cleared his throat, wheezing and catching his breath.

Bakugou returned with a refilled mug of steaming tea, setting it on the coffee table before sitting back in his spot.

“Thank you,” Toshinori said quietly, blowing on the steaming tea and taking a cautionary sip. Without thinking, his tail slipped around the boy’s waist and gave him a small squeeze.

Bakugou froze.

Toshinori glanced over, and his ears drooped.

Bakugou sat rigid, arms slightly raised and hands hovering by his chest. He stared down at the limb wrapped around his waist, an uncomfortable, conflicted look on his face.

“Sorry, my boy,” Toshinori said, pulling his tail back into his lap, “Still growing accustomed to having this.” He gestured to his tail with a grin, but his student was no longer looking at his tail.

Ah, Toshinori rubbed at his wrist. The shackle scars were far fainter than they had been, but the raised discoloration remained.

“Recovery Girl already cared for these,” he said, giving Bakugou a thumbs up, “The marks should eventually fade.

“Now!” Toshinori clapped his hands, visibly startling the boy, “These notes are all well and good, but I just can’t seem to grasp the feeling of how far you and your classmates are. You wouldn’t mind going over what you’ve learned, would you?”

Toshinori’s grin widened, and he took a sip of his tea as Bakugou gave him a knowing frown. The boy sighed, shutting his textbook and roughly sliding Toshinori’s lesson plans over to himself.

Atsuhiro Sako rolled two marbles of his own making in his palm, eyes scanning across the rooftops. The wind was cold high above the city, high above the neighboring campus of U.A. It rustled his long coat and seeped into his bones.

Shivering, Sako frowned at the chill nipping at his bare face and leaned against the rooftop access door.

The early morning sky still glowed lavender over the sleepy city. The high rooftop made for the perfect place to view such a spectacular show. At last, a stage fitting for an entertainer such as himself. Far better than that dank hideout Shigaraki insisted on using until he could make his next move.

Sako sighed, pocketing the two marbles and glanced downward. Three floors down, Shigaraki and Kurogiri sat in Sako’s own hideaway, awaiting his Dove’s report. Important information for Shigaraki’s side quest to retrieve a rare item - or so he had said.

The entertainer huffed impatiently. All Might had already caused them enough trouble, in his opinion.

A flutter of white in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned.

Ah, Sako smiled, There’s my Dove.

“Atsu-nii!” A young boy landed clumsily on the rooftop, flapping his little white wings until he righted himself. He ran up to the magician, small feet pap-papping across the roof. His wings fluttered as he launched himself into Sako’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Hatoko,” Sako smiled wide, adjusting his hold on the boy so he sat against his hip, “How are you?”

“I made new friends at the park, and I saw a cat, and a nice lady bought me a sweet bun,” Hatoko rambled off, brown eyes shining. The white feathers atop the boy’s head stood, fluffed with excitement like a cockatiel’s. “And even though I got caught sleeping in a church, the nice man let me stay and even said to have dinner with him whenever I want!”

“Splendid!” Sako exclaimed, setting the boy down with a flourish, “Did you bring what I asked?”

“Uh-huh!” Hatoko nodded, tucking his wings tight against his back and rummaging into his oversized hoodie pocket. He pulled out a small smartphone and handed it to Sako, “I’ve been careful about not dropping it like you asked.”

“Good boy,” Sako said, pulling out his own phone and one of his marbles, “For that, you deserve a gift I think! Hold out your arms.”

The boy’s eyes widened with delight, rosy cheeks practically glowing, and he held out his hands, palms up. Sako waved his hand over the boy and decompressed the marble. A sky blue, feather down, puffy coat fell onto the boy’s outstretched arms.

Hatoko gaped at the winter coat, immediately checking the back.

“It’s got wing warmers!” the boy shrieked, little wings flaring out and fluttering as he examined the padded, covered slits on the coat’s back.  

While the boy bounced and shrugged on his new coat, sliding his wings through the slits and giving them an experimental flap, Sako turned his attention to the phone he had given the boy. He plugged a wire connecting his own phone to the boy’s and tapped the phone’s photo and video app. Transfer All glowed at the bottom, and Sako pressed it.

“You’ve been such a great help, Hatoko,” Sako said, ruffling the top of the boy’s feathered head, “No one saw you?”

“Nope! I’m sure!” The boy brushed his feathers back into place and pointed across the rooftops, “I go from roof to roof and avoid flying over big streets like you said.”  

“Excellent,” Sako smiled, “You wouldn’t want to get caught by anyone.”

Hatoko pouted, big brown eyes looking almost sternly up at Sako, “I know! I’m the best at hide-and-seek you know!”

Sako nodded, shrugging melodramatically, “Oh yes, that’s right. I’d nearly forgotten.”

“So?” the boy tugged on the magician’s long coat, “What do you want me to do today? More super-spy stuff?”

“Yes! Exactly so!” Sako grinned, finally disconnecting the two phones and handing the smaller back to the boy. “Very important, super-spy stuff. Think you can handle something so grown-up?”

“YES!” Hatoko jumped up, flapping his wings and nearly taking to the air, “I can do it! I promise! I’m super grown-up!”

“Okay,” Sako said, bending to the winged boy’s eye level, “I need you to keep an eye on the east - ah, that side - gates of U.A. and take pictures of anybody who goes in and out.”

The excitement in Hatoko’s eyes dimmed and he looked skeptically at the magician, “Are you sure that’s super-spy grown-up stuff?”

“Oh, yes,” Sako nodded gravely, “Absolutely.”

Hatoko pouted, “That’s boring.”

“Stay young, kid.” Sako deadpanned, earning a grin from the boy, “Should I make it worth your while then, Mister Super Spy Who Can’t Do Anything Boring?”

“Yes.” The boy deadpanned, mimicking the magician’s own expression.

Sako barked a laugh, and covertly pulled the second marble from his pocket, “How about some treasure?”

Hatoko’s eyes lit up as Sako clapped his hands together, waved one above the boy’s head, and pulled a decompressed bag from behind the boy’s back. Hatoko grabbed the bag, opened it, and immediately dug into it with a yelp of delight.

“A DS?!” the boy exclaimed, looking down at the secondhand device and games. He dug deeper and found the four books at the bottom, “And the Agent Kid series?”

“Think you’ll be bored now?” Sako asked, fists on his hips.

Hatoko stuffed his gifts back in the bag and hugged it close, “I won’t ever be bored again!”

“Good,” Sako said, standing and pulling his coat straight, “Just find a safe place to hide them, alright?”

Hatoko nodded enthusiastically, the feathers atop his head flaring up and bobbing.

“Now, get to it,” Sako said, playfully patting the boy’s back. “Call me if you get into any trouble.”

“I don’t get into trouble,” Hatoko pouted. The sour expression didn’t last as he hugged his treasure and spread his wings. “Thank you, Atsu-nii! See you soon!”

Sako waved the boy off as he leapt from the roof and flew low over the buildings toward the east.

Sighing deeply, he glanced back over the U.A. campus, then pulled out his phone. Sako scrolled through the most recent images from his Dove’s observations. There was a considerable amount of weekend traffic: faculty coming and going for their heroic duties, students leaving to shop and visit family, but a few caught the magician’s interest. The girls of classes 1-A and 1-B, he recognized a few, leaving with Midnight. Then that mop of green hair… The boy who had been on the kill list. He and the bespectacled child who had been with him at the Kamino Ward both left the safety of the U.A. walls.

“Little licensed heroes,” Sako hummed thoughtfully. He quickly sent the picture to a couple of his eyes and ears. They would keep tabs on those children.

He pocketed his phone and turned back into the roof stairwell and, slipping on his newest mask, Mr. Compress descended the stairs. He had a report to give.    

Toshinori groaned and opened his eyes slowly. He felt sluggish… Heavy. Lifting his hand and pressing it against his forehead, he sighed. Familiar white walls surrounded him. Chains clanked with every movement.

He looked around, frowning when he didn’t spot a food tray, Too early for Isamu’s next visit, I suppose. Or too late.

Running a hand along the chain binding his tail, he turned to face the wall and got back to work. His claws bit into the tile and drywall, tearing it away piece by piece. With every scratch and tear, every chunk that fell, the edge of the hole grew smaller, closing in on the concrete beneath. Debris littered the floor around his feet, and piles of dust rose to his hocks as he etched and etched and etched and etched.

Toshinori growled low in his throat, tail flicking impatiently. Pain - was it pain? - suddenly pinched at the back of his neck, and he slapped at it. A warm, wet sensation spread from his palm. Jerking his hand forward, he gaped at the bleeding hole in its center.

What...? He reached back slowly, claws brushing through hair and bumping against…

Spikes?

“All M..Might…”

Toshinori’s eyes widened, and he whirled around, “Isamu!”

The chains grew heavier - the shackles tighter.

The light dimmed, fading as Toshinori frantically looked around the small room. He pushed forward, arms and legs shaking as he dragged his chains.

Red.

Toshinori recoiled, hands slipping against the floor. His hackles bristled.

No.

There, in the center of the room, Isamu lay in a dark, shallow pool. His eyes fixed on Toshinori, their light burning out.

“Isamu! Hold on, young man!” Toshinori strained forw-

The shackles clamped down on his limbs, dragging him back to the wall, and Toshinori let out a low wail, shaking his head. No, no, no, no…

Toshinori spun and yanked at the heavy chains, ignoring the red oozing down the walls. “I’m right here- I’m coming! Hold on!”

Not again! Not…  

                           Again?

Toshinori froze, dread curling in his gut. He turned.

Isamu’s body was gone but the pool of blood remained, spreading across the floor and staining the tile.

                                “All… All Might?”

Toshinori shuddered, a low groan escaping him as he clutched at his head.

Not here. Please... not here.

He looked up, blue-eyed gaze meeting green.

                   “All Might? Are you-”

The boy stepped forward, sending ripples across the dark pool and reaching out, palm up. Izuku flinched as a pale hand clapped onto his shoulder.    

“Now, now. Look what you’ve done, Noumu,” All for One formed from the shadows. His face… his face was like before. Whole.

“You’ve frightened the boy.”

Rage boiled in Toshinori’s gut. He lowered himself, tail slashing through the air, growling at the hand on Izuku’s shoulder.

All for One sighed, “Resorting to violence, yet again...”

Izuku struggled in the man’s grip, eyes pleading, “All Might, -”

                “All Might!"

                          "Wake up!”

Toshinori blinked, shaking his head and panting, Wake…  up? But you’re…

               I’m… not -

“All Might!” Izuku yanked at the hand on his shoulder, One for All flashing uselessly across his skin.

Eyes colder than they were that day so long ago, All for One met Toshinori’s glare and smiled, raising his left hand, “One teacher to another,” a pearly white spear extended from the center of the villain’s palm.

“Here’s your final lesson, Noumu.”

NO!

Toshinori lunged, chains snapping, and sunk his teeth into the hand trapping his boy.

Multiple Toshinoumus by Juustozzi <3 <3

Hatoko by Valduin

Chained by sketchquill

Chapter Text

Kyouka Jirou nodded her head to the rhythm of her guitar strums, tapping her foot to imagined drum beats. She paused, sliding her music sheet paper toward herself, and jotted down a few new notes.

Scritchscritch…

The sound was faint, Kyouka almost missed it.

Scritchscrit-

She stopped writing, but the scratching sound continued. She pulled her ear jack from her guitar and set the instrument carefully aside. Furrowing her brows, she closed her eyes and stuck her ear jack into the wall.

The scratching was coming from … below?

But isn’t that All Might-sensei’s - She jerked back, startled by a loud crash, and abruptly pulled her ear jack from the wall. What -?!

The image of All Might falling on those unsteady legs of his popped into her mind. Seized by alarm, she bolted out of her room and into the elevator.

Be okay, she thought, repeatedly pressing at the close door button, Don’t be hurt.

Dashing between the slowly opening doors, Kyouka ran to All Might’s room. She paused and knocked, “All Might-sensei? Is everything-?

A quiet, pained groan came from the other side, and she pressed closer to the door.

“Hold on! I’ll be right there!” She twisted the handle and shoved, willing the door to open. Opening a fraction, the door halted with a loud thud. Through the crack, Kyouka saw an overturned wooden dresser blocking the way. Grinding her teeth, she ran down the hall and banged on her homeroom teacher’s door, “Aizawa-sensei! Aizawa-sensei, are you there?!”

Nothing.

He was out.

She looked around, heart pounding in her ears. Her quirk was a no-go - too risky in such a small space.

She twisted around and bolted, calling out as she passed All Might’s room, “All Might-sensei, I’ll be right back with help!”

Come on, come on. Once in the elevator, she punched at the first floor button, begging it to go faster. When the doors opened with a bing, she rushed forward and turn-

“Oof!”

She looked up, head spinning, “Oh! Class President! Perfect! And you too, Midoriya!”

Kyouka grabbed their sleeves and pulled them into the elevator, ignoring their surprised yelps.

“I need your help,” Kyouka took a deep breath as the doors closed, looking first at Iida and then Midoriya.

“I think there’s something wrong with All Might.”

Izuku’s heart raced. The moment the words left Jirou’s mouth, One for All stirred under his skin. When the doors slid open, he was the first to All Might’s door.

“There’s something in the way,” Jirou said and called out, “Iida and Midoriya are here with me, All Might-sensei!”

“All Might, can you hear us?” Izuku asked, trying to look through the narrow opening.

Scritchscritch…

A low, inhuman groan drifted into the hall followed by a wet cough.

“I’m coming in! Back away from the door a bit, okay?” Izuku warned. One for All flared across his skin, and he carefully shoved the door. The fallen dresser scraped loudly as it moved, and Izuku pushed himself through the opening as soon as he could fit.

All Might’s room was dark, only faintly lit by the light of the hallway. Izuku blinked rapidly, squinting as his eyes adjusted.

His stomach dropped.

All Might sat back on his haunches, forehead pressed against the left wall. He raised his arm, scratching at the wall with capped claws - making only dull marks in the paint.  

Scritchscritch.

“Is All Might okay?” Iida called from the hall, giving the door a small shove.

“I… Stay back for a minute,” Izuku slowly approached his mentor. Bending a little, he looked at All Might’s face. Unfocused blue eyes rolled as if dreaming behind drooping eyelids. “I’m not sure if he’s hurt. I think he’s sleepwalking.”

He reached out and gently brushed his fingertips against All Might’s shoulder, furrowing his brow when his mentor didn’t respond to the touch.

“All… All Might?” Izuku whispered uncertainly.

A choked moan escaped All Might as he shuddered, hackles raising. His hand left the wall and clutched at his head. He curled further into himself, panting.

Izuku gaped, hands hovering over All Might’s shaking shoulders.

“All Might? Are you- ?”

A low growl ripped from All Might’s throat, and his tail thrashed.

Izuku paled and backed away, giving his mentor space.

“Midoriya?” Iida called out from the doorway, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” Izuku called back, “I think he’s having a nightmare!”

Suddenly, All Might stumbled back and shook his head. His eyes snapped upward, glaring, unfocused, at the space just above Izuku’s left shoulder.

There’s… Izuku glanced back, there’s nothing there…

“It’s … It’s not real,” Izuku comforted softly, unable to keep the tremble from his voice, “It’s okay. You’re dreaming, All Might. It isn’t real.”

All Might crouched on all fours, eyes glowing and tail slashing through the air - slamming against his bed and desk.

Panicked thoughts raced through Izuku’s head. Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.  He swallowed roughly, holding out his right hand - palm up.

“All Might!” Izuku moved into his line of sight, “Wake up!”

All Might froze.

Bending, he pressed his forehead to the floor, pained gasps shaking his core. A shudder wracked his emaciated figure, and he looked up, staring past Izuku with a snarl.  

The muscles in All Might’s limbs coiled.

Run.

“No,” Izuku took a step forward, “It’s me. It’s alright!”

All Might lunged, colliding roughly against Izuku.

Burning, slicing pain cut into his left shoulder, and Izuku let out a strangled yelp.

Iida slammed against the door, shoving the dresser aside, “MIDORIY-”

Crun-KRAK!

Izuku slapped a shaking hand over his mouth, muffling the pained noise in his throat as his collarbone snapped beneath his skin.

All Might’s panting breath brushed hotly over Izuku’s shoulder and his claws, though capped, pressed into his sides. A low, wavering growl rumbled from All Might’s chest and vibrated through Izuku’s bones.

Wet warmth spread from his shoulder and dripped down his arm.

“Midoriya!” Iida’s shout startled Izuku, and he choked back a sob.

“I-Iida,” Izuku swallowed roughly, gesturing to keep his classmate away, “Ru-hss! Run and get Recovery Girl. All Might is- Ah! T-there’s something wrong with All Might.”

Jirou called from nearby, “What about you?”  

“I’m fine! Go get Recovery Girl, Iida!” Izuku yelled, tearily grimacing as tooth ground against bone. “All Might needs our help!”

“O...okay,” Iida stuttered, “I-I’ll be back soon!”

Iida raced away, the sound of the stairwell door slamming echoing down the hall.

“What can I do?” Jirou’s voice trembled from the doorway.

“Do you have your phone?” Izuku asked, mind racing.

“It’s in my room,” his classmate answered, “Oh! The list on the fridge - for emergencies!”

Izuku attempted to nod, freezing in pain, “Call Aizawa-sensei.”

“Alright, Midoriya,” Jirou called out, her voice growing further away, “Hang in there!”

Once it was quiet, Izuku hesitantly wrapped his uninjured arm around All Might and gripped his thin nightshirt.

“All Might?” Izuku strained to look at his mentor’s face, but gave up, slowly pulling him into a tighter embrace, “All Might, it’s me.”

The panting continued.

“All Might,” Izuku rubbed gentle circles on his back, “It… It was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is your fault.”

Izuku wrinkled his nose, suppressing a cough. He tried not to think about the acrid smoke coiling from his shoulder.

The low growl faded slowly, replaced by a small tremor. The toothy grip loosened as All Might’s jaw popped back into place.  

Izuku hissed, wincing as the teeth pulled out of his shoulder.

All Might’s legs collapsed, and Izuku adjusted his grip with a grunt, lowering them both to the floor.

Hearing a soft groan, Izuku pressed his forehead into All Might’s shirt.

“Not your fault… Not your fault…” Izuku whispered as he choked back his tears. “It’s not your fault…”

“M..y b-boy? Wh..ere -? W-wha…?” All Might coughed wetly and sat up, shaking. He stared as scattered droplets of saliva burned through his pants. Stiffening, he looked up, panicked, “Midoriya? No-!”

All Might pulled from Izuku’s grip, and Izuku fell back, clutching his jostled arm with a pained grunt.

“No, no, no, my boy. No nonon-,” All Might’s protests devolved into a low moan, one hand hovering over Izuku’s sizzling wound and the other clutching at his own head, claws digging into his scalp.

All Might suddenly shuddered, eyes glazing over and hands falling to the floor - their strings cut. He slowly sat back on his haunches, dazed.

“All Might?” Izuku reached out, flinching as his shoulder throbbed.

Footsteps raced down the hall and skid to a stop outside the room.

“Midoriya!” Iida called out, “I brought Recovery Girl!”

“Alright, set me down right here. Thank you. Oh my, oh my… What is all this?” Recovery Girl stepped over the dresser and into the room. “Iida, stay there until I call for you.”

Iida panted, “Is- Is Midoriya - Are they both alright?”

Recovery Girl hummed, “They will be, dear. Leave it to me and wait outside.”

“Re-” Izuku tried to turn, biting back a tearful yelp. He could hear his collarbone grind and protest the movement.

“Try not to move, Midoriya,” Recovery Girl advised softly, setting her first aid kit beside him. She glanced back at All Might and sighed, “None of us saw this possibility, did we? I’m so sorry, Toshinori.”

All Might panted, shoulders hunched, but didn’t respond.

Recovery Girl tutted, turning her attention to Izuku and the red stain cooling against his skin.

“I need to remove your shirt to get a proper look at this,” she said evenly, opening her medical case.

“What about All Might?” Izuku asked, his worried gaze fixed on his mentor.

“You first,” Recovery Girl reminded him, pulling a small pair of scissors from her bag.

All Might stiffened. His focus snapped to the shining metal, pupils glowing pinpricks in the half-light. Baring his teeth, he snarled, a low noise rumbling from his throat.

Recovery Girl huffed, “None of that now. I’m helping.”

His faintly glowing eyes remained on the scissors, hackles rising slowly.  

“It’s … It’s alright. Sshhh,” Izuku hushed softly, “It’s going to be okay.”

“Says the boy with a broken clavicle,” Recovery Girl shook her head as All Might shuddered, cutting Izuku’s pajama shirt from his collar and down the short sleeve, “Iida told me he was sleepwalking?”  

“Yes, he was having a nightmare…” Izuku muttered. He hissed through his teeth as Recovery Girl peeled his cut sleeve away, and tears trailed down his cheeks, “This isn’t his fault. He didn’t mean to -” he winced.  

Recovery Girl sighed heavily, gently cleaning the bite and the irritated burns on his skin, “What am I going to do with you two?”

All Might trembled, his low growl shifting to a soft moan as he clutched his head. Breaths reduced to wheezing pants, his tail curled around his body defensively.

“Recovery Girl,” Izuku hesitantly looked from All Might to her and asked quietly, “What’s really wrong with him? That wasn’t just sleepwalking. All for One… The reason All Might has these quirks… All for One was trying to make him-” Izuku’s throat constricted, and he bowed his head.

Recovery Girl gently dabbed the bite, frowning at the shape of Izuku’s clavicle.

“Yes,” she finally said softly, “That man was trying to create a noumu out of All Might… Don’t cry, dear. You’ll jostle your shoulder.”

Izuku sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, “This isn't right. He just got back. Why does it feel like… like he’s going to disappear again?”

Recovery Girl paused and passed a small pack of tissues to Izuku, “He’s not going anywhere, boy.”

“But he isn’t okay,” Izuku bit his lip, “He’s here, but it’s not okay. Has this been happening since he got back? How- ?”

“Yes, but now is not the time. Come, dear, your friend is worried.” Recovery Girl planted a small kiss on his shoulder.

Izuku saw stars as his energy suddenly tanked. His collarbone clicked into place, and his skin itched fiercely as it mended.  

Finishing with Izuku, Recovery Girl turned, staring long and hard at All Might. He leaned heavily against his bed in a daze, sightless eyes staring through Izuku.  

Recovery Girl pursed her lips, an uncertain look in her eyes, “Iida, dear, you can come in now. Help me get All Might back into bed. I’ll watch over him tonight.”

Iida helped Izuku up first and held him steady. He stared down at the tacky, red stain marring Izuku’s cut shirt, “Midoriya?”

Izuku blinked as spots danced in his eyes, but he managed a smile and gave Iida a thumbs-up, “Just need to sleep ‘s all.”

Iida nodded hesitantly before kneeling beside Recovery Girl and All Might.

“All Might,” Recovery Girl said softly, placing her hand on his cheek and gently running her thumb across his cheekbone, “Iida is going to help you get into bed. Do you think you can stand?”

Pointed ears twitching at her words, All Might furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“Can…” Iida gently moved closer, “Can he hear us? Is he still asleep? His behavior - is this normal for…” He gestured to Toshinori’s changes, “Surely there is someone who went through something similar?”

The only others… Noumu, Izuku tensed. All Might could have ended up- He gagged, stomach churning and head spinning.

“If you are going to vomit, do so in the bathroom, dear,” Recovery Girl chided softly as she nudged All Might to lean against Iida.

Izuku pressed his hand to his forehead, waiting for the world to stop spinning, “No, I’m - I’m fine.”

Iida knelt and pulled All Might’s right arm over his shoulders. Reaching around his back, he firmly grasped his side.

All Might flinched away, inhaling sharply through his teeth.

“Careful of his side, Iida dear,” Recovery Girl moved Iida’s grip, “He has an old injury there.”

“O-oh,” Iida stuttered, glancing nervously at the spot beneath the flimsy nightshirt.   

“Come along, All Might,” Recovery Girl nudged his legs under him and pat his thigh, “Iida needs some help getting you up.”

“Here,” Izuku moved forward, ignoring the unsteady tilt of the world. He held out his hand, “Let me help.”

All Might’s gaze drifted up, slowly focusing on Izuku. Sluggishly, he lifted his hand and laid it in Izuku’s, clawed fingers gripping weakly.

“That’s it,” Izuku smiled, encouraged, gently pulling All Might as Iida stood. He gave his hand a small squeeze as Iida turned and backed him onto his bed. “Get some rest, okay?”  

Iida grunted as All Might sagged, eyes fluttering closed, and he lowered him onto the bed.

Recovery Girl sighed, pushing his clawed feet onto the bed, and pulled his blanket over him.

The sound of the stairwell door opening echoed down the hall, followed by two sets of footsteps.

“They’re in here,” Izuku heard Jirou say.

All Might’s bedroom door thumped against the fallen dresser as Aizawa pushed his way inside. The erasing hero paused mid-stride, gaze raking the room before settling on Izuku’s bloodstained shirt and the faint white marks on his shoulder.

“What happened here?” he asked, voice low.

Toshinori stirred beneath his sheets, brows furrowing as he drifted into consciousness. Grimacing, he stuck out his tongue. His mouth tasted like rust.

Blood. Shoulder. Green eyes. The right voice. Hand grasping...

Izuku! Toshinori scrambled to sit up only to fall back onto his mattress as a wave of dizziness and nausea crashed into him. He clutched his pounding head, cursing softly and curling into himself. The fragmented memories slipping away again like a dream.

“Now, now,” a soft hand brushed against his forehead, “Take it slow. You’ve had an eventful night.”

“Chi..yo?” Toshinori coughed and rubbed at his throat. It felt raw - agitated. Again.

“Drink some water, dear,” Recovery Girl said softly.

Hearing a faint crack of plastic, Toshinori felt her press a cool bottle into his hand. He slowly opened his eyes and gulped down a few mouthfuls before handing the bottle back.

“Do you remember anything from earlier tonight?” Chiyo asked gently. She sat in his desk chair beside his bed, hands folded in her lap.

Toshinori furrowed his brows, “I we..nt to bed early. ‘ was tired. Then…” He pulled his arms from under the blanket, checking his wrists. The shackles were gone.

“More nightmares?” Recovery Girl pressed, expression understanding.  

“Vivid…” Toshinori rubbed at his forehead. The throbbing pain was slowly abating. “ ‘ was in that damn room. Wh..ere -?” he looked around his room. Someone was missing, “Where’s Izuku? Wasn’t he... here? Or was that… ?”   

“He’s alright. I sent him back to his room to sleep.” A small frown pulled at the corners of her mouth, “Do you remember what happened?”

Toshinori shifted, wincing at the bone-deep aches and pains along his tail. Kicking off his covers, he slowly sat up. Deep purple bruises dotted the length of his tail, and he rubbed at the ache in his jaw.

“What… happened?” His frown deepened, the throbbing in his head returning with a fury as he tried to think back. “I don’t-” his breath hitched, and he coughed wetly. The taste of copper coated his tongue.

Blood. Izuku holding him close. “Not your fault…”

Toshinori’s hand froze against this mouth as the memory seized him. His ears drooped, and he looked down at the blood smeared across the back of his hand.

“I … hurt him? No...” Nausea twisted his gut, and he turned back to Chiyo, “I bit him?”

Her small frown was answer enough.

“I already treated Midoriya,” Toshinori heard her say as he looked down at his claws, “He was more worried about you than himself. Remind you of anyone?”

“H..ow bad was it? I don’t - I don’t remember,” he shook and clutched at his head. The memories were fleeting, there and gone and leaving only throbbing pain behind.

Recovery Girl sighed, “Some minor lacerations and a broken clavicle, which I already mended,” she added when Toshinori flinched.

“I attacked him…” Toshinori’s claws pressed against his scalp, “That could have been anyone! Chiyo, you and Isamu said I didn’t… That I was just pacing - walking. I can’t remember.”

I hurt him. Attacked him. No. No. No...

Toshinori’s tail curled tightly, his breaths coming in wheezing gasps.

“-nori. Toshinori!”

Toshinori looked up, heart pounding and head spinning.

Recovery Girl sighed and sat back, “Now listen to me, and just… breathe. You’re going to be okay. The boy is already in bed and resting. I sent Eraserhead to make sure of that. He’s fine. Fine, Toshinori. You can ask Aizawa for yourself.”

Toshinori’s hackles bristled as he followed Recovery Girl’s gaze. Aizawa leaned against the opposite wall, watching. His expression softened with concern. 

Aizawa sighed, “Midoriya is back in bed. Iida and Jirou were in the hall if you can’t remember. Naturally, they’re a bit shaken.” The erasing hero glanced at the faint scratch marks on the wall, “They have questions. I think it would be best if you address the class’ concerns as a whole and prepare a new set of rules regarding your condition… All Might?”

“Sensei’s going to set you loose one day.”

A cold knot of dread settled in Toshinori’s chest as he looked back down at his claws. The memory of Nurse Tetsumi cradling her arm - her blood smeared across the white floor - flashed behind Toshinori’s eyes.

“Your precious students won’t even recognize you when you tear at their throats.”

Toshinori paled at the sudden memory. No… He sat up straighter, brows furrowed and eyes burning.

