Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It soon became known to most of UA's staff that on Wednesday mornings, at precisely ten o'clock, All Might would depart the school grounds and hurry off to what he vaguely called “an appointment.” Familiar with his medical needs and not wanting to intrude, no one bothered to investigate any further. As long as it didn't interfere with the daily grind, no one wanted to interfere with the former hero's personal business. After all he had been through, even the strictest teachers could agree that he deserved some space.

However, the appointments were nowhere near medical in nature. In fact, they were hardly proper appointments at all.

It was a weekly mission to ensure that one particular mother maintained her peace of mind.

At first Inko Midoriya had been surprised by the notion of All Might bothering to travel to her home, in person, to give weekly updates on Izuku's progress.

“Isn't that something teachers usually write in an email?!” had been her exact words, after she recovered from dropping the phone.

“Well yes, but--” Emails felt so... impersonal. Perhaps if it was anyone but Izuku's mother, arguably the most important person in the boy's life, Toshinori might have been content to send an email or even an old-fashioned letter...

He felt he owed her the courtesy of face-to-face interaction, especially after seeing the fear in her eyes. Fear that no amount of persuasion on his part, or even Izuku's, was going to get rid of easily. Some people might scoff at that fear but it was hardly cowardice.

It was the sort of fear that turned perfectly ordinary and docile people into fierce protectors when their loved ones were threatened.

It was the fear that Toshinori had spent so much of his hero career smiling to hide from everyone else.

“Out of respect for the concern you have for young Mi-- for your son, I would like to see to this personally, with your permission.”

The full ten seconds of silence after that had felt like half an hour, and then:

“I-I am honored! I mean, I appreciate your sincerity... that is, I accept, though I don't want it to be a bother...”

A bother! Her humility contrasted so sharply with her maternal resolve. Someone so willing to speak her mind when her son's safety was on the line, yet so hesitant to inconvenience anyone otherwise...

Someone like that was certainly worth every minute of his time.

Tea had been ready and waiting the first time. Decaffeinated tea! Unwilling to put forth the awkward question of whether or not Izuku had shared his mentor's digestive shortcomings with her, Toshinori meekly accepted it. Awkwardness had hung in the air between them, not because of a stranger's presence but rather due to the absence of a certain familiar one. Every single poster had been taken down and presumably re-mounted in Izuku's dorm room. And without Izuku here to mediate, Toshinori found himself increasingly aware of how bad he really was at breaking the ice when he wasn't playing the hero.

Inko, however, had taken the initiative and fired off questions in rapid succession once their teacups were sufficiently empty.

“Is he happy at the dorm?”

“Has he been using his Quirk safely?”

“What about his academic performance? Is he turning in his homework?”

“Does he eat enough?”

Toshinori worried over whether she truly grasped his sincerity as he answered yes to every single question. “He is diligent in his studies,” he had finished, “and equally diligent when it comes to his friends. He's anything but a loner. He tries to bring out the best in others, and most of the time he's successful. His motivations are almost always selfless. He--”

Upon seeing Inko's uncertain, almost sorrowful expression Toshinori had paused, afraid he had said something amiss.

“No, no, it's...” Inko had realized her mistake and regained her composure, then smiled somewhat waveringly. “You've probably guessed, but he spent so much of his childhood admiring you, praising you, wanting to be you... and now I'm sitting here, listening to you admire my son. It's... I don't know how I feel. I'm worried about him, I want him to come home, and yet to hear you say these things... part of me is happy he's there, as much as I don't want to say it out loud.” She looked away. “I've been so afraid that his hero worship will be the end of him... that he'll end up hurting himself again... but that's not your fault. Not entirely.” Her smile vanished. “I could only ever tell him I was sorry when we thought he was Quirkless... if I had only told him he could still be a hero, he wouldn't have turned out so intent on sacrificing himself! He would know he's still worth something even if he isn't--”

It was more than she wanted to say aloud, Toshinori could tell. She caught herself and her cheeks reddened the same way Izuku's did whenever he embarrassed himself.

“Before...” Before I passed One For All to him. “Before his Quirk manifested, we had met by chance, Izuku and I.”

Inko's bewilderment was plain to see. Toshinori felt guilty over the necessity of withholding information from this woman. “He tried to save someone who had been captured by a villain with a strong Quirk. He saw that many heroes gathered there would not step in just yet for various reasons, and despite having no power of his own he could not ignore the victim's plight. I had to step in and save them both. The media ignored him in favor of praising myself and the victim, who happened to have a strong Quirk as well, while Izuku was allowed to go after being scolded by several heroes.”

Several emotions had shown in Inko's expression upon hearing that. Disbelief, followed by horror, followed by relief... and more than a trace of confusion.

“... why didn't Izuku tell me...?”

Because I stepped in and offered him the chance to be my successor, Toshinori thought, but that was another truth that could never be spoken of.

“His legs moved before he could think of what he was doing,” he said. “His instinct was to help another person regardless of his own capabilities. A lot of people would shame him for that and tell him to mind his place... many did on that day. But if not for him, in my... condition...” He looked down at his own thin hand. “I was able to push past my limit because of Izuku's actions. He reminded me of my own responsibility. If all heroes had his selfless courage the world would truly be saved.”

“You do admire him,” Inko said softly.

Toshinori looked up at her. She didn't seem so upset now, even if her eyes were more than a little wet.

“He has surprised me at every turn,” he admitted, “and while I have not been the best mentor, I think I have learned as much from him as he has from me.”

Inko had thanked him profusely when he finally left that day, assuring him that he had put her mind at ease despite the fact that she kept dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. After the emotions their meeting had induced, Toshinori wondered if she would even be open to a second appointment. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally turn Izuku's mother into an emotional mess with his fumbling attempts at reassurance.

But there had been a second meeting, and a third, and a fourth. Each more relaxed and enjoyable than the last. Now, with the fifth a mere fifteen minutes away, Toshinori was feeling optimistic despite the bleak gray sky and the threat of rain hovering overhead.

His optimism quickly vanished as what could only be described as a downpour dropped and brought with it strong gusts of wind. He found himself deeply regretting his decision to walk most of the way, what had once been a lazy stride turning into a hurried gait as the rain blew sideways. It was really more of a hasty limp than anything.

A vitriolic “SHIT!” exploded out of him as the wind decided to grace him with a final fuck you, blowing his umbrella inside out and snapping it beyond easy repair.

By the time he reached Inko Midoriya's doorstep he was all of three things: completely soaked, wheezing, and shivering despite valiant attempts not to.

He was seriously considering turning around and going back to avoid imposing on the woman – whose floor certainly did not need him dripping on it – but then the door swung open and there she stood, eyes widening as she took in his bedraggled appearance.

“You're all wet!” she exclaimed worriedly.

Toshinori had a good response ready, one of his many don't worry I'm fine lines, but then he coughed and failed to hide the blood that came with it and Inko went absolutely berserk in the manner particular to mothers. Namely, a complete disregard for protests and a singular focus on helping the object of their worry.

Izuku would probably call it something like “Mom Mode.”

“Come inside before you catch your death of cold,” Inko ordered, and Toshinori obeyed.

He had to hand it to her: she wasn't one to play around when it came to safety. All pretenses at decorum or propriety went out the window. “I'll bring you something dry to put on,” she said briskly as he stepped out of his waterlogged shoes, “and you can put your wet things in the laundry basket, and I'll dry them according to what the tags say... it shouldn't take too long. And don't bother telling me I'm going overboard, did Izuku ever tell you how he got pneumonia? He was in the hospital for two days! Now, if you'll just follow me...”

She disappeared into a large closet and came out with a folded pair of maroon sweat pants, as well as a gray T-shirt and a bathrobe that looked light blue but was actually white with lots of tiny blue lines. In addition to these, there was a large fluffy white towel.

“Here. These belonged to my husband... they might be a bit short, but it's all I have besides Izuku's old clothes.”

Toshinori wanted to reject her aid, not because it offended him but because it pained him to need something like this. He wanted to tell her everything was fine, that the involuntary shivering was nothing to worry about and that he could easily tough it out. But then he saw the determined sincerity in her eyes and for a moment it was like staring right at Izuku.

She shoved the bundle at him and he took it gingerly. “Thank you,” he told her.

Izuku might worship me, but that's not where he gets his spirit.

The source of that greatness is right here.

She just smiled at him, a smile that reached her eyes, and then she turned her back on him. “I'll get some tea started,” she declared as she went.

It felt vaguely wrong, changing in someone else's home. Not because he felt guilty for any errant feelings on his part, but because it felt rather like being in a restricted area. Toshinori disliked infringing on anyone's privacy. But oh, it felt wonderful to peel off layers of thoroughly soaked clothing and slip into something dry... even if the pants were several inches too short. He had to cinch up the waist to keep them from sliding off, though.

He got so preoccupied with towel-drying his hair that he failed to notice the door wasn't shut all the way, and by the time Inko pushed it open to fetch the basket of sopping-wet clothes it was too late to hide the twisted mess of a scar that made up the left side of his torso. His right arm wasn't much better to look at, permanent reminders of the hit it had taken from All for One on his skin while the bones of his wrist and hand were more than slightly crooked from the severe breakage that had healed from a combination of surgeries and careful administration of Recovery Girl's power. Without a brace to hold his hand steady, his thumb and two forefingers were noticeably slack and did not move with the others as he flinched and reflexively tried to curl that hand into a fist.

His first instinct was to reach for the T-shirt but the damage had already been done... he fumbled for something, anything to say that would wipe the stricken look off Mrs. Midoriya's face.

“I'm sorry you had to see that.”

He slipped on the T-shirt (which, despite being made for an average-size man nowhere near the proportions of All Might's hero form, still managed to be a little baggy) and combed his still-damp wild hair down in an attempt to look a bit more normal. He even managed a gaunt grin after donning the bathrobe and hastily strapping on his arm brace.

Inko's eyes were wet, though, and more than a little haunted.

He could tell that she was reliving the fear that Izuku would eventually be damaged beyond repair by hero work, that someday her own son might be forever crippled by his desire to protect others.

“Don't be sorry,” she said firmly, with more conviction than Toshinori expected. “Don't ever be sorry about that.”

She must have seen the surprise evident on his face, because she looked away with that half-embarrassed look Izuku gave so often.

“I'm going to take the wet clothes now,” she blurted, swiping the laundry basket and leaving quickly.

Toshinori groaned to himself and felt tired. It was a familiar feeling, this fatigue; he had grown too dependent on the extra stamina One For All afforded him, and now that it was all but utterly spent he was re-learning just how bothersome a worn-down Quirkless body could be.

I have anemia, one lung, no stomach, an arm that's all but useless, and I've been taken apart and stapled back together so many times now... and yet I still have a hard time accepting help from others because I've been the one helping for so long I don't know how to be on the receiving end.

By the time he made it to the living room Inko was already pouring the tea. Her own Quirk showed as she telekinetically pulled a magazine to herself off the couch. She looked troubled, weary even, and as the rain continued to pour outside Toshinori felt badly for her. When she saw him standing there she tried to wipe all traces of her unease away with a smile. “Feel free to sit down,” she told him cheerfully.

He complied, taking up the left corner of the couch. As he watched her stir her cup of tea he kept trying to think of something, anything to say that might help, but nothing came.

When she handed him his cup of tea he thought he had a good grip on the cup but then... then he coughed and in his haste to stifle it, to avoid hacking up blood again, he transferred the cup to his weak right hand and raised his left fist to his mouth. Nerve damage had bungled the connection between his fingers and his brain; he lost his grasp on the porcelain vessel and it tumbled to the floor, spilling its contents.

Inko was on her feet immediately. Toshinori started to get up, gesturing for her to remain where she was. “Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it,” he told her, but she ignored him and came over anyway.

“I apologize for being so clumsy,” he managed, “I--”

She hugged him.

“Don't be sorry,” she said once more.

I'm sorry for putting your son in danger, he wanted to say.

I'm sorry for not considering your feelings when I chose your son to succeed me.

I'm sorry you had to see Izuku hurt himself.

I'm sorry you had to see his scars.

I'm sorry you have to see me and be reminded of the danger he faces.

But Inko had given him a command – don't – and so he didn't.

Her spirit reminded him of Izuku, but it reminded him of Nana too. Thinking about his late mentor made his throat tight.

Thinking about what All For One had told him about Shigaraki made the tightness painful.

Thinking about his own deteriorated state and how his promises to protect Izuku rang hollow without any strength to back them up – about how he was too thin, too frail, too spent to protect anyone at this point – brought the pain to bear and he swallowed hard.

Don't be sorry.

Asking him not to be sorry was like asking Endeavor not to be arrogant. Toshinori was more than well aware of his own inherent flaws, his shortsightedness and pervasive oafishness, mistakes he made and would continue to make again and again and again... and he regretted all of it, especially when it put others in harm's way.

Before he quite knew what was happening, his forehead was resting on Inko's left shoulder and, as one of her hands lightly patted his back in a comforting rhythm, he embraced her as well.

“I will always be worried about my son,” she said quietly, “but you've done so much for him... please be kind to yourself. No matter how you look, you are still All Might to him. And to so many others as well. Please don't be ashamed.”

It went without saying that she was definitely one of those “others.”

Perhaps once, when he was still the Number One hero All Might, he might have swept her up in a bear hug to express how happy such words made him feel inside. As he was now, however, it was enough to return her chaste embrace with what little comfort his emaciated form could provide. It was enough.

The moment ended and Inko stood up looking more flustered than anything else, though her eyes were warm.

“I'll get you some more tea,” she said, picking up the cup he had dropped and going to fetch a replacement. As she walked away she lifted her other arm and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

Toshinori vowed silently that he would do everything in his power from now on to keep her from crying again.

When Inko returned with fresh tea she sat beside him on the couch instead of returning to her chair. Her arm brushed against his bony elbow and when she offered him the cup he realized his face felt rather warm. At first fearing it might be a fever, he quickly figured out it was his own feelings getting the better of him. Inko looked puzzled over his hesitation, prompting him to say something instead of just sitting there looking moonstruck.

“Thank you,” he said. Not just for the tea... for everything.

Inko was quiet while he drank his tea, but then she placed her hands in her lap and emitted a small sigh. “I noticed that all of your clothes are at least three sizes too big,” she mused. “I understand that before it was necessary, but now... I mean, it must be tiresome to replace your entire wardrobe, so perhaps you need someone to make alterations so everything will fit properly.”

“It's not a problem,” Toshinori assured her. He leaned back and had to fight the urge to just sink into the couch. “I guess I'm used to it by now, and besides, I wouldn't want to just dump everything I own on somebody for the sake of a better fit. I can afford to buy new--”

“Nonsense,” Inko cut in. “I've been altering Izuku's clothes for years. It'll be no trouble at all to do yours.”

“I-it really isn't that important!” Toshinori insisted. “The way things have been going, I can get by, and besides, I really should just purchase--”

Inko tilted her head slightly, worry creasing her features again, and he quit his protesting as soon as he saw her laugh lines deepen into wrinkles of concern.

“I mean, ah, if you really want to,” he corrected himself, “I don't have any objections.”

“Then you can start bringing your clothes over next week,” Inko declared, looking less worried and more amused by Toshinori's bluster. “It's not that I'm not busy enough, I just... it will give me something to do in the evenings, now that I'm the only one here.”

It hadn't occurred to him until now that without Izuku to look after, Inko might be lonely. In fact, it hadn't occurred to him until she referred to her husband in the past tense that Izuku's father might not even be in the picture anymore. The boy had never really spoken about his father, that much was true, but Toshinori had always avoided prying into Izuku's personal life when he could help it...

It made him all the more self-conscious of the fact that he had little, if any, experience when it came to matters such as family or parenting.

Then stop moping about it and work on fixing it! You're a part of these people's lives now, not just a hero they see on TV! You're still All Might, she said so herself, now act like it and take responsibility!

“I was thinking...” he began somewhat cautiously, his mouth running faster than his brain could keep up. What am I thinking? Come on, come up with something! “Next week, with the weather permitting... after I bring you my things we should go to the park, or perhaps downtown... maybe get some fresh air, I don't know, see some sights while I fill you in on Izuku's progress.”

He half expected her to say no. More than half, actually. His true form was known to so many people now, people who might go out of their way to interfere with anything he tried to do with another person. And then there was the fact that, according to Izuku, at least two people suspected All Might was somehow the boy's real father... it made for an awkward situation no matter how you looked at it. Then there was the media, the chance of paparazzi, the tabloids... the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how bad an idea it was.

Which was why when Inko answered “Yes!” with an almost childlike enthusiasm, it baffled him as much as it pleased him to hear it.

She was smiling now, another smile that reached her eyes, and Toshinori decided that he would work hard to keep that expression returning as much as possible.

He decided he wanted to try making a connection with another person that wasn't entirely based on his identity as a hero. To actually be Toshinori Yagi to someone again instead of just All Might.

He had made such a connection with Izuku half-accidentally. This time, there would be nothing accidental about it.

I may be half-rotted already, but this is something I want to live for. To continue guiding Izuku... and to be a friend to those dear to him, not just some distant figurehead.

He smiled back at her, a real smile this time instead of a forced attempt, feeling reinvigorated in spite of everything.

Don't be sorry, her words echoed in his mind. Don't be ashamed.

He wasn't. Not at all. Not this time.

Chapter Text

Hardly anyone was visiting the beach park today. Toshinori didn't have to wonder why; the sky was overcast and the air was muggy, strongly hinting at inclement weather yet to come. He had a brand-new umbrella now that rested snugly in the right-side pocket of his overcoat, so he paid the threat of rain little mind. His attention was more focused on the person who walked alongside him, who didn't much seem to mind being seen in public with a man who appeared to be a mere caricature of a human being.

“I remember when this beach was nothing but a dump,” Inko Midoriya marveled as the wind played with stray strands of her hair. “Someone must have cleaned it up. It's certainly nice to be able to actually see the ocean instead of a mountain of garbage.”

Toshinori resisted the urge to show her the pictures that still remained on his phone of Izuku from those ten months spent removing trash from this part of the coastline. The humor of the notion quickly dried up as his conscience nudged him, yet again, for withholding so much information about the boy from his own mother. It's for her own good, Toshinori argued with himself, and yet...

“Ah!” Inko's exclamation jolted him out of his introspection. She was hurrying forward now, rushing toward a brightly-colored piece of plastic sticking up out of the sand. “Whoever they were, they overlooked something. Or perhaps a child left it here...”

Her words trailed off and she started laughing, holding up her prize with a silly grin. It was a cheap All Might action figure, the kind made for little kids who couldn't be trusted with choking hazards yet. “I remember when Izuku had one of these,” Inko mused fondly. “He used to pretend he was saving people from shipwrecks in the bathtub. Sometimes he would get too excited and throw his toys into the toilet. Hisashi couldn't ever be bothered to put the lid down.”

“Hisashi?” The name left Toshinori's mouth before his common sense kicked in, and he resisted the urge to facepalm. The boy's father, of course.

“Oh, I keep forgetting I haven't told you about him yet.” Inko laughed quietly, almost sadly. She fiddled with the sand-covered toy in her hands, her gaze straying to the sea. “How silly of me.”

“I don't need to know any details that are uncomfortable to share,” Toshinori assured her.

“N-no! It doesn't make me uncomfortable, it's just...” Inko sighed. “Hm, how do I put this... Izuku's obsession with you started around the time his father and I were growing apart. I think I encouraged it, wanting him to fixate on something besides the fact that his dad kept avoiding the both of us. I was honestly grateful for the distraction until the misdiagnosis... it hit Izuku hard, being called Quirkless. Until that point, he was able to ignore the problems at hand by dreaming he would someday be a hero.”

She held up the toy for emphasis, her brow slightly furrowed. “In a way, you've practically been a member of our family since Hisashi took off. I know I've shared my frustrations with the school and my concerns for my son, but I won't pretend for a second I underestimate the impact you've had on Izuku. Even when you weren't aware of his existence, you were helping him through difficult times...”

She was smiling now but her eyes were wet. Toshinori felt a slight flare of panic.

These Midoriyas and their waterworks...!

“Oh!” Inko's face lit up and she dug around in her purse with her free hand, pulling her phone out. “I keep special photos of Izuku saved on all my devices. Here, look at this.” She shoved the phone at him expectantly, apparently eager to steer the topic away from unpleasant things.

Toshinori peered at the screen and saw a much-younger Izuku, maybe four or five years old, clad in a hooded flannel All Might onesie. On top of that, the boy was attempting to flex his tiny biceps and flashing a smile that showed two missing teeth. It was the most ridiculously adorable thing he had ever seen. “Oh my goodness ,” he breathed, stifling a cough as he laughed. It felt good to laugh at something so innocently hilarious. “I see what you mean. He's never lost his enthusiasm, that dear boy.”

“It helps to assure me he's on the right path, looking at pictures like this one.” Inko slipped her phone back into her handbag. “If he ever acts up, just tell him you've seen that picture. He's always telling me to delete it.”

“Duly noted.” Toshinori felt a gust of wind rush past, ruffling his unruly hair as it went. It was cool air, a warning that rain was soon to fall. For once his clothes weren't flapping in the breeze; now that everything had been altered to fit his lanky form instead of his old heroic one, he looked less like a scarecrow and more like a person. Every stitch had come from Inko's unexpected skill as a seamstress.

As if Izuku's mother could be anything but talented, he thought to himself, watching as she fumbled with the zipper of her purse. She was soft around the edges in a comforting way, though he knew those soft edges hid a flinty resolve. He liked how the faint lines around her eyes deepened when she smiled, how her eyes flashed when she showed her temper.