I’m not his goddamn weapon.

“Our students deserve to know what happened to me at Rishi,” Toshinori agreed, curling his clawed hands into half-formed fists, “And what to do when I lapse. But first,” he turned to Aizawa, meeting and holding his gaze, “Do you believe I am a threat to our students?”

Aizawa gave him a long, measured look. Then he shrugged, “If I believed there was even a 1% chance of you harming another student, I would have escorted you to the gates myself. Besides,” He sighed heavily and deadpanned, “Midoriya adamantly and repeatedly claimed you weren’t aiming for him but something behind him.”

Recovery Girl shook her head with a chuckle and nodded, “Given your recent traumas and recurrent nightmares, I can’t think of anyone who would fault you for lashing out while unconscious. As long as they keep their distance during your lapses, I don’t see your students being in any danger.”  

Toshinori frowned, not entirely satisfied.

“I need to apologize to Midoriya,” he said finally.

“You’ll get that chance,” Recovery Girl said, reaching out and patting Toshinori’s arm, “For now, I need to take a look at you and make sure you haven’t injured yourself.”

The check-up was brief. Toshinori’s only complaint was to point out the bruises on his tail which were easily mended with a healing kiss. Still, Chiyo insisted upon checking his jaw and teeth.   

Recovery Girl closed her first aid kit with a soft snap and sighed.

“Other than your bruises, you are physically fine,” she set her hand on Toshinori’s and gave him a small squeeze, “Are you going to be alright?”

Toshinori nodded, reaching over to his desk and popping an antacid into his mouth. The slowly building ache in his chest eased as he chewed.

Chiyo frowned and pointed to his abdomen, “We still need to address that.”

“I know,” Toshinori placed the antacid container back on his desk and gently pressed at the sac in his gut. The burning worsened momentarily, but the antacid helped extinguish some of the pain. “Massaging it seems to work, though,” he grunted uncomfortably, “it doesn’t help the heartburn.”

Recovery Girl hummed, brows furrowed, “I’ll see what I can find on acid sacs. There may be something.”

“Thank you, Chiyo,” Toshinori said, intertwining his fingers. His shoulders bent wearily, “For everything.”

“I’m glad to help, Toshinori,” she gave his back a small pat, her eyes searching for his, “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Toshinori hesitantly met her gaze, “Just… more time, I suppose. Time to think and adjust.”

Recovery Girl pursed her lips, “Take your time and go easy on yourself, dear. No one faults you for what you’ve been through.”

Toshinori nodded, exhaustion weighing him down.

Chiyo patted his back once more and slid from the desk chair. She carried her kit to the door where Aizawa waited to escort her back to her place. Pausing, she turned.

“If you need anything, you know how to contact me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Toshinori managed a small smile and a wave as both she and Aizawa left him, closing his door behind them. As soon as he heard the telltale bing of the elevator door, he kicked off his covers with a quiet curse. Pushing himself from his bed, he stood. His tail swung irritably, and he shifted on his long legs. He needed to move.

The dresser that he’d knocked over was back in its proper place, though the pictures and trinkets on top were piled haphazardly. Huffing, Toshinori crossed his room and carefully organized them, pausing a moment at a photo of Gran Torino, himself, and -

“Shit,” Toshinori bowed his head, gripping the cracked frame. He heaved a heavy sigh, he gently pushed the photograph - the last one taken with Nana - back into its place.

“Sorry, Master,” he said softly. He turned from the dresser and bent to pick up a piece of the cracked frame.

He froze.

Beside the shard was a small, red spot.

Mine or…?

Nausea clenched in his gut, and he swallowed roughly. Grabbing the nearest cloth, a still-damp towel dangling from his hamper, he scrubbed the bloodstain away.

His head throbbed. Images of Iida and Jirou’s alarmed faces flashed behind his eyelids. Aizawa said they had been there. I need to apologize... to all three of them.

Toshinori rolled his shoulders as his hackles rose.

The fog loomed at the back of his mind, lazily brushing against his consciousness. He scrubbed his hand down his face. His heart pounded against his ribcage and sent tremors down his long limbs.

Just think. Focus on something - anything else. He glanced up at his closet. His new clothes still lay folded in the bag beside it. Need to put those away.

Without a thought, he lowered his hands to the ground and took the few steps to the closet. Rearing up, he opened -

“Damn it. Shit!” Toshinori grit his teeth. All fours again. His claws dug into his palms, half-formed fist smacking his thigh.

“I’m not even tired. Resting position my ass.”

It felt so natural. The thought sent his skin crawling.

Just different, Toshinori reminded himself, swallowing his unease, This is how it is.

He pressed his hands into his lower back and stretched, breathing deeply, “Alright, just get this done, Toshinori.”

Pushing his older clothes aside, he made room for his newest additions. He hung up some shirts, running his fingers along the back of each - tracing the holes. Reaching the bottom of the bag, he saw a small slip of paper and smiled softly.

Tachi Family Tailory - My father is a friend of the business owner, and they learned how to work with his quirk years ago. If you have trouble finding clothes that fit, give them a call and mention my name. -Isamu

Toshinori turned and gently placed the slip of paper on his desk. Moving to fix his overturned wastebin, a book on the floor caught his eye. When he picked it up, a few notecards slipped from the pages. He gathered the fallen cards, chuckling at his borderline excessive teaching notes, and he put them on his desk and gave the book a soft pat.

There we g-

BEEP. BEEP. BE-

Toshinori scrambled over to his bed, silencing his phone alarm with a few clumsy taps. His lock screen lit up, the time glowing across the top.

5:30 a.m.

That time already? A wave of fatigue rushed through Toshinori as he looked to the sliding glass door. The sun wouldn’t be up for another two hours but… It felt as though he had only just gone to bed. How many hours did I actually sleep? How long was I -? His shoulders sagged, and he rubbed at his forehead.

Toshinori shook his head and barked a tired laughed, “So much for getting rest.”

Sighing, he pulled his sheets back and plopped down on his bed. He groaned at the ache in his legs and rubbed at his ankles - No, they’re hocks now. - and knees.

“What are you going to do, Toshinori?” he muttered to himself. His tail flicked, and the tufted end thumped against his phone still lying on the bed. He stared at the phone a moment, then reached across the bed to pick it up.

Absently, Toshinori flipped through his email and messages. He reread his text messages, a small smile softening his expression as he read Naomasa’s last text.  

[If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, Toshinori. I’m not far.]

A few taps of his claws, and Toshinori raised his phone to his ear.

The line rang once, twice, three times. For a moment, Toshinori worried that perhaps it was still too early to call, that Naomasa would still be asleep. Then the ringing stopped.

“Mm? Hello?” Naomasa’s voice was rough, still groggy in the early hours of the morning. In the background, Toshinori heard blankets shifting as Naomasa cleared his throat, “Toshinori?”

“Good morning, Naomasa,” Toshinori shifted, fidgeting with his blanket, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I was -” Naomasa yawned and grunted, “I was just getting up. Is everything alright?”

“It’s…” Toshinori hesitated, shame stirring in his gut. He sighed, “I need a distraction. How’s the case?”

Toshinori heard Naomasa shift again, then footsteps padding across hardwood.

“Well,” Naomasa began, “We have guests. International investigators who happened to be in the area for a case they are reluctant to talk about. They’re a bit of an odd group. Their leader is… rigid.” He paused. Toshinori could hear water running and the sounds of a spoon scooping coffee grounds. Then there was a clatter of metal, and Naomasa cursed.

“Everything alright?” Toshinori asked.

Naomasa sighed, frustrated, “ ‘s fine. Just dropped the damn spoon.”

Toshinori furrowed his brow. It wasn’t like Naomasa to curse over something small - even without coffee.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “I know we’ve hardly had a chance to talk about -”

“Yeah…” Naomasa whispered, his voice suddenly strained, “Fuck… I’m not alright. This case is not alright.”

“Nao- ?”

“They had a fucking picture, Toshinori,” Naomasa hissed through his teeth, “They saw and did nothing.”

Toshinori’s brows rose, “What? Naomasa, who -? Is someone hurt?”

“You. It was - It was you. They watched as you were dragged into that storage building. That night - I should have -” Naomasa choked, “I’m sorry. Damnit, I’m sorry. Why didn’t I insist on driving? I could have let you stay the night… I could have- Shit.”

Someone saw…? Toshinori’s ears drooped and his tail curled around his bent legs. This could have been prevented? He shook his head, No. Naomasa… He -

“Naomasa,” Toshinori took a deep breath, “What happened… happened. It’s not - It’s not your fault at all. All for One would have found a way to capture me.” Running his fingers through his hair, a truly horrifying thought struck him, “I’m glad you didn’t drive me home. He already killed Hibiki to get to me. I could never forgive myself, Naomasa, if you-” Toshinori let out a trembling breath, “No, let’s not dwell on what-ifs.”

“Ah…” Air whooshed into the receiver as Naomasa sighed, “The empath was right. Shouldn’t have held that in. We’re… We’re a real mess.”

Toshinori chuckled weakly, “You can say that again.” He paused, “How long has this been bothering you?”

“Every day,” was Naomasa’s quiet answer. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori. I feel like I could have prevented this somehow.”

“Shit, Nao,” Toshinori gripped his phone tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Naomasa barked an incredulous laugh, startling Toshinori.

“Don’t apologize,” he sighed heavily, “Don’t you ever apologize for this.”

“Easier said than done,” Toshinori admitted, “But you said empath? Who’s that? Sansa hasn’t gotten a new quirk has he?”

“No,” Naomasa snorted, “Nothing like that. That team I told you about, they have an empath. I think I made quite the impression - on him at least.”

A smile twitched on Toshinori’s face, “I’m sure. What are they like? It’s not like Chief Tsuragamae to approve just anyone to help with this sort of case.”

Naomasa hummed, “They’re definitely not law enforcement. More like… private investigators. They - Their leader seems to care more about evidence than people. He's a frustrating man, but his peers - five others - seem to make up for whatever he lacks, so there’s that.”

“Sounds like you have your hands full,” Toshinori grinned cheekily and chuckled when Naomasa groaned.  

“You have no idea. Want to switch and let me be the teacher?”

Toshinori barked out a laugh, “Sorry, I can’t help you there. If Friday night is anything to go by, I think my kids would miss me too much. They threw a welcome back party.”

Naomasa whistled, “Look at you! You must be doing something right. I won’t intrude then.”

There was a pause.

Toshinori closed his eyes, his smile fading, Here it comes.

“So,” Naomasa continued, “I’m here, coffee’s done, and I’m all ears. What’s bothering you, Toshinori?”

Suddenly, Toshinori didn’t know where to begin. Shame and disgust churned in his chest, and his ears drooped.   

“Toshi?” Naomasa’s voice was quiet, “Are you still there?”

“Yes…” Toshinori sighed, “I lost more time, and I... I hurt Midoriya…”

Naomasa’s breath hissed between his teeth.

“Recovery Girl treated him, and he’s sleeping it off,” Toshinori bowed his head, “But… the worst part - damn, I feel sick - the worst part is I can’t even remember what happened. I wasn’t… it wasn’t… me.”

Toshinori huffed, hot breaths warming his face. He clamped his eyes shut, gritting his teeth - struggling to hold onto the faint memories, flashes of images.  

“Shit,” Naomasa said, voice hushed.

“Yeah,” Toshinori let out a pained laugh, “I- I don’t know what to do. I’m still losing time in my sleep - that’s when it happened… Nightmare, supposedly. I don’t,” he groaned pressing his hand to his forehead, fighting off the tendrils of fog snaking through his mind, “The boy came to check on me while I wasn’t myself… And I bit him, Naomasa. Like a goddamn animal. I bit him!”

Toshinori’s tail curled in close, and he shoved it away. It thrashed on the sheets with his anger, blond tuft slicing through the air. He panted, throat burning.

“Toshinori, listen to me,” Naomasa said, “None of this is your fault. You aren’t an animal. You’re you -”

“Not like that… Not like that, Naomasa. You haven’t seen...” Toshinori sighed, frowning,  “I would never hurt the kids. You know that - everyone knows that. But it happened, and I wasn’t in control. I can’t let that happen again. But… Where to begin?”

Toshinori’s breaths shook, and his tongue felt coated with the taste of bile and rust. His heart fluttered in his ribcage, and his claws twitched against his scalp.

“I’m not -” his breath caught in his throat, “I’m not his weapon. I’m supposed to protect them, goddamn it. I can’t let him win, but I feel like I’m losing my mind, Naomasa. How do I protect them from m-” The fog crashed against his skull, and he couldn’t stop the gasp and low, warbling groan that rolled out of his chest.

It didn’t sound like him.

It didn’t sound human.

“Toshinori!” Naomasa paused, voice softening, “Toshi, breathe. It’s alright. It’ll be alright. You’re not alone. I'm here for you. Recovery Girl, Principal Nedzu, and so many more… We’re all here with you. It’ll be alright.”

Toshinori took several deep breaths. The fog pressed once more at the back of his consciousness before fading - no, hiding away. He sighed heavily, shoulders sagging, “Okay.”

“Toshinori,” Naomasa’s voice was gentle, “When was the last time you went outside and really got some fresh air?”

Toshinori furrowed his brows. What?

“You’ve been through so much,” Naomasa continued, “Are you taking care of yourself?”

“I…” the hackles along Toshinori’s spine slowly relaxed. The last time he’d been outside he was walking back to the dorm. Before that… “It’s been a while. A long while.”

Naomasa huffed, “No wonder you’re so restless.”

“Restless?!” Toshinori sputtered and suppressed a cough, “I’d hardly call this restlessness, Naomasa.”

“What would you call it then?” Naomasa asked.

“I -!” Toshinori stopped, tail thumping against the bed and legs shuffling, itching to move, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Toshinori could almost hear Naomasa’s grin.

“Shut up,” Toshinori grumbled.  

Naomasa barked a laugh, “Sounds like you need to get some fresh air. You know, you always had trouble sleeping when you couldn’t get out and break a sweat.”

“It’s more than that,” Toshinori argued with a sigh, “This isn’t something I can work off.”

“I know,” Naomasa said, “But it’s certainly a start.”

“It’s a start,” Toshinori relented. He glanced over at the book lying on his desk. “Even the biggest idiots can become teachers too!” read the title. Written on the lower half of the cover was: Thought this Might help - Nao.

Toshinori chuckled and smiled softly, “I’ll talk with the kids first.”

“Good idea. Mm-!” Toshinori heard Naomasa swallow and set his coffee cup down, “Don’t forget to eat something. You are eating, right?”

Toshinori scoffed, “Yes, I’m eating. You know you’re getting to be a real mother hen in your old age.” He grinned as Naomasa sputtered.

“Younger than you, old man!”

“Thanks, Nao,” Toshinori laughed, genuinely smiling, “I needed this. And… the phone works in reverse if you ever need anything.”

“I’ve got your number,” Naomasa answered. The clang of a mug being set into a sink rang out from the phone, “Hey, I have to head out here pretty soon. Take care of yourself, Toshi. Talk to you soon.”

“Stay out of trouble, Nao,” Toshinori said, “Don’t let the international team drive you up a wall.”

Naomasa huffed, “No promises. Have a good day, alright?”

“You too,” Toshinori answered quietly. He tapped the End Call icon and let his hand drop to his side.

The sky was still dark. Toshinori looked outside the patio doors. Pushing himself up with a grunt, he wrapped his blanket around himself and opened the sliding glass door. A brisk wind swept past him, brushing against his skin and tugging at his clothes. His tail flicked at the sudden change in temperature. He paused and curled it under the blanket, grabbing the door when his balanced shifted with his tail.

Stepping onto the patio, Toshinori pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and leaned against the railing. The campus was quiet. Slowly, his gaze drifted to where he knew the training fields and the faculty gym facilities were. He shifted on his feet, claws curling and scraping against the patio floor.

It would feel good to run.

He could feel it in his bones.

Toshinori shook his head, a small shiver running down his spine. Pulling his blanket tighter around himself, he turned back to his room.

Catching himself on the doorframe, he stumbled. Glancing down at his wobbling knees, he sighed and ran his hand along his mattress. Setting an alarm for mid-morning, Toshinori rolled onto the bed and settled under his covers.

Alright, let’s try this again…  

“Fuck! Fuck! My arm!” Mr. Compress shouted, biting into the leather belt in his teeth and bucking against the table.

“Hold him still!” Kurogiri ordered Twice’s clones holding down the magician’s legs and shoulders. He’s already lost too much blood.

“Dabi! Fucking cauterize it already!” The clone at Compress’s shoulders exclaimed.

“Move Twice,” Dabi strode forward, hand igniting and pressing against the bleeding stump. The flesh hissed and smoked.  

A hoarse cry tore out of Compress’s throat before his eyes rolled back, and he slumped back against the table. Dabi’s fire flickered out, and he wiped his hand with one of the few towels left unstained.

Kurogiri pressed his fingers against the magician’s pulse, “Twice, bandage his arm and prepare him for transport.”

He turned to Shigaraki.

“He’ll live, but without medical treatment and rest he’ll be of no more use,” he said.

Shigaraki sulked against the wall of their hideaway, anger rolling off him in waves. Blood dotted raw lines scratched into his neck...

“Use…” he muttered, glaring daggers at the steaming wound. His lip curled into a snarl, “Keep him on surveillance… And Kurogiri, don't let him die.”

“A wise choice,” Kurogiri stated.

Shigaraki gaze snapped to meet with his, seething, “Don’t coddle me.”

Kurogiri said nothing.

He suffered a stinging loss, and his flaws were dragged into the open. That Overhaul and his followers... Shigaraki needs time to grow from this.

Kurogiri’s eyes narrowed, turning to their dwindling allies. His gaze fell on the young Miss Toga, who sat near the pool of Sako’s blood. One hand idly drew shapes in it with her blade, the other swept across the screen of the magician’s phone.

Kurogiri approached her, the sound of his footsteps echoing across the darkened room along with Sako’s stuttering breaths.

“Any particular reason you are on Mr. Compress’s phone?” he asked blandly.

“I’m texting myself the pictures he has of little Izuku,” she pouted, “Even though they’re all from so far away.”

The phone pinged and a text alert appeared.

“If I may,” Kurogiri held out his hand, nodding his thanks as Toga passed the phone over.

Oculus:

[The video you told me to track continues to cycle online. No news coverage beyond a passing mention. Not sure why it isn’t getting more attention if you say the noumu is supposed to cause an uproar.]

Kurogiri glanced at Sako, his shoulder twitching and wrapped in fresh bandages. Tapping the phone against his palm, he turned again and approached Shigaraki.  

“There may be a way to salvage the day and move forward,” he said, turning the phone toward Shigaraki, “There is still a piece you can move to collect.”

Shigaraki glanced at the phone, frowning at the message.

“The press is always so eager to find fault in U.A.” Shigaraki said slowly, a small smile peeked behind the hand on his face, “Maybe they should start asking the right questions...”

Sunday mornings were lazy in Heights Alliance. Students lay sprawled across the shared living room couches and chairs, relaxing and chatting. The television droned quietly with some cheesy action movie marathon Kaminari, Kirishima, Ashido, and Shouji were watching.

Izuku bent over his breakfast, mindlessly eating while shooting an occasional glance to the elevator.

All Might hasn’t come down yet…

His leg bounced under the table, nervous energy speeding through his veins. A sudden ache throbbed in his shoulder, and he rubbed at it, rolling his shoulder until it loosened again.

“How’s your shoulder?” Jirou asked quietly.

She sat across from him and beside Iida. Both barely touched their breakfasts and, instead, focused between Izuku and the elevator.

“It’s really fine,” Izuku said for perhaps the third time that morning, “Just nerves.”

Jirou nodded, subdued, and took a small bite of her fruit.

Izuku’s phone buzzed. He frowned, fishing it out of his pocket, and scrolled through the new alerts. Mount Lady was doing well, apprehending a group of robbers fleeing the scene of the crime. He snorted at the photo at the top of the article: Mount Lady holding up their getaway car while flashing a victory sign.

Izuku smiled as he scrolled through the morning’s news, the familiar distraction calming his nerves. Setting down his phone, he collected his dishes and took them to the sink, quickly washing and drying them.

Izuku called out, “Iida, Jirou, want to hand me your dishes while I’m here?”

Iida jerked up, “Ah, that is not necessary, Midoriya. I’ve got it. Here - Jirou, if I may.”

As Iida rushed to the sink area, Izuku grinned up at him, “Fine, if you wash, I’ll dry. I feel like moving around.”

“I see,” Iida fixed his glasses with his free hand, “Well, in that case, thank you for your assistance.”

Making quick work of the few dishes left in the sink, Izuku shook out the dish towel and hung it up to dry, giving Iida a passing thanks as he returned to the table to pick up his phone.

Jirou looked up at the sound of laughter near the television, and she smiled softly. Giving Izuku a final once-over, she waved, muttering a quick, “Take care,” and sat with the others.

Rolling his shoulders and settling into a comfortable position, Izuku glanced at his phone and read through the comments on this morning’s heist, trying to get a better picture of the scene. Part of him still itched to be out and about, racing to see heroes in action and filling his notebooks with his observations. Making mental notes for later, he blinked as his phone pinged with a Breaking News alert.

Dread dropped like a cold stone in his chest.

A blurred photo of All Might dominated his small screen. Above it the crimson headline:

New Photograph Shows Viral Video Villain or Vigilante Entering U.A. Campus. Who Are They? Story Airing Now!

Izuku shot up, chair scraping harshly against the floor. He bolted into the living room, scrambling to grab the remote from the coffee table.

“Sorry Kirishima!” he blurted after his red-headed classmate yelped in surprise, and switched the channel.

“ -ank you for joining us at the top of the hour,” said the morning news anchor, “Breaking news update in Musutafu. Last week, we showed you the viral video that spooked shoppers in the Rishi Ward. Thanks to an anonymous submission, we have the possible location of the mystery person.”

A photo flashed up on the screen.

“In this photo, we can see the mystery person entering - Yes, that is U.A. The Hero Academy has been under scrutiny since the kidnapping of one of their first-year students whose rescue led to the abrupt retirement of Japan’s former #1 hero, All Might. The photo of this person entering the U.A. campus does bring into question whether or not the U.A. Barrier Wall is as impenetrable as they claim. If the person is meant to be in U.A., it calls into question their frightening behavior as shown in the video. We must warn you, some of the footage may be graphic.”

A white flash crossed the screen, and the photo was replaced by video.

Izuku flinched as screams rang out from the television.

Oh no… He’d seen this video - at least, part of it. It made its rounds across the IFF chat boards, stirring up all kinds of speculation and theory. Izuku had watched the first few seconds, but he couldn’t bring himself to watch it in full. All Might was recovering. That’s all Izuku had needed.

A flash of red and blonde darted across the screen, weaving low between scattering pedestrians. Then the crowd separated, and Izuku’s gut clenched in horror.

“Is that All M- ?” Izuku heard Uraraka but she was cut off.

“What is that thing?!” shrieked a woman on screen.

Chains rattled loudly from the speakers as All Might disappeared into the crowd again on all fours. The camera followed, pushing through the crowds. Then the person recording fell.

A shudder ran down Izuku’s spine.

All Might stood in the video, shoulders hunched under the weight of Nurse Isamu and face partially hidden behind disheveled, bloodstained bangs. Ragged breaths puffed in front of his face. His eyes - glowing pinpricks of blue - darted over the crowd, a look of desperation and fear straining his visible features.

Blood trailed down his bare skin. Chains swung and dragged against the pavement as All Might shifted his weight on shaking legs. His chest heaved with his wheezing pants, ribs standing out against his skin. His puckered scar was visible only a moment before the camera attempted to zoom in on his face.   

All Might’s tail slammed with a sharp crack! against the pavement, and the crowd scattered in a panic. The audio faded as the anchors spoke over the video, but Izuku wasn’t listening. He could only watch as All Might dropped back down on all fours and bolted, gait uneven, through the crowd and disappeared.

Tears slipped down Izuku’s face, and he turned the television off. The dark screen dully reflected the shocked and horrified expressions of Izuku’s classmates -

And All Might standing behind them.

Izuku spun, wide-eyed, and blurted, “I’m sorry!”

He wasn’t sure what he was sorry for.

All Might’s uncertain gaze slowly drifted from the screen, across the faces of his students, to Izuku. He smiled, rubbing at his wrists and the fading marks there, “Whatever for, my boy?”

Izuku didn’t have an answer.

“All Might?” Uraraka hesitantly stood, unshed tears in her eyes, “Are you really okay?”

All Might’s tail and ears drooped despite his forced smile, “I’m better now.”

“But you weren’t -” Satou paused, brows furrowed and lips pursed in a frown.

“Those… those were chains,” Mineta stared at the ground, fists trembling in his lap.

“Shackles…” Ashido whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “Those are what made those marks on your wrists - your ankles? You were chained?”  

“What happened to you, All Might-sensei?” Yaoyorozu asked cautiously. “Do you… Do you need or-or want to talk about it?”

All eyes were on their teacher.

“It’s…” He sighed deeply, exhaustion settling heavily on his bent shoulders, “It’s a long and unpleasant story.”

“You aren’t alone.”

All Might’s gaze met Izuku’s, and the boy jolted.

“W-what I mean to say is,” he fumbled, “You don’t have to carry it by yourself. We’re here… for you. So…” Izuku struggled to find the words, falling back on All Might’s own, “It’s alright now.”  

A small smile tugged at the corner of All Might’s mouth.

“I’ll make some tea,” Jirou said, standing and making her way into the kitchen.

A hand brushed against All Might’s arm, and he glanced down. Asui stood beside him and gave his arm a gentle tug toward the couch. She led him around as the rest of the students cleared the way, leaving All Might an open space in the center of the couch.

“Whatever you feel like sharing is good,” she said, plopping herself down beside All Might, “You can stop whenever you want.”

Izuku recognized the weary bend of All Might’s shoulders, the way he moved unevenly in discomfort as he sat, and the faded bruises along his tail.

All Might intertwined his fingers in what Izuku realized months ago was a nervous tell, “What questions do you have?”  

“Who did this to you?” Young Todoroki asked, piercing gaze fixed on Toshinori.

Toshinori opened his mouth to reply, but Bakugou cut in with a snarl, “Who do you think? We all know about his escape from Tartarus.”

Several students sat back and paled, looking at Toshinori for confirmation. Resting his hands together in his lap, he nodded, “Correct.”

Hearing a faint hiss, Toshinori looked up and saw Bakugou shove his smoking hands in his pockets and lean against the wall - glowering at the floor.

Toshinori continued, “All for One. That villain and I have a long history, and I’m afraid he struck while I was unprepared. I had only just learned about his escape.”

“Now that I think about it,” Uraraka chimed in, “A month. His escape happened a month ago, and you also…”

Toshinori nodded, “Yes, I was taken the very same day.”

Young Yaoyorozu spoke up, “The only news we heard was that heroes and the police were looking for you, but,” she glanced at the television, “What was that video…?”

“Chains…” Someone whispered.

Toshinori hummed, tracing the spikes on his neck sheepishly, “That video was the unfortunate product of my escape. I never meant to frighten anyone, but as you saw in the video I was carrying someone who desperately needed medical attention. Understandably, I was in a rush.”

“Who were they?” Kaminari asked.

“A young man who helped me,” Toshinori explained briefly, “Without him, I wouldn’t be here today.”

“Wait,” Hagakure sat up, shoulders tensing, “Escape? The police didn’t… No one found you?”

Toshinori sighed as a wave of horror swept across his students’ faces. Izuku held his phone in a white-knuckled grip, and Toshinori shook his head.

“Hey, hey, hey! None of these sullen faces,” Toshinori grinned wide despite his exhaustion, “I’m here… and I’m fine. It’s over. So please, no more of these sad faces, alright?”

Tail flicking uncertainly, he took stock of the students’ half-hearted smiles and pensive frowns.

This isn’t going… terribly.

Jirou took that moment to return with the kettle. She placed it and disposable cups on the table in the center of the room, “Tea’s done.”

Iida stood, glancing briefly at Izuku, and turned sharply towards Toshinori, “While I don’t mean to contradict you Sensei,” Toshinori winced, but Iida continued, “I feel it is my responsibility as Class President to address this. Your behavior last night was rather alarming, to say the least.”

Concerned whispers reached Toshinori’s ears.

“Last night?”

“What happened?”

“Right you are, Iida. That’s the reason I came down here in the first place,” Toshinori offered a wan smile, “First, I’d like to apologize to you, Jirou, and Midoriya for my actions. I’m sure you’re all curious, but I think it would be best if I started from the beginning.”

He looked around, but his students made no moves to interrupt. He took a steadying breath.

“While you all were scattered during the USJ incident, several of you saw my fight with the creature Shigaraki dubbed, ‘Noumu.’ Young Todoroki, offhand, what do you remember about the Noumu?”

The red-and-white haired boy hummed, “Beside its gruesome appearance, the strength and speed of the Noumu were unmatched by the other villains there. Its high-speed regeneration and shock absorption would have made fighting back all but impossible if you hadn’t been there.”