She was the sort of person he wanted to be nothing short of a gentleman for. He was, by definition, someone known to the public as a gentleman, but there was a great difference between fulfilling his role as the Symbol of Peace and actually devoting attention to a single individual. He towered over her by nearly two feet if he didn't slouch, but she was hardly small in his eyes. He viewed her as an equal despite the vast differences and secrets between them. She...

She does look like Nana, especially when she tilts her head like that...

Inko's eyes met his and he knew she had caught him staring. He immediately looked over at the sand, shoving his hands into his pockets, wondering why something so trivial had him feeling self-conscious. He reminded himself yet again that he was here as Izuku's teacher and mentor, fulfilling a self-imposed mission to ensure Mrs. Midoriya didn't spend her days in loneliness worrying over her son. It wasn't like they were involved on a more personal level.

It wasn't... like...

I asked her to accompany me here because I thought it would lift her spirits to travel a bit. We had tea and sweet bean bread at that cafe... fed the birds... good grief, we didn't even talk about Izuku until well after we got here.

“Are you okay?” Inko asked, noticing his perturbed expression. “You're not feeling ill, are you?”

How many weeks has it been now, since that day? Two? Three?

He remembered resting on the couch beside her, wearing clothes that didn't belong to him yet feeling more at home than he had felt in ages as the rain poured outside. He remembered feeling the dampness slowly seep out of his hair as hot tea warmed him from the inside. He remembered...

“Toshinori?”

He blinked. It still felt strange, hearing his true name from someone not attached to his inner circle. Except she is, in her own way, he thought as he mustered up a smile for her.

“It's all right,” he told her.

She didn't appear convinced. “You sound like an audio clip!” she retorted, giving him a careful once-over. “You know, in spite of everything sometimes I find myself forgetting you're All Might.”

Instead of taking offense to that, Toshinori felt relieved. It meant he was successfully closing the gap between his image and his true self. It meant that maybe, just maybe, he was that much closer to truly being himself with her.

He wanted to tell her something to that effect, but then a single drop of rain struck him on the forehead. Then another hit his shoulder. By the time the rain started falling in earnest he already had his umbrella out and, without really thinking about what he was doing, reached out and pulled Inko under the protective circle. It wasn't until he realized his arm – his crippled and virtually useless arm – was halfway around her waist that it hit him what he had done, and he glanced down to see if he had caused any offense.

She was staring up at him with wide eyes and a rising pink tint in her cheeks.

Shit.

He was about to retract his arm when Inko's hand settled on his as if to say no, you don't have to let go.

“I'm glad,” she said quietly as they walked away from the shore, “that we were able to go out today.”

His arm was still around her waist. Any casual onlooker could see them now and see nothing more than an ordinary couple fleeing the beach in the rain. He liked that feeling, the pleasures afforded by anonymity. Despite his true form being revealed to the world, it was still easier to blend in like this than it had been during his prime. He appreciated the opportunity to share a tender moment like this with someone else. Especially with Inko Midoriya.

“I am too,” he answered honestly, holding the umbrella down closer. Hoping that, like a turtle under its shell, he could continue to go unnoticed by people who knew his face.

And I didn't even spit blood once, he thought, allowing himself to feel smug about the accomplishment.

The walk back to her home was slow and quiet. Neither of them minded much. He had plenty of time before he had to be at UA, plenty of time to take it easy and experience his surroundings instead of rushing through them. People hurried past under their umbrellas and in their raincoats as the sky continued to dump lazy torrents onto the city. The air smelled clean , a welcome break from the myriad of scents that usually hung in the mid-morning atmosphere.

It would be so easy to let the peace of it all lull him into a false sense of security. It would be easy to accept this as the new reality, one where he could finally allow himself to relax.

His grip on Inko's waist tightened almost imperceptibly as he thought of all the villains, chief among them Shigaraki, who were certainly plotting their next move at this very moment. Villains who looked on these masses of everyday people and sought only to ruin their lives. Criminals and destroyers who would go to any length to make sure the world he had worked so hard to protect, to inspire, was turned into their world...

… and how powerless he was to stop any of it on his own anymore.

He thought of how he wouldn't be able to live with himself if some villain figured out the connection between himself and Izuku, if Inko somehow got dragged into something dangerous because someone wanted to get to Izuku by threatening his relatives...

… he remembered the grief and anguish that had twisted Nana's face when she thought he wasn't looking, after the death of her husband and the departure of her child...

… he thought of these things and felt a cold shiver run up his spine as frown tugged downward at the edges of his mouth.

All for One figured it out. Who's to say someone else hasn't?

Who's to say I'm not endangering this woman with every moment I'm seen in public with her?

He realized he was clenching his jaw and forced himself to relax. He hated this, hated that his own overactive imagination was dead set on ruining such a peaceful outing. Hated how he couldn't deny that his fears were justified.

“Oh, look!” Inko exclaimed, pointing.

Toshinori followed the gesture and saw a faint rainbow over the city skyline. The rain was little more than a slow-falling mist now and sunbeams were beginning to peek through the clouds. He couldn't help the small smile that twitched across his face at the sight of it. He wasn't a superstitious man, wasn't prone to deriving omens from natural phenomenons, but the sight of the rainbow did cheer him somewhat. As did Inko's excitement.

Don't let all of that ruin today, he told himself. Don't get so preoccupied with what you can't control that you lose sight of what's in front of you.

“There's that smile,” Inko remarked in a conspiratorial murmur. “You look scary sometimes when you're deep in thought, you know?”

“Scary?!” Toshinori wheezed. “Well, I...”

“It's not a bad thing! I used to wonder whether your face ever started hurting, the way you smiled all the time!”

They both laughed in unison. There wasn't much farther to walk but Toshinori found himself secretly wishing there was still quite a distance to go. Inko was a much-needed bright spot in his life, much like her son but bright in her own unique way... she was good at pulling him out of his own self-induced gloom. She was a fundamentally good person. She still harbored guilt over her perceived failure to properly encourage her son, guilt that Toshinori could now understand – he considered himself responsible for every scar on Izuku's body from improper use of One for All.

But we can make up for our mistakes, each of us in our own way. Perhaps even together...

He thought of all the history he had with his few close friends – how much he had shared with Naomasa, with others like Gran Torino and the late Nana – and felt a small surge of confidence that someday soon he might be able to count Inko as one of them.

When they reached the Midoriya home Toshinori didn't invite himself in after shaking the moisture off his umbrella, which caused a flicker of annoyance to show on Inko's features. “You're not in a hurry, are you?” she asked as she held the door open.

“No! I simply didn't want to impose...”

“You could be dying on my doorstep and you'd still fret about imposing,” Inko sighed with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. The look that replaced the expression as she took off her coat, however, was slightly mischievous. “Well? Are you coming in or not?”

Well, are you? His inner voice was starting to sound suspiciously like his obnoxiously cheerful and loud hero persona.

“I still have an hour,” he said, allowing himself some optimism. He crossed the threshold in a single stride and imagined tossing all his fears and regrets out like old junk from his pockets, leaving them outside. “Thank you, Mrs. Midoriya.”

“It's Inko. First names now, remember?”

As she slipped out of her shoes she lost her balance. It wasn't that Toshinori doubted her ability to right herself, he just instinctively reached out and grasped her forearm so she wouldn't fall. The door clicked shut gently and he felt heat rush to his face as he realized that, yet again, he had touched her without her permission. First the umbrella maneuver at the beach, now this... he felt a pang of shame as he reminded himself that he wasn't on hero duty anymore and he really ought to wait until she asked for help instead of butting in...

And it was with the bad hand again. Dammit. He felt the joints of his right arm ache dully as sensation traveled through what little of its nerves still worked properly, while his hand twitched feebly in the confines of the brace. Her skin was surprisingly warm, though he could only feel it with the last two fingers on that hand.

“Got it,” he blurted, releasing her... and expectorating blood immediately after his hand dropped to his side.

“TOSHINORI!!” Inko cried out, staring in panic for only a split second before she made a beeline for the kitchen. “Hold on, stay there, let me bring you some paper towels--!”

And here I thought I was gonna beat a new record...

In spite of the familiar but foul taste in his mouth, the fresh flecks on his lapels, the embarrassment of having sent Inko into another caretaking frenzy... he felt a lightness that made it all somehow okay. He carefully propped his umbrella in the corner by the doorway and took in the smell of the place, noting how it was starting to feel less like a new environment and more like home.

It was a feeling he could get used to. Wanted to get used to.

And yet deep down, he couldn't help wondering how much longer this fragile peace could last.

Chapter Text

It was 10:15 in the morning and Inko Midoriya was already in the grip of an emotion she was all-too-familiar with: dread.

She waited as patiently as she could, seated on the couch in an outfit she had picked out just for this occasion. A lavender sweater, a black skirt, cream-colored tights, her favorite pearl earrings... it was a far cry from the things she had worn as a teenager, back when she was in the dating game, but this wasn't supposed to be a date. Not exactly.

She held her phone with both hands, waiting for it to light up and buzz with the arrival of a new message, a call, anything to let her know why Toshinori hadn't showed up yet. He was always punctual. Every Wednesday morning he knocked on her door and she always had to take a moment before opening the door to make sure her face didn't betray the fact that she felt giddy as a schoolgirl.

She knew she could just make a call herself. She had his number saved. She tapped her contact list and her fingertip hovered over the phone icon by the name “Mr. Yagi.” Toshinori . It still felt like a privilege to know his real name. But it felt wrong somehow for her to pester him, even if her nerves were raw by now from dismal speculations. He's fine. It'll be fine. He probably just ran into a setback on the way here since he doesn't drive. He...

She bit her lip and shut her eyes, trying her best to ward off the fear but failing.

He's in such poor health, and yet he insists on traveling here by himself... for my sake...

She still felt selfish in a way. Selfish because she had put up enough of a fuss over Izuku for All Might – THE All Might! – to go out of his way to make her feel better, even though he had so much to deal with in the wake of his forced retirement. Selfish because instead of bucking up and insisting she didn't need his intervention, she found herself enjoying his visits... looking forward to them... She knew she should be strong enough, brave enough, to tell him he had done his part and didn't need to do anymore but still...

Is it because I'm desperate? Because I haven't seen anyone since Hisashi left? Because I lost my job and I'm trying to live in denial?

She looked down at herself, at the curves that a decade of stress eating and melancholy had produced, and felt her heart sink. Maybe I am desperate, she thought. Maybe I'm letting the fact that Toshi... that All Might is so generous get to my head.

She hadn't known how to feel the first time she saw his “true form.” He was tall, startlingly thin and had piercing eyes, a far cry from the muscled powerhouse she was so used to seeing on TV. He looked sick, withered even, and his voice was no longer booming but instead a firm, quiet tone that matched his haunted appearance. Instead of smiling all the time, his features appeared morose and weary by default.

At least, that had been her first impression.