“Good. You’ve touched on the key points,” Toshinori held up four fingers and counted off each one, “Strength. Speed. Shock Absorption. Super Regeneration. At least four known quirks forcibly combined in one ‘Artificial Human,’ to use the same term as Shigaraki. If you’ve been keeping track, where the Villain Alliance strikes, Noumu follow. USJ. Hosu. Your training camp. Kamino. Looking past Shigaraki, these multi-quirk beings all lead back to one person.”

His students shifted uncomfortably. Toshinori could see them connecting the dots. Looking over his changed appearance, their gaze shifted from the tips of his ears to the tuft on his tail.

Izuku spoke up softly, “All for One.”

“Yes, the true creator of the Noumu, and Shigaraki’s Sensei. And that accounts for,” He gestured to himself, “All of this.”

His students erupted, concerned shouts blending and filling the air.

“No!”

"Mon dieu-"

“But you’re not-!”

“You’re nothing like those-!”

“Is that what you-?”

“-at really happened?”

Toshinori held up his hands, shushing the kids, “Alright, alright. I will answer all of your questions. But first, ground rules. I must address an unfortunate side effect of my condition. There are moments when I’m not... ” He tapped his temple, “When I’m not all there. Think of it as mental strain from all of the quirks forced on me. I have these lapses where I act as though I’m sleepwalking. I’ve been told it’s not dangerous, but I’ve already injured someone, no - two people during these lapses. If you see me sleepwalking, please, just…” his ears drooped but he forced a smile,  “Stay away and contact another teacher - Aizawa would be best. They end on their own, no need to worry too much, but that is what I have to deal with now. I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Stunned faces looked up at him.

“I suppose that was a lot to spring on you all,” Toshinori rubbed his hands together, capped claws clicking softly against each other, “But it needed to be said.”

“How did… Did it hurt?” Shouji asked, subdued and hunched where he sat on the floor. Each of his arms ended in clenched fists.

Ojiro rubbed at his own tail, “Your… How long did the new quirks take to come in? You were gone less than a month, but my tail took three months to grow when I was small… I can’t imagine…”

Ah, Toshinori thought, grimacing, these kids would know. Growing pains.

So he told them. About the hospital, the nurses, All for One’s intended goal. About his attempts to figure out his location and break free. About the nurse who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, whose bravery grew every day… Whose spikes he now carried on his back.

“I wasn’t always on the receiving end though,” Toshinori grinned and ran a hand along his tail, “All for One wanted a weapon, but wasn’t prepared to deal with one he couldn’t control. He stepped a little too close and-” Toshinori thumped his tail against the couch, “Smash! Right into that smug bastard’s mask. Ha! These legs and eyes of mine were almost worth it! He made sure to stay back after that one.”

A few grins lit up his students’ faces, but Todoroki frowned, “Eyes? What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Ah,” Toshinori paused, pain shooting through his head at the memory. “Nightvision,” he said, tapping just below his eye, “Changed something in my retina. It’s actually pretty handy - once I got used to it.”  

White room. Bright light. Forced to live in darkness until I adjusted.

Kirishima whistled, “How many quirks do you have now?”

“As far as I know,” Toshinori double-checked, counting on his fingers, “Seven.”

He looked up at the sound a soft choking gasp. Bakugou looked down, hair hiding his expression.

Toshinori furrowed his brows, looking away to avoid drawing attention to the boy, I need to speak with him… But for now-

“Thankfully, I got out before any more.” Toshinori grinned and flexed his bicep, “I can handle this much, don’t you worry,” but then he shrugged, “I just have to make some adjustments to my routine now.”

Tokoyami, who had remained silent, spoke up, “I have a question.”

Toshinori nodded at the boy, “Go on.”

“You said the spikes came from that nurse, but who did your other quirks come from?”

Toshinori blinked, “I…” He frowned thoughtfully, “That’s a good question. I don’t know.”

Looking around at his students, he smiled softly, “Are there any more questions? No? Alright, well I missed breakfast, and frankly, I’m starving,” His grin widened, “Would anyone else like to join me in fixing something up?”

He laughed as hands shot up at the prospect of food, “I think I’m in the mood for something spicy. Who wants curry?”

Toshinoumu with Fangs by Art-of-Zirio

He Sit by Peacesentinel

Chapter Text

“William Howard Wright,” he flashed his pass to the evidence technician, “I need the Yagi-Rishi case files and evidence.”

The young evidence technician adjusted her large, round glasses and squinted at the pass. After a moment of consideration, she nodded and pressed the lock release with a polite smile.

The lock clicked with a loud buzz, and William yanked the heavy door open.

“Noriko Shuuka,” the technician introduced herself, bowing slightly. Her shoulder-length, tightly curled brown hair bobbed about her face, “You’re with the visiting team?”

“I am,” William echoed her bow.

“I figured,” she said, “You all are the talk of the precinct.”

“Oh?” William quirked an eyebrow at the small young woman. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s not that interesting,” Shuuka deadpanned with a shrug. “We just don’t get international teams often, and people enjoy a fresh conversation topic.”

William huffed but smiled politely. His quirk, Aura Sight, pulsed pleasantly at the back of his eyes. The black aura of truth overlaying the image of the woman remained constant.

A refreshingly honest person, he thought as he followed behind her.

“Just over here,” Shuuka said, turning around the last set of shelves, “Yagi… Yagi... Ya- Ah, here.” She reached up, standing on her tiptoes, and pulled down a white, cardboard box. Something metallic inside rattled.

“You think you can hold two of these? There are three boxes total,” Shuuka passed the heavy box to William.

“I can manage,” William said, shifting the box in his arms lower so the technician could stack the second box on top. “Thank you.”

Shuuka pulled down the last box and lead William to the front. Gently placing her box onto a dolly, she gave it a pat.

“You can use this to take the boxes,” she said, taking the top box from William and placing it beside the first, “Let me grab the proper forms, and you can be on your way.”   

William signed the boxes out of evidence and rolled the dolly toward his team’s office. Ringing phones and conversations buzzed in the background as he passed through the police bullpen. One officer led a handcuffed woman to her desk.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know how trigger got in my purse!” the young woman exclaimed, wriggling against the officer’s firm grasp. “It’s not mine!”

William grimaced at the woman’s lies. White light swirled around her, growing brighter as she spewed falsehood after falsehood. Pain prickled at the back of his eyes as he hastened away. Gritting his teeth, he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out an orange pill bottle. Shaking out two pills, he tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. He stuffed the bottle back in his pocket as he shoved the conference room door open.

“Welcome back, Will,” Vera Lang said cheerfully. Her fingers danced back and forth across her braille terminal as she read the digitized files on her laptop.  

William grunted in reply, making a beeline for the coffee pot. He poured himself a mug, sighing into the pleasant steam rising from its contents.  

Bellamy shot him a concerned look, “Are you alright? You’re irritated.”

Snorting and taking a long swig from his mug, William nodded.

“A criminal playing dumb,” he said simply, rubbing at his eyes. The prickling sensation always lingered after witnessing a falsehood. On the bright side, there had only been one. Had there been more or, God forbid, a roomful, a little prickling would be the least of his problems.

Bellamy nodded in understanding, lifted an evidence box and removed the lid. He shifted through its contents and passed a couple of files to Alba and Mary.

“Find anything from the digital files?” William asked, setting his mug down at his place at the table.

“An estimated timeframe of the abduction which matches with our information regarding the presumed mugging, a link to another case involving the homicide of one Hibiki Genji,” Vera listed, patting the Genji casefile box sitting beside her, “and a record of operations that took place with pro-heroes searching for All Might. Most of the heroes were his co-workers from U.A. Hero Academy.”

“Makes sense considering they wanted to keep things close to the vest,” Mary chipped in. “Especially with all the bad press the school has been getting recently.” At the odd look she got from Alba, she shrugged, “I like to keep tabs on U.A. Watching the Sports Festival is kind of a tradition in my family.”

Alba clicked her beak thoughtfully, “I suppose close friends and peers would help keep the news from getting out. There was enough uproar in reaction to his retirement alone.”

William nodded absently, “So, no mention of anything that would imply Big Bad was involved?”

Bellamy shook his head, “So far, no.”

Damn it. William sighed, brushing his hand over his breast pocket, right above his heart, and the small photograph tucked inside it.

“There’s no such thing as a dead end, Wright.” His mentor’s laugh echoed through his mind, “Maybe a split end, but if you look hard enough, you’ll find a connection.”

“Keep looking,” William said, earning a chuckle from Vera and smiles across the table. Returning his attention to the box in front of him, he dug to the bottom. Curiosity piqued, he pursed his lips and pulled out a handheld recorder. Sitting back and plugging in his set of earbuds, he prepared a notepad and pressed play.

“If at any point you need to take a break -” Detective Tsukauchi’s voice sounded tinny in William’s ears. There was a rustling of cloth and faint background noise… Beeping?

“I’m alright.” A man’s voice, low and a bit raspy. So different from his hero persona, All Might. “I’m not as fragile as I look, Tsukauchi.”

The detective in the recording snorted with humor.

So, this is Yagi. William thought.

He jotted down quick notes as the interview continued.

“...Was she the only person you saw?”

“No. There were two others. All for One, the villain from the Kamino Ward incident, and this young man, Isamu Sato. He was coerced into working with his supervisor, Inoshita, and the villain, who Isa- ah, Sato- only knew as,” A slight pause, “Sensei…”

The tape continued to roll, but William wasn’t listening. He was staring at the words written on his notepad.

ALL FOR ONE.

A title only heard in whispers of fear or reverence. Old. That name is old.

A shudder ran down his spine, and he shook himself, pressing rewind. He hit play and heard the detective continue.

“What were the roles of the three?”

There was a shuffling movement, a quiet thump.

“To be brief, All for One provided the quirks forced -”

William’s brows furrowed as he tried to focus on the background noise during another long pause. Forced? Quirks?

“Do you need a moment?” Detective Tsukauchi asked softly, a slight crackle muffled the speaker.

A hand brushing over the mic, perhaps. William pushed against the earbud, listening intently.  

“Just growing pains. All for One provided the quirks forced on me. Inoshita personally administered one and regularly changed my IV solution. Nurse Sato was made to deliver meals and ensure that I survived the quirks that put a greater strain on my body.”

William blinked, pressing pause.

What?

He pulled out an earbud, “Mary, pass me the photos we showed Tsukauchi.”

Mary raised an eyebrow, setting aside her papers.

“Sure thing, here,” she said and passed along the folder she pulled from her bag.

William stared at the photos, and the detective’s pitch black aura resurfaced in his mind’s eye, “There’s been a misunderstanding. The man in the first and last photo is Toshinori Yagi.”

“Quirks…” he muttered softly. He hadn’t really believed…

“Got something?” Bellamy asked.

“I might… One moment.” William said, almost breathless. A shaky smile pulled at his lips as he pressed play.

“Survive?” Tsukauchi sounded… worried.

William gripped his pen tightly as he waited for Yagi to reply.

“The tail quirk-” His eyes shot to the second photo, “-added a significant amount of body mass… Without that young man, I would not have lived through the change.”

William grinned, “We have him.”

Genji looked up, pale, “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” William nodded, predatory glee bubbling in his chest, “Big Bad was here. And - And Montgomery's quirk theory was correct. We have our living proof.” He smacked the second photo as a laugh escaped him.

Eleven goddamn years… He pat the photo in his breast pocket, But you were right.  

He carefully pulled out the earbuds and set the recorder on the table, speaker facing up.

“Listen to this.”

The whole dorm smelled of curry. It brought a smile to Toshinori’s face as the elevator door opened to the first floor. Adjusting the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder, he looked down at his phone as it buzzed.

Power Loader sent his reply:

[Yes, I can meet you at the faculty gym. Let me just gather some measuring supplies.]

[Fantastic!] Toshinori quickly texted back, [I’m on my way now.]

He looked up just in time to see a green mop of hair disappear around the corner and into the kitchen.

“Midoriya, my boy!” Toshinori called out. He chuckled at the sudden thumping scramble of footsteps as the boy rushed back around the corner.

“Yes?” Izuku asked. He was dressed in his running clothes, much like Toshinori was now.

“Heading to the training fields?” Toshinori asked, approaching him.

“Y-yeah! I was just grabbing my water,” the boy gestured to the fridge with his thumb.

Toshinori nodded, “I’m headed that direction myself. Why don’t you grab your water and walk with me?”

Izuku blinked up at him, brows raised, and nodded, “Sure!”

Toshinori could have sworn he saw the telltale light of One for All as Izuku dashed to the fridge and back, water bottle in hand. He smiled and led the way to the front doors.

The day was bright despite the thin layer of overcast clouds. Blue sky peeked between great swaths of grey. A cool wind brushed over Toshinori’s skin, rustling his sweatpants and t-shirt.

I should have grabbed a jacket, he thought before remembering none of his jackets were tailored. Regardless, being outside felt … He didn’t have the words.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, smiling at the cool, crisp air filling his lung.

He opened his eyes, blinking in the sunlight, and movement caught his attention. Izuku stretched his left arm and rubbed at his neck.

“How’s your shoulder doing, my boy?” Toshinori asked quietly.

Izuku quickly pulled his hand away from his shoulder, “It’s fine! Really,” He took a deep breath and sighed, “It just tingles, but that’s Recovery Girl’s healing side effect. Um, but you’d probably know that.”

Toshinori chuckled, “Oh, would I?”

Izuku’s face flushed red, and he bowed his head, “I- um-”

Toshinori ruffled the boy’s hair, grinning at his stammering.

“I’m teasing,” he said with a laugh.

“O-oh,” a small smile twitched on Izuku’s face before it faded to something more serious, “How’s your - um - How’re you feeling?”  

“Well,” Toshinori adjusted his bag strap again and smiled down at Izuku, “I’m walking again, and I’m pleasantly full from earlier. Definitely a positive turn of events, considering...” His smile fell, and he looked the boy in the eye, “I want to apologize. You should have never seen that… I was hoping you - and your classmates, for that matter - would never have to see that side of my… condition. I -,” he traced the uppermost spike on his neck, “I should have taken proper precautions. If I had, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

Because of me… Again.

Toshinori glanced at the scars lining Izuku’s hands and arm, “For that, I am sorry.”

Izuku looked up at him, a pensive frown on his face. Then he shook his head, “Thank you. It’s really not your fault though...”

A small smile softened Toshinori’s expression, and he clapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I also want to thank you for listening this morning. Everyone’s acceptance,” he paused, searching for the right words, “It helps.”

Izuku grinned, “I’m glad to hear it!”

For a short distance, they walked in comfortable silence. Toshinori’s tail found its way around Izuku’s waist, giving it a small squeeze before swinging back into place.

Rubbing his stomach, Izuku laughed, “Does your tail still have a mind of its own?”

“Of course,” Toshinori said, swatting the boy’s back with his tail. He darted to the side with a laugh when Izuku attempted to catch it. The boy righted himself too slow, and Toshinori snagged him, holding him against his side with the crook of his elbow.

Izuku sputtered and hopped along with Toshinori’s long strides, and Toshinori shot him a cheeky grin, suppressing the laughter bubbling in his chest.

“So…” Izuku said between a small hop and a skip in his uneven gait, “What’s on today’s training menu?”

A sudden overwhelming sense of familiarity brought a wide smile to Toshinori’s face.

“What have you worked up to?” he asked, looking down at the boy trapped against him.

Izuku smiled proudly, “A mile warm-up, no quirk. Six mile run at five percent. Three miles at eight percent. A mile cool down, no quirk. Weightlifting with and without One for All. Cementoss built a fairly simple obstacle course, and I try to complete it three or four times as fast as I can. It changes every week, and sometimes he’ll offer to change it while students run it. Adds adapting and quick thinking elements to the course.”

Toshinori nodded as Izuku counted off the parts of his regimen on his fingers, smiling with enthusiasm. He hummed thoughtfully, and Izuku quieted. The boy looked up at him expectantly, and Toshinori playfully ruffled his hair earning himself a small squawk of protest.

“Not bad, my boy,” Toshinori’s tail swung cheerily as Izuku sputtered and squirmed his way out of Toshinori’s headlock, blushing to his ears.

“Sounds like you’ve got your menu in order,” Toshinori grinned as they reached the training field and gave the boy a small push from behind “Go on then, I’m off to meet Power Loader. Your warm-up and cool-down are important, so make sure to do them properly.”

Izuku nodded, smiling wide, “Right! See you later, All Might!”

The tip of Toshinori’s tail flicked with his amusement as the boy dashed off.       

The faculty gym was large, much like the rest of U.A. The building had once been an armory and used for training young military officers before the founders of U.A. bought the property around it. Its rectangular base and high, curved roof was large enough to house a small blimp, though it never did in its history - at least, not to Toshinori’s knowledge.

He pulled open one of the many doors lining the sides of the old brick building and stepped inside. Immediately, Toshinori was greeted with the smell of rubber, dusty heating vents, linen-scented cleaning solution, and sweat. It was warm, familiar, and sent a pleasant rush of renewed energy through his long limbs. He chuckled at himself as his tail swung excitedly. Dropping his gym bag and slipping the prototype sandals from his feet, he jogged onto the track.

Toshinori carefully sat and stretched as Recovery Girl showed him.   

“All Might!”

Twisting in place, Toshinori raised a hand in greeting, “Good morning, Power Loader.”

Higari Maijima was out of his mechanical suit. Instead, he wore his casual clothes, a grey shirt and a pair of thick, tan work pants dotted with welding burns. Behind him, he rolled one of his mobile tool cases.

“Good afternoon,” he said, rolling his case up to a bench by the track. Maijima grinned as he came to sit near Toshinori, giving him enough space to swing his long tail around to stretch it, “You’re looking better.”

“I’m getting there,” Toshinori said with a grunt, nearly folding himself in half to touch his clawed toes. New muscles pulled, but he couldn’t help grinning at the familiar ache. “Working my way up to running again.”

Maijima hummed thoughtfully, “The prototype shoes working at all?”

“They’re a bit loose,” Toshinori admitted, “Slides a bit.”

“I see,” the inventor tapped his chin, “Maybe something more form-fitting. May I?” He gestured to Toshinori’s feet. “I want to do some more measurements.”

Toshinori nodded, shifting to face Maijima. Pulling Toshinori’s foot into his lap and starting from his hock, Maijima stretched measuring tape across each joint.  

Maijima muttered under his breath, “Your claws present the biggest issue, but one I’ve worked with before…” he wiggled his fingers, blunt iron claws flashing in the sunlight streaming through the large windows. He pressed the pad on the ball of Toshinori’s foot, watching as his toes curled before spreading each and examining the partial webbing between them. “In warmer weather, I would say your pads would be fine barefoot - although etiquette demands footwear. Hm. Do you have a preference where style is concerned?”

Toshinori shrugged, “Just something comfortable that won’t overheat. So, breathable material. That may be too much to ask, though.”

“Not at all,” Maijima replied, “Breathable material that’s strong enough to withstand pressure from your claws. I may have just the thing back in my workshop.”

Toshinori grinned, “Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

Maijima moved to wave him away, but he paused, “Multiple pairs are a given, but having a separate athletic pair would definitely be useful. If you don’t mind, would you allow me to observe how you run? To see how flexible the material will need to be.”

Toshinori’s ears perked, and his legs itched to move. Running.

He nodded.

Maijima pulled his gear from the track and dusted off his pants, “Alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

Toshinori pushed himself to stand, shifting from all fours to two as quickly as he could.

He walked to the starting line, the rubber path felt rough against his toes. The track stretched out ahead of him and he took a slow, deep breath. His legs tensed and his tail whipped behind him. Claws digging against the track, Toshinori leapt forward. He started at a fast jog, feet thumping against the track and getting a feel for his stride. It was longer, bounding and pressing forward. His heart pounded, strong in his chest, as his body warmed to the movement.

He sucked in another deep breath and let it loose, charging ahead.

His mind felt so clear.

Grinning, Toshinori sped up, arms pumping at his sides and tail curving as he made the wide turn of the track. His breath puffed around his face, blood roaring in his ears.  

Faster.

He ducked his head, pumping his arms - almost leaping through the air.

Faster!

His chest burned, and his back muscles pulled. Bending forward, he relieved the strain, grinning ear to ear.

He loped along the track, wrists and arms bending - softening each impact. The sidelines blurred with his speed. Focusing on his breaths, his steps fell into an easy rhythm - One, two, in. One, two, out. Nice and even.

Reaching the turn and digging his right hand into the ground, he -

He blinked, noticing the track inches from his nose, and jerked back.

Shit!

His tail thrashed as he stumbled through the turn, hands and feet scrabbling for purchase.

Shit-shit-shit!

His foot crashed against the back of his arm, and he tumbled to the ground. Toshinori grit his teeth as he ducked into a roll and slid across the track. When he came to a stop, he coughed, tasting copper.  

Rolling with a groan, Toshinori sat up on his haunches and rubbed at his scarred side.

“Ahh,” he hissed through his teeth, “That smarts.”

A sharp pain pricked the back of his neck. He quickly brushed through the mane and felt around his third spike. It was still there - loose, but still there. Toshinori breathed a sigh of relief. He would hate to have to tell Isamu he’d already knocked it out.   

“All Might!” Maijima jogged across the track and came to a stop beside him, “Are you alright? That was quite the tumble. Not used to running on all fours, huh?”

Toshinori’s ears drooped and he rubbed his palms together, grateful for the thick calluses on his palms built up over years of hero work.

“I-uh, no,” he frowned at his claws. A few of the caps had slipped off.

Just different, that small mantra repeated quietly in the back of his mind, Just different.

“All Might, it just so happens that we have several students who do the same. One of which walks and runs as a quadruped full-time,” Maijima smiled down at All Might and held out his hand.

Toshinori took it and let his peer tug him up to stand.

“I’ve got something for you,” Maijima said, beckoning Toshinori to follow. He led him to his tool case, opened it, and dug through it. “Recovery Girl mentioned the dual nature of your stride, and I figured you might be able to use a pair of these.”

From the case, he pulled a pair of fingerless gloves. Maijima handed them over, smiling as Toshinori curiously turned them about and prodded them with his claws. Thick, tough pads were sewn into the palms of the gloves.

“They’re running gloves,” Maijima explained simply when Toshinori gave him a questioning look. He grinned a toothy grin, eyes sparkling from behind his long, shaggy bangs, as Toshinori carefully slipped them on and flexed his fingers.

“They’ll help grip the ground during those turns,” Maijima continued, “There are also a few running videos I know of that could help you figure out how to steer with that long tail of yours. If you’re interested, that is.”

Toshinori’s tail swayed thoughtfully, and he nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

Maijima smiled contently, then suddenly jolted, “Oh!” He bent and dug into his tool case, “Nearly forgot. I noticed you used to do a fair amount of boxing in here, but I imagined your claws would make it difficult to make a fist.” He pulled something from the case, “And I made something for that.”

Toshinori stared down at the gloves Maijima held out and grinned.

Since listening to the taped interview, William’s team worked with feverish energy, searching for any and all mention of All for One. The Emperor of Darkness whose name was only whispered by the few foolhardy enough to cave during interrogation.

Their “Big Bad.”

Arch Montgomery had been one of many to go after the man called All for One.

“Yes,” Montgomery had said so often, looking at William over his thick-rimmed reading glasses, “All for One is as much of a man as you or I.”

William still remembered the late nights searching for whispers of his name on the wind, pouring over books and police records, following the trail of bodies he and his subordinates left behind.

For a retired history professor, Montgomery had a surprising number of contacts and more energy than men half his age. He kept in near-constant touch with dozens of investigators, private detectives, and police worldwide.

It had been a woman from Uruguay who theorized that All for One was merely a title, passed down from person to person. While some quirks provided longevity, it seemed unlikely that such a quirk would make the man live for generations. Especially not with the horror stories from scant witnesses. They spoke of a man in a suit with a highly destructive quirk, though the exact nature of said quirk was never consistent.  

“So, naturally, Lucia believes that there is no consensus on All for One’s quirk because there is not only one quirk - There is not only one man,” Montgomery had said in his London office, reading the email Lucia had sent him. “All for One is both a man, or perhaps a woman, and a legacy. A title.” He gently tapped his bourbon glass, leaning back in his wooden desk chair, “An interesting theory.”

A theory William - a man in his early thirties at the time - was quick to accept as the most obvious answer to the mystery of All for One’s apparent longevity.

Montgomery… had not been so quick to accept that answer. His own theory was born of the mad ravings of a quirkless man.

All for One was a man who stole quirks away.

“There are too many different stories.” He rambled, pacing the floor of his library and leaning heavily on his cane, “Distinctly different accounts with contradictory quirk descriptions!” Montgomery ran a hand through his usually impeccably combed white hair. “Think, Will! Think! There are at least forty descriptions of the same man with different quirks.”

“Maybe you should lie down,” William had cautioned, holding out his hands.

“I’ve not gone senile, Will! Do not-” Montgomery collapsed then, cane slipping and clattering across the floor.

William had to keep him in the house and using his oxygen tank, not that the retiree thanked him for it.

Stubborn old man.

“Wright?”

William blinked, looking up and tucking the small photo into his breast pocket. Bellamy stood beside him, another file in his hands. His kind face crinkled with worry, but he kept his empathic observations to himself.

“Detective Tsukauchi is here,” he said, giving William’s shoulder a covert squeeze.

“Thank you,” William said quietly, sending a significant look to Mary. She quickly flipped through the small pile of papers and pulled out the transcripts of the Yagi interview.

“Good morning,” Tsukauchi greeted them with a respectful nod. His dark eyes swept over the room and halted at the boxes of evidence. “Already hard at work then?”

“We took the liberty of going through the Yagi case files to better familiarize ourselves with them,” Vera Lang said, smiling in the direction of the detective.  

Mary handed William the transcripts, and he turned to Tsukauchi.

“I do have a few questions regarding your talk with Yagi,” William said, moving to stand beside the detective. He tapped down on the name in question, asking, “This nurse, Isamu Sato, he was integral to keeping Yagi imprisoned. Why hasn’t be been detained?”

Detective Tsukauchi frowned slightly at the page before moving to the coffee machine and filling his mug, “He was integral in Yagi’s escape, and as per Yagi’s request any charges against him have been dropped.”

William hummed, turning to look at his case files. He pulled out a stack of photos, spreading them across the table, “Nurse Sato was in an out of that building the most. Here, we have several pictures and videos of him carting supplies into the building - and yes, I made sure to double-check his identity. In fact, he’s the one who drew our attention. Are you certain you have all of the facts?”

Tsukauchi glanced over the photos, sipping from his mug.

“I trust Yagi’s judgment,” he said simply, the black aura around him unwavering, “However, I still intend to question him. He suffered grave injuries at the hands of Yagi’s captor, and I’ve been waiting for his doctor’s approval.”

Trust him? All Might, the man who shined the brightest.

William frowned at the clear, black aura, “And you believe this nurse is without guilt? After what he put your friend through?”

Tsukauchi’s shoulders stiffened.

Mary sighed as her plant withered in its jar on the table, and Bellamy shot William a stern look.

Then Tsukauchi straightened and turned, “I am sure Sato is convinced of his own guilt. He freed Tosh- Yagi. A man who did not feel guilt or acknowledge the wrongness of the situation would not have acted.” His voice was even, expression firm, aura unchanged.

The corner of William’s mouth twitched. Touché…

“Fair enough. I would like to be present when you interrogate Sato,” William said with a pleasant smile, moving to the coffee machine and refilling his cup, “Along with Genji, if you don’t mind.”

Tsukauchi took another sip of his coffee, eyeing William over the brim of his mug, and for a moment William envied Bellamy’s insight.

Tsukauchi’s stare remained blank, a well-practiced emotionless mask, “Alright. Prepare a list of questions you would like addressed, and have them ready by 4:00 sharp. I have business to attend to this afternoon, and I’ll see if Sato is ready to be released from his doctor’s care on my way back.”

William nodded, “Sounds reasonable. Thank you.”

BAP! Toshinori’s gloved fists sent the punching bag swinging on its squeaky chain,  Bap-bap! Bap-bap! Bap!

Shifting his stance with a couple of featherlight steps and a sway of his long tail, he threw another hard punch. Bap!

Toshinori panted. Drenched in sweat, his shirt and ridged mane stuck slick to his back. Every fiber of his body ached and burned, and his scar twinged with effort.

He’d never felt better.

Shaking his head and blinking sweat from his eyes, Toshinori whipped his tail from side to side and struck the bag again.

“Your form is shit.”

Toshinori jolted at the gruff voice and turned -

“Gloves up!”

Toshinori twisted, arms up in a block. He stumbled back at a sudden impact on his forearms, claws digging into the padding on the floor, but he did not fall. He dropped his arms and looked down in surprise.

“Torino?!”

Gran Torino frowned, giving Toshinori a careful once-over and leaning to the side to look at his swaying tail. Toshinori’s tail stilled and hesitantly tucked closer to his legs.

“Reflexes are fine,” Torino huffed, crossing his arms, “A bit slow.”

“A bit- ?” Toshinori’s hackles bristled a little apprehensively, but he grinned, “Are you sure you’re not the one slowing -oof!”

He landed on his side in a tangle of long limbs and wheezed, clutching his abdomen.

Gran Torino stood above him, a stern frown on his masked face, “I’m sure.”

“Go easy on him, Torino,” a familiar voice called out.

Toshinori grunted and waved weakly to Naomasa, who raised his hat in greeting.

“You couldn’t have warned me?” he shot an accusing glare at the detective, though his tail thumped happily against the mat.

Naomasa shook his head with a grin.

“He knew better not to,” Torino waved his hand carelessly.

Toshinori nodded, conceding to the fact. Rolling and pushing himself up, he sat back and stretched out his legs. His tail swung around and draped across his lap, tufted end flicking nervously.

“What brings you to U.A.?” he asked, not missing the hard glare Torino was giving each change.

“I can’t check on my dumbass student from time to time?” Torino grumbled.  

Ah… Toshinori’s eyes widened marginally, He was worried.

“Tsukauchi and I were here to see Nedzu. Don’t get any ideas!” Torino scolded, pointing sternly at Toshinori’s wagging tail tip.

But you didn’t have to visit me here.

Toshinori grinned, tail wagging faster, “Good to see you too.”

Torino bristled and stalked away, “Yeah yeah, you’re fine. Don’t know why I bothered dropping by. I’ll meet you by the car, Tsukauchi.”

Toshinori quirked a lopsided smile as his old teacher exited the gym, griping about youngsters giving him cheek.

Naomasa sat beside Toshinori on the mat, grunting softly as he did, “Torino’s getting soft in his old age.”

Toshinori whipped his head around, hackles bristling nervously.

“Don’t let him hear you say that!” he said in a hushed voice, gesturing downward with his gloved hands.

Naomasa chuckled, leaning and bumping Toshinori’s shoulder with his own. His laugh and the gesture soothed Toshinori’s nerves and hackles.

“Feeling better?” Naomasa asked.

Toshinori nodded with a contented smile, “I was able to speak with Midoriya and his classmates about everything - well, nearly everything. They didn’t need any gory details. They’ve got enough on their plates as it is with their schoolwork and work studies.”

Naomasa hummed in agreement, “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Toshinori’s tail shifted and wound its way around Naomasa’s abdomen.

Toshinori cleared his throat awkwardly, “Sorry, it does that,” he said, the tips of his ears heating a little, “And you? How’re you doing?”

Naomasa huffed a laugh, absently resting his hand on Toshinori’s tail, “I’m alright. Doing better now that I’ve seen how much you’ve improved.”

Smiling, Toshinori pulled off his boxing gloves and flexed his hands.

“You were right,” he said.

Naomasa shot him a cheeky grin, “When am I not?”

“Shut up,” Toshinori elbowed Naomasa, “I meant about the restlessness.”

“That so?” Naomasa asked, tone suspiciously innocent, “So, just another thing I was right about then?”

Toshinori scoffed, then jolted when Naomasa gave the end of his tail a playful tug.

Naomasa grinned but coughed when Toshinori gave his abdomen a squeeze. Dramatically flopping his back and patting Toshinori’s tail, he wheezed, “I tap out!”

Toshinori snorted and unwound his tail from Naomasa’s waist, “That tap out was too fast!”

Naomasa laughed, hat falling off, and rubbed at his belly, “Maybe I’m the one going soft.”

Shaking his head, Toshinori barked a laugh, “You’re fine the way you are.”

Naomasa shook with laughter, rolling a bit on the mat before sitting up and pushing at Toshinori’s shoulder.

“Hey! I mean it!” Toshinori grinned wide, “If you disagree, you could always train with me like old times.”

“I might take you up on that,” Naomasa said seriously, smiling.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence. Then Toshinori shifted, pulling up and resting his arms on his knees.

“So,” he paused, rubbing at the back of his neck and tracing the spikes there, “What were you meeting Nedzu for?”

Naomasa sighed, picking his hat up from the mat and tapping it against his leg, “There are rumors that the Villain Alliance is on the move, preparing for something. We just had a standard, be on the look-out, meeting with Nedzu,” he frowned, “Especially with the recent spike in media attention. I’m assuming you’ve seen the news?”

Toshinori grimaced, “I have. I need to write a press release to publicly address,” he gestured to himself, “this. Though I am certain Nedzu already has something prepared.”

“It would be like him,” Naomasa said with a small nod. Then he glanced at Toshinori, a small frown pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“What is it?” Toshinori asked.  

Naomasa’s frown deepened and he furrowed his brows in thought, “Wright - he’s with the international team. He went through the evidence and wants to interview you and Nurse Sato. I’m here to pick up Sato if Recovery Girl gives the okay, but… Something’s off with Wright.”

“Gut feeling?” Toshinori asked.

“Yes,” he replied, dark eyes far off in thought, “I’m still not sure what his motives are.”

Toshinori hummed, “Can you ask him?”

Naomasa snorted, “Oh, I’ve probed. He and his team are a rather secretive bunch, but Tsuragamae trusts them. They’re not bad. Just… I suppose single-minded would be the word.”

Toshinori nodded, “Do you know what they would want to question me about? Ah,” he frowned, “More importantly, you will be the one to interview Isamu - ah, Sato - I assume?”

“Yes,” Naomasa said, “I still lead the investigation, and the international team is technically under my supervision. Though Wright asked to sit in with one of his subordinates. I thought it’d be best to see for myself what they’re after, so I agreed.”

Naomasa shrugged, “That’s all I have for now. I’ll save your interview for a later date,” he paused, glancing at Toshinori, “Unless you have more to add right now.”

Toshinori shook his head, “No. Nothing you don’t already know about.” He paused, furrowing his brows and looking down at his claws, “There is something...”

Naomasa quirked an eyebrow, “What?”

“You remember the USJ Noumu? There were multiple sets of DNA in its body,” Toshinori rubbed his palms together, then asked, “Would there be a way to find out where, or rather, who my quirks came from?”

Naomasa stared at Toshinori, looking a bit taken aback.

“I know where my spikes came from. Nurse Sato,” Toshinori continued, gaze fixed on his claws as he fidgeted, “A student asked where the others came from. I suppose it piqued my interest, and…” he furrowed his brow, “I need to know, Naomasa. They’re victims of All for One. I need to know their names.”

Who they were… He ran his thumb over the claw on his forefinger. If… if they’re still alive.

“Okay,” Naomasa said.

Toshinori’s ears perked as he turned to his friend, “Okay?”

Naomasa rested his hand on Toshinori’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“We’ll find them,” he promised, “If you come with me to pick up Sato, Recovery Girl could draw some blood I could take back to evidence with me. We can run it through our system and the quirk registry.”

“Thank you,” Toshinori sighed, a small smile brightening his features. He rocked back and pushed himself up to stand, pulling Naomasa up after him.

Naomasa paused, brushing off the seat of his pants, and gave Toshinori a cheeky smile, “You should probably hit the showers first. You reek.”

Toshinori sputtered, and Naomasa barely ducked in time to avoid being swatted by Toshinori’s tail.

Toshinoumu in Gym Clothes by Art-of-Zirio

Toshinori and Naomasa by Juustozzi

William Wright by Valduin

Chapter Text

Toshinori's tail flicked from side to side as Recovery Girl pulled the needle from his inner elbow, pressing and taping a wad of gauze to the red pin-prick. Turning, she returned to her desk and tucked the drawn blood vial into a small travel sleeve.

“Be careful with that,” Recovery Girl advised, handing the vial to Naomasa and nodding as he tucked the vial into his breast pocket, “I doubt All Might wants his blood drawn again any time soon.”

Toshinori snorted and grinned, rubbing the small bandage, “No, thank you.”

Smiling softly, Naomasa gently pat his breast pocket, “I’ll take care of it.”

Across the room, Isamu was up and about, helping restock Recovery Girl’s medical supplies. He was no longer wearing a hospital gown and shorts. Aside from the small dark circles still lining his eyes, he looked more energetic and moved around with ease in a casual t-shirt and slacks.

He’s in good spirits, Toshinori thought, watching Isamu carefully stack boxes along the back shelf.

“Isamu, dear,” Recovery Girl called out.

Isamu looked up from his stack of latex-free glove boxes, “Yes?”

“I think Detective Tsukauchi is just about ready for you,” Recovery Girl said softly.  

Toshinori frowned when Isamu’s expression fell.

“Yes, ma’am,” Isamu murmured. Placing the last box on the shelf, Isamu dusted off his trembling hands and reached up to rub at the back of his neck, pausing midway. A small, sad look passed over his face.

“Isamu,” Toshinori stood, smiling when the young nurse met his gaze, “It’s alright,” he said clapping a hand on Naomasa’s shoulder, “Detective Tsukauchi is a good friend of mine. He won’t bite.”

Isamu approached nervously, bowing his head to Naomasa, “Please take care of me.”

Toshinori barked a laugh, “So formal! There’s no need for all that. He just wants to ask a few questions back at the station. Very routine.”

Isamu’s ears reddened, but he smiled.

Naomasa returned a small bow, lifting his hat, “It is nice to see you awake and doing well. All Might’s told me about you.” He bowed his head lower, “Thank you for helping him despite the danger. You are a brave young man.”

Eyes wide, Isamu shook his head, “I - It wasn’t - It was the least I could do after everything…”

“Nonsense!” Toshinori grinned and pat Isamu’s back, “You live up to your name! That was a fine display of bravery. ”

The young nurse cracked a smile.

“You’re energetic today,” Isamu said, visibly stifling a laugh.

Toshinori took a half-step back and threw a few practiced jabs, “Finally getting back into the swing of things, and I’m feeling better already.”

Isamu grinned, awe shining in his eyes as he shook his head, “You’re really All Might.”

Toshinori huffed, tail flicking in amusement, “And you’ve said that before.”

Isamu reddened bashfully, “I-I suppose I have,” He smiled, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, “It’s... just good to see you like this. I mean-”

Isamu gestured helplessly, and Toshinori laughed, shaking his head, “I understand, young man, and thank you.”

Naomasa elbowed Toshinori, nodding to the door.

“Gran Torino is probably still waiting by the car if he hasn’t wandered off,” he said, then turned to Isamu, “Are you ready to go?”

Isamu nodded, turning and unhooking a jacket from the bed corner.

Ah, Toshinori’s smile slipped. Small slits lined the backs of Isamu’s shirt and jacket. He caught a flash of pinkish scar tissue peeking from behind the fabric before Isamu turned back around.

“Are you heading back to the dorms?” the young nurse asked as he zipped up his dark blue jacket.

“No,” Toshinori said, glancing at his watch, “I’m going to catch Principal Nedzu while he’s still in his office and discuss a press release. This isn’t going away, and given - well - who I am,” he cracked a rueful grin, “There is bound to be some media attention. Better to face it head-on.”

Naomasa shot him an understanding smile, briefly bumping his hand against Toshinori’s arm.

“Good luck,” he said and pat his pocket, “If you need anything, I’m a call away.”

Toshinori grinned and made of show of flexing his lean bicep.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he chuckled and dropped his arm, “Thanks. Drive safe. And Isamu,” Toshinori clapped his hand Isamu’s shoulder, “You aren’t in trouble. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your help.”

A flash of guilt darkened Isamu’s expression, and he averted his gaze, “Y-yeah…”

Sympathy welled in Toshinori’s chest, and he gave Isamu’s shoulder a small squeeze, “I can’t thank you enough, young man. But go on,” he gently nudged Isamu toward the door, “I know the man who’s waiting on the Detective over here. Best to head off sooner rather than later.”

Naomasa huffed and shot Toshinori a wry grin, “See you around, All Might.”

He led Isamu out of the infirmary, and Isamu bowed to Recovery Girl and Toshinori before closing the door behind him.

Chiyo chuckled softly, “He’s quite a sweet young man. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Toshinori hummed in agreement, reaching back and tracing the small spikes on his neck.

“How is he?” he asked, sitting on Isamu’s bed across from Recovery Girl.

She smiled, spinning her desk chair to face Toshinori, “He is doing very well. His wounds are all patched up, and if it were safe I would have sent him home. As things are…” she shrugged.

“Were his clothes from home?” Toshinori asked.

“Yes,” Chiyo nodded, glancing out the large windows. White clouds drifted lazily across the inviting blue sky, “Snipe was kind enough to stake out his apartment. He brought Isamu a few outfits when he determined it was safe.”

“It’s doubtful All for One would follow up on Isamu,” Toshinori said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “He took his quirk and tried killing him. I can’t imagine him expending more energy on a nurse.”

Chiyo sighed, “I hope you’re right.”

Something pale on her desk caught Toshinori’s attention, “What’s that?” He leaned forward to get a better look before Recovery Girl tucked the cream-colored object behind one of her medical books.

“Ah ah ah,” she tutted, a playful smile on her face, “Isamu isn’t finished with this.”

Toshinori quirked a lopsided grin and sat back, raising his hands placatingly.

Recovery Girl shook her head and clicked her tongue, “How did you manage to get so bruised up already?” When Toshinori gave her a questioning look, she pointed to his exposed arms. Small bruises and a couple scrapes dotted his forearms and elbows.

“Took a bit of a tumble,” Toshinori admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the sore spots, “Nothing stretching and rest won’t mend.”

Chiyo huffed a soft laugh and gently thumped Toshinori’s leg with her cane.

“Then you’d better get to it,” her smile faded, “It’s only been a week Toshinori… Be careful.”

Toshinori laughed, “You know me, Chiyo. I can’t stay cooped up forever. But I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He stood, stretching his arms out and rotating his shoulders. His side protested the movement, and pain lanced through his core. Hiding his grimace behind a small cough, he turned and dropped his arms, letting them hang loosely.

“Alright, I’m off! Thanks for your help,” He flashed her a smile and a parting wave as he ducked through the doorway.

She called out softly as he departed, “Anytime, Toshinori. Give Nedzu my regards.”

He nodded, gently closing the infirmary door.

A thought occurred to Toshinori, and he snorted, glancing back at the tuft of hair on his tail.

Hopefully, Nedzu will find it acceptable, or I may be subject to another lecture.   

Detective Tsukauchi led Isamu through a side door of the station, waving to the elderly hero as he went his own way. Sweat beaded on Isamu’s forehead as they walked through the first floor and down a branching hall. Each step echoed on the polished tile, and he swallowed.

So quiet…

Isamu eyed the detective as he strolled ahead. The man’s shoulders were relaxed, apparently used to the silence. Isamu’s gaze roamed the hall. In passing, he glanced at hundreds of unfamiliar names and faces on the plaques and awards that lined the gray walls.

He shivered and looked over his shoulder. No one else shared the hall with them.

Only the graveyard shift at Rishi was ever this quiet.

“This way.”

Isamu jolted, “U-um, sorry?”

Detective Tsukauchi smiled gently, pointing to the elevator to the right, “We’ll be heading upstairs for the interview. Not too far now.”

Entering the elevator, Isamu fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He itched to make some kind of small talk, something to ease his anxiety, but every word caught in his throat.

As they reached the third floor a soft roar filled the air.

Isamu furrowed his brow.

Detective Tsukauchi looked up from his phone as the elevator dinged, “Here we are.”

The doors opened and -

A wall of sound assaulted Isamu’s ears. Phones rang loudly, muted conversations overlapped - creating the dull roar he heard before. Uniformed officers brushed past Isamu as he followed Detective Tsukauchi through the bullpen.

The detective glanced across the room and waved down a cat-faced man, “Sansa!”

The officer’s ears swiveled toward Tsukauchi’s voice, and he looked up.

Tsukauchi beckoned for him, and Sansa jogged over.

“Sir?”

“Could you take Sato to room four?” the detective asked. He glanced at his watch before turning back to Isamu, “I have to review a few notes before we get started. We’re just waiting on one more person who will be here in about a half-hour. I’m sorry to make you wait.”

“Oh no! It’s alright!” Isamu said quickly, “I don’t mind waiting.”

“We appreciate all the help you can give us,” Tsukauchi smiled, “Officer Tamakawa will take you to the room. There should be coffee and some crosswords in there, in case you get bored,” he tacked on, passing Isamu a pen with a grin.

“Thank you,” Isamu said, taking the pen.

“This way, please,” Officer Tamakawa said with a friendly chirrup, leading Isamu down a side hall.

Tamakawa paused beside the fourth door on the left and held the door open.

“Just in here,” he said.

Isamu entered the room.

It wasn’t like interrogation rooms on television. The room was fairly small, almost cozy. Thin, dark blue carpet lined the floor, and the walls were painted a pleasant cream color. To Isamu’s left was a smaller table with a coffee machine, a few styrofoam cups, and a small puzzle book set on it. In the center of the room was a light wood table where two men sat.

The older of the two appeared to be a foreigner. Wearing a tweed jacket, he didn’t look like a detective - more like a professor. His blond hair was neatly cut and combed. The expression on his fairly handsome face was pensive as he ordered the folders and notepads on the tabletop.

Sitting beside him was a younger man in a gray, cable knit sweater. Lips pursed in thought, he slouched and tapped his styrofoam cup, staring at the ripples in his coffee. He looked up, meeting Isamu’s eyes, and tensed. Ducking his head, the young man glanced nervously between Tamakawa and the foreigner.

“You can sit here if you like,” Tamakawa gestured to the smaller desk before looking to the two in the center of the room. The officer cocked his head to the side, looking to the folders spread across the larger table, “Already set up then, Mr. Wright? Detective Tsukauchi isn’t planning to start the interview for another half-hour.”

“Understood,” The foreigner nodded, “Thank you, officer. I prefer setting up early. Hopefully, that’s not a bother. Why don’t I handle the introductions while we wait?”

Tamakawa’s whiskers twitched uncertainly, but he nodded.

“Sato,” the officer said, “The restroom is down the hall, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask one of our officers.”

Huh? I can leave? Isamu’s brows rose, Well, I suppose since I’m not under arrest…

“O-okay, thank you,” he replied.

“And Tamakawa,” Wright grinned and gestured to the hall, “Ms. Tyto had a few questions for you. I believe she’s still in the conference room.”

Tamakawa’s fur fluffed around his neck, his slit pupils growing round, “Oh? Yes, I’ll see what she needs. Thank you.” He smiled and retreated into the hall, closing the door behind him.

The foreigner chuckled, holding out his hand the moment the door closed.

“William Wright,” he said, shaking Isamu’s hand, and gestured to the younger man at the table, “and my associate Genji Tsuda. Nice to meet you.”

“N-nice to meet you,” Isamu quickly replied, a little surprised at the firmness of Wright’s handshake.

“Why don’t you grab a cup of coffee and take a seat over here,” Wright suggested, “We can get started.”

Isamu tensed, brows furrowing, “Started? Aren’t we waiting on Detective Tsukauchi?”

Wright returned to the larger table, taking a seat beside Tsuda, gesturing casually, “We’re a part of a joint case team. Our questions focus on more than just the Yagi abduction case.”

“Yagi?” Isamu asked.

“Toshinori Yagi, All Might’s given name,” Wright supplied simply.

“R-right, All Might,” Isamu nodded, foregoing the offer of coffee, and moved to sit at the main table.

“Yes,” Wright said amicably, “Our case is a bit more broad and may take more time. Detective Tsukauchi will join us eventually, but it would be more efficient to begin now.”

Isamu shifted nervously in his plastic chair, “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait?”

Disappointment flickered across Wright’s features, “Ah well, it would be more helpful if we could start now. What you know could greatly advance our case. But if you’d rather wait -”

Shame and guilt surged in Isamu’s chest and he shook his head, “No! N-no, it’s okay. I just - okay, we can start now.”

“Thank you,” Wright said seriously, green eyes focusing sharply on Isamu. He placed a smartphone on the table, recording bars jumping, “Do we have your permission to record this session?”

“S-sure?” Isamu stuttered. He reached back, brushing the back of his neck and wincing at the feeling of his scarred divots.

“Something the matter?” Tsuda asked, looking to Isamu’s hands. His voice was soft and a little raspy with disuse.

“It’s n-nothing. I’m fine,” Isamu said, quickly folding his hands on the table.

Wright cleared his throat, a frown tugging at his expression, “In the pursuit of truth, it would be most helpful if you would allow my associate to use his quirk.”

Isamu jolted. His quirk? That’s -

“It ensures you simply tell the truth,” Wright said, “The truth is all we want. But again, this is completely up to you, Mr. Sato. We’ll need your consent first.”

“C-could you elaborate a bit?” Isamu asked uncertainly, “About the quirk and its effects, I mean.”

Wright nodded, “Certainly. Once activated, ‘Speak No Evil’ ensures that the person under its influence is unable to lie for a short period of time. Thirty minutes is the usual limit. Each person reacts differently, but generally side effects only occur when someone attempts to lie or does not answer,” He waved his hand casually, “The usual headache due to the mental stress of fighting said quirk. Any questions?”

Isamu hesitated, biting at his lower lip, “I have no intention of lying to you.”

“I believe you, but even bending truth could hinder our progress,” Wright looked him in the eyes, “You said you were ‘fine’ a moment ago. A simple white lie, easily made, and yes - I can tell. People often lie when they want to protect someone or to simply not be a bother.”

Wright sighed, “Sometimes the truth hurts. So, Genji here makes it a little easier to get it off your chest.”

Isamu watched as Wright leaned back in his seat, hands still folded in front of him. He looked to Tsuda who nodded at Wright’s explanation.

“O-okay. If that’s all…” Isamu pressed his lips together, gathering his determination, “I just want to help. Alright. I consent.”

“Thank you,” Wright said, “If you would please make eye contact with Genji so he can activate his quirk.”

Nerves fluttered in Isamu’s chest, and he took a slow breath. Then he looked over and met Tsuda’s gaze.

A white ring flashed around Tsuda’s gray eyes, and the young man quickly looked away.

“How do you feel?” Wright asked.

“Nervous,” Isamu laughed awkwardly, then he blinked rapidly as a shiver ran down his spine, “Ah- I see. A vocal cue to make the effects sink in. Now I am a little more nervous and seriously reconsidering my decision.”

“An honest answer,” Wright said, a pleased smile on his face. “What is your name?”

“Isamu Sato,” he answered immediately.

“Your birthday?”

“April fourth,” the answer rolled off his tongue with barely a thought.

Wright leaned forward, “What is your affiliation with All for One, the man you call Sensei?”  

Isamu’s throat seized, and his eyes widened in shock. His hand flew to his side, over the still healing, red scar.

“I don’t want to answer that question…” A dull pain throbbed in Isamu’s head, images flashing behind his eyes. The terminal ward in Kamino. The late shift. The masked man.

“I-I m-meant nothing to him,” he said with a gasp, and the pain eased, “A nurse who saw too much.”

Wright frowned, “Where and how did you meet him? What did you see?”

Isamu shuddered, “I used to work in a cancer ward for terminal patients. It was one of my night shifts. He was in a room with a dying woman and Nurse Tetsumi Inoshita - my supervisor. She cut the patient, and he put his hand on the wound. Then he saw me.” His side ached, “I don’t like to talk about this.”

“You’re being very helpful,” Wright said quietly, gaze intense, “Do you know why she cut the patient?”

“Y-yes,” Isamu’s voice shook, “Quirk. He was stealing her quirk. Blood transfer. I think. Yes. I’m almost certain.” He clutched his shirt over his scar in a white-knuckled grip.

Wright nodded, quickly writing something on his notepad. He visibly suppressed a grin, but his sharp eyes shined with excitement, “When he saw you, what did he do? How did he act? What did he look like?”

“Couldn’t see his face,” Isamu shook his head, “He wore a mask and a black suit. He just stood there while my supervisor yelled at me. I-I couldn’t move. I don’t even know what she said to me. I was… terrified. ”

“He didn’t kill you, so what did he do with you?” Wright asked calmly.

Bile stirred in his gut, and Isamu shivered.

“Nothing. Nothing. He didn’t have to. I can’t - I don’t know how - I don’t want to remember this. Please. I-I didn’t want to do any of that. The things I was t-told to do.”

“What did you do for him, Sato?” Wright’s voice was slow and even.

“I-I…” He paused. I did so much.

“We’re trying to find out more about how the villain operates, Sato, any information at all is useful,” Wright shifted in his seat, “Here, let me rephrase the question. What was your role as it relates to All Might’s imprisonment?”

Isamu nodded slowly, “All Might… I kept him fed. Cleaned the room when - when blood or sick got on the floor,” He let out a pained laugh, “My timing was the worst. I was there… to bring food. Bring food, talk with All Might - that’s what I did… They told me not to, but I would talk with him and then leave. But he was in the room too. Sensei. He -”

Isamu swallowed roughly, “He - you don’t know. You don’t know him. I thought I was going to die. He had me give A-All Might a tail quirk-”

Wright stiffened and leaned forward, “Wait one moment, you gave All Might the tail quirk?”

“Blood transfer. Sensei’s blood…  I merely… injected it.”

Nauseated, he whispered, “Sensei, he knew. The tail was almost too much. He was so thin. He doesn’t have a lung. He almost died. ”

“Who?”

“All Might!” Isamu cried out, “I - the quirk almost killed him! His heart stopped - ah,” he groaned clutching at his head as the memory resurfaced.

All Might collapsing to the floor, his tail suddenly fully-formed. Months of growth in one night! The high pitched tone of the heart monitor as he flat-lined. The stillness of his chest as his eyes lost focus. The crack of his sternum as Isamu continued chest compressions. The look on his face when his heart restarted, stuttering - laboring to pump blood through a whole new limb.

He wasn’t ready to die. Not him… He couldn’t -!

“CPR - I performed CPR when his heart stopped and gave him blood and supplement transfusions.” He choked, and a tear dripped onto the table, “He was so different.”

Wright furrowed his brow, “Different? What do you mean?”

“He was - is so kind,” Isamu’s voice cracked, “I… I couldn’t leave him there. Not like them, not like the others.”  

“Others?”

Wright turned as Tsuda spoke up, and nodded, “Yes, could you elaborate? On the others I mean.”

Shuddering, Isamu opened and closed his mouth, uncertain, “The… noumu. In Kamino. There was a warehouse…”

“Ah, you mean this?” Wright pulled out a newspaper clipping of the battle at Kamino Ward.

Sweat dripped down Isamu’s back, cooled by the chill of the room seeping through the useless slits in his shirt, “Yes… That.”

Wright paused, glancing down at the clipping before placing it back into the folder, “Tell me about the noumu. I haven’t had the chance to research them. What are they?”

“The other nurses called them artificial humans,” Isamu let the words fall from his mouth. His head felt fuzzy as the long-repressed memories resurfaced, “They were people once. By the time I-I got there, there wasn’t really… anything human about them anymore.”

“But what makes them like this?” Wright tapped on a different newspaper clipping, a picture showing the exposed-brain creature under the hero Endeavor’s foot in Hosu.

“Drugs, quirks, and s-surgery,” Isamu’s brows furrowed, “There were times all the nurses had to leave so the Good Doctor could do their work. I don’t know who they were. We weren’t allowed to see them. They -” Isamu gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth. After a moment, he took a shuddering breath, “The Good Doctor exposed the noumu’s brains. I don’t know why. The noumu didn’t feel it though… I think… They were pumped full of morphine and other mind-altering drugs. The strain - the mental strain of additional quirks was too much. People aren’t meant to take in someone else’s quirks. It isn’t right. It isn’t natural.”

“And you were a part of that?” Wright asked, sharp eyes staring into Isamu’s own.

Searching.

Digging.

“What did you do while you were there, Sato?”

A sob tore out of Isamu’s chest, and he shook his head. His head throbbed harshly.

“Ah! I… I monitored their vitals,” Isamu gasped, pressing the heels of his palms against his face, “Their brainwaves.”

Memories played out in the back of his mind - bodies twisting and changing, the last bit of will fading behind their eyes, their brainwaves going flat on the monitor.

And I did nothing.

                                                          I did nothing.

                    Nothing.

“I watched them die. Brain-dead. Noumu. That’s what they are. Dead… dead dead dead…”

“Sato!” Wright’s voice was hard.

Isamu jolted, looking up, “I hated them.”

He froze. Shocked by his own words, but they were true. His hands shook.

“I was a coward. I did nothing to help them!”

“Sato, that doesn’t m-” Wright looked to the phone recording every word. He tapped the desk, “What else can you tell me about them? Why was Yagi different?”

A lump formed in Isamu’s throat. Why was he different…?

“With All Might… it was personal. Sensei didn’t treat him like the others. Chained, alone, and the Good Doctor never came to visit. But All Might - he survived! I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But he could handle it! The quirks! I thought maybe - maybe he could save… No! I mean -! He saw me. He spoke to me. Even when he lost his voice, he still tried. No one else… No one else ever lasted that long. When he started fading… He would get listless, only semi-aware. He paced for days - still trying to find a way out. I couldn’t watch him die. Not him.”

Wright frowned, “Which is why you cut Yagi loose?”

Isamu shook his head, reaching back to touch -

“I tried. I did, I tried… And Sensei punished me - punished him,” Isamu’s fingertips pressed against the scarred divots where his spikes were supposed to be.

Gone. They’re gone. They’re never coming back!

“He took my quirk,” Isamu sobbed, “And he stuffed it into All Might.” He shook his head, sorrowful laughter bubbling wetly from his throat, “I-I was dying… And so was he. I remember. All Might. He - his hands couldn’t reach me, and his eyes… Their light… He was gone.”