She knew now that he still had a charmingly silly sense of humor, a bullheaded determination to always do the right thing, and a lonely sort of aura about him that made her want to help him somehow.

She didn't pity him. Pity was such a flimsy word. She cared about him, even if she still had trouble separating him from the TV persona sometimes. She liked getting to know Toshinori, liked finding out his preferences and seeing the little things the cameras never showed.

She worried over him the same way she worried over Izuku. It hurt her heart every time he went into a coughing fit and spat up blood. It hurt her to think that he might be by himself facing some kind of medical emergency...

All right, that's it, Inko thought with a determined scowl. I'm going to do it! I'm going to... tap this button... and make the call...!

Her fingertip slowly descended toward the screen.

She held her breath...

Swallowed hard...

...and shrieked as the phone began to vibrate, her ringtone blaring as the screen lit up with the notification that Toshinori was attempting to call her. The phone tumbled down to the floor and she didn't even bother using her Quirk to retrieve it, nearly falling off the couch as she leaned down to pick it up herself.

“Hello?” she answered quickly, hoping her frayed emotions didn't show in her voice.

“Mrs. Mido-- ah, Inko,” the voice on the other end said dimly. “I deeply apologize for my lateness--”

“Are you okay?” Inko demanded, holding her phone in a death grip. “Where are you? Are you safe?”

Toshinori laughed and for a moment Inko felt the fear release her from its grasp – only for the talons to constrict even tighter as she heard his laughter dissolve into a string of wet, deep coughs. “Safe, yes,” he managed. “But I don't believe I'll be able to teach my class today. I was going to notify you earlier, but I, ah... fell asleep...”

“You're ill,” she stated flatly.

“Unfortunately... yes,” Toshinori responded uneasily. “Don't worry, it's nothing worth going to the hospital over. Just a... bad day.” He coughed again and she heard what sounded like a retch, though she could tell he was trying to muffle the volume. After a few seconds of silence, she heard him draw in a rattling breath. “I've already notified the school. I just didn't want you to worry about me. As long as I don't push myself, I'll be fine.”

Inko's thoughts were racing. She found herself recalling a scrap of paper that Toshinori had given her the previous week. If you ever feel as though your home is somehow unsafe, he had told her with a concerned scowl, you let the police know, but if you need somewhere to go in the meantime, this is my address. He had given her a goofy smile after that, an attempt at brushing over the seriousness of the topic. It may have even been a touch of shyness. I must warn you, however, I'm not a very good housekeeper these days...

“Do you need anything?” she asked timidly.

“I...” More coughing. “N-no, don't trouble yourself over me.”

“Toshinori.” She sat up straighter, forcing her timidity to bow before the willpower she usually exerted exclusively on Izuku. “You must take care of yourself, and that means allowing others to help you. Now: do you need anything?”

For a moment she wondered if he would even respond, the other end of the line was so quiet. “Toilet paper,” he admitted in a voice so subdued by shame it was nearly a whimper.

“You don't need to act so embarrassed! Everyone needs that, even All Might! I'll be right over,” Inko announced, getting up from the couch.

“No really, it's not that big of a deal, I can call on someone else to go shop--”

“I said I'll be right over,” Inko cut him off, then sighed. “Honestly. If you want to be a good example to my son, you've got to get rid of that pride of yours and learn to accept help! You're getting toilet paper even if I have to throw it down your chimney!”

“I don't have a chim—”

She hung up on him.

I just hung up on All Might , she realized with a shudder of dismay.

No! she scolded herself. I hung up on a well-meaning but idiotic man who would rather suffer alone than ask someone to assist him!

“I'm not going to put up with that!” she said out loud, digging around in her handbag. “I won't! Not from Izuku, not from All Might either!”

Her fingers found the folded-up sticky note she was looking for and she read the well-written figures quickly, then typed them into her phone's maps app. At least his handwriting is precise. Her brow furrowed as she realized that if she wanted to reach his house quickly from her own, she was going to have to take the bus.

“You frustrating man!” she snapped at the emptiness of her home as she stood up and headed for the door.

So this is where he lives .

Inko canted her head to one side ever so slightly as she took in the run-down appearance of the houses, the mostly overgrown lawns and the general air of forgotten that characterized this street. She doublechecked that she had reached the right house, then started down the walkway that led to the front door. She had always imagined pro heroes living in the lap of luxury with their earnings, not some dilapidated and half-deserted neighborhood...

It's the perfect ruse for someone who doesn't want to be stalked and harassed by the media , she had to admit. But it just looks so... so... sad.

She had to pause for a moment and gather her courage before daring to knock on the door. The disposable plastic bag containing the cargo felt like some precious burden she was unnerved to carry. It's just toilet paper, she reasoned as her knuckles rapped on wood. It's just...

She counted twelve seconds before the door swung open. Toshinori stood there, his posture terrible as if his shoulders were too heavy, his plain white T-shirt stained red all around the collar. His hair was unbrushed and stuck out even wilder than usual, while his complexion was paler than she had ever seen before. She could see his chest heaving despite his self-control and when he shifted his weight he nearly lost his balance.

“Toshinori,” she gasped. “I--”

“You're stubborn,” he told her as he held the door open. “Come in.”

At first she thought he might be a bit angry with her, so brief were his words. But as she stepped into his home she realized that she recognized the smell of sickness. It was something that would give most people cause to flinch away, but it only activated her protective instincts; it made her remember every time she had cuddled little Izuku when he cried and sweated as fever and illness put his small body through suffering.

When he closed the door behind her she saw that he was leaning on it for support. “S-sorry,” Toshinori rasped, fumbling with the latch. “It's a bit... messy.”

Inko looked around and felt her eyes start to sting. It was clear to her, even with the overhead lights turned off and all the curtains pulled shut, that the couch was his current center of operations, with two pillows on one end and a thin blanket piled on the other. The coffee table was covered in papers, receipts, and pill bottles – some empty, some not. There was a used syringe and another still in its packaging. A box of tissues, many of which were crumpled and scattered around a small trash can already too full to hold anything else. There was a large towel, too... Inko saw the crimson stains and realized what its use was.

You frustrating man, she thought as the stinging in her eyes threatened to spill out.

It didn't look like a pro hero's house at all. It looked like a cave some proud creature would crawl in to die, out of sight.

“I don't have anything prepared,” Toshinori told her with an attempt at a small laugh. “I'm a poor host, really...”

“You sit down,” Inko commanded. As the tall man walked past her she saw how unsteady on his feet he was and she reached out instinctively to link arms with him, guiding him back to the couch. “Sit. Down. And don't get up! I can take care of myself.”

Sitting would be a poor term for how he practically fell down onto the couch and slumped. Just opening the door for her had put him under a great deal of strain, she could tell; he was damp with sweat and panting as if he'd run a mile. If it was her call to make, she would be summoning an ambulance for him on the spot.

But it's not my call. Not yet. I have to believe he's at least capable of knowing when that should happen.

“I went out earlier, thinking I might feel better after fresh air,” Toshinori admitted. “I didn't make a list... all I got was cat food. I should have been more mindful.”

“Cat food...?”

As if to answer her question, something warm and furry rubbed against her left ankle. She looked down to see cat that was more skin and bones than anything else, with notches in its ears and mismatched eyes that appeared perpetually crossed. It was perhaps the ugliest cat she had ever seen, with missing patches of hair and a crooked tail. It cried up at her in a high, thin wail.

“Ah, that's Hime. She invited herself in a few days ago and I'm too soft to kick her out.” Toshinori ran his hand over the couch cushion beside him, sending tufts of ginger fur to the floor. “She gets hair everywhere and tries to feed me dead things. A nuisance, really.”

“Even the cat is smart enough to know you need help!” Inko sighed. She set the bag down and put her hands on her hips. “Now tell me, and please be honest – what is going on?”

“Pain scale.” Toshinori coughed, the force of it causing his shoulders to hitch, but no blood came with it. “It's like... most days I'm around two or three, five at the most, but every now and then... it goes higher. I thought today would be a four if I didn't overdo it, but this is... has to be seven or eight.”

Inko felt a chill run through her as she realized that if this was seven or eight, she really didn't want to know what ten looked like.

“There's nothing to be done for it,” Toshinori continued. “If I go to the hospital they'll just pump me full of medication. I... hm, how do I explain... I may have put my body under enough stress to cause some long-term unpleasantness, in that last fight. It's nothing too serious, just... some old wounds never heal right. And sometimes if I'm not careful, they reopen. Doesn't take much. I think what got me this morning was getting out of bed the wrong way.”

Inko carefully sat down on the couch besides him. She didn't care about the cat hair, didn't care about the smell or the clutter. She didn't even take the time to feel self-conscious as she reached out with her small hand and placed it on Toshinori's forearm. His skin felt too cool, too clammy.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“I don't need—”

“I'm not asking what you need,” Inko butted in. “I'm asking if you want anything.”

Hime jumped up and promptly invited herself onto Inko's lap, kneading with soft paws that lacked claws and purring loudly. Inko couldn't help gingerly petting the cat's back with her free hand, even as she wondered if it had been treated for fleas yet.

She felt so tiny and powerless next to this person, this man, who despite his skeletal appearance was still larger than life to her. She felt as if no matter what she tried to do, his problems would always be too complex for her to even begin fixing. She felt that old doubt come creeping into the back of her mind as she wondered whether her worry, her fear, was anything more than a nuisance to him – after all, he never asked her to lift a finger for his sake and yet here she was invading his home and forcing her concern upon him.

“I'm not very good at wanting things yet,” Toshinori admitted. “Hm... I want to continue helping Izuku, as I promised I would. I want to be more reliable. I want...” He looked away, his eyes closing as he emitted a ragged sigh. “I want you to know that I appreciate the kindness you've shown me, even if I put up a fuss when it comes to accepting it.”

Hime crawled into his lap and curled up there, still purring. Inko blinked through the wet blur her field of vision had become and tried her best to hold back from crying. It was one thing to assume he appreciated her efforts and another entirely to actually hear the confirmation.

“Well,” she began, clearing her throat and getting to her feet. “If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to take a look at that injury of yours. I'm no doctor, but maybe I can do something to help.”

He actually complied instead of protesting. Inko resisted the urge to cringe when she saw the scar that made up a good portion of the left side of his torso; it was as if something had just punched a hole through him and then the doctors hadn't had enough tissue left to work with when it came time to patch him up. It looked different from the time she had accidentally caught a glimpse, too; today it was angry red at the center and flushed on the edges, a bit swollen too.

You frustrating mess of a man, she thought sadly.

Her eyes wandered over to what looked like it had once been a bag of ice, now melted down to water.

“I'm going to refill this,” she announced, pulling the bag to her and marching in the direction of what she hoped was the kitchen.

Toshinori didn't object, didn't even try. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw that instead of the beleaguered resignation she expected, he seemed to be fighting off some strong emotion.

It was the very same look she often saw on Izuku's face when he was so overwhelmed by joy or relief that all he could do was cry.

It took so much effort just to open the door for me... of course he's having trouble getting around, even for something as simple as a trip to the refrigerator.

She didn't have a difficult time making sense of the house's layout. The kitchen was sparsely furnished and quite tidy; she could tell he didn't cook much, the stove was so clean. It was a house clearly meant for more than one person, with enough cabinet space to hold an entire family's worth of dishes and supplies, but Toshinori's items barely took up half a cabinet. His presence was so absent from the décor that he might as well be a squatter, she mused as she withdrew ice from the freezer.

It hurt to think of him coming home exhausted every day and leading such a solitary existence in this place.

When she made it back to the living room she found him halfway through attempting to clean up the mess on the coffee table. “Stop that!” she exclaimed, hurrying over. “A little mess never hurt anyone. Look, I have your ice right here.”

“Yes ma'am,” Toshinori wheezed. Despite how pathetic he looked and how awful he sounded, there was a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Rather than hand it off to him, Inko sat down beside him and, as if perceiving her intent, Toshinori lifted his shirt once again. She gently pressed the frigid bag against the heat of his injury and she heard him inhale sharply. The hiss of surprise turned into a sigh of relief, however, and he relaxed slightly. Finally he leaned back and rested against the couch, no longer quite so tense from pain.

“Better?” Inko asked.

“Better.”

They sat in silence for a few moments as Hime invited herself onto Inko's lap and began kneading again. All was quiet save for the labored sound of Toshinori's breathing and the barest echoes of the world outside – birds singing, cars going by, the occasional loud voice. It wasn't the uncomfortable silence Inko had expected, but a peaceful lull instead.

“First I get myself soaked to the bone,” Toshinori said quietly, “now this. I'm in your debt, Mrs. Midoriya.”

“Inko,” she reminded him. “And no more talk of debts. When you saved people with a smile, did you expect them to give you anything in return? Of course not. This is the same thing.”

“Yes, well... a decent hero would give a citizen that constantly needs saving a stern talking-to, telling them to be more careful.”

“Well, I'm not a hero!” Inko shook her head. “Do I want you to be more careful? Yes! Does that mean I won't come running every time you have a situation like this? No! When you care about someone you don't leave them hanging, no matter what! You don't leave!”

She was surprised by her own outburst. But it felt good. It felt good to be honest, just as it had felt good the day she stuck her neck out and insisted on Izuku's safety being first priority. What had motivated her then was the love she felt for her son. What motivated her now was...

… was …

Instead of getting flustered she turned and rested her forehead on Toshinori's bony shoulder, her grip on the ice pack tightening as tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.

I've gone and done it! She thought despairingly. I have feelings for someone I have no business having feelings for, because I'm middle-aged and desperate and I can't keep my nose in my own business...!

“I don't want you to leave,” Toshinori told her. “It feels selfish, but... I'm happy you came all this way. I'm happy you want to help. And I think I understand things a little better now.”

Before she could so much as vocalize her bewilderment, he placed his hand over hers on the ice pack. When she looked up she saw a fragile but contented smile on his face.

I don't want you to leave.

When she averted her eyes, she glanced at the multitude of pill bottles, filled and empty, on the coffee table. So many prescriptions, so many needs... She realized that she had been so caught up in her own so-called shortcomings that she hadn't bothered to consider whether Toshinori felt the same way.

She hadn't considered until this moment that maybe he was just as scared of being a burden to her as she was of being a nuisance to him.

“I think I do too,” she replied softly, smiling despite the tears that continued to run down her cheeks.

Soon she had to let go of the ice pack because her palm and fingers started to go numb from the cold. But Toshinori's large hand remained folded around hers, rough and calloused at the edges but comforting nonetheless. She was sniffling and rubbing at her eyes with her free hand but she felt a happiness blooming inside that she hadn't expected to feel in this situation at all.

“But...”

Toshinori paused, stiffening ever so slightly as if experiencing a spike of pain.

“... there's something I need to tell you about the true nature of my connection to Izuku.”

Chapter Text

“I did something foolish, Sensei.”

The sky was overcast. A slight breeze wafted through the trees, sending whispers through the graveyard as leaves rustled. Toshinori felt out of place in his favorite beige-yellow suit, remembering the last time he had visited this place. He had worn black then, as was the custom for funerals. He had hated wearing black ever since.

Nana's headstone was small and simple, a modest marker bearing only her name and the dates that indicated her lifespan. Toshinori crouched and ran his hand over the etchings, wiping away dirt and grime. His side hurt as he knelt but it wasn't enough pain to deter him. Does Tenko-- no, does Tomura even know his own grandmother is buried here? Probably not .

Thinking about Tomura, about Nana and the tragic nature of her family, only made his heart feel heavier. But he had known before he even set foot in this place that this would be a difficult visitation, given current events. It was a Wednesday morning, after all.

It was the first Wednesday morning in many weeks that he wasn't paying a visit to Inko Midoriya.

“I told someone about One For All,” Toshinori confessed in a small voice that was nearly a whisper. He looked down at the dirt, remembering the sight of Nana's coffin as it descended into the ground. “I let pain and guilt get the best of me. I thought I was doing the right thing, but... I think I've done more harm than good by being honest.”

The image of Nana's coffin was replaced by the memory of Inko as she slowly cycled through a series of emotions: surprise, disbelief, a brief flash of anger, sadness...

What he remembered most was the betrayal that had shown on her face.

You knew, he told himself harshly. You knew what would happen and you still went for it. What are you, a sadist and a masochist? You knew she would be hurt.

You knew it would ruin everything and you still couldn't just shut up.

“I admonished Izuku.” He stood up straight, fists clenched at his sides. “I lectured him about the importance of secrecy. I thought I was doing what was best for him, for myself, for everyone... but then I broke my own rules. I'm not good at lying, Sensei. All Might is good at lying. Toshinori isn't.”

He remembered watching as Inko headed for the door, tearfully bidding him goodbye. Goodbye, Mr. Yagi . The way she eschewed using his first name said more than any amount of accusations could have.

She didn't have to yell, didn't even have to slam the door. She had departed peacefully. But her quiet rejection hit harder than a punch to the face.

“You knew how to be strong,” Toshinori said bitterly. “You knew when to let go of the things you loved to protect them. I'm still weak. I hold on even when I know it's wrong.”

The only answer to his confessional was the sighing of the wind through the trees. A few fallen leaves skittered over the gravel-paved pathway that led through the center of the cemetery. Toshinori's eyes followed the spire of the adjacent building and he caught sight of a lone bird flying overhead. It had been Nana's wish to be buried after the manner of her family, who descended from the hidden Christians predating the Meiji Ishin , and so she rested here by a Christian church.

Her husband's headstone was to the left of her own. There were no other Shimuras here. Nana's sacrifice had seen to that.

Even so... she did what she thought was right, the “hard choice,” and now her grandson has become a villain. Does that mean she chose wrongly, or does it simply mean our choices ultimately mean little in a world that changes on a whim?

“I'm tired, sensei.” Toshinori felt like a ghost himself, here among the headstones. He knew he certainly looked like one. “It's hard to smile now. I know I should be stronger, but... even with the friends I have, I want more. I wanted to let someone else in. But I couldn't stand lying to her. And now I've driven her away.”

His only source of relief was the fact that she hadn't raised a fuss over Izuku. Even now that she knew where he got his Quirk, she made no calls or did anything else to indicate she wanted to pull him from UA High. She seemed content to let her son continue his education there for now. Toshinori admired her for that even as he scolded himself for throwing such a heavy secret at her. Remembering how she had fretted over Izuku's safety... how she had wished aloud that her son had never “developed” a Quirk... it left a bad taste in Toshinori's mouth that wasn't blood. And yet she was letting Izuku stay where he wanted to be.

She was someone truly worthy of respect.

It was his respect for her coupled with a reckless affection that had compelled him to come clean about One For All.

“I wanted to change the world,” Toshinori told Nana, his eyes stinging. “I wanted to save it. But I think I broke it.”

His visits and outings with Inko had been a much-needed distraction from the still-ongoing shifts in the pro hero world caused by his retirement and its unconventional nature. Being with her was enough for him to forget, even if it was just for a couple of hours, that his exposed weakness had destroyed Japan's Symbol of Peace. Everything he had worked so hard to build, all the confidence he had inspired, cut down thanks to All For One's scheming and All Might's waning power.

Here and now, standing over the grave of his predecessor, Toshinori couldn't escape the despair. And it hurt. It hurt in a way that almost made him prefer the pain from one of his injury flare-ups.

I thought I was doing the right thing. I found a successor, deemed him worthy, passed One For All to him, resolved to teach him how to be a hero... but it's never that simple, is it? My mistake was trying to quantify it all in simple terms, thinking I could ace it when I could only really half-ass it.

“I wish you were here,” he admitted through his teeth. “I wish I had been a better student. Maybe then I'd have been a better hero.”

He fell silent as a young woman with two small children came into the graveyard, a bundle of flowers in her arms as she shepherded her sons ahead of her. As they passed he noticed the elder of the two boys staring at him, while the younger seemed more concerned with his yo-yo. They passed by and gave him a wide berth, probably put off by his appearance.

I'm sorry, Sensei .

Toshinori closed his eyes and prayed his apology, hoping it somehow reached her.

I've accomplished so much and yet all I feel is this dread that I've let you down... that I've let everyone down.

“Hey, Skeleton Guy.”

Toshinori's eyes flicked open and he turned to look at the same boy that had been staring at him earlier.

“It's Mr. Yagi to you, young man,” he intoned gruffly.

“Whatever.” The boy glanced at Nana's headstone. “Who'd you come to see?”

“My teacher.”

“Like, a school teacher?”

“No.”

“What kind of teacher, then?”

“Shouldn't you be over there...” Toshinori gestured at the woman and the other boy, who were standing by a gravestone several meters away, “With your family?”

“I don't like it here,” the boy said sullenly. His black hair hung in a shaggy bowl cut and covered his eyes when he looked down. “It's all full of dead people. My sister died when she was a baby. That's where she's buried, right over there.”

“I'm sorry.”

The boy shrugged. “Doesn't matter to me. I barely knew her.”

Piss off, Toshinori wanted to say, but it went against his nature to be so nasty to a child, even a frustrating one. “You should go to your mother,” he said instead. “When people are sad, they need others around them for support.”

“Then why are you all by yourself?”

This kid! Toshinori resisted the urge to sigh heavily. “What is it you want?” he asked wearily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I feel like I've seen you somewhere before,” the boy stated matter-of-factly. “That's all. I guess I wanted to see if I knew you, but nah.” He turned and spread his arms out like wings as he ran back to his mother. “Bye!”

Despite his annoyance, Toshinori couldn't help feeling some sense of achievement as he saw the boy take his mother's hand and stand quietly beside her. The woman was weeping. The flowers now lay in front of a headstone shaped like a heart.

When people are sad, they need others around them for support .

His own words echoed in his head and caused a realization to dawn on him.