Wright furrowed his brows, “You’re saying he ended up like the rest of the noumu?”

“No! He saved me. I don’t- I don’t know-” Tears streamed down Isamu’s cheeks, “He is not a noumu. Incomplete… He’s incomplete. Sensei didn’t…” He gagged, and another sob wracked him, “Finish.”

“All for - Sensei didn’t finish what?” Wright pressed.

“What the Hell are you doing?!”

After running Toshinori’s blood sample to forensics, Naomasa returned to his desk. He flipped through the file left for him with a pensive frown on his face. Wright’s team was thorough, he gave them that much. Their questions delved into Sato’s role at the hospital and what he did for Toshinori. Idly tapping his pen on his desk, the words on the paper blent together as his thoughts shifted elsewhere.

Bap-bap! The sound of Toshinori’s gloved punches echoed in his mind and brought a smile to Naomasa’s face. In the dusty light of the old armory and with his back turned to him, Toshinori looked strong. Not the impossible strength of All Might, but a more subtle, healthy strength. His legs moved with certainty, bare padded feet treading softly on the boxing mat. His tail swung with the natural movement of the rest of his body, the tip flicking - in a way Naomasa was beginning to recognize - thoughtfully. Bap! Bap-bap! Toshinori’s punches were quick and sent the punching bag swinging on its chain. The hot flush of his skin and the damp line of sweat on his shirt following his spine and the ridged mane spoke of the effort he put in from the moment he’d entered the gym.

Naomasa chuckled fondly at the memory. He was right. Toshinori was restless.  

Taking a sip from his coffee, he returned his attention to the text in his hand.

How did you first come into contact with the man you know as Sensei? Naomasa paused, then nodded. It was a fair question and one he also had in mind.

What was your role in keeping Yagi captive?

Naomasa’s stomach twisted, and his gaze darted to the unfinished pack of cigarettes lying beside his computer. With a disgusted sigh, he snatched the box from his desk and stuffed it into his desk’s bottom drawer.

It would be nice to say he had fought the desire to fall back on his old habit, but when Toshinori was still missing after a week, Naomasa bought a pack with cup noodles. At least Sansa was polite enough not to make note of it when he caught him smoking in the parking lot.

I should have asked Toshinori to stay.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Naomasa sighed. Despite their early morning phone call, despite only just seeing Toshinori, guilt still chewed at the inside of his chest.

Twenty-two days. Toshinori had been in that hellhole for twenty-two days, chained and forced to undergo agonizing physical changes that nearly killed him.

Two weeks after Naomasa read All for One’s note… After he vehemently denied his gut feelings…

Toshinori’s not going to be found unchanged… It’s far too late. Toshinori was gone… replaced by an unseeing, unfeeling creature.

But he escaped.

Toshinori escaped.

Not found. Escaped!

Naomasa grit his teeth, I couldn’t find him. I did nothing.

Just like Wright… Just like...

Damn it. Naomasa grimaced, pointedly ignoring the desire to go outside for a smoke.

He’s back.

He’s safe.

Stop it! All for One is to blame.

Naomasa shook himself and looked back to the notes, crossing out questions he already had in mind and editing the wording of others. He nearly jumped out of his seat when his desk phone rang loudly.

“Hello, Detective Tsukauchi speaking,” he answered, quickly recovering, “How can I help you?”

“Hey, Tsukauchi. It’s Jun Suna.”

Naomasa glanced at his watch, brows furrowing thoughtfully. She was already due to be at the department for Sato’s interview.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Suna sighed, “Afraid so. A train car was thrown off track by a villain. I’m stuck en route until they get things cleaned up and back on track. No injuries, thank goodness. Just a mess.”

“Thank goodness for no injuries, yes,” Naomasa nodded, tucking the phone against his shoulder and pulling a sticky note from its pad, “I’ll send a car to pick you up if they will allow you off the track. Where are you now?”

“I’d appreciate that. I’m about…” Naomasa heard a shuffling, “Seventeen miles from the Blue Line transit station. I can see the Musutafu Volcanoes baseball stadium from my window.”

Naomasa gestured for one of the uniformed patrol officers and handed them the sticky note, “Take your partner to pick up Attorney Jun Suna. She’s currently stuck on a delayed train between stations.”

The officer nodded and went on their way.

“There is a car coming to pick you up now,” Naomasa said, glancing at his watch again, “I imagine you’ll be back here in,” he clicked his tongue, “forty minutes.”  

Suna hummed on the other side of the line, “Is my client at the department already?”

“Yes,” Naomasa said, “Isamu Sato is waiting for us to start. I’ll let him know you will be here a little late.”

“Thank you,” Suna sighed.

Naomasa heard loud complaining and a crying child in the background.  

“Think your officers can get here soon?” Suna asked with a laugh.

“They’re on their way,” Naomasa said with a smile.  

Suna scoffed, “I’ll get comfortable. See you soon, Tsukauchi.”

“Talk to you soon,” he replied and hung up.

Sitting back and popping his neck with a groan, Naomasa scooped up the file and stood.

I should let Wright and his team know, he thought. Then Sato…

The walk to the small conference room Chief Tsuragamae had given Wright was short. Naomasa knocked once and swung the door open. Inside, Vera Lang sat reading from her braille terminal. Beside her, Mary Shin tended to one of her plants and smiled as it grew larger and greener. She sent a knowing look toward Alba Tyto and Sansa, who sat at the end of the table. Sansa pointed something out in Tyto’s translation book, his voice trilling with his loud purr. Tyto tilted her head, feathers ruffled and dark eyes shining curiously.

“Thank you, Tamakawaii,” she said, sneakily sidling up closer to Sansa.

Sansa - to his credit - straightened bashfully, fur standing on end, “N-n-no problem! Ah, a-and it’s Tamakawa.”

“Tamakawaii,” Tyto repeated in her heavy accent, fluttering her eyelashes.

Naomasa cleared his throat and nearly broke his professional mask when Sansa quite literally jumped to attention and threw up a salute.

“Tsukauchi! Sir!” Sansa’s voice cracked as he stood rigid.  

“At ease,” Naomasa snorted humorously.

Sansa’s shoulders relaxed as he sighed in relief and dropped his salute.

“Have you seen Wright?” Naomasa asked, glancing around the small room. The Englishman’s absence sent unease curling in his gut.

“Yes,” Sansa nodded, “Last I saw, he was keeping Sato company while he waited to start.”

Naomasa’s quirk itched at the back of his mind, immediately picking up the micro-expressions on Lang and Shin’s faces.

Exasperation. Irritation. Acceptance.

His gut clenched, and he turned back to the hall, “Excuse me.”

Naomasa heard a quiet, “Sir?” from Sansa, but he already crossed the threshold, into the bullpen.

Don’t be right, he thought, fists already clenching.

He was two doors away when he heard a quiet sob.

“- didn’t finish what?”  

Wright. Fuck! Naomasa grit his teeth and threw the door open.

“What the Hell are you doing?!”

Sato jolted and twisted in his chair, staring wide-eyed at Naomasa. Tears streaked down his face, and he clutched his injured side.

“I- !” Sato’s voice broke. He lurched from his chair to the trash bin in the corner and retched.

Naomasa seethed, turning from Sato’s bent form to glare at Wright.

“This is an extreme breach of protocol,” Naomasa bit out, “What the hell did you do?”

Wright tapped on his phone and pocketed it before leisurely standing, “I was interviewing your witness. With his consent, of course.”

Naomasa scoffed, “Consent without legal counsel.”

“Still,” Wright tucked his newspaper clippings and notepad into a folder, “Consent is consent.” He turned briefly to Tsuda, “You can release him.”

Tsuda nodded quickly and rubbed at his eyes.

“You used a quirk on- ?! Passive detection is one thing, but to push your influence- !” Disgust coiled tightly in Naomasa’s gut.

Wright met his gaze evenly, not backing down an inch.

Fuming, Naomasa pushed open the door, “Get out. Now.”

Wright hummed and brushed past Naomasa. Before he strode through the doorway, Naomasa gripped the Englishman’s arm.

“I plan to review the recording on your phone,” he said, voice low and leaving no room for question.

“Naturally,” Wright said, adjusting his sleeve when Naomasa released him.

Tsuda followed after Wright, shoulders hunched and avoiding Naomasa’s gaze. His face was pale, and his hands trembled.

As soon as the two left, Naomasa shut and locked the door. Grabbing napkins and a cup of water from the side table, he approached Sato.

“I’m sorry,” Naomasa said softly. Kneeling, he passed the napkins to the young nurse, “That was never meant to happen.”

Sato nodded slowly and wiped spit and bile from his mouth. It came away with streaks of red, and he clutched his side.

“Ow,” he croaked, gently prodding at his healed injury. After a short self-examination, he sighed in relief, rubbing at his abdomen before spitting into the wastebasket.

Naomasa placed his hand on the young nurse’s back and rubbed slow circles while Sato caught his breath, still clutching at his side. A sense of familiarity flooded Naomasa’s mind.

He had done this before with Toshinori.

Sighing, Naomasa passed the cup of water to Sato, “Drink slowly.”

Sato did as asked, taking small sips of water between pained breaths. He chuckled weakly, “The truth… It hurts.”

Grimacing, he curled further on himself and coughed.

“Can you tell me what they did?” Naomasa asked, resting his hand on Sato’s shoulder.

Sato shivered, and fresh tears streamed down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I’m so so sorry.”

Naomasa sighed, “No, this isn’t your fault. They are my responsibility and-”

Sato shook his head, “All Might, your friend, I didn’t - I could have done more. I could have prevented so much, but I was a coward. I let Sensei hurt him,” The nurse shuddered and bowed his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Naomasa squeezed Sato’s shoulder, “Look at me.”

Sato sniffled and hesitantly lifted his gaze.

“You saved All Might,” Naomasa gave Sato’s shoulder a soft shake, “You stood up against All for One, despite what he could do to you, and you helped All Might escape. That’s more than I - or anyone could ask of you. So, don’t,” he huffed a soft laugh, “Don’t apologize. All Might wouldn’t want you to.”

His phone buzzed softly in his pocket, and he took Sato’s cup to refill it, “Just rest there a moment.”

Glancing down at his phone, Naomasa sighed in relief. His other guests arrived safely.

After filling two cups, he sat down next to Sato, who muttered his thanks.

“I came in here to tell you your lawyer was running late.”

Sato blinked, tensing, “L-lawyer? B-but I’m not under arrest… You said…”

“No, no, but you should always have legal counsel when questioned by authorities. This isn’t television. What Wright did… That was not fair to you at all. I’m sorry.”

Sato was quiet for a moment before softly saying, “I just wanted to help.”

Naomasa sighed heavily, “I know. I know. I… think it would be best if we tried again on another day. What do you say?”  

Gingerly rubbing his abdomen, Sato nodded, “That would be… nice. Thank you, Detective.”

Naomasa smiled gently and stood, offering his hand, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up. I have a couple of people who would love to see you.”

He laughed at Sato’s wary look, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. You’ll see. It’ll be alright.”

Sato took his hand, grunting with effort as he stood, “Okay.”

Staring into the mirror above the sink, Isamu sighed as the cool air of the department seeped through the slits in his shirt, drying the cold sweat on his back. He splashed water on his face and exited the restroom.

Detective Tsukauchi waited in the hall and, after giving him a short once-over, gave him a small smile, “Feeling better?”

Isamu nodded.

The detective sighed in relief, “Good. This way.”

Following Tsukauchi, Isamu took slow, even breaths. He relaxed when they passed the interrogation room, but his head throbbed - an echo of the sharp pain he felt when his memories clawed to the surface of his mind.

A few officers watched as he weaved through the bullpen desks after Tsukauchi, and Isamu kept his head down. He jolted when the detective turned and spoke.

“Just over here,” Tsukauchi said with a smile, gesturing to a small room off to the side. A sign above the door read Break Room.

Isamu furrowed his brows curiously, pausing as Tsukauchi opened the door for him. Hesitantly, Isamu stepped into the room.

His heart leapt, and a wide grin split his face.

“Mom!” Isamu rushed forward and into his mother’s arms.

“Isamu!” Koharu wrapped her short arms around Isamu before holding him out in front of her and taking his face in her hands, “My boy…”

Small tears threatened to spill from her dark brown eyes,  “Oh my sweet, brave boy. Oh, Detective! He told us everything, Isamu. You saved a kidnapped man? Oh sweetheart,” she wrapped her arms around him.

Isamu held her tight, bowing his head and kissing his mother’s forehead. He smiled when bright purple wisteria blossoms sprung from her hair, filling the air around them with a sweet fragrance.

He chuckled, brushing his hand over her shoulder, “You’re dropping flowers again, mom…”

“Oh dear! Oh dear! My apologies, Detective,” Koharu fretted, brushing her hands through her flower-filled black hair, and looked anxiously down at the dusting of small, purple petals littering the floor.

“It’s perfectly alright,” Tsukauchi said from beside the door and bowed in parting, “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

As the door closed, Isamu felt a rough, calloused hand take hold of the back of his neck.

“What happened to your spikes, boy?”

Isamu’s smile slipped only slightly, and he turned, “Hi, Dad.”

Yoshio Sato stood at eye level with his son, wearing his dark brown suit. His usual stern expression melted away, and he placed his hand against Isamu’s cheek.

“You gave us a scare, Isamu,” Yoshio’s strong arms suddenly enveloped Isamu, “You just had to live up to your name, didn’t you? You had to go and scare your mother.” He clapped his hands on Isamu’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length, “There are flower petals all over the house.” Yoshio’s voice cracked, tapering into a breathless whisper.

He closed his eyes, face twisted with worry.

“They told us you were hurt…”

Isamu’s brows rose, and he embraced his father, arms wrapping around him and fingers finding their usual resting place between his father’s long spikes. Voice lost, he pressed his face into his father’s shoulder and choked back a sob.

“Isamu - Isamu dear, what’s… Are you alright?”

His mother’s voice soothed his aching heart, but he shook his head, holding his father tighter, “No. I will be, but can I just stay like this for a while? No questions?”

He felt his father nod and pat his back, rocking side to side as he always did when Isamu desperately needed comfort, “Sure, my boy. Just like this. No questions.”

Isamu took a shuddering breath. He could smell the scent of his father’s workbench, sawdust, clay, bone, and varnish, “Thank you.”

I’ll tell them. Just…

Unbidden, an old memory resurfaced. The warmth of his mother’s lap. His father holding up Isamu’s first baby spike, comparing it with the ones he shed the previous year. Teaching him how to brush and take care of them… Ever patient with his instructions.

“I-I… My…” Isamu struggled to say it aloud.

His mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and directed him to the break room’s couch. He gazed sadly at the small spike hanging from his mother’s necklace.

Isamu closed his eyes as a small tear ran down his face, he couldn’t look at them, “My quirk. It’s gone. Taken. I-I don’t think my spikes… will ever grow back.”

His father’s grip on his shoulder tightened, and the scent of blue moon wisteria washed over him. True to their word, his parents didn’t ask a single question.

Resting her head on Isamu’s other shoulder, his mother sighed softly, “I guess we weren’t told everything. It’s going to be alright Isamu. We’ll… figure this out together.”

It’ll be alright.

Isamu nodded, eyes still closed.

Somehow.

A twisted hand, discolored and covered in sores, grabbed at his wrist, and Genji flinched. The noumu’s eyes locked on his, fear and pain shining from them. Its chapped lips mouthed silent words. He quickly grabbed a syringe and injected the tranquilizer into the creature.

“Genji.”

Genji blinked, and the nurse’s memory returned to its roaming around his head.

Mr. Wright stood at his side, gaze fixed on the words slowly filling Genji’s journal.

“What else did you see?” he asked. “Before the Kamino Noumu. Did you see All for One?”

Genji nodded as the memories moved on their own and he sketched in the space below the entry. A tall man in a dark suit cast an imposing figure on the page. A mask with almost skeletal features flashed in his mind’s eye, and he spent a good moment to try and capture each detail.

“Sadly, we can’t connect that with any of the other descriptions without seeing his face, but,” Mr. Wright hummed, “I suppose that’s all we’re going to get with Sato. I wonder what Yagi knows…”

Yagi. All Might.

Genji stood in the center of a small room, a tray of food in hand. All Might sat, slouched against the far wall. Tired, blue eyes glanced up at Genji, and a warm smile lit up his haggard face. Suddenly, the little room didn’t feel so cold.

“He’s a nice man,” Genji said, glancing down. He pursed his lips in thought as the rough sketch of All Might grinned up at him. The graphite smile didn’t do him justice.

It lacked his warmth.

All Might felt like the sun on Genji’s skin, like the sound of fire, like the smell of the ocean. He was all yellows and blues like the sky.  

Bad people didn’t feel that way. Genji knew that much.

“He’s a liar,” Mr. Wright stated simply, and Genji could tell he was frowning.

Genji rocked slightly in his seat, thinking through his words, “Sato liked him. He was nice even when he was hurting.” Frowning, Genji tapped the paper, “He hurt a lot.”

Mr. Wright placed his hand on Genji’s shoulder, “Try to focus. Look for any memories with our Big Bad.”   

Genji held Sensei’s blood and filled the syringe with practiced ease. He turned and knelt beside All Might. He looked… tired. Defiant, but resigned. Dread and guilt and disgust twisted in Genji’s stomach.

“I-I can’t …” he said in the barest of whispers. “Not to you. I c-”

All Might held out his arm and nodded at it. Sorrow filled Genji as he injected the tainted blood into the kind, brave, hurting man.  

“I’m sorry,” Genji whimpered quietly as he rubbed the area with a small alcohol wipe, “I’m sorry, All Might.” His hands trembled as he pulled the needle from All Might’s arm. He pressed a bandage to the red pin-prick, nearly bursting into tears when he saw All Might try to give him a reassuring smile.  

“To think that self-sacrificing nature of yours could still be exploited,” Sensei said smugly, “So much for that strength.” He bent and took Genji’s shoulder in his hand, “Take this lesson to heart.”  

“Y-yes, Sensei,” Genji stuttered, frozen under All for One’s grip. He feared him.

Genji flinched away from the hand on his shoulder. A shudder ripped down his spine, and he quickly wrote every detail of the memory before it slipped away.

Cold. Sensei … All for One was steel gray - heartless. Unfeeling. His touch stole away all warmth.

“Ayumi Shiire?” Mr. Wright muttered under his breath.

Genji heard Mr. Wright’s jacket rustle as he crossed his arms, “A coworker of Sato’s. I think she directs the supply chain.”

Ms. Vera’s head snapped up, “Now there’s some good information. I’d like to have a word with her… I’ve gone over the supply chain for these hospitals for months. Isn’t that right, Mary?”

Genji looked up as Mary nodded.

“Good,” Mr. Wright said, “We’re getting somewhere. Genji.”

Genji glanced up briefly, not quite meeting his guardian’s gaze, “Yes?”

“Was there anything more?”

Genji shifted in his seat, brows furrowing. The memory slipped from his grasp, a mere wisp. He focused -

Pain erupted from his side, but Genji couldn’t speak. All Might leaped forward and, arm snapping back, crumpled to the ground - still held by the last uncut chain.

“A-All Migh-,” his eyes widened, and his face paled. He seized and gagged. Blood dribbled out the side of his mouth. He brushed his lips with trembling fingers and stared down at them. Tears welled in his eyes.

“There.” All for One sneered darkly - angrily. Genji’s blood dotted the villain’s hand and suit, “Now you match.”

Genji gripped the bone. Pain throbbed through his side. More pain than he’d felt in his life.

“Genji!”

The memory flickered but held Genji submerged within it. Drowning him.

The masked villain grabbed the bone spear, twisting it slowly.

Genji’s hands shook and slipped against the twisted bone, grasping desperately.

Stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstop! Please! Please! Stop!

“I left you alone with the barest glimmer of hope, a naive child’s kindness. Temporary allowances I accounted for. I had expected Tetsumi to teach this runt…” He gestured at the broken chains with disgust, “She failed.”

All Might snarled, “St- !” The word broke, and instead, an inhuman growl rumbled out of his throat. His hackles stood on end, and his tail swung in anger.

Sensei pulled at the bone spear and Genji let out a broken, pained shout, desperately holding onto the slick spear - willing it to still. Hot, wet blood seeped through his shirt.

“I thought perhaps fear would turn to loyalty given time. I overestimated his cowardice…” Sensei canted his head, and his grip on the spear tightened.

“It’s time to extinguish that hope.”

The villain yanked the bone spear from Genji’s side.

SLAP!

Genji blinked, tasting blood. He pressed his fingers to his lips, and they came away red.

I … bit my tongue…

“Genji..?”

He looked up. Mary stood by him, panting, open hand still raised. His cheek stung.

“W-what?”

All eyes were on him, and he shrunk down to avoid them. A collective sigh filled the room, and their gazes mercifully left his face.

Mary shifted so that she faced forward, looking away, “Genji, you were stuck. I’m sorry. We tried calling out. Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

Genji looked around the room, confused. Glancing down he noted bloodstains on his notebook, “Ow…?”

Alba clicked her beak, “And… it’s gone. Probably for the best. That was a nasty memory from the looks of it.”

Genji’s eyes widened in understanding. Oh. Sato’s interview.

He checked the date and time of the last journal entry and looked at his watch, nodding.

“Yes, the borrowed memories are gone,” he grimaced, sticking out his throbbing tongue, “Ew. I need to wash out my mouth. I’ll be back.”

Mr. Wright said nothing.

Genji couldn’t look.

A hand reached out to him, and fear bubbled in his chest. Fighting the urge to bite his nails, he sped up and passed his guardian.

Once he was safely out of the room, Genji paused.

Strange. Why would I…? Mr. Wright’s not scary.

He shrugged, dismissing the feeling as remnants of borrowed memories now lost.

After his long chat with Principal Nedzu, Toshinori stumbled back to the dorm and immediately collapsed onto the living room couch. Lying on his stomach with his head resting on his folded arms, he stretched out his tired legs behind him and let his feet dangle off the far arm of the couch. His tail curved down and thumped absently against the floor as he listened to his students prepare their dinners.

The soft, pleasant atmosphere lulled him into a peaceful nap.

Hours later, Toshinori woke covered in blankets and surrounded by pillows. He shifted, tail tightening around -

“All Might-sensei?”

Toshinori blinked sleepily and looked down toward his hip. Young Kaminari smiled awkwardly from his seat on the floor, his arms pinned by the tail wrapped around his torso.

“Can I get out of tail jail now?” he asked, wiggling in place a little.

Toshinori’s ears perked and burned when he heard a couple of his nearby students snicker.

“That’s what you get for trying to play with his tail,” Ashido giggled, earning laughter from the students around her, quickly followed by a stiff reprimand from Young Iida. Uraraka and Izuku shared a look when Iida sat, broken when Uraraka snorted and shook with laughter.

“Oh,” Toshinori unwound his tail, moving it up to rest atop his legs, “Sorry, Kaminari, my boy.”

His student only smiled and hopped up from the floor, stretching his arms, “Not a problem! It was actually pretty comfortable.”

Toshinori quirked a lopsided smile, the tuft of his tail flicking in amusement.

“If you say so,” he chuckled, raising his hand briefly to wave off the boy as he wandered back to a group of his classmates.

Toshinori shifted comfortably. Stretching his legs and splaying his padded toes, he chuckled warmly at Young Ashido’s whispered comparison of his and a cat’s feet. Yawning, he pressed deeper into the cushions, and his eyelids drooped.

An energetic tune suddenly played on the television. The cold open of the eight o’clock nightly news, Toshinori realized vaguely as it pulled him back from his nap. Rolling with a grunt and pushing himself to sit up, he gestured to the screen.

“Kouda, my boy, would you mind turning up the volume?”

Kouda, sitting on the other couch, looked up from the rabbit in his lap and nodded.   

Toshinori blinked the sleep from his eyes, ears perking as the anchors spoke.

“Hello and welcome to the top of the hour,” the first anchor said as an animated graphic swept across the screen, “Breaking News now from the front gates of U.A. Principal Nedzu, along with members of his staff held a brief press conference regarding the story we brought to you this morning.”

“Yes,” continued the co-anchor, “This morning, a photo of the mystery person who startled shoppers in the Rishi shopping district entering U.A. was sent to us by an anonymous source. This is what the Principal had to say.”

Principal Nedzu, sitting on Blood King’s shoulder, appeared on the screen.

“The man in the photograph is a faculty member, and so is meant to have access to the U.A. campus. He was, at the time, attempting to save a wounded person while injured himself,” Nedzu smiled pleasantly at the reporter, “He extends his apologies to anyone he frightened in his rush to help.”

The video continued as the anchor spoke again, “When asked who the faculty member and the injured person were, the Principal talked instead about the benefits of keratin.”

Another animation flashed over the screen while the co-anchor moved the show along, “Well, it’s been rather chilly outside. Let’s get a first check of the weather.”

Toshinori quirked a small grin, and his shoulders sagged in relief. A perfunctory top story with a single soundbite was perfect.

Hopefully, now the excitement will die down, he thought, glancing down at his clawed feet absently kneading the carpet. At least until I’m ready to go public.

Standing, Toshinori stretched and shook off the cocoon of blankets. He quickly folded them and returned them to the chest by the television.

“Thank you, Kouda,” Toshinori said, closing the chest.

Kouda smiled bashfully up at him while his rabbit grew restless and hopped down from the couch. Toshinori looked down at the rabbit and gave his tail a few experimental flicks, smiling when they hopped over and around it in excitement. Crouching, he pet the rabbit with the back of his fingers, careful to keep his claws away.

Whiskers twitching, the rabbit made a soft noise of complaint and thumped their foot on the ground when Toshinori stopped. He chuckled and shooed the rabbit back towards Kouda.

“Go on,” he said softly and grinned.

Standing up straight, Toshinori -

“Ah,” he inhaled sharply and pressed against his side. Pain flared from the center of his scar outward. He grunted, pursing his lips at the taste of blood coating his tongue, and moved towards the kitchen.

“All Might-sensei?” Toshinori heard Tokoyami’s voice as he stumbled up to the sink.

Shit… Toshinori spat into the basin, quickly rinsing the red down the drain. Not in front of the kids… With a trembling hand, he wiped his lips and flinched as painful aftershocks seized his side.

“All Might?” Izuku’s voice was quiet as he passed a clean hand towel to Toshinori.

Toshinori managed a small nod in thanks, pressing the towel to his mouth and clearing his throat, “Just a spasm, my boy.”

The tickle irritating his throat worsened, and he braced against the counter. The coughing fit hit like a punch to the gut, though he was mercifully able to muffle the heaving coughs in the towel. His legs shook and tail slumped to the floor.

Sh-shit. He thought as the aches from his exercising returned with a fury, Overdid it.

Toshinori wheezed and finally pulled the cloth from his face, folding it quickly to hide the large, red stain. Claws digging into the countertop for support, Toshinori eyed the elevator and clicked his teeth in frustration. He took a hesitant step forward, and the room spun.

Izuku’s hands hovered uncertainly before he gently gripped Toshinori’s forearm, steadying him.

“That was … rough. Do you,” Izuku gave Toshinori’s arm a small squeeze, “Do you need water or help up to your room?”

Toshinori shook his head, shuddering at the intense burning in his chest. He rubbed his abdomen, Damn it. The acid sac…

“Okay, just… take your time. I’m right here.”

Toshinori nodded, “I -”

His eyes widened.

No no no no -!

Nausea seized his throat, and he staggered, blinking rapidly to clear the spots dancing in his eyes. White…

The fog…

Shit. Did I really overdo it?

Numbness washed over him.

No. This is nothing. I can handle this mu-! A shudder ripped down Toshinori’s spine, and his legs wobbled.

No…

Toshinori grit his teeth, vaguely realizing he was on the floor.

Not here.

Hands squeezed his shoulders.

Please not here.

Time slowed.

Not… not near the kids...

Green eyes desperately searched for his.

Please -

An older, lovely sketch by juustozzi which inspired part of the last scene :3c

Sketches by Peacesentinel

Chapter Text

Izuku froze, still gripping All Might’s shoulders as the light bled from his blue eyes. His ears drooped, and he stilled. Sightless, he stared past Izuku.

“A-All Might?” Izuku’s voice quavered.

All Might flinched, eyes shutting, and he raised a hand to his head. A harsh shudder wracked his body, running down his spine and shaking his legs sprawled on the floor. He slumped heavily to the side and dug his claws into his scalp.

Brows furrowing, Izuku carefully leaned All Might against the counter and moved his trembling hands away, pinching his lower lip in thought.

“M...Midoriya?” Ashido called softly from behind him, “Is All Might okay?”

Izuku winced and turned.

Those who had been studying in the living room - nearly half the class - had moved to the edge of the kitchen. Their worried gazes fixed on All Might.

Izuku cleared his throat, “I think he’s, um, lapsing.” He turned back to All Might, looking over his hunched position.

He can’t stay here on the floor… Biting his lip, Izuku reached out and gently pulled All Might’s hands from his head, relieved when he found his claw caps were still in place. At least he didn’t hurt himself.

All Might’s eyes fluttered open, confusion etched in his expression. He tugged on his hands, claws tense and grasping for his forehead, but Izuku gently held his wrists in place. A small groan rose from him, and his tail swung and hit the floor with a loud crack!