As if on autopilot, his legs started moving and before he knew quite what he was doing he had half-limped over to the little family and offered the grieving mother a tissue from the packet he kept in his right-side pocket. She took it without much hesitation, thanking him as she dabbed at her eyes and nose. Her youngest son was still engrossed in his yo-yo, while the older one looked up at Toshinori with a wrinkle in his brow as if studying him.

After confirming she didn't need any more tissues, Toshinori continued on his way and went up the path leading out of the graveyard. A course of action was forming in his mind as he walked, one that carried equal parts risk and reward depending on its success. As he rounded the corner and ambled down the sidewalk, he heard a shrill yell come up from the other side of the wall.

“THAT WAS ALL MIGHT!” the older boy was screeching, the same way Archimedes must have cried out eureka.

Toshinori felt the corners of his mouth twitch into something resembling a smile, even as he coughed quietly into his closed fist and kept moving forward.

I want to be like you, Sensei... even in grief, I want to give hope to others.

That's why I can't go on without trying to fix my mistakes!

Class went well that day. Katsuki surprised everyone by offering to fix Momo's hair after their sparring session left her black mane a singed mess of frizz from his detonations. He cursed profusely as he worked over her head and denied that he'd been “civilized” by Best Jeanist, demanding other people pay him exorbitant amounts for his newly-revealed expertise, while Toshinori couldn't help feeling both amused and grateful for the entertainment. Despite his best efforts and all the tips gleaned from his book of choice, “Even the Biggest Idiots Can Become Teachers Too!”, he knew his physical and mental fatigue was showing. Anything that could distract the students from that was a welcome diversion.

He found Izuku writing down notes, ever observant. Probably copying down all the moves he saw the others use today. When the boy saw Toshinori coming his face lit up and he smiled. “All Might!” he greeted, closing his notebook.

“Midoriya, my boy.” Toshinori returned the smile as best he could. “Do you have any questions about today's lesson?”

“I think I have it all figured out. I'm trying to determine whose moves rely more on technique versus raw power, and vice versa. I think it'll help me figure out where to go from where I am now with my own moves.”

“Excellent.” Toshinori knew he couldn't afford to lavish more attention on his protege than necessary in front of the other students, but still he lingered for one more question. “Have you heard from your mother? How is she doing?”

“Oh...” Izuku looked away and Toshinori felt a pang of alarm. “She isn't feeling very good, I think. She didn't really want to talk about much of anything on the phone when I called her last night. I think maybe she's having empty-nest syndrome.”

“Ahhh.” If only you knew the half of it. “Keep doing well in your studies and give her something to smile about, hm?”

“Yes sir!” Izuku said in the most perfect English Toshinori had ever heard from the boy's mouth, snapping off a mock salute.

Here you are still trying your best to follow in my footsteps and I've given your mother the best possible reason to never speak to me again...

“Attaboy,” he replied with as much cheer as he could muster and a thumbs-up, moving on to speak with Tenya, who was heatedly debating something trivial with an equally passionate Eijirou.

The rest of the day dragged on and by the time evening came, Toshinori felt rather like a noodle that had been boiled down from stiffness to a flimsy state. As he gathered his few effects and prepared to head home, he was startled out of his routine by a sudden buzz from his phone. He checked it and felt his pulse quicken. It was a new message from Inko, comprised of only two words: Call me.

This is either a very good thing or a very bad thing , he thought as he descended the steps leading out of the school grounds. He passed by Aizawa as he went, who appeared to be returning from a perimeter check. Rather than acknowledge Toshinori's presence with a nod and a grunt as was Aizawa's wont, the other man stopped and put his hands on his hips, emitting a huff.

“Listen,” Aizawa said in a low voice, his bloodshot eyes half-lidded. “What you do in your personal life is your business, I respect that, but if you're gonna get cozy with Midoriya's mother at least tell her she can't come on school grounds during classroom hours without making arrangements.”

Toshinori promptly spat blood. “ I beg your pardon?! ” he wheezed, fumbling for a tissue.

“She came here looking for you today. She seemed rather emotional,” Aizawa said dryly. “Be thankful it was me who dealt with her and not one of the blabbermouths like Mic. I'm not talking. I'm just giving you a head's up. I even did you a favor and told her when you're off for the day.”

He must have been quite amused by the look on Toshinori's face, for he cracked a rare grin and kept on walking. Toshinori, meanwhile, felt as though somebody had just punched all the air out of his remaining lung tissue and turned his legs to jelly.

She did... what...?

When he finally started moving again, his pace was quick and his gait one of determination. What had seemed like a flimsy plan earlier now felt like a necessary pilgrimage. He had his destination and it wasn't his house, it was in the opposite direction.

He knew Hime would forgive him for getting home late.

Whether Inko Midoriya would forgive him for his transgressions, however, remained uncertain.

Chapter Text

Three missed calls and a little over one kilometer later, Toshinori was really starting to lose his nerve.

She wanted me to call her, he thought, glancing at the brief message Inko had sent him earlier, but it seems like she doesn't want to answer her phone.

He passed by a middle-aged couple walking hand-in-hand and felt a nip of irritation. It wasn't like him to feel this way; he had long since made peace with the fact that his path, the road he had chosen for himself as a hero, most likely wouldn't include things other people took for granted. It felt terribly out of character and yet, he wondered if he had merely been suppressing his actual desires for so long it simply felt like a stark divergence.

He remembered the feeling of Inko's soft hand enclosed in his own and decided that maybe it was high time for him to actually start straightening out the things he wanted, because thus far his indecision had only caused trouble for everyone.

Late afternoon was starting to ease into evening. Despite the fatigue that tried its best to slow him down, Toshinori continued walking and ignored the sensations of protest his body kept sending. I will not screw this up, he recited mentally, as if repeating some religious mantra. I will not screw this up, I will not screw this up...

The memory of Aizawa's shit-eating grin only made him feel more determined. The man wasn't known for his courtesy, but lately he seemed to be more amicable toward others, especially Toshinori. Maybe it was some feeling of obligation following that fateful battle with All For One; maybe it was genuine friendliness. Toshinori wasn't sure yet, but he did appreciate it.

His footsteps began to slow, however, as he approached the neighborhood that was now very familiar to him. Trepidation began to set in anew and he forced himself to keep moving despite the overwhelming urge to turn around and walk away.

What are you more afraid of? He gritted his teeth. Facing the consequences of what you've done, or acknowledging you're an irresponsible jerkass if you walk away from this?

A couple residents who had come to recognize him by now waved as he passed them by. He waved back uneasily, wishing no one would notice him. Wishing he had thought things through a little better before he got in too deep.

When he finally knocked on the door, he felt less like a retired pro hero come to make amends and more like a dog crawling home with its tail between its legs in shame.

I must do this. For my own sake, for Inko's and even Izuku's.

I must try...!

The door opened slowly and there she stood. Inko's eyes were puffy, her face discolored from crying.

“Please come in,” she said before he could so much as open his mouth, stepping aside and holding the door open for him.

Toshinori could feel his heart beating rapidly. It was almost enough force to make his whole body tremble with every palpitation, but somehow he stood firm. Somehow he stepped in without letting the tension get the better of him.

“I...” he began, before he reached the place where he would leave his shoes.

“I have something I need you to see,” Inko interrupted. “And tea, I made tea fifteen minutes ago and it's still hot. Also, I must confess that I dropped my phone in the sink before I made the tea and now I can't get it to do anything! Silly me.”

Her voice was brisk and upbeat but there was that falter in her tone every few words, the smallest waver that betrayed how forced her cheer really was.

“Mrs. Midoriya, I...”

She didn't listen. She just moved past him and headed into the living room, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. “I went through the box of things Izuku wanted me to throw out when he left. You know, just to make sure he didn't accidentally put in anything worth keeping. I found the video camera I had bought him for his eleventh birthday, and out of curiosity I checked to see if there was any footage. He had actually recorded quite a bit!”

Toshinori slipped out of his shoes and followed her, wondering where she was going with this story. “Mrs. Midoriya, there's something I need to say--”

“I want you to watch one of his videos.” Inko sat down on the couch and gestured for him to sit as well. “Please. I'm sure you have a lot to say, but please... I have some things to say as well, but first I would like you to see this.”

Toshinori glanced over and saw that the television was on but idle. A tissue box sat on the end table by Inko, surrounded by used tissues. She had been watching the videos for some time, it seemed, and they had elicited quite a few tears from her. It felt wrong for him to witness something that was obviously so personal to her, but here she was demanding that he do so.

He sat down carefully, not wanting to brush up against her or otherwise make her uncomfortable with closeness. “All right,” he said quietly.

Inko grabbed the remote, pointed it at the TV and pressed a button.

The screen sprang to life. It took Toshinori a few seconds to realize he was looking at Izuku's room; the lights were off and it seemed to be raining outside in the video. There was a rustling noise as the camera shook and swung around to focus on Izuku's face. He was laying in bed and looked somewhere between ill and crestfallen.

“I-I don't know why I'm making this video,” Izuku admitted. His voice was high and thin, still that of a child. “I don't... I don't know why I even bother anymore. I just feel like if I don't talk about this stuff, I'm gonna explode.”

The camera shook again as Izuku sat up, now cross-legged on his bed. “Today we talked about biology in class,” he explained. “I thought it was all interesting until Mr. Kurosawa decided to talk about genetics. He was trying to explain how animals and people pass on traits to their babies and when he called on me, I thought he wanted me to answer his questions. Turns out all he wanted was to talk about how Quirkless people pass on their useless genes.”

Eleven-year-old Izuku sniffled and blinked rapidly. Here in the present, Inko was already wiping her eyes. Toshinori leaned forward slightly and felt an ache in his soul.

“H-he...” Izuku was actively fighting not to start sobbing now. “He talked about how Quirkless people aren't evolved and how... how we can't do anything, just like our vestigial parts. And when I got upset he acted like I was being rude and asked me to stay after school for detention.”

There was an ominous pause as young Izuku drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, a single tear escaping his left eye.

“A-and then... after I got out of detention, some of the guys that hang out with Kacchan found me and kicked around my lunchbox. They said... they said no one will ever want to be my girlfriend or marry me because my kids are gonna have the Quirkless gene. They said I shouldn't even exist because I'm a freak.” He was crying in earnest now, his small shoulders shaking. “A-and finally Kirei said that even if I did someday meet All Might, he probably wouldn't even notice me because I don't have a Quirk. Because I'm useless and I don't matter.”

Toshinori felt his heart breaking for young Midoriya all over again. No, no, no, no, my boy, my dear boy. Even though he knew Izuku had come so far, gained so much confidence and resolve, the sight of the boy's past self breaking down was enough to distress him terribly.

It was enough to make him remember all the times he had hated himself as a young boy, back when all he could think about on the darkest days was the fact that he represented a version of humanity that didn't belong in this new age of superhuman evolution. Back when he hated the throwback joints in his feet and the extra tendons in his arms so much he wished he could cut them out.