Iida edged into Izuku’s view, keeping his distance, “Midoriya...” A note of warning crept into his voice, and he gestured toward himself, “Maybe you should back away from All Might-sensei.”

Izuku’s shoulder tingled, but he shook his head, resisting the urge to rub at the fresh scar. This … isn’t like last night, he thought, growing more certain as All Might stilled.

“All Might?” He leaned into his teacher’s line of sight, smiling a little when his gaze didn’t move away, “Can you stand?”

All Might’s furrowed brows relaxed, and the tension bled from his shoulders. For a moment, he remained still. Then slowly he began to shift, pulling his feet under himself.

“That’s it,” Izuku’s smile grew. He pulled All Might’s arms as he stood, steadying him as he shakily rose to his feet, “There we go…”  

Glancing back, Izuku spotted Bakugou at the front of the crowd, a conflicted expression pinching his features. His hands smoked, and small sparks crackled from his palms.

Izuku caught Bakugou’s gaze, and the blonde stiffened, gritting his teeth.

“Quit crowding the damn kitchen!” he growled, whirling on his classmates and earning a few shell-shocked looks. Sparks pop-popped in the air as he stalked to the dining area, “Hair-for-Brains, help me move the tables so All Might can get to the couch, and someone call Aizawa-sensei already!”

“A-ah! Yes!” Iida suddenly straightened, “Kouda, Tokoyami, and Kaminari, please help clear a path for All Might-sensei. Uraraka, Aizawa-sensei’s number is on the fridge. Please call and inform him about the current situation.”

Hushed movement suddenly filled the shared space, and Uraraka darted to the fridge, dialing the number stuck to it. Dining tables and chairs were pushed out of the way, while all bags, books, and pillows were picked up off the floor.

Izuku turned his attention back to All Might. His unfocused eyes roamed across the room, and his ears twitched at each voice and scrape of furniture. Izuku tensed when he felt All Might’s tail curl snuggly around his waist.  

Hope surged in Izuku’s chest, “All Might? Are you -?” His smile fell. Blank blue eyes struggled to focus on his face before sliding away again. 

Sighing, Izuku stepped closer and pulled one of his teacher’s arms over his shoulders, “I’m going to help you to the couch, okay? Just… stay close to me. I won’t let you fall.”

Izuku wrapped his arm around All Might’s back, grunting in surprise when his teacher’s tail tightened its grip, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Pressing gently at All Might’s back, he took a step forward. A small grin lit his face when All Might took an unsteady step, then another, following Izuku’s slow pace. He carefully watched All Might’s feet as they edged around the kitchen counter, murmuring words of encouragement with each shaking step.

The tail around Izuku’s waist suddenly clenched, and All Might bent. A wet cough wracked his entire frame, and he clutched his side.

Alarm shot through Izuku, and his gaze darted back to the fridge, “Uraraka! Throw me an ice pack!”

“Got it!” Uraraka pressed the phone to her shoulder. She dug into the freezer, pulling out the pack, and, with a touch, made it float toward Izuku.

He sighed in relief, nabbing it out of the air.

“No no no!” Uraraka hastily exclaimed into the phone, “It’s for All Might-sensei! No, no one is hurt. Ah- yes, All Might is coughing again...”

“Here,” Izuku said quietly. Worry seized his stomach when he heard the wet wheezing of All Might’s breathing, “You need to move your hand.”

All Might’s hand dropped limply to his side, claws gripping at air.

Izuku pressed the pack to All Might’s scar, apologizing under his breath when All Might flinched away from the cold. Slowly, he relaxed and leaned into the numbing pack. His tail slipped slightly down Izuku’s waist.

Izuku searched All Might’s face, frowning at the dribble of blood on his chin.

“Can you hold the ice pack?” he asked, pulling his hand away when All Might’s covered his own. Izuku adjusted the retired hero’s grip, squeezing his hand lightly, “Thank you.”

All Might’s expression was pained, but his eyes remained unfocused and wandering.

A small towel hung on the edge of the counter, and Izuku stepped toward-

“Urk! ”

The tail around his waist tightened, All Might’s frame going stiff.

“Okay, okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Izuku said, pressing close to All Might’s side again. Bunching up his sweater sleeve, he brushed the dribble of blood from his chin.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Izuku looked up, “Yaoyorozu, um, could you make some tea? He’ll probably like some after… after all this.”

His classmate nodded, shooting All Might a concerned glance, then dashed into the kitchen.

“Are you okay to move again?” Izuku asked, leaning down to look at All Might’s face.

All Might didn’t answer, and his eyes squeezed shut.

Izuku bit his lip, glancing up at the couch and back, “It’s not far. Come on.”

All Might abruptly jerked forward, his steps uneven. Izuku tightened his grip around his back and kept up with his stumbling pace. Claws dragged and clicked audibly against the floor as All Might walked.

Izuku helped him to the couch, and slowed to a stop. All Might’s breaths rattled wetly, his body shaking with effort.

“Here we are,” Izuku said, giving the tail around his waist a small squeeze. His attempt at an encouraging smile faded when he saw All Might’s eyes were still unfocused, still too far in his own head. Izuku pat the hand dangling from his shoulder, “We’re at the couch. Sit down and rest awhi- ah! ”

All Might’s legs buckled under him, dragging Izuku along with his tail. Izuku grunted, grip slipping with All Might’s shirt.

“What the hell, Deku!” Bakugou’s voice cut across the room along with the pop! pop! of his palms. The blonde’s eyes were fixed on All Might’s side.

Izuku followed his gaze and tensed. His attempt to hold All Might up had snagged his shirt, pulling it up. The mosaic of scar tissue and skin was just visible beneath the ice pack still pressed to it.

Izuku leaned down, lowering All Might and himself to the floor. Gently, he fixed All Might’s shirt, eyes scanning the faces of his classmates in the living room.

They had all seen.

“Here,” Ashido rushed forward with a blanket, “He’s shaking…”

“Ashido, please,” Iida suddenly cut in, helping carry a tray of teacups from the kitchen, followed by Yaoyorozu, “All Might did request we give him plenty of space when he gets like this.” He sent Izuku a glance, though his expression was difficult to read, “We need to respect his wishes and wait for Aizawa-sensei.”

Ashido bowed her head slightly, lower lip sticking out as she hastily tucked the blanket around All Might’s shoulders. In a soft voice, she said, “Hurry back, All Might.”

Sighing, Iida began to pass around tea, “Until Aizawa-sensei arrives, we should all try to remain calm and quiet so we don’t disturb All Might-sensei.”

Bakugou clicked his teeth and stalked to the front window, settling heavily against the windowsill. Kouda sat on the floor beside Tokoyami, glancing up at All Might before turning his attention to his rabbit. Uraraka, finally off the phone with Aizawa, took a cup of tea from Yaoyorozu with quiet thanks and sat cross-legged beside Ashido on the opposite couch. Kirishima and Kaminari shared a look before claiming a corner of the coffee table.

When the tea was passed out, including a cup for All Might set nearby, a hush fell over the living room - broken only by All Might’s troubled breathing.

All Might shifted, and a flicker of hope stirred in Izuku's chest. It faded with a disappointed sigh. All Might only pulled his legs closer to himself, clouded eyes fixed on the floor.

“Do you think…” Kaminari suddenly spoke up, his quiet voice almost too loud in the silence. He swallowed, lips pressed in a thin line as he stared down at his tea, “Do you think this happened when All Might was - you know - when he was still …”

There?

Chained.

Alone...

Kaminari’s words were met with stunned silence.

“I mean, this happened last night too, right?” Kaminari continued, fidgeting with his cup, “And he… he was gone for almost a month with just that nurse to help him.”

“Shut. Up.” Bakugou growled from the window.

“He can’t buff up anymore…” Kaminari shook his head, “And even though he escaped-”

“Kaminari-” Kirishima warned softly.

“Seven quirks…” Kaminari continued, shoulders tensing, “That crazy Noumu at USJ only had - what? - four?”

“Shut! UP! ” Bakugou whirled from the window, teeth bared and hands smoking, “He’s right there! ”

“Bakugou,” Iida scolded, voice firm and low and gesturing stiffly, “Please, keep your voice down .”

“Fuck, ” Bakugou seethed, whirling back to the window and rubbing at his eyes in frustration.

“Mm… L’nguage.”

Izuku jolted along with his classmates. They all heard, but All Might remained bent. He almost looked to be falling asleep.

Kouda’s rabbit suddenly jumped from its boy’s lap and crossed the living room. It sniffed at All Might’s legs, nose twitching, then climbed up onto them.

Kouda leaned forward, his voice quiet, “He’s okay?”

The rabbit lifted its head to look at Kouda and promptly flopped onto its side.

Kouda’s broad shoulders relaxed, and he sighed in relief. Contagious, his relief spread over the rest in the room.

Moments later, the front door swung open, and Aizawa stepped inside. He looked at each of his students in turn before turning toward Iida.

“Explain.”

Just… take your time. I’m right here…

Toshinori’s eyelids fluttered as the fog mercifully receded. Pain flared dully in his lower back, and he shifted uncomfortably. Something cold slipped from his grip, and he opened his eyes.

A white rabbit stared back up at him from his lap, whiskers twitching up curiously.

“Well, hello there little one,” he croaked, voice hoarse, and gently pet the small creature before it hopped from his lap.

Another throb of pain ran up his spine, and Toshinori grunted, sitting up straight and rolling his neck.

“All Might-sensei!”

“He’s back!”

“How are you feeling?”

“Do you want your tea?”

Toshinori blinked rapidly, and his ears perked up at the bombardment of relieved, overjoyed voices.

A hand rested on his arm.

“How are you feeling, All Might?”

Toshinori glanced to his right.

Izuku sat on the floor beside him, wrapped in Toshinori’s tail. Concern filled his soft green eyes as they searched Toshinori’s own.

Relief flooded him.

Nothing… nothing happened.

“Better now,” Toshinori managed a small smile, glancing at his surroundings and pulling a blanket off his shoulders, “Wasn’t I in the kit- Oof! ”

Arms wrapped around him, and Toshinori froze.

“We’re so glad you’re okay!” Uraraka exclaimed.

Ashido nodded enthusiastically, tears brimming in her eyes.

Brows raised, Toshinori hesitantly returned the embrace, patting the girls’ backs.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Are you really okay?”

Toshinori looked up.

Young Kaminari didn’t meet his gaze. Biting his lip, the boy’s expression was subdued and uncertain.

Sighing, Toshinori unraveled his tail from around Izuku and - giving them both a pat on the head - released Ashido and Uraraka from his embrace. He stood with a grunt, rubbing his lower back, walked around the coffee table, and settled back on his haunches beside Kaminari and Kirishima.

“You want to know if I’m really okay?” he asked softly, folding his hands on the tabletop.

Kaminari nodded wordlessly.

Toshinori tapped his claws on the table, then turned them upward, examining them. He hummed thoughtfully.

He smiled.

“Not really,” he said, chuckling when Kaminari gaped at him, “But I’m getting there. All of this just takes time getting used to.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

Toshinori’s tail thumped humorously as he looked up at young Bakugou.

“Yes,” he agreed, “but it doesn’t change what happened. You will find in your career as heroes - No, you have already seen and experienced the fact that terrible things happen to good people like yourselves. You cannot change what happened, but you can work to prevent it from happening again.”

He reached back and traced his claws around his spikes, “Strive to always move forward.”

A somber silence filled the room.

“BAHAHAHA!” Toshinori barked a loud laugh which devolved into a small coughing fit, earning him startled looks, “Such serious faces! What I mean to say is, I am steadily recovering and will be just fine. Really!”

Toshinori grinned wide, relief filling him when his students relaxed.

“Alright, you heard him.”

Turning, Toshinori spotted Aizawa at the dining room table.

Aizawa folded his hands in front of his face as he looked to each of the students, “All Might is alright for now. I suggest you all return to your rooms for the night. I expect to see you all bright and early for homeroom tomorrow.”

Iida suddenly shot up from his chair, gesturing stiffly, “Yes, Aizawa-sensei. Everyone please take care of your cups and promptly turn in for the night.”

Toshinori pushed himself up to stand, patting Kaminari on his back and giving the others an encouraging smile, and padded up to Aizawa.

“They called you?” Toshinori asked, digging his knuckles against the sore spots on his back.

“They did,” Aizawa replied, pushing a mug of tea toward Toshinori, “Although, they were still fretting over you when I arrived. So much for giving you space.”

Toshinori chuckled with a guilty grimace, taking a seat beside his peer and sipping at the warm tea, “I should have expected as much.”

Aizawa glanced past Toshinori, “Yes, Midoriya?”

Toshinori looked over his shoulder and spotted Izuku fidgeting with his teacup.

“I-,” Izuku shook his head and smiled, giving each of them a short bow, “Goodnight, All Might. Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa grunted in reply, and Toshinori waved, watching as the boy quickly washed the cup and headed toward the stairs.

Izuku glanced back once more, meeting Toshinori’s eyes with a thoughtful look - an unspoken request to talk.

Ah, I’ll have an early start tomorrow. Toshinori smiled and stretched his arms across his chest, I could use another run.

The room quieted as the last of the students filed into the elevator and the doors rattled shut. 

“So,” Aizawa leaned forward, “what do you think was the trigger for this episode?”

Pain twinged in Toshinori’s side, and he rubbed at his scar, “My side flared up again, but I don’t believe that’s the main cause. There has to be something I’m missing. Pain doesn’t consistently trigger episodes.” He shook his head, “I wish I knew. My memory gets hazy when it happens, so I can’t rely on that much - if at all.”

Aizawa pursed his lips in thought, “And Recovery Girl or your nurse couldn’t determine the cause?”

Toshinori frowned, sighing a soft “No. Unfortunately not.”

He reached into his pocket, checking his phone briefly.

No messages.

Isamu… I wonder how he’s doing.

Turning his attention back to Aizawa, he asked, “I’ve barely seen you this weekend. What have I missed?”

Aizawa shrugged, digging into his utility belt, “Increased patrols around school grounds. We’re having more trouble with paparazzi than villains these days.”

From his belt pocket, he produced two white feathers, “Although I did find a child’s nest nearby.”

“Nest?” Toshinori asked, taking a feather between his claws.

“A child with a heteromorphic flying quirk,” Aizawa explained, sliding his phone toward Toshinori, “Homeless and young, but capable.”

Toshinori considered the picture on the small screen. Between two buildings, a white and blue blur stretched across the snapshot in the vague shape of a winged child.

“They most likely have a friend. Possibly an adult supplying necessities,” Aizawa continued, “Their nest was full of things I doubt they could get otherwise. I left contact information for a shelter specializing in heteromorph children.”

Toshinori nodded his approval. If the child had wings and made his home on rooftops, he would need a place to go where other children like him felt safe, especially with the temperatures dropping.

“Any word on the League of Villains?” he asked, tail flicking curiously.

Aizawa gave him an exasperated look, but shrugged, “No word. They’ve shown very little movement, even during your absence. We’re still looking for their new hideout.”

Toshinori drank the last of his tea. Scratching the back of his head, he huffed, “I suppose that’s to be expected. After Kamino, I can’t imagine Shigaraki would make any rash moves in the open. He’s learning, even faster now that All for One is keeping his distance.”

Aizawa ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing, “Someone is clearly watching the school. That photo of you on the news. That was no coincidence. As for Shigaraki’s next move....”

“He will want to gather allies,” Toshinori finished, stretching out his legs under the table and enjoying the chill of the floor on his pads, “And resources. Attacking the school again would be tantamount to starting an all-out war. Something he is ill-prepared for.”

Aizawa grunted in agreement, collecting his and Toshinori’s mugs. He took the dishes to the sink, quickly rinsing them before setting them on the drying rack.

“Either way,” he said gruffly, “Nothing you should worry yourself with now, All Might. You should rest.”

Toshinori huffed and sent the younger teacher a wry look, “So everyone tells me.”

Aizawa crossed his arms and turned, leaning back on the kitchen counter, “Now if only you’d listen.”

Toshinori barked a laugh, “You’ve got me there!”

Aizawa hid a rare smile and gestured to the elevator.

Raising his hands in surrender and tail swaying playfully, Toshinori stood, “Alright, alright. Goodnight.”

He almost missed Aizawa’s mumbled response. He shook his head and laughed.

The morning came quickly, and Toshinori was pleasantly surprised to wake up lying in his bed. Arching his back and tail, he stretched with a soft groan.

Ah, he winced, rubbing at the small lump under his ribs.

Swallowing down the burning in his chest, he chewed one of Recovery Girl’s antacids and brought a bottle of water with him to the kitchen.

The sun had not yet risen and the shared kitchen was deserted. Toshinori glanced at his watch. The students would not be up for at least a half hour.

Just enough time, he grinned.

By the time the first student wandered downstairs, large stacks of pancakes sat on the counter.

“Good Morning, Young Ojiro!” Toshinori grinned, tail swaying happily and bumping against the counter. “I took the liberty of making breakfast for everyone. Please, sit.”

Ojiro nodded sleepily, pulling his chair out with his tail and sitting down.

Toshinori’s ears perked, “How did you do that?”

“Hm?” Ojiro rubbed his eyes, “Do what?”

Toshinori stared down at his own tail, brows furrowed as he tried to will it closer to the nearest chair. He grunted when it curled loosely around the leg of the chair and nearly toppled it in his attempt to pull it out.

Shaking his head, he gestured to where Ojiro sat, “Your tail… I can’t seem to get mine to listen just yet.”

Ojiro’s eyes widened in understanding, and a grin split his face, “You’re thinking too much.”

“Am I?” Toshinori grinned.

Ojiro snorted, grabbing a few pancakes with his fork and placing them on a plate, “It’s just another limb.”

The young boy pointed at the fork in his hand and looked up at Toshinori, “Like this,” he flipped the fork slowly between his fingers and back again, “It might take a little practice to develop muscle memory, but now I don’t even have to think about making the motions. I just… do it.”

Toshinori chuckled as his tail curled and uncurled by his feet, “I suppose I’m lacking in the dexterity department.”

Ojiro reddened, “Ah! That comes with lots of practice! I didn’t mean-”

“It’s alright,” Toshinori smiled softly, “As you said, I just need to practice.”

Ducking his head, Ojiro muttered a soft apology but paused. He met Toshinori’s gaze, a cautiously determined look in his eye, “Y’know... I wouldn’t be the hero Tailman if I couldn’t teach you how to use yours. Maybe I could help you figure things out?”

Toshinori’s smile widened, “I just might take you up on that, Ojiro, my boy. As long as I don’t take you away from your studies, of course. But that can wait until after you all have eaten. Good morning kids.”

Ojiro looked back, and students filed out of the elevator, rubbing their eyes and sniffing at the air.

“Pancakes!” Uraraka cried out with delight, “Ah- good morning, All Might-sensei!”

“Good morning to you too, Uraraka,” Toshinori grinned, tail wagging energetically. He padded back into the kitchen and gestured to the stacks of pancakes, “There are a few options. Plain, blueberry, banana, and walnut. I made the walnut last in case of allergies, no worries. Syrup and fruit are just here. Serve yourselves and eat up!”

Choruses of ‘thank you’s echoed across the kitchen, followed by the dings and scrapes of plates and silverware as his students helped themselves. Once they had their first servings, Toshinori grabbed his plate and settled down beside Hagakure and Sero.

“How have your classes been?”

Before long, the sun rose above the lower buildings of U.A. and the lazy breakfast made way for the hustle to get ready for classes. Toshinori watched with amusement as his kids darted around from the comfort of the living room couch.

His tail thumped against a throw pillow happily as Jirou and Hagakure waved and walked out the front door.

“Hmm…” Toshinori turned his attention from his students and his lesson plans to his tail.

It wraps around people just fine. Maybe…

Curiously, he flicked the tufted tip then clumsily slid it beneath the pillow. Curling his tail, he wrapped the end around the pillow and lifted it, “Huh, what do you know?”  

“Um, All Might?”

Toshinori dropped the pillow and looked up, “Midoriya, my boy. What can I do for you?”

Izuku glanced around and, seeing that no one was paying him much attention, sat in the chair catercorner to Toshinori.

“How are you feeling?” the boy asked quietly.

Toshinori chuckled, “I’m doing very well, my boy. A good night’s sleep will do that.”

“That’s good,” Izuku nodded, fidgeting.

Quirking a lopsided smile, Toshinori swatted the boy’s knee, “What’s on your mind?”

Izuku jumped at the sudden contact, but relaxed, “It’s just a thought…”

“Go on,” Toshinori encouraged.

Izuku frowned pensively, “Would you want to go back to the beach?”

Toshinori’s brows rose as Izuku continued.

“I mean, it’s great that you’ve been able to go outside the dorms and to the faculty gym, but you haven’t had a chance to go anywhere else,” he rubbed the back of his head, “It’s just, until you are able to start teaching again, there isn’t a whole lot for you to do and you just seem happier when you have more to do and I thought maybe a change in scenery could help since you’ve only been around here since-”

“Midoriya, you’re rambling,” Toshinori chuckled.

“Sorry,” Izuku replied bashfully.

Toshinori shrugged, looking down at his clawed feet, “I can’t see how I can go anywhere before announcing my condition.”

“But that’s just it!” Izuku exclaimed before blushing and lowering his voice again, “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to travel before people know? Again, it’s just a thought. I just...” he sighed, “I don’t want you to think you can’t go anywhere… because of your lapses. Then last night, you said we should always strive to move forward. I thought maybe going to the beach - someplace familiar - together would be a good start?”   

Ah, Toshinori rubbed at his watch, his smile softening, I see.

“I’ll ask Principal Nedzu if something can be arranged,” he said.

Izuku sat up, a wide grin on his face, and Toshinori chuckled.

“Now go get ready for class or you’ll be late,” he said, nudging the boy.

“I will!” Izuku replied, practically bouncing in place, “And thank you.”

Toshinori grinned wide, tail thumping the couch cushions as Izuku dashed out the dorm doors.

“Still playing favorites, I see.”

Toshinori jolted, hackles poofing, and coughed.

“Ah! Good morning, Aizawa,” he said, wiping a bit of blood from his lips.

“Planning on taking a trip?” Aizawa deadpanned.

Straight to the point, Toshinori thought with a wry chuckle.

“Young Midoriya is concerned I’m too cooped up on campus,” he said honestly, reaching back and tapping his loose spike, “I understand where he’s coming from.”

“Well,” Aizawa leaned against the arm of the couch and gave a thoughtful shrug, “Whatever helps as long as precautions are made. I suggest speaking with Nedzu before noon in case he’s in a talkative mood.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Toshinori smiled lopsidedly and glanced at the lesson plans on the coffee table, “Aside from classes, what are your plans for the day? I - uh - unfortunately, haven’t gotten a chance to fully review the notes you gathered for me.”

Aizawa hummed and gestured to the door, “After homeroom, I’m meeting with Detective Tsukauchi at the station regarding the winged child and some of my recent captures. Anything you need to be passed along?”

Toshinori’s ears twitched thoughtfully, Other than the blood tests…

He shook his head, “No, nothing pressing at the moment.”

Nodding, Aizawa yawned into his capture weapon, “I’ll bring you a copy of my notes after classes, but the students are beginning the Fire Rescue Protocols section today.”

Toshinori nodded his thanks and grinned cheekily, flexing his arm, “Give ‘em hell.”

Aizawa gave him a flat look, though Toshinori could almost see the spark of humor in his tired eyes, “I intend to. You’ve spoiled them enough this morning to make up for it.”

“Remind me to apologize to them if they make it back!” Toshinori barked a laugh, then gestured to the kitchen, “There are still some pancakes leftover if you’re hungry, Aizawa.”

Glancing over, Aizawa tentatively strolled his way into the kitchen like a fickle cat, “Might as well.”

Toshinori couldn’t help his wide grin or the loud thumping of his tail as Aizawa made himself a plate.

“Thank you for alerting us to the runaway,” Naomasa said, walking beside Aizawa through the precinct halls, “I’ll give his description and picture to the officers who patrol that area. They know to handle kids like this one gently.”

“The kid flew off the moment they saw me," Aizawa warned. He adjusted the pile of paperwork in his arms and sighed, "Whatever their history, they seem cautious of adults.”

"Noted," Naomasa nodded, flipping through the other half of Eraserhead’s incident reports, “Our officers will give the kid time to approach them on their own. Officer Kohana is especially good with runaways. I'll ask her to send a copy of any updates to you.”

"Thanks," Aizawa murmured gratefully. He slowed to a stop outside the filing office, “I can take the rest of the reports from here. Looks like someone needs you.” He nodded down the hall, taking the stack remaining in Naomasa's arms before ducking into the office.

Naomasa raised an eyebrow curiously and turned.

"Sir!" Sansa waved as he jogged down the hall, the bell hanging from his shirt collar softly jingling. “Wright’s team is gathered as you requested,” he said with a short salute.

Naomasa sighed, a heavy sense of unwanted obligation setting firmly in his gut. Wright’s actions need to be addressed with his whole team, he reminded himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. Still, this wasn't the sort of confrontation he ever looked forward to. 

William Wright’s team were gathered around the table in the conference room. Vera Lang sat, absently tapping her red and white cane against the floor. Beside Lang, Alba Tyto nervously preened the primary feathers sprouting from her wrist. Jean-Baptiste Bellamy sat on the loveseat in the corner, eyes closed and lips moving silently. The dark wood beads of a rosary swung from his gentle grasp and a broadleaf plant grew greener and larger beside him. Another plant sat between Genji Tsuda and Mary Shin, small blue flowers sprouted from the ivy. Their backs were turned away from Naomasa, but he could see the tension in Tsuda’s shoulders.

“Detective Tsukauchi,” Wright called from the head of the table, standing as Naomasa walked farther into the room, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Naomasa replied, tone professional, “Please sit. I assume you understand why I requested the presence of your team?”

“Yes,” Wright said as he remained standing. Though his expression was impassive, his chin tilted upward ever so slightly.

Pride, Naomasa realized with a mental sigh.

He was not the only one to catch the shift in the Englishman’s attitude. Bellamy pocketed his rosary, shooting a look at Wright, and approached Naomasa.

“Coffee?” he asked, gesturing to the steaming carafe, “I find it calms most to sit and drink with each other before discussing difficult topics.” As he spoke, he poured two mugs of coffee, passing one to Naomasa and the other to Wright.

An olive branch…

Naomasa gave Bellamy a significant look and nodded his thanks, allowing his feelings of understanding and gratitude to flow freely.

Bellamy smiled, winking, and mouthed, “You’re welcome.”

Taking a sip, Naomasa sat at the table. He gestured to Wright’s seat again.

Wright tapped his mug, gaze raking Naomasa’s face before he took his seat.

“Please, Detective Tsukauchi,” Lang said with a smile in his direction. Her sightless eyes stared past him, but some part of Naomasa felt her gaze was piercing.

“The reason I asked to meet with you all today was to address the interview conducted yesterday,” Naomasa began. He looked directly at Wright, “Wright, you ignored protocol and in doing so put the Yagi-Rishi case at risk. The use of an active agent quirk on an interviewee was beyond inappropriate.”

“Isamu Sato consented. Is that not enough?” Wright asked, lips pressed in a stiff line, “My methods may be seen as extreme in this country, but they get results. You heard the recording. You cannot argue against their effectiveness.”

“On the contrary,” Naomasa said tightly, “I can. What you covered in your questioning was narrow in scope and shallow. If Sato did not want to continue aiding as a witness after your treatment of him, I would not blame him. He still has so much more information to give to this investigation - vital information we need. You went behind my back and put that at risk! It's extremely fortunate Sato is as generous and forgiving as he is and is still willing to work with us.”

“Us?” Shin asked, pleasant surprise coloring her tone.

“This remains a joint investigation,” Naomasa folded his hands together on the table, diplomatic, “That said, I remain the head investigator. Some lines must be drawn. Active agent quirks like Tsuda’s will not be used on witnesses. I will, however, allow the use of passive quirks - ones that do not directly affect the witnesses - like Tyto’s memory quirk and Bellamy’s empath quirk. Tsuda may be present at interviews as he is still a valued member of your team and joint investigation. Wright, despite your disregard for protocol, you too will still be allowed to interview witnesses and suspects on the condition that I review your questions beforehand and you conduct your interviews under my direct supervision. Understood?”

Wright took a long, slow drink from his coffee.

“It is more than fair,” Lang said, clicking her tongue sternly when Wright frowned behind his cup in thought, “Will.”

Wright sighed, brushing back his dark blond hair, “I feel I must apologize.”

Naomasa’s brows rose briefly in surprise.

“This is a bit of a pattern, I’m afraid,” Wright continued, a mildly regretful look on his face, “My passion for our investigation tends to overwhelm my common courtesy. I do regret my hasty actions.”

True or not, bullshit, Naomasa thought, forgetting to rein in his skepticism and catching Bellamy’s sigh.

“I expect strictly professional behavior,” Naomasa said. He took a drink from his coffee, “You can begin by sharing what about your investigation is connected to the Yagi-Rishi case.”

Wright bristled.

“While I appreciate the secretive nature of your case,” Naomasa added slowly, “It does not take priority over my own. If you want my team's help, we need to know what we are looking for. You wouldn’t be interested in this case if there wasn’t something. Cooperation is a two-way street.”

Perhaps it was a bit much. Naomasa did not have the direct authority to cast Wright and his team out, but Chief Tsuragamae would not stand for anything that could compromise the Yagi-Rishi case. They were unbelievably fortunate it hadn’t yet been leaked that All Might was abducted and missing for nearly a month… but it was only a matter of time. Naomasa doubted the Chief wanted to deal with the shitshow if it got out the case was jeopardized by a group of foreigners.

“Wright,” Bellamy spoke up, “This is ultimately your call, but I believe sharing would be wise. All of us feel the same.”

“All, hm?” Wright frowned, tapping his index finger on the table.

“Yes, all,” Lang said, her cane audibly smacking Wright’s ankle beneath the table, “Get your head out of your ass and work with the nice detective.”

Naomasa leaned forward, capturing Wright’s gaze, “Let me see if I can make this easier. From your line of questioning, anyone could gather that you are focused on All for One, but…” he paused when Wright’s frown deepened, “But what is your goal? What do you intend to accomplish specifically? What action of All for One are you investigating? And since this is a joint case, how may I help?”

Wright sighed, “Before going into our investigation, I must ask... What, if anything, do you know about All for One’s part in the Yagi-Rishi case?”

Naomasa frowned, but answered, “I believe I’ve already mentioned this, but All for One is a villain and an old enemy of All Might. They have a history, and because of their history, All for One was the one to abduct him. You know from your interview that All for One gave Yagi multiple quirks with the intent of turning him into a noumu - one of his living weapons like the ones captured at Kamino.”

“All for One is not just a simple villain,” Wright said, his voice growing serious, “And the Battle of Kamino was not his debut by a long shot.”

“Yes,” Naomasa nodded. He knew that too well, “All for One has been an active threat since the early days of quirks.”

Wright stiffened, though his look of surprise was quickly masked, “So you have some working knowledge on how far back their legacy goes?”

Naomasa’s brows furrowed, Their?

Wright looked down into his coffee as he continued, “No one’s been able to pin them down - All for One and their many quirks. Every whisper pointed in a different direction like some goddamn goose chase. They have connections to universities, hospitals, charities, international trade, shipping, black markets, and drug cartels worldwide. Despite their reach, the so-called Ruler of the Underworld is near untraceable. My team and I have been working to uncover the truth about their existence and their influence on the world at large.”

Tapping his finger on the side of his coffee mug, Naomasa hummed, “Not to be rude, but are you being deliberately vague? Trust me when I say, I know about All for One.”

Wright’s eyes flitted to the area up and around Naomasa’s shoulders. He frowned, gesturing across the table, “That information is a summary of our life's work. Are you implying you know more?”

Ah, Naomasa paused, his irritation with Wright’s superior attitude waning fast, Of course, they don’t know what Toshinori knows.

“Long before the Kamino Battle and the following incarceration of All for One, All Might and I were working together to capture him,” Naomasa scratched at his ear and sighed, “Though for particular reasons, we believed him dead until recently.”

Lang suddenly spoke up, “Am I right in saying All Might was the one to come to you about All for One?”

“Correct,” Naomasa confirmed, waving his hand, “But that was years ago now.”

“So, it would be safe to say All Might - your friend, Yagi - would have important information about All for One,” she continued, sitting up straighter in her chair.

Naomasa hesitated, “Yes, though he is still recovering from the effects of his… imprisonment.”

“About that,” Wright said, his voice taking on an odd tone, “He would be able to describe his experiences with All for One and the power that allowed them to force quirks on him, yes?”

“Is that a part of your investigation?” Naomasa asked, growing tense.

Toshinori’s been through enough…

“It is an aspect of it,” Wright said with a nod.

“And what would you do with that information?” Naomasa asked.

A hard light shined in Wright’s eyes, and the expressions of his team grew somber.

“We are aware that All for One was the villain that destroyed the Kamino Ward, that they were briefly imprisoned in Tartarus … and escaped. We don’t have the strength or authority to bring them into custody for their crimes,” Wright rubbed at his breast pocket, “But at the very least, we can cripple their support systems and dry up any remaining assets. Shine a light in the dark until they have no more shadows to hide behind. Corner the King of Darkness.”

Check, Naomasa thought. He took a slow sip of coffee and caught Bellamy’s smile.

Huffing a laugh, Naomasa shook his head, “Alright.”

“Alright?” Wright repeated, quirking a brow incredulously.

“I will ask Yagi if he would be willing to speak with you,” Naomasa clarified, “I’m sure he would find your cause worth aiding - especially since he's done that work before. But the lines I’ve drawn still stand. You will follow protocol.”

“I believe I can manage that,” Wright said, a genuine smile lighting up his face, “For the sake of finally cutting off the lineage of All for One. It ends with the man currently holding the title.”

Naomasa set down his cup, “Title?”

Wright’s brows furrowed, “Yes? A title that is passed down from person to person. If they can give quirks then it stands to reason they’ve passed their quirk down with each gen-”

“Wright,” Bellamy shook his head.

Naomasa leaned back in his chair and scoffed in disbelief, They don’t know...

He watched Wright’s face carefully, quirk buzzing at the back of his mind.

“No…” Naomasa folded his hands in front of him, “All for One is one man.”

A hush fell over the group.

Wright’s lips pressed into a firm line before he spoke, “By ‘one man’ you mean… what, exactly?”

Naomasa sighed, resisting the urge to pinch his brow, “There is no lineage-”

At least… not in the way you think. His thoughts flashed to Toshinori, to One for All and his lineage, to his successor -

He shook the thought away, returning to the matter at hand, “All for One is, and always has been, one man. He must have some sort of longevity quirk - knowing him, it's possible he has multiple quirks that allow him to maintain his strength and health despite his age. We estimate he has been alive for at least two hundred years.”

Bellamy hummed, staring deeply into Naomasa’s eyes. Probing.

Naomasa felt a surge of protectiveness and anger - anger at himself. No. That is not my secret to reveal. All for One. Nothing else.

Remaining silent while the others contemplated Naomasa’s words, Bellamy’s gaze flicked over to the nearest plant. A broad purple streak now marred its features. His lips twitched in what Naomasa thought to be… Amusement? Understanding?

“Well, what do you know...” Lang said quietly, “Montgomery was right.”

Naomasa was taken aback at the sudden statement, “Right about…? Who is Montgomery?”

“Was,” Wright corrected, hand brushing over his breast pocket reverently, “He was the first of us to look into a series of crimes in the UK that mirrored others across the globe. He was the first to start connecting those crimes with the name All for One. He’s no longer with us.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Naomasa said honestly.

“Montgomery found that All for One was using hospitals in the UK as fronts for the prescription drug trade. Opioids mostly,” Wright explained, “We were able to gather evidence against those working with them - him, and they were arrested. Unfortunately, the majority of those believed to be higher in command either disappeared or committed suicide.”

“Few loose ends with him,” Lang said with a scowl.

“But just enough to keep on his trail,” Wright continued. “Until around six years ago, when all traces of him began to dry up. While it was easier to round up his loose ends when they didn’t die before sentencing, All for One was nowhere to be found.”

Toshinori… Naomasa realized.

The first battle between All Might and All for One. The one that was supposed to be All for One's last. 

“Then we followed some of his known aliases to Japan, which brought us to observe Rishi,” Wright continued, gesturing across the table with a broad sweep of his hand, “The rest is as you see it.”

Naomasa finished the last of his coffee and stood. He pulled the carafe from the coffee maker and returned to the table. Reaching across the table, he refilled Wright’s mug, then his own.

Shin suddenly gasped in delight. The blue flowering ivy on the table suddenly lost all purple color and doubled in size, leaves twirling up and reaching for the ceiling light.

“Thank you for sharing what you know,” Naomasa began, “Now this is a joint investigation.”

Hatoko glanced over the building’s roof, the white crest feathers atop his head standing at attention. The alley below was empty, and he smiled, slipping his wings out from the vertical slits in his coat. He gave them a couple of experimental flaps and, feeling the slight upward draft, flew across to the nearest roof. Shivering, he quickly ducked under a heat exhaust vent and into the small space behind it. A nest of torn cardboard, newspapers, and a few blankets lay bunched up in the corner of the space.

Hatoko froze. Beside his nest sat a small grocery bag with a note taped to the front.

"No..." Anxiety and hunger twisted Hatoko’s stomach. He frowned, sniffling and rubbing at his cold, runny nose. "They found my nest again."

Two policewomen saw Hatoko playing in the park on Monday. One lady was very tall with big arms and hair that looked like ropes that moved around by themselves. The other lady - she said her name was Kohana - looked like a living teddy bear-dog. She made him smile. She was funny and nice and gave really good hugs.

Then they asked where Hatoko lived and where his parents were.

Atsu-nii told him those questions were dangerous. He didn’t say why.

Hatoko kicked at a stray piece of cardboard, scowling at the waiting grocery bag, “Some spy I am…”

He had panicked and flown away.

They found him again on Tuesday.

Before he could run, Kohana said he wasn’t in trouble. She said they weren’t going to take him away. She just wanted to talk again and feed him a warm lunch.

It was getting colder after all, and convenient store sandwich wrappers were harder to open when his fingers were cold and clumsy...

The ramen shop the officers took him to was so warm. He could still remember the smell of miso and chicken and pork and beef and-!

Hatoko sighed. He had never felt so full in his life. Even before running away, he knew what it felt like to be hungry. So hungry it was hard to think about anything else. 

“There is a place where you can be warm and always have food,” Kohana said, patting his hand with her plush paw.

Hatoko shook his head, swallowing his noodles, “I can’t. They’ll clip my wings and I'll never be able to fly again.”

“Who told you that?” Kohana asked softly, tilting her head.

“Atsu-nii,” Hatoko shivered as a cold wind blew into his nest.

Tucking his wings tight against his back, Hatoko dug into the bag. There were snack bars, a couple of onigiri, dried fruit, large bottles of water, tissues, and pocket warmers. He plucked the note from the front of the bag.

Eat the onigiri first and drink lots of water. Give me a call if you need anything or just wanna talk, okay?

       - Officer Kohana Akita

She’d drawn a smiling cartoon dog face beside her name.

Hatoko smiled back at the little dog and tucked the note into his pocket along with a couple of pocket warmers.

His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. Hatoko pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

[Running late?] from Atsu-nii.

Hatoko sighed, guilt stirring in his gut, [I’m coming. My new nest is a little far away.]

[Okay] was Atsu-nii’s fast reply, [Fly safe and don’t be seen.]

Pocketing his phone, Hatoko grabbed both onigiri, unwrapped, and quickly ate them. With a few breathless gulps of water, he tied the grocery bag and hid it in his nest with his treasure backpack.

Hatoko braced himself and darted back out into the cold. The sun had long set, but the boy knew the rooftops like the playground in his favorite park. It didn’t take long to hopscotch roof by roof to the magician’s meeting place.

Atsu-nii was already there waiting for him.

“Hatoko!” the magician called for him, waving.

Hatoko flapped hard as he touched down, the wind blowing him a little off course. Quickly righting himself, he raced across the roof and hugged Astu-nii.

“Careful! Careful,” Astu-nii grunted, patting his back.

Hatoko backed away and frowned.  

Atsu-nii’s voice sounded strained, but he was still waving his -

“W-what…” Hatoko stared in horror at the loose sleeve blowing in the wind. His voice cracked, “What happened to your arm?”

Atsu-nii smiled - though it looked more like a grimace - and waved his fingers, “Another magician made it disappear!”

That’s a lie. Hatoko knew. He's lying.

After tucking his flapping sleeve into his coat pocket, Atsu-nii gestured toward himself, “Let me see your phone. Any new pictures?”

Hatoko shifted uncomfortably, staring at the sleeve. It looked like a deflated balloon.

“Hatoko,” Atsu-nii’s voice was stern, “The phone, please.”

“Sorry,” Hatoko’s crest feathers pressed close to his head, and he quickly passed over the smartphone.

Atsu-nii fumbled with the phone, cursing under his breath as he pressed it to his chest to readjust his grip. He paced a few steps away, tapping impatiently on the screen.

“How’re the books?” Atsu-nii asked distractedly.

“Good,” Hatoko lied. He didn’t know. He’d left his books behind in a panic when he found a note in his first nest over the weekend. When he’d gone back, there was nothing left of his nest. It had been cleared out.

The magician was too absorbed by the phone screen to notice Hatoko’s lie.

Hatoko bowed his head and shivered as a harsh wind bit through his coat. His teeth chattered.

Atsu-nii sighed, looking the small boy up and down, “Why don’t you come inside? I have some tea ready. Might as well get warm while I charge this.”

Hatoko perked up and a bright smile split his face, “Yes please!” Wings fluttering with excitement, he followed the magician down the warm stairwell and into a spacious apartment.

“Take off your shoes,” Atsu-nii reminded him, slipping off his own, “Warm your feet in the kotatsu. The tea is already there.”

Hatoko dashed into the spacious living room, sitting and sliding his legs under the plush blanket. He sighed.

So warm, Hatoko thought with a smile. He was sipping steaming hot tea when Atsu-nii came back into the living room.

“It won’t take long for it to charge,” the magician said, carefully lowering himself to the floor, “Tell me about your work, super spy.”

Hatoko put his cup back on the table, fidgeting uneasily.

“It’s okay,” he said with a small pout, “Not very many people are going in and out. It’s not very fun…”

“But it’s very important,” Atsu-nii said with a sage nod. Waving his hand above the table, he smiled. A gust of wind blew outward, and a plate of mitarashi dango appeared, “A reward for your hard work.”  

“Thank you!” Hatoko exclaimed, crest feathers standing tall in excitement, and plucked the sticky, bite-size treat from the plate. The flavor took him back to the festivals and street vendors that gave free samples to kids. He was about to tell Atsu-nii some of his festival stories when he heard a strange noise.

“Mr. Compress,” said an eerie voice, “Is this your Dove?”

Hatoko flinched, wings pulling close as he froze in place.

If you don’t move, they can’t see you. If they can’t see you, they won’t hurt you. The old mantra ran through his head, eyes pressing shut.

“Shigaraki!” Atsu-nii exclaimed, surprise in his voice, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Hatoko cracked his eyes open as a pale hand reached out and took a dango ball. Quick as he could, the boy darted around the table and hid behind the magician, gripping desperately at the back of his shirt.

“It’s alright Hatoko,” Atsu-nii said, reaching back and patting his head, “These are friends of mine.”

“Friends?” Hatoko asked.

“Yes, they won’t hurt you,” he answered.

Slowly, Hatoko peeked out from behind Atsu-nii’s shoulder.

Three men stood in the living room. One was a man in a skin-tight suit and mask, like the kind heroes wore, only he didn’t look like a hero. The second was a man made of dark, swirling mist in a nice suit, but the business kind. The third had shaggy hair and dismembered hands covering his face, neck, and arms.

They didn’t look friendly. 

“We are gathering everyone,” the hand-face man said. He glanced Hatoko’s way, and Hatoko ducked behind Astu-nii’s back, “Someone important has come to visit us.”

Atsu-nii’s good hand gripped at his injured shoulder. Hatoko could see goosebumps running up the magician’s neck.

“You could have sent a message, Shigaraki,” Atsu-nii grumbled.

The man made of dark mist bowed his head in acknowledgment, “This is faster.”

The masked man fidgeted, “Hey Kurogiri, think there’s enough time to eat some of that dango? Shut up. Not the time .”

“Calm yourself, Twice,” Kurogiri said.  

“Fuck you, you’re right!”

Hatoko flinched.

“Not in front of Compress’ guest,” Kurogiri ordered. A wave of dark mist suddenly billowed outward, engulfing the masked man. When the mist receded, Twice was gone.

“Atsu-nii,” Hatoko whimpered.

Kurogiri knelt, “I just sent him outside for the time being. My apologies for startling you.”

Shivering, Hatoko made himself smaller, clutching Atsu-nii’s shirt.

These friends are not nice.

Atsu-nii sighed, pushing himself to stand, “Alright. Just give me a moment,” he turned to Hatoko, “I’m sorry, we’ll have to cut this short. Come on. Let’s get your phone.”

Atsu-nii gently nudged him around his scary friends and into a small kitchen where another man -

“Ah!” Hatoko yelped, twisting and clutching onto Atsu-nii’s leg.

A monster was in the kitchen! Big and covered in uneven patches of wiry, black hair. Except for... its head.

It’s one of those villain monsters! Hatoko's heart pounded, fingertips digging into Atsu-nii’s thigh, and eyes squeezed shut. If they can’t see you, they won’t hurt you. If they can’t see you, they won’t hurt you. 

“It’s alright,” Atsu-nii said softly, gently stroking the feathers atop Hatoko’s head, “This is just… another friend.”

No, it’s not! Stop lying! Hatoko hiccuped fearfully, tears brimming in his eyes. Atsu-nii! Even the kids playing in the park know about them… He clung to Atsu-nii as he walked past the creature and unplugged his phone. Hatoko didn’t dare open his eyes until they were in the stairwell and the door was shut tight behind them.

“Here,” Atsu-nii said, tapping Hatoko’s head with his phone, “Take this.”

Hatoko sniffled, hands trembling as he took the phone.

Atsu-nii sighed, rubbing the stump of his left arm, “I’ll send you a message when I get back. Okay, super spy?”

Hatoko slowly nodded.

“Keep a lookout for those people I told you about. If you see them -?” Atsu-nii paused.

“Send you a message as soon as I can,” Hatoko finished.

“Good boy,” Atsu-nii praised quietly, ruffling the boy’s feathers. He nudged Hatoko toward the stairs going up, “Come back when you need to charge your phone again.”

Hatoko nodded silently and bolted up the stairs, crashing against the roof access door. Tearing across the roof, he spread and flapped his wings.

Fly away, fly away, fly away home, his mother’s voice sang in his head as he took to the air.

Hatoko held the phone tight to his chest, the cold wind biting at his face.

Maybe the priest would let him stay the night…

Toshinori stretched, reaching for his clawed toes as he sat on the track. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as his tail flicked from side to side, a lopsided smile on his face.

It helps with balance when I run, he thought, arms and legs still thrumming with every heartbeat. He pulled off his running gloves and flexed his fingers, This isn’t so bad. Just need a little more practice.

His phone pinged, and he fished it from his pocket. Naomasa’s name lit up the screen, and Toshinori squinted, rubbing sweat away from his eyes.

[Good to go.] The detective’s message read, [I’ve freed up Sansa’s schedule for the escort. I’d do it myself, but my weekend’s packed!]

Toshinori smiled, shooting off a quick text, [You’re the best! Thank you Nao!]

[Get yourself some fresh air, Toshi.]

He could almost hear the serious tone of Naomasa’s voice.

Laughing, Toshinori sent a thumbs-up emoji, [That’s the plan! Don’t overwork yourself.]

[That’s funny coming from you, but alright.] Naomasa wrote, adding an unimpressed face, [Take care and give young Midoriya my well-wishes. He has a good head on his shoulders, that one.]

Toshinori grinned fondly, "Yes. He does."

[Thanks again. You take care as well.] He set his phone down, finishing his stretches and pressing his knuckles into his lower back.

Toshinori sighed, and took a deep breath.

A peaceful smile lit up his face.

He could almost smell the sea breeze.

Toshinoumu Sitting Styles by Juustozzi

I can't get up by theimaginarylord

Chapter Text

Toshinori lounged on the living room couch, thumbing through a novel Ectoplasm had suggested. Soft banter from his students drifted from the kitchen and dining area where their studying was in full swing. Occasionally, a student or two would come to him for help on their assignments. It brought a small, relieved smile to Toshinori’s face. The moments were brief, but he was teaching again.

His ears flicked back at a distant laugh, skewing the glasses perched on his nose.

Damn it, Toshinori clicked his tongue, setting his book aside to fix the large, round, wire-frame glasses. During his previous weekly exam with Recovery Girl, she had checked his eyes for any changes the night vision quirk may have caused.

“You’ll need reading glasses,” she determined, filling out the prescription form on her computer, “Honestly, you’ve needed them for a while. I’ll have a pair made for you before you start getting migraines.”

I should have known better and ordered my own, given her fashion sense, Toshinori chuckled, remembering the look on his face when he saw himself wearing the old-fashioned glasses for the first time. He gaped at himself in the mirror, but the kids loved them and insisted they were perfect between fits of giggles.

With his glasses righted, he returned to his book and his dexterity exercises.

Tail lifting and curling, Toshinori carefully moved a small pillow from the floor and set it on the pillow pyramid he’d stacked at his side. It was Ojiro’s idea to get a better feel for his tail, and young Yaoyorozu was kind enough to create several different shaped pillows for him.

Toshinori was shocked to find the tip of his tail was incredibly flexible and, with practice, almost as useful as a third hand. With a sweep of his tail, he knocked the neat pile to the ground and began again. Halfway through the next pyramid, Toshinori’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, grinning at the name on the screen.

“Naomasa! Hello,” he answered, scooping up the remaining pillows on the floor and depositing them on the couch. Standing, he bashfully waved at the few curious students looking his way and excused himself, “How are you?”

“I’m doing well!” Naomasa said boisterously.

Toshinori’s ears perked, and his tail wagged. He could hear the smile in Naomasa’s voice.

He slipped on his jacket and a pair of loose sandals and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him with his tail. A cool, humid breeze brushed over his skin, sending a chill across his skin. The air smelled of oncoming rain.

“How are things at U.A.?” Naomasa asked.

Toshinori grinned, sitting down on the front steps of the dorm, and stretched out his legs with a satisfied groan, “Better than expected! I’ve finished reviewing what the kids have covered in class and started preparing lesson plans. If all goes well, I can be back in the classroom in another week or two.”

“That’s fantastic, Toshinori,” Naomasa said sincerely. He paused a moment, a hesitant half-aborted question stuttering over the phone line before he continued, “And your lapses? Any improvement?”  

“Ah…” Toshinori reached back, tracing his capped claw around the short spikes on his neck, “I’m still lapsing on occasion, though none more than a few minutes except for the lapses when I sleep. I’m not sure how long those are.”

He could remember some short moments of falling into the fog. Sometimes triggered by pain, other times without clear reason - once lapsing in the middle of a conversation with Young Midoriya. No lapse was more than ten minutes long, and none so deep that his kids or Aizawa could not guide him to a place to sit and wait it out.

“I checked in with Recovery Girl,” Toshinori continued, “She examined my spikes. They are fully hardened and no longer developing. It’s very likely that they weren’t the cause like we hoped. The lapses may-” he sighed and let his hand fall into his lap, “may just be something I manage from now on.”  

Naomasa was silent for a moment, then, “I’m sorry.”

Toshinori’s tail flicked, and he shook his head, “Don’t be. Recovery Girl, Nedzu, and I are figuring out how best to work around it when I begin teaching again. I won’t let it hold me back,” he finished with a determined grin.

Huffing on the other side of the line, Naomasa chuckled, “I doubt anything could hold you back at this point, Toshinori.”

Toshinori barked a laugh, and warm affection filled his chest.

“Oh!” he straightened as a thought occurred to him, “Isamu. How is he doing? Recovery Girl mentioned he is spending time with his parents.”

Naomasa snorted, “He apparently caught a cold, and his mother insisted on caring for him until he is well. They are still under police and pro-hero protection.”

“That’s good,” Toshinori smiled, relieved, tail swaying side to side behind him, “He deserves to be able to step away from all this. I’m sure he is very happy to be with family again.”

A dull, burning ache flared in Toshinori’s abdomen, and he grunted.

“Something wrong?” Naomasa asked, concern bleeding into his tone.

“Heartburn,” Toshinori answered, reaching into his pant pocket. He carried a couple of Recovery Girl’s antacids with him, but… His claw scraped against a small, crumpled ball. Glancing behind him and seeing no one, he pulled a small ball of aluminum foil, no bigger than a cough drop, from his pocket and popped it into his mouth.

Last one … He chewed and swallowed, sighing as the gnawing ache in his chest eased. Embarrassment colored his ears pink. He would need to raid the kitchen cupboard again.

“How goes the investigation?” Toshinori asked, rubbing at his abdomen and gingerly pressing on his acid sac.

“Much better now that Wright and I are on the same page,” Naomasa said, relief palpable even over the phone. He paused, “Does the name Ayumi Shiire sound familiar?”

Toshinori’s tail slashed and cracked against the ground. Hackles bristling at the sudden memory, he rubbed his arm where the tail quirk had been injected.

“Yes! That was her name,” he said and roughly swallowed the feral growl simmering in his chest, “All for One mentioned her to Isamu. Something about getting supplies from her. I’d forgotten.”

“Shiire handles and records supply distribution for the hospital,” Naomasa said. The sound of paper shuffling and rapid pen scratching carried over the phone, “If Sato can corroborate that Shiire worked under All for One, we might have enough to subpoena the hospital supply records. And Shiire may know who else is working for All for One since she was distributing supplies to Sato at the very least. This could be the link we need to cut off All for One’s network of subordinates in Rishi. From there, perhaps we might uncover more.”

A fierce grin lit up Toshinori’s face, “If we can’t hit him directly, do the most damage to his resources.”

“Exactly,” Naomasa replied just as fiercely.

Tail thumping on the ground, Toshinori almost didn’t hear the front door open.

“All Might-” Izuku half-covered his mouth sheepishly, spotting his phone, “Ah, sorry.”

“One second, Tsukauchi,” Toshinori said before covering the receiver, “Don’t worry, my boy,” he waved off Izuku’s apology, “What do you need?”

“You were at the Mandalorian Riots,” Izuku said quickly, cheeks coloring, “Um, everyone is wondering if you could tell us what it was like. The book only has one page on it.”

Toshinori’s eyes widened, “One page? Nonsense! I’ll be right there, my boy.”

Naomasa laughed over the phone, and Toshinori coughed, ears flicking bashfully and knocking his glasses askew again.

Grinning, he held up a finger, “If you could just give me one moment.”

“Oh- yes! Of course!” Izuku nodded and quickly ducked back into the dorms.

Toshinori smiled softly as the boy retreated, tail swaying contently.

“Looks like you’re needed, Toshi,” Naomasa teased.

Toshinori huffed a dramatic sigh, “A hero’s job is never done.”

"Neither is a teacher's," Naomasa snorted, “Take care. I’ll update you on the investigation when we learn anything new.”

“You take care as well, Naomasa,” Toshinori looked to the sky and hummed, “I hope the weather will clear up by Saturday.”

Toshinori could again hear the grin in Naomasa’s voice, “Worst case scenario, we reschedule.” Glancing at his watch, he sighed, “Alright, I’d better get back to my students. Thanks for the update!”

“No problem. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Hanging up, Toshinori pocketed his phone and stretched.

“One page on the Mandalorian Riots,” Toshinori shook his head, “They’re in for quite the story.”

Clinging to the memory of summer, Saturday morning was surprisingly mild for the Fall season. Puddles dotted the ground, and the skies were filled with feathery, gray clouds. A soft breeze rustled the remaining leaves in the trees and sent the landscaped patchwork of grass and shrubbery waving.

Toshinori pulled his long coat over his shoulders, glancing back to examine the newly tailored line that allowed his spikes to poke through the material. With a roll of his shoulders, the ridge of hair down his spine slipped through the slit - a fluffy line of blond that caught the breeze and swayed. He smiled and made a mental note to thank Naomasa again for pulling the strings to get his coat from evidence. Its familiar shape and warmth was comforting.

Gym bag slung over his shoulder, he quietly stepped off the dorm steps and headed toward the faculty gymnasium.

“All Might! Good morning,” Cementoss waved as Toshinori walked in, meeting him at the trackside bench, “How’re you feeling?”  

Grinning, Toshinori dropped his bag and shrugged off his coat, “Excited for today’s course. Don’t go easy on me!”

Cementoss bowed his head, “Shall we begin?”

“Just a moment,” Toshinori pulled on his running gloves and crouched on all fours at the starting line. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he flexed his fingers, uncapped claws etching into the concrete. Exhaling slowly, he felt his tail sway side to side.

Good. Balanced.  

He looked up and nodded, shoulders tensing, “Ready.”

“After you,” Cementoss said. He sat cross-legged and rested his bare hands on the track.

"Right! Start!" Toshinori bellowed and darted forward, hands and feet thudding against the track. Claws gripped the concrete of the outer track, and his tail slashed through the air. The ground rumbled and a wall of concrete rose in front of him. Skidding to a near-halt, he bunched his legs under himself, braced, and leaped - clearing the first obstacle with at least a meter to spare!

His tail thumped against the track as he landed on the other side, sending a jolt up his spine. Not pain! Bright, zinging energy! Racing ahead, Toshinori wove between the concrete poles that shot up from the ground, following the thin, winding path up and up -

Oh!

The rising path ended with a sudden drop. Horizontal poles sprouted from two concrete walls on both sides.

He grinned, hackles bristling with excitement.

The path was still there.

“Now we’re talking!” He laughed, full-chested. Leaping forward, he grabbed the nearest pole. He swung up and over, squatting on his haunches as his tail curled securely around the pole. His clawed toes shifted to find their grip. Shaking his hair from his eyes, he scanned the layout and nodded.