“I know my mom works hard,” young Izuku continued, his voice barely a squeak, “but I don't think she understands. I don't think... I don't think she knows I know why my dad left. I think about that a lot. I feel terrible because I feel like she's just stuck with me. Even Kacchan has never said this, but I think... I think it would be better for everyone if I was never born.”

“Nonsense!” Toshinori snapped. He blanched as he realized he had spoken aloud, glancing over at Inko. She didn't seem offended. Tears were streaming out of her eyes but she didn't seem offended at all.

“I don't know,” Izuku said hollowly, now crying just as badly as his mother was in the present. “I don't... I-I want to believe that if I did meet All Might, he'd understand, but... he has such a great Quirk and he's always surrounded by pro heroes with great Quirks... I want to believe but I feel like if I did meet him, he might not even care. He's always saving people and fighting villains... how could he... I mean, how could anyone that great have time for someone... like me...?”

The video ended abruptly and the screen was covered in white noise. Inko turned off the TV and wiped at her face with a fresh tissue, then blew her nose.

“I've watched this six times now,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. “I... I wanted you to see it before I start explaining how I feel. I've been thinking about everything since you told me about... since you explained One For All.”

Toshinori's eyes were stinging and he swallowed hard. “I have too,” he told her.

Inko turned a little to face him. “I'm not going to lie to you,” she said. “I've been... well, mostly I've been upset because I felt – and still feel – as if I've been purposefully shut out of something I deserved to know about. You gave my son, my son, a Quirk that damages his body so he could become a hero and put himself in more danger. You knew all of this, and still you came and asked me to let him remain at UA.”

“I have no excuse.” He looked her in the eye, facing her even as his heart raced again. “I was wrong.”

“Of course you were,” Inko huffed. “Did your parents know about how you got your Quirk, or did they end up believing a lie too?”

“That's... part of the problem, actually.” Toshinori clasped his hands together, looking down at the floor. “I never really knew my birth parents. I was raised by my father's sister after they died, and she was more of an older sister to me than anything else. I thought I was keeping her safe by withholding the truth. I thought if she knew, she might become a target for the media... or villains.”

And my mentor gave up her own child to protect him from the dangers of our world, he thought sadly. All my life I've been taught that if you want to protect someone, you don't let them close to the secrets that could hurt them. But my weakness is I don't like lying to people I care about.

“Oh, I... I didn't even think you might not... I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. You have every right to be cross with me. My background doesn't change that fact.”

“Even so...” Inko sighed. “Look. I'm not going to pretend I can just... overlook all of this. I hope this doesn't sound spiteful, but I don't know if I can forgive you yet. But even so... after seeing my son's tears and hearing his troubles, I... I want you to know that I am glad you met Izuku, and that you saw potential in him.”

She was starting to cry again, her eyes brimming with tears as she spoke.

“You noticed him, even though he didn't have a Quirk... you trusted him with your secrets, you deemed him worthy of receiving your power... you knew you would lose your abilities and still you gave him One For All... you told him what he had always wanted to hear, that he could be a hero, and you meant it...!”

She actually bowed her head at him, even though she was shaking with little sobs.

“I want you to know that... that I am glad you saved my son's heart!”

Toshinori felt a jolt run through him as he recalled Nana using her fingertips to spread her mouth into the widest smile possible, telling him to save people's lives and hearts.

He reached out and placed his right hand on Inko's shoulder, holding back the emotion that was welling up inside of him and making his eyes sting even more.

“Your son is strong,” he told her with conviction, “because he learned to be strong from the most important person in his life. You.”

She looked up at him with a befuddled expression, blinking through tears.

“His obsession with me didn't carry him through those dark times,” Toshinori continued. “He got his spirit from his mother. Even if you don't believe it, that's what I believe to be the truth. His heart didn't need saving. What I did... what I've done is nothing compared to what he has done for himself and others on his own. I should be thanking you.”

This isn't flattery, he thought, hoping she understood his sincerity. Please understand... even if you never let me back into your house after today, please understand that I am telling you the truth.

“I've...” He winced as his injury began to cramp, likely from all the tension. “I've been a shitty teacher, honestly. A shitty teacher and a shitty hero. I know how to throw the best punches but that's about it. I want to learn, though. I want to try harder. I want to succeed and be the kind of person who can truly help Izuku.” He coughed slightly, feeling the congestion in his chest that always precluded one of his blood-spitting episodes. “All of his injuries are my responsibility. All the danger he's in... also my responsibility. But I can't stop trying to do better. I won't.”

He was about to remove his hand from her shoulder when Inko reached up and placed her own hand on top of it. She was still crying, but she was trying her best to smile. “I don't want you to stop,” she said. “Don't you remember? I told you to live... to keep guiding Izuku... to take better care of yourself! You frustrating man!”

Toshinori understood. All of his dread and paranoia – thoughts that she might demand he stay away from Izuku, that she might even go public about the nature of One For All – melted away and he found himself facing the fact all those fears had obscured. The reason he had felt compelled to come clean with her about Izuku's Quirk in the first place.

But if I tell you that reason, will it only give you more cause to weep?

I want you to smile...

Without really thinking it through first, he pulled her in close and embraced her. She didn't resist; in fact, she easily got her arms around his scrawny midsection and pressed her face into his chest, soft and warm and still shaking with little sobs. He didn't even allow himself to think about how awkward it must feel to hug someone as underweight as him, instead focusing on the fact that he was going to give her a hug, dammit and feeling relieved that the action hadn't been rejected.

“I don't know if I can forgive you,” Inko said in a voice that was half-sob, half-whisper, “but I want to find out.”

He pulled back to face her, to say something where she could see him – and she did something that stunned him more thoroughly than any blow to the head ever had.

She kissed him.

It wasn't as if he'd never been kissed before; being a pro hero came with the inevitable fact that people were going to want to be with you, even if it was just an idealized version of you they saw on television. He was used to casual tokens of affection from well-meaning fans.

What he was not used to was being kissed the way poets wrote about. Having his entire world center around one person, one feeling, for a few blissful moments. Feeling wanted, needed , in a way that made him come utterly undone.

I just assumed... I just assumed that with this body, and the fact that I'm well and truly Quirkless again... I didn't think...

… and after all I've done...

“Mrs. Midoriya--” he gasped as soon as the kiss broke.

“Inko.”

“I lo--”

His own body didn't let him finish. The taste of blood filled his mouth and he wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole, he felt so embarrassed.

Inko simply reached back and grabbed a handful of tissues, gently wiping his chin.

“I-It's all right,” she told him, her demeanor suddenly almost shy. “Maybe you should rest instead of talking.”

All he could do was nod in agreement with her, still dazed by what had happened. Still unsure whether this was reality or some strange lucid dream he had somehow fallen into.

It has to be real, he reasoned, feeling the pain in his side a little more strongly now.

“Oh! The tea! I forgot all about the tea...”

Inko got up and hurried to the kitchen. Toshinori slouched, falling back onto the couch and feeling rather like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

He felt as if his entire world had just turned upside down and inside out at once. But he was smiling. He couldn't get rid of the big stupid smile that had taken over the lower half of his face even if he tried. Yeah, he thought, resting a hand gently over the site of his wound as if to calm it. It's all right.

Chapter Text

The alarm clock went off at 0530 as it did every morning, prompting Toshinori to rouse from sleep and sluggishly fumble to stop its insistent beeping. The sudden noise was enough to make Hime dislodge herself from between his legs and bolt off the bed. Only half-awake, he attempted to grab the clock but only knocked it to the floor. The alarm cut off from the impact and Toshinori groaned as he hoped that the clock's lifespan hadn't come to an untimely end along with the sound.

He sank back down into bed and considered allowing himself an extra fifteen minutes of rest – after all, he reasoned, it wasn't as if he had anything to do this early besides putter around idly – but then Hime jumped back up and began to rub her forehead on his jawline, more of a demanding push than a loving touch. Barely-audible purring turned to impatient trilling as she lashed her tail, and finally Toshinori sat up to address her concerns. “I'm up,” he told his cat, scratching her behind the ears despite his annoyance.

His cat. He had gone to the trouble of buying her food, litter, even a flea collar. He was even getting used to the idea of keeping her permanently instead of trying to persuade someone to adopt her.

I am retired now, he thought sleepily. Might as well.

As he trudged to the kitchen to refill Hime's food bowl, he noticed that he didn't feel quite as sore as usual upon getting out of bed. A typical morning involved coughing up a substantial amount of bloody congestion out of his chest, but this morning he barely spat. He felt lighter somehow, more energetic.

As he reached up to the topmost shelf in his pantry to fetch the cat food, the scar on his torso didn't pain him as much from the stretching.

“Huh,” he said aloud. Bending over to dump a scoop of the stuff into Hime's bowl didn't aggravate his back the way he expected it to, either.

He straightened up and drew in a deep breath, and when he exhaled he didn't hear a wheezing sound, more of a barely-there rattle instead.

What on earth...?

By 0600 he was convinced that something was very wrong – or rather, was very right in a startling way.

He went about his usual morning rituals: eight ounces of water half an hour before breakfast, then an equal serving of decaf coffee half an hour after breakfast. Breakfast itself consisted of the pinnacle of his cooking skills: a single egg and a piece of toast, both burned. It wasn't that he liked them burned, but rather that he somehow always managed to overdo it. Finally, to top everything off, he downed all the supplements that compensated for his remaining insides' inability to absorb critical nutrients – iron, B12, and folate.

He didn't feel queasy afterward. He didn't even feel mildly uncomfortable, not even in the shower.

As he slipped on his clothes he found himself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, his health was starting to improve.

I'll have to drop by and see if Recovery Girl has any opinions, he thought as he buckled his belt. The plain T-shirt and dark green pants he wore were hardly what a teacher ought to wear, but the students were starting to grow used to him showing up “casual” for their lessons. If anything, being more relaxed around them and clinging less to the bright, showy style he had flaunted in his hero days helped him be a better teacher simply because he didn't have to put as much effort into pretending. And he found that he communicated more effectively when he wasn't too bound up in how well he was keeping up an act.

“You need a haircut,” he told his own reflection as he performed one last check in the mirror.

For six years he had fought the daily battle of trying to resolve the disconnect between his emaciated true self and the muscled fighter he once was. Six years of relying on a powerful Quirk to convince himself and others that he didn't have to be thin, didn't have to be weak, could still be a hero...

Now the face in the mirror was all he had left. Was finally him.

He strapped on his arm brace and checked his phone. The time: 0830.

Hime curled herself around his left ankle and wailed up at him, demanding attention. “Not now,” he chided as he stepped over her and headed for the door, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter.

It was a Wednesday morning and winter was already setting in. He put on his overcoat before leaving the house and looped his scarf around his neck, mindful of the chill.

As he pocketed his keys after locking the door behind him, he felt his phone buzz and glanced at it. It was a new message from Inko.