I can go much faster than this.

He crouched low, feeling strength build in his legs.

This is-!

He leaped, climbed, pole to pole, trusting his arms and legs. The grips of his running gloves and the tough pads on his feet found purchase on each. He could see the path in the pattern, cement branches winding higher and higher.

- Amazing!

Heat burned through him, and his skin prickled with sweat down his back. Ignoring the twinge in his side, he raced forward, gripping the last handhold and swinging onto solid ground. Walls rose higher around him, arching to meet far above him, leaving only a sliver of light. Toshinori chuckled, eyes reflecting blue, and smoothly ducked as the wall to his left rumbled and shifted, shooting a bar of concrete where his head had just been.

Move!

The pattern of the bars was simple. Left up. Right down.

"Is that all you have for me, Cementoss!?" Toshinori called with a laugh. He ducked and weaved, finding the gaps - “Shit! ”

A pillar shot up from the floor, and Toshinori sidestepped, grazing his shoulder on the right wall in his haste. He ducked and rolled, jumping up and through the gaps between each pillar.

The area suddenly opened up. He slowed to a stop, blinking lights from his eyes. He stood at the edge of the enclosed path as circular platforms rose like mushroom caps, dotting the track’s inner landscape. He looked down. A twenty - no - at least thirty-foot drop greeted him.

Nothing to do but jump! His thighs complained upon impact, and Toshinori scoffed at himself. Digging deep, he bent low and jumped from platform to platform.

Higher.

Longer.

Farther!

Toshinori furrowed his brow. My legs…  He landed in a crouch and leaped through the air with ease. Even without One for All, I can - Woah!

Misjudging the distance, he overshot the next platform. His tail pinwheeled and he whipped out his hands, claws catching and digging into the nearest pillar’s side. He slid down, grit and dust raining from above. Splaying his toes, he dug his claws in deeper, gained a foothold, and slowed his descent to a stop. His arms shook, tail flicking with adrenaline pumping in his veins - Tail!

Toshinori ducked his head and crouched as low as possible while clinging to the pillar’s rough surface. He swung his tail once, feeling its momentum pull him. Twice - He grinned.

Crouch and LEAP!  He pushed off the support beam with a grunt. He caught and kicked off the previous platform’s base. Back and forth, pillar to pillar, he clawed his way back up to the raised platform.

Back on track.

Toshinori landed on the last round platform, panting. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he laughed, “Okay! Not quite out of shape!”

Final lap.

The path stretched out before him, a winding decline, and Toshinori grinned.

Loping on all fours, he raced down the track, picking up speed with each bound.

His lung burned.

        His heart drummed.

               His muscles throbbed.

                                His claws ached.

He felt so alive.

Free…

Toshinori shook his head, focusing on the goal.

His ears twitched at a rumble below him.

“Urk!”  The ground suddenly shifted underfoot, pulling Toshinori’s left leg back mid-stride. He ducked his head and pushed off with his right foot, curling on himself and rolling forward. Pressing his palms flat, he shifted his weight and flipped onto his feet - legs spread and arms stretched forward - tail sweeping out to maintain balance. Panting, he looked up and back. Just behind him, he spotted the white line marking the course’s end.

A smile split his face, and he whirled, searching for Cementoss, “Excellent course, my friend! I should consult you more often!”

“Thank you!” Cementoss jogged toward Toshinori with a pleased smile, “I did have some help. Power Loader recommended a course that emphasized agility and jumping prowess. I do apologize for that last bit, both the platform course and the treadmill movement at the end.”

“No no, I was distracted. It was my fault I tripped,” Toshinori waved his peer’s concern away. He hummed, looking at his legs and shaking them out, “I think I know what this quirk is for now.”

Cementoss stiffened, pressing his fingertips together nervously, “Oh?”

Toshinori quirked a rueful smile at Cementoss's reaction. He hadn't made a habit of talking openly about his quirks to his peers. 

He rolled his shoulders, stretching while his muscles were still warm, “Yes. I thought they - my legs were…” To make me like an animal. Inhuman.

He shook his head. “This quirk - It’s some kind of jump boost type with heteromorphic traits. Power Loader must’ve guessed and let me figure it out on my own.”

It’s not… it’s not meant for walking. Toshinori sighed in relief. I can handle this.

I can live with this.

Green flashed in the corner of his eye, and Toshinori looked up, “Ah! Midoriya, my boy! Perfect timing.”

Caught staring, Izuku grinned wide as Toshinori jogged up to him. He was out of his uniform, wearing casual clothes - including one of his seemingly endless supply of 'All Might'-themed shirts.

Toshinori’s lips twitched with amusement. One of the ‘Silver Age’-based designs, if he remembered correctly.

“I see why Cementoss’s obstacle courses are in high demand,” Toshinori pulled off his running gloves, tail flicking back and forth happily, “I certainly enjoyed the challenge! What do you think?” he asked, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder where Cementoss was returning the outer track to its former shape.  

“You were amazing!” Izuku exclaimed, hands moving to write invisible notes, “I was curious about whether you’d be more flexible while running. You’re already tall and with the added length of your legs and tail, it makes sense that your movements would shift towards agility. And your jumping! The strength you’d have to have in your calves and thighs is tremendous. Not to mention the use of your tail to adjust your momentum midair and -”

Toshinori burst out laughing, ears perked and tail swinging. The boy’s excitement was contagious. Grinning, he clapped his hand on Izuku’s back.

“Ever the fanboy,” Toshinori joked, “I was talking about the course, but thank you.” He smiled wryly and gestured to Izuku’s hands, “Got all that written down?”

Hands freezing mid-stroke, a blush rose from Izuku’s neck to his ears, “Ah, ha -” 

Toshinori barked a loud laugh and ruffled the boy’s hair, “Perhaps you could help with my training menu this time around.”

He’s certainly got the eye for it... Toshinori glanced at his tail, Adjusting momentum midair? Hadn’t even noticed.

Swinging his tail and wrapping it around Izuku’s waist, he led the way to the trackside bench, “Excited to take some time off-campus?”

A shy smile lit Izuku’s reddened face, “Definitely. You?”

Toshinori gave him a small squeeze with his tail before allowing it to swing back behind him, “Definitely.”

Bending, he picked up his bag and threw his coat over his shoulder. He pat the bag, “Give me a moment to get showered and changed. Officer Tamakawa will meet us outside the faculty gate.”

Izuku smiled, nodding, “I’ll be out here when you finish. I have a few questions for Cementoss.”

Toshinori grinned, watching as Izuku darted across the gym and spoke animatedly with Cementoss. He shook his head with a chuckle and ducked into the locker room.

The tile floor was cool on his feet, and the welcome chill sent a shiver across his skin. Finding his locker, he set his bag down on the bench. A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Toshinori looked up from the change of clothes in his bag. His reflection looked back. His hair was more disheveled than usual, skin dripping with sweat, and the line of hair down his spine poked through his shirt slits in messy clumps. Dust from the track covered his hair and shoulders, and he felt the grit coating his hands and feet.

Straightening, Toshinori wandered over to the mirror, ears perking thoughtfully. Footsteps sure, claws clicking in their familiar pattern on the floor, he stopped in front of his reflection. He swept his hands across the sink counter. A slow smile worked its way onto his face, and his tail swayed side to side.  

The scars around his wrists were barely visible.

Fourteen days, Toshinori realized. A week shy of the time spent in that damn room, and he was recovering by leaps and bounds - quite literally.

Confidence surged in his chest, and he grinned fiercely at his reflection.

“Still couldn’t change me,” Toshinori’s hackles bristled excitedly.

Your loss, All for One.

Tail flicking in satisfaction, he returned to his locker and pulled out a clean towel, his soaps, and a long brush. He desperately needed to wash off.

Izuku leaped through the last concrete tunnel, One for All zipping across his skin, and landed across the finish line.

“Well done!” Cementoss smiled pleasantly, straightening up and allowing the moving parts of the short course to freeze in place.

Izuku grinned, wiping the light sheen of sweat from his brow, and bowed, “Thank you for making the course! The spinning tunnels are new.”

“It is important to learn how to move on unsteady ground,” Cementoss replied easily.

“He’s right.”

Izuku turned.

All Might padded up to him, smiling, “It is especially important during an emergency and natural disaster rescues. You’ll need to be able to keep your feet under you, after all.”

“Yes,” Izuku nodded enthusiastically, fingers itching to write the sound advice down.

Chuckling, All Might addressed Cementoss, “Thank you again for your time. It feels good to be moving again.”

“Anytime,” Cementoss happily bowed, “It’s nice to see you in high spirits.”

All Might’s tail flicked, and he grinned, “Thank you.”

FOR A MESSAGE IS HERE! All Might’s ears perked, and he reached into his coat pocket. He swiped at the screen.

“Ah. Damn,” he muttered, glancing at his uncapped claws, “Forgot them…” Adjusting his grip, All Might tapped on his phone with his knuckle, and a wide grin split his face. “Officer Tamakawa is at the faculty gate,” he said, tail swinging excitedly. He playfully elbowed Izuku, “Ready to go?”

“Definitely!” Izuku quickly replied, “Ah, did you forget your bag?”

All Might waved off the question, “I left it in my locker. I’ll grab it later,” he pocketed his phone, “Have a good day, Cementoss.”

“And you as well,” he said, smiling serenely and waving as All Might turned to the exit.

A gust of cool air brushed past them as they walked outside. Izuku jogged to keep up with All Might’s long strides, suppressing a laugh when his mentor’s tail bumped against him as he fell a little behind. They turned the corner around the gymnasium, and Izuku froze.

This is… Izuku’s heart stuttered.

Aizawa’s capture weapon extended. All Might struggled on the ground - unrecognized and reaching. That nurse… bleeding out on the lawn.

All Might continued across the field, tail swaying with each step.

Izuku sighed, patting his chest, and stared at his mentor’s back. He stood taller, more confident, and relaxed since that day, but Izuku couldn’t halt the oncoming memory.

Izuku wrapped All Might’s arm around his shoulder, bearing his weight as he slumped heavily to the side.  

So thin…

“It’s okay, All Might. Let me help you…”

All Might shuddered weakly - frail in Izuku’s arms.

“Something the matter, my boy?” All Might elbowed Izuku’s shoulder.

Izuku blinked, roughly shaking his head and clearing his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed All Might’s approach.

“Just…” he cleared his throat and blinked away the tears that threatened to well up. He smiled with a shrug, “I'm just really glad you’re okay.”

All Might quirked a lopsided smile, glancing around the courtyard. He nodded and sighed, “Me too, my boy.” Then he playfully thumped Izuku’s back with his tail, grinning wide when Izuku coughed in surprise, “Let’s not keep Officer Tamakawa waiting.”

All Might led the way, waving to the newly installed guard-bot as it opened the gate.

Officer Tamakawa looked up from beside his unmarked car and waved with a friendly chirrup.

Izuku waved back.

“Hello, Officer!” He grinned, jogging up to the car, “Thank you for the ride.”

“I’m glad to help!” Tamakawa said, the bell on his shirt collar jingling. He opened the backseat door and stepped back to let Izuku in.

Izuku climbed into the tall car, sliding across to give All Might room. When he didn’t immediately follow, Izuku looked back.

All Might stood by the gate, glancing between his claws and the security keypad on the entry side.

“Sir?” Tamakawa called.

All Might’s ears perked up, and he lowered his hand, smiling bashfully, “Coming!” He walked up to Sansa and jokingly grabbed his tufted tail, “Think there’s enough room for me in there?”

Tamakawa smiled, “Detective Tsukauchi recommended a larger vehicle. Plenty of leg and tail room.”

All Might barked a laugh, holding up his hand for a high-five, “He thinks of everything, doesn’t he?”

Tamakawa grinned, a purr in his throat as he more than happily clapped his hand over All Might's. “Y-yes, he does,” he stammered and laughed uncertainly as All Might pulled his hand into an odd handshake, looking carefully at his palm before letting go. "I'll get the car started," Tamakawa bowed his head briefly and rounded to the driver's side.

Izuku scooted across to the farthest seat as All Might ducked inside.

“Now how…?” the retired hero muttered, twisting and draping his tail across the seats. He stumbled on his own feet, half falling into the seat before righting himself with a laugh. Shutting the car door and buckling his seatbelt, he nodded to Tamakawa.

The car started with a low rumble and rolled away from the faculty gate.

As U.A. disappeared behind them, Izuku turned from his window and snuck a look across the backseat. All Might leaned against his window, a small smile on his face as he watched buildings and pedestrians pass by. His gaze stilled, then turned to Izuku.

The soft tufted end of All Might’s tail flicked against Izuku’s leg, a silent ‘thank you.’

Izuku smiled.

The light above the armored door buzzed loudly, and the lock opened with a clack-BOOM! that echoed down the wide hall.

“This way,” the guard said, guiding them from the last in a series of dead-man doors.

So, this is Tartarus, William thought, glancing at the cameras and sensors that lined the halls. Despite being the “lower security wing” of the prison, there were zero blind spots. On top of the thorough security checks, he and Detective Tsukauchi waited five days for approval for their visit. Upon arrival, they turned in all digital devices and metal on their persons. They were scanned and made to sign forms disclosing their quirks and their functions. Due to Wright’s quirk being involuntary active, he was given five extra forms to sign and a warning that the sensors would track his every move.  

It was, perhaps, the most sophisticated security system William ever experienced.

And yet… it still could not contain All for One.

The sensors swiveled, following William as he continued down the hall beside Detective Tsukauchi.

The guard stopped beside a large door. Leaning forward, she looked into an eye scanner. It chimed, and a panel slid forward. Placing her hand on the screen, the guard typed in her security clearance code. The door raised with a hydraulic hissss.

“You have an hour,” the guard said. She flipped up a plexiglass box on the wall. Behind it was a bright red button, “If you feel you are in danger and need immediate help, press this panic button.”

Detective Tsukauchi nodded, “Thank you, ma’am.”

The guard saluted briefly, stepped outside, and the door dropped with a heavy clunk.

Sighing, Detective Tsukauchi gestured down the long prison block, “This is all of them. The Noumu from USJ, Hosu, the League of Villain’s hideout, and those found in the Kamino Ward warehouse.”

William moved farther into the block, a morbid curiosity driving him.

This is for both our investigations, William reasoned, ignoring the sting of incomplete truth behind his eyes. I need to see what All for One can do. What he’s made.

Reinforced glass walls lined both sides of the block. William approached the first, brows raising at the thing behind it.

The Noumu was massive and muscled with a beak-like mouth. Its dark blue skin was littered with scars. Blank eyes stared beyond William.

It… Nausea churned in his gut, and he squinted, placing a hand over his mouth, It doesn’t have an aura.

Holding his breath, he looked around the chamber at each noumu, each creature.

William swayed on his feet. Nothing. Every single one of them. Nothing.

“Wright?” Tsukauchi’s voice was concerned, “Wright, what’s wrong?”

That’s what they are. Nurse Sato’s words echoed in his mind. Dead... Dead dead dead…

William flinched. A strong grip on his arm steadied him - grounded him.

He turned and met Tsukauchi’s worried gaze with a weak frown. He cleared his throat roughly and ran a hand through his hair, “Nothing I can’t handle.” He moved away and shoved his hands into his pocket. His frown deepened when he remembered handing over his prescription medication at the front desk. Clicking his teeth, William swallowed down his nausea and squinted at the first creature.

“So these are the Noumu,” he nodded to each cell lining the walls, “The photos didn’t do them justice.”

The detective eyed him warily but hummed in agreement, “Yes, and despite all attempts to reach out to them, they remain unresponsive. Unfortunately, we have very little information on their mental states. Ah-” Tsukauchi shook his head, “There is one missing. Back in Hosu, the Hero Killer, Stain, attacked and killed one Noumu.” His lips twisted, “I don’t have the full details of the autopsy, but that noumu... It - he was a child. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen or sixteen.” His expression darkened, gesturing to the cells one by one, “All for One and whoever helps him, they don’t discriminate. No matter the age or gender, whether they have families or a consistent job, criminal or otherwise. The only similarity we know is that they each possessed a quirk that caught All for One's interest.”

William grunted, “They certainly are a varied bunch... Well,” Walking down the block, he glanced at each noumu and crossed his arms, “Our goal is to cripple All for One’s support systems, so we’ll need to stop…” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “This.”

Tsukauchi nodded, “Any ideas?”

“The first step is - assuming All for One is out of reach,” Wright thought back to Sato’s interview, “Finding that quote-unquote Good Doctor.”

The car rolled to a stop in the parking lot overlooking Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. Sunlight burned through the early morning clouds and glinted off the dark ocean water.

“We’re here,” Officer Tamakawa chirruped, cutting the engine and pulling out the keys. “I’ll be here. If you need anything, give me a shout.”

Toshinori nodded, glancing out the windows. Tamakawa would have a clear view of the entire length of the beach and the surrounding area from the car. Grinning, Toshinori turned back to Tamakawa and bowed his head, “Thank you for your time and hard work.”

The fur around Tamakawa’s neck fluffed, “No, please! I’m glad to.”

“Still,” Toshinori huffed a laugh, “Thank you.”

Pushing open the door, Toshinori stepped out of the car. A wave of excitement surged from his core to his fingertips and toes. His tail swung rapidly.

“Thank you,” he heard Izuku say behind him before closing the door with a dull thud. The boy stopped beside Toshinori, smiling up at him, “It’s nice to be back here.”

Toshinori nodded, turning in place to look across the far horizon. A cool ocean breeze brushed past him, ruffling his and Izuku’s hair. It smelled of salt and sand and - His ears perked. Even from the parking lot on the hill, he could hear the hush and lapping of the calm waves on the shore. The sun burned bright, pleasantly warming his skin and spikes. Glancing to his side, he caught Izuku staring and smiling almost bittersweetly.

Quirking a lopsided grin, Toshinori chuckled, “What?”

Izuku shook his head, smile growing only wider, “You look happy.”

Toshinori blinked and laughed, ruffling his boy’s hair. An idea struck him, and he playfully shoved Izuku away, “Race you to the shore!” Toshinori crouched and left Izuku in his dust, grinning when he heard him splutter.

“H-hey!”

Barking laughter echoed in the air as Toshinori bound down the stairs. His hands and feet hit the sand at the bottom, and he stood and turned. Izuku was not far behind him, racing down the steps as fast as he could without tapping into One for All.

“Quickly, my boy!” Toshinori called out, jogging backward. He twisted, rounding the corner and -

“Oh! Sorry, sir!”

Toshinori froze.

A young couple smiled bashfully up at Toshinori.

“Excuse us,” the first woman giggled, steering her girlfriend around Toshinori and up to the steps.

“Have fun with your son!” Called the second as they passed. Hand in hand, they bantered and jogged up the steps.

Toshinori stared after them, adrenaline still coursing through him as he released a shaky breath. They didn’t…

Izuku jogged up to Toshinori’s side, looking between him and the young couple.

“Did… Did they recognize you?” he asked quietly. Concern shined in his green eyes and color drained from his cheeks.

Toshinori’s tail flicked thoughtfully, and he shook his head, watching as the women disappeared over the top of the stairwell. It’s like before… All those years he spent safely invisible when no one knew his crippled true form.

Izuku hummed, fidgeting briefly before asking, “Are you okay?”

Toshinori nodded slowly, “Y…yes.”

“Great!”

Toshinori jolted, twisting, and spotted Izuku racing on ahead.

The boy laughed and called back, “Thanks for the headstart!”

Crouching low, Toshinori dug his claws into the sand and grinned at Izuku’s back. Oh, no you don’t! He surged forward, tail slashing through the air, and laughed as he caught up, “I’m not even breaking a sweat, my boy. Can you match my pace?”

Izuku bent forward, pumping his arms and legs, “I’ll surpass it!”

Light flashed across his skin, and Toshinori’s successor shot ahead, grinning. His laughter echoed across the beach.    

Toshinori smiled at Izuku’s back, One day, kid. One day you will...

Izuku’s footsteps splashed along the shore. He turned, throwing his fists in the air and letting out a happy whoop.

Toshinori slowed and stood, brushing his sandy hands off on his thighs. Cold ocean waves lapped gently at his feet as he walked up to Izuku. He chuckled as he bent and slipped off his loose sandals, curling his toes and digging his claws into the sand.

“Looks like folks are keeping the beach clean,” Toshinori said, looking over the pristine sands, “Your actions certainly had a long-lasting impact, my boy.”

Brows raising, Izuku scanned the beach, realization slowly bleeding into his expression.

“That’s all you,” Toshinori continued, playfully elbowing him and grinning at the trace of tears in the boy’s eyes.

So easily moved, he chuckled.

Toshinori walked past Izuku and nudged him to follow with his tail. The wind blew in from the ocean, rustling Toshinori’s coat and chilling the bare skin of his tail. Sand softly shifted underfoot as cold water lapped at his toes. The beach stretched on and on, cutting off at the horizon. Toshinori slowed, looking across the ocean.

It’s so open… Closing his eyes, Toshinori took a deep breath and tilted his face toward the sun. The back of his eyes twinged painfully as sunlight bled through his eyelids, but standing there… Facing the sea… Breathing in the salty air… I can do this.

Izuku hopped, pulling off his shoes and stuffing his socks into them. He tied the laces together and draped them across his neck. He wiggled his toes in the sand and looked back - up at the parking lot.

Toshinori followed his gaze, smiling softly at the memory of his boy standing atop a massive pile of debris, yelling at the top of his lungs. Gaze falling to the stretch of sand below, his smile grew. The place he passed on One for All…

His tail wagged slowly as fondness bloomed in his chest.

A familiar place, indeed. He shook his head.

An important place.

“Anything in particular you want to do, my boy?” Toshinori asked, nudging Izuku with his tail.

Izuku’s eyes lit up, “What do you like to do for fun, All Might?”

Toshinori choked, lifting his hands - palms out, “Now, now. That’s not what I asked.”

Izuku frowned, playfully prying, “There has to be something.”

Ears flicking in embarrassment, Toshinori cleared his throat, “Running? Hiking?” He forced a small, awkward laugh, “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of hobbies. Never had much time or energy left for them.”

Realization flashed across Izuku’s face, and Toshinori glanced away with a cough.

A slow smile worked its way onto his face.

“Huh. What’s that over there?” Toshinori pointed across the beach and dipped the tufted end of his tail in the water. The moment Izuku looked away, Toshinori swung his tail up and around, splashing the boy’s face with the sopping wet tuft.

Sputtering and stumbling away, Izuku shot Toshinori a shocked look.

Toshinori laughed, bending and clutching his abdomen. Water splashed back up at him, and he stumbled toward drier sand, collapsing onto his rear. His booming, rasping laugh devolved into a small coughing fit, but his smile didn’t fade.

“No fair!” Izuku laughed, shaking water out of his hair.

Toshinori grabbed the tuft of his tail, squeezing out the excess water before letting it thump against the sand.

“That was fun,” he said cheekily as Izuku wiped salt water off his face and stuck his tongue out, scrunching his nose. Toshinori rested his arms on his knees, attention drifting. “Did that pier pavilion get renovated?” he asked, ears perked. He could have sworn it was smaller before, perhaps painted a darker color.  

“Hm?” Izuku glanced over, squinting through his still wet bangs, “Maybe? Want to check it out?”

“Lead the way, my boy,” Toshinori pushed himself to stand, grinning at the curious glint in Izuku’s eyes.

Izuku whooped, bounding toward the pier, “Follow me!”

Toshinori huffed a laugh at the boy’s contagious enthusiasm    and     stepped-

          - farther down the pier.

Toshinori's breath caught, and he pressed his hand to his forehead, suddenly disoriented. What-?

Wooden planks creaked underfoot. The ocean breeze blew stronger over the waves. Izuku stood at the end of the pier, leaning over the metal railing, and stared down into the water. Toshinori glanced back. The shore lay over a dozen meters behind him.

Sighing shakily, he brushed his hand over his hair. Just another lapse.

A small, cautious smile pulled at his lips. Nothing bad happened. He hadn’t wandered off. He ran his fingers over his watch and relaxed, “It’s manageable.”

“All Might!” Izuku looked over his shoulder and waved, “There’s a huge fish!”

“Really now?” Ears perking and tail giving a curious flick, Toshinori jogged toward the end of the pier, “Let’s see it then!”

Hatoko sniffled, rubbing at his nose and peeking over the roof ledge at the small U.A. gate. The street was empty, and the gate closed. Nothing changed since the last time he looked. Huffing, he hunched back down in his perch and kicked at his breakfast trash. His stomach growled, and he pulled his wings tighter around himself.

Ramen sounds really good right now.

His eyelids drooped, and closed…

The sound of the gate opening startled Hatoko awake. Wings fluttering, he twisted and looked toward the school.

Two figures were leaving the school grounds, approaching a large, parked car.

There’s the one Atsu-nii said to watch for! Hatoko realized, fumbling for his phone. Quickly, he snapped a few pictures. Zooming in, he got a better look at their faces.

“Huh? But he’s…” Hatoko stared at the green-haired kid. He looked so happy.

Unease churned in Hatoko’s empty stomach.

“Why does Atsu-nii want these anyway?” he thought aloud, lowering the phone. He watched the tall man with the tail talk with the cat-faced man before he ducked into the vehicle. All three of them looked happy and good, like Kohana and her hugs.

Not like Atsu-nii’s friends. Hatoko shivered at the memory.

He watched the car drive away. When it disappeared, he sat back down on the roof and flicked through the images on his phone, loneliness burrowing deeper in his small chest.

A cold wind rushed across the roof, and Hatoko miserably curled his wings around and over his head. His makeshift shelter blocked out the wind and was fairly dark except for the light from the phone screen.

I need to send the pictures, like he said, Hatoko thought with a sniff, typing out a quick message with the pictures attached. When he moved to send the text, his thumb stopped over the button.

Atsu-nii’s friends were with one of the monsters from Hosu. The monsters were villains… and Atsu-nii’s friends were scary.

They looked like bad people.

A wobbly frown tugged at Hatoko’s lips, and his hands shook with fright.

Atsu-nii said they were his friends… Hatoko glanced at the happy faces in the pictures, What if he’s…

“Atsu-nii’s not a bad guy…” Hatoko grumbled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He curled deeper in his coat, the coat Atsu-nii gave him to keep him warm. Atsu-nii never hurt Hatoko. Not like the people he ran away from. Not like them. “He’s a good person…”

Biting his lip, he hit ‘Send.’

He's a good person. Right?

His pant legs rolled up, Toshinori wiggled his toes in the cold water. A group of small silver fish nipped at his claws and toe pads. Quirking a curious smile, he slid his tail off the pier and dragged the tip of his tuft across the water. One particularly feisty fish swam after the tuft, mouthing at the hair before darting down and disappearing under the pier.

Looking over his shoulder, Toshinori spotted Izuku doing much the same on the opposite side of the pier. He grinned, swinging his tail around and bumping the boy’s side.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

Izuku shuffled around, scooching across the pier, and settled beside Toshinori. He raised his arms, smiling as Toshinori’s tail wrapped around his waist, and rested them on the side railing.

“I was just thinking about how much water along this beach would be turned to vinegar by that kid you saved years ago,” Izuku said casually.

Toshinori’s brows rose, and he barked an incredulous laugh, wheezing into his palm, “Of all things?! You are something, my boy!”

Cheeks flushed, Izuku stuttered and gestured at the vast stretch of ocean, “I was just curious about the volume limits and whether it would affect saltwater and-!”

“It’s alright,” Toshinori teased, elbowing him, “I forgot about that. It feels like a lifetime ago…”

Izuku smiled, staring down into the water.

Huffing a soft laugh, Toshinori leaned and bumped his shoulder against his boy’s, “Thank you.” Blinking bewildered, Izuku stared up at Toshinori, and he chuckled and flicked the water with a clawed toe, “This was a good idea.”  

Izuku bowed his head, smiling, “I’m glad you-”

Toshinori’s ears twitched. Was that-?

“Did you hear that too?” Izuku asked, tense, and scrambled to his feet.

It was a pained shout.

“Tamakawa!” Toshinori realized, quickly getting to his feet. He ran ahead, Izuku close behind, pads thumping against the wood of the pier. Halfway to shore, he jerked to a stop, grabbing Izuku with his tail and pulling him roughly behind him.

No…

Ahead on the beach, black mist swirled and spread outward, tendrils reaching and snapping in the air. A pale figure stepped from the living shadow, closely followed by a hulking-

Pain lanced through Toshinori’s skull and his breath quickened at the sight of it. Noumu …

Kurogiri materialized, his undulating warp gate collapsing back onto himself, and took his place beside Shigaraki.

Nana’s- Toshinori’s chest burned, and his throat clenched with guilt. He shook his head, pushing Izuku further behind him.

A villain, he reminded himself.

“All Might?” Izuku’s voice was steady, waiting for direction.

“Stay behind me,” he said, hackles bristling.

I will not die.

“It will be alright.”

“I know,” Izuku answered.  

Tail Lessons with Ojiro by Juustozzi

Toshinoumu Teaching by TheImaginaryLord

Toshinoumu Run Cycle WIP by srdswips

Ready to Run by Swiftwidget

Rad Running Gloves by Icewayart