Park @ 9 right?

Seeing that put a smile on his face, not a forced wide one but a lopsided one that reached his eyes and made him feel as though this was, indeed, a very good morning.

Already on my way, he replied, and when he received a smiling emoji in response all was right with the world.

“I still can't help feeling as if this is... well, wrong.”

They sat together on a park bench, watching as the sun slowly climbed higher in the sky. Inko's sweater was the color of the sky, a hazy pale blue that paired nicely with her khaki pants and white sandals. She was bright and round and soft in stark contrast to Toshinori, who only looked even more gangly and made of sharp angles when he stretched his legs out.

“Local woman holds steals kiss from retired hero, truly a heinous act of theft,” he said dryly, imitating a newscaster. “And now, the weather.”

“I'm being serious!” Inko was fighting the urge to grin, Toshinori could tell; she had to force a scowl. “When I think about all that's happened I just... I can't stop thinking that maybe there's some rule that's been broken. I mean, Izuku is your successor, but he's also your student and you're his teacher and I'm... I mean, what will the school think?”

“I care a lot less about what the school might think than I do about the tabloids,” Toshinori admitted. “They've known about my condition for years and a select few know about the exact nature of Izuku's Quirk.”

He recalled Aizawa's assumption that something was already going on between Mrs. Midoriya and himself. Though I do know someone who will certainly find his chance to rub in how he called it...

“Ah yes, the media...” Inko's voice trailed off and she stifled a giggle.

“Hm?”

“Oh, I just, well... it's a childish subject, really.”

Toshinori raised an eyebrow slightly, a silent query for more information.

“Oh, all right.” Inko clearly found the topic embarrassing, for her cheeks began to turn pink. “Back after your debut, when your popularity was really starting to take off, I remember reading some magazines that had articles written by people who considered themselves experts on 'celebrity Quirk matchmaking.' It was all a bunch of nosy speculation, really, but it, um... there were quite a few women who genuinely pondered whether their Quirks counted as powerful enough to fit with yours!”

Toshinori snorted. “The unpleasant underbelly of fame... I remember being interviewed time and time again, asked if I had any love interests or family to speak of. I've never been much good at putting up with overzealous fans, even though I have always tried my best to be courteous. I learned early on to be wary of the easily lovestruck. I think it hit me just how strange being famous could be when a woman asked me to autograph her underwear.”

“Did you?” Inko looked extremely flustered.

“I think I was so shocked by the request my body did it on autopilot. All I know is that the item resurfaced a couple years ago on eBay, and if it isn't my signature it's a damn good forgery.”

The sight of Inko's half-intrigued, half-horrified expression made him laugh, and after he started laughing she joined in.

When they finally stopped, Inko's look of mirth shifted back to a semi-serious one. “It's interesting, though. I was truly surprised to find out you didn't have a family. I-it's not a bad thing! I just mean, with so many heroes like Endeavor raising their children to be heroes too... I don't know, maybe I don't really know why I felt so surprised.”

You need to tell her about Nana.

Toshinori felt uneasiness settle over him as he tried to ignore the nagging of his conscience, with little success.

“I never really thought about a family,” he began quietly, staring out at the open expanse of the park and the trees. He then pulled his phone out of his pocket, navigated to his photo album, and selected one of the pictures. “Here, look at this. I scanned it from an old photo my aunt gave me.”

It was indeed an old photo, old enough for him to have no memory of the occasion it had been taken for. He was only three years old in the picture, riding on his father's shoulders while his mother – who towered over her husband by almost a full head – had one hand raised in a peace sign while the other held the camera. The man was dark-haired, pale and of Japanese ancestry, while the woman was blonde, deeply tanned and Caucasian. They all had on T-shirts and seaside scenery could be seen in the background.

“My mother married my father after traveling to Japan from the United States to study abroad. They met because they were part of the same club at the same university, a group for Quirkless students. At least that's what my aunt told me.” Toshinori sighed. “Mother pushed me into martial arts when I started kindergarten, assuming correctly that I wouldn't have a Quirk. She told me that as long as I became as strong as I could be within my limits, no one could look down on me for lacking a certain ability. One day I ended up waiting several hours for my parents to pick me up. Finally it became clear they were in an wreck that ended up being fatal for all involved.”

He put his phone back into his pocket. “Afterward I went to live with my father's sister and that was that. I continued participating in martial arts and eventually school sports, and I found that in an environment where Quirks didn't matter, where everyone had to rely on physical strength and endurance alone, I could be on top. I liked that. I kind of turned into a fitness junkie, had grand ideas about maybe competing in the Olympics. But then...”

You need to tell her about Nana, his conscience urged again, this time more insistently.

“Toshinori?” Inko asked gently, and he realized he had fallen silent for several seconds.

“I met someone who found me worthy of a great Quirk.” He half-smiled at Inko. “Her name was Nana Shimura. She was an exceptional hero... and she wielded One For All before me.”

“So she chose you while you were still in junior high, the same way you chose Izuku?” Inko asked, intrigued despite the obvious fact that the subject of how Izuku got his Quirk still made her uneasy.

“Yes. She observed me for a while and decided my character was a good fit for her intentions. And while I was clumsy and ineffective with One For All at first, I was in such good physical condition that my body didn't suffer too much from the initial strain. I applied to UA High as soon as I could, and the rest is history.”

“She must be proud of you,” Inko remarked fondly.

Toshinori looked away from her and felt suddenly weary. “She's dead,” he said flatly.

“Oh... I'm... I'm sorry to hear that.”

“The point I'm trying to make is...” Toshinori leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs as he tried to mentally work through what he wanted to say. “About family, about why I never... why I've remained alone for so long. Nana had a husband and a son when I first met her. By the time she... passed away... her husband had been killed and she sent her son to foster care, to remove him from the dangers of a hero's lifestyle. She felt responsible for her spouse's fate and for the pain she caused that boy by trying to protect him. I think... I think I wanted to avoid that responsibility, that guilt.”

Inko was staring at him now, her look of bewilderment shifting to one of melancholy. “But isn't it lonely, living like that?” she asked him, clasping her hands together in her lap.

“Ha, but I don't have to live like that anymore. I'm retired,” Toshinori boasted, trying to lighten the mood. He didn't voice his less encouraging thoughts, thoughts that there were still a lot of people who would go a long way to hurt him even now and that even a former Symbol of Peace counted as a target for vengeful villains. Instead he stubbornly clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to do something a little rash. “So now you've heard my reasons for being a loner all this time. That's one less awkward conversation to be had.”

Talking about Nana made him think about Tomura Shigaraki, and thinking about Tomura made him think about the threat of danger that still loomed over his students – especially Izuku.

I feel as though I should be telling this woman to stay away from me for her own good. I should tell her we can remain friends and promise to keep watching over her son. But that isn't really what I want at all. And I think I'm tired of doing and saying only “what's best” for everyone when I end up alone and miserable as a result.

It dawned on him that maybe he was finally divorcing himself from the needy, overbearing spouse he had been chained to since he first debuted as a hero: the world. The world he had resolved to save by becoming the pillar of society and the Symbol of Peace. The world he had ultimately failed to satisfy because he was too weak, too flawed, too human.

Is this how it feels to really choose things for yourself? To think and act without having to consider some greater good that's more of an abstract concept?

“I've had well-meaning friends and family tell me I should start seeing someone for years now,” Inko admitted. “Ever since the divorce, really. I've been so busy, though, and the idea of introducing someone else into my life... into Izuku's life... after losing that trust... it just seemed so frightening. I don't think I ever wanted to admit it to myself, but deep down I just assume that if anyone comes into my life they're just going to end up walking out. Isn't that silly?”

She laughed a small, self-deprecating laugh, then her eyes widened. “B-but don't think I assume that about you! I mean, this isn't... what I mean to say is, I feel like I know you better than I would know someone I just met at work or through a blind date. It's different. A good different.”

Her bluster was adorable, Toshinori mused. “I think...” His voice trailed off as he tried to sift through everything he wanted to express. “I think I feel the same way, but for different reasons. I feel as if the impressions you've left on your son, how much of the good in him comes from you, have helped me understand things better.”

Inko was practically beet-red by now and quite flustered. “H-he imitates you, you know!” she pointed out.

“Nonsense. I've said it before: you're his hero. And honestly, I've been pushing him to quit imitating me for a while now.”

Inko blinked, her eyes teary over flushed cheeks and an emotional smile. “So you have said,” she affirmed.

Toshinori offered her his hand and she took it. They sat like that for a peaceful moment as a few children ran through the park a hundred or so meters away, playing kickball. The sounds of the bustling city encroached faintly on the idyllic atmosphere of the park but failed to shatter the tranquility of the wind in the trees and the sun overhead. It was a moment the likes of which he deemed all the pain, suffering and hard work of his past to be worthy. Just to be able to sit here with someone he had come to care for deeply, temporarily separated from the cares of the world...

… it was a luxury they had both earned the right to enjoy by now, he decided.

“So I...” Inko broke the silence, her grip on Toshinori's hand tightening just a fraction. “What I really wanted to ask you today is... are you okay with... do you really want to...”

“Yes.”

Saying that single word felt like a monumental effort. Toshinori realized his heart was beating rather quickly.

“I want us to work together to ensure Izuku's success and wellbeing,” he elaborated. “If you'll accept it... I want to offer my assistance to you in all things. I want to be honest with you. I want--”

He thought of Izuku, the boy he had chosen as his successor, the boy who had become so very dear to him.

He thought of Inko telling him to live, to take care of himself and weeping over his troubles.

He thought of how proud he was of Izuku, how much he wanted to remain a part of the boy's life, how much he had come to care for Inko and desire her company.

I know what I want!

He released her hand and stood up, facing her and feeling stronger than he had since the day he burned through the final embers of One For All.

“I want to be with you,” he told her resolutely, “if you'll have me!”

Her reaction was fairly straightforward. She started crying... and then she stood up too, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug. “Of course I'll have you!” she half-sobbed. “Of course I will!”

He loved her, tears and all. Had loved her for some time now, possibly since the day they first met.

And so he gently mussed her hair with his left hand while his right hand settled on her shoulder, clearing his throat quietly as – for once – what was left of his lungs didn't send blood into his mouth.

Maybe I am getting better. Maybe... maybe everything will get better from here.

It was a fool's hope, he knew. But still he dared to have that hope, refusing to let any thoughts of lost loved ones, villains or lingering threats ruin this moment.

And he knew deep in his heart that in spite of her own personal sacrifices, Nana would be smiling if she could see him now.

Chapter Text

“It's quite simple,” Chiyo Shuuzenji announced in a satisfied tone, lightly tapping Toshinori's shin with her syringe-cane. “You've finally stopped abusing yourself, so now your body can finally get to healing properly.”

“I don't understand.” Toshinori felt like a child again in this infirmary; he had come here many times as a youth, back when his recklessness and bravado got him beaten up during training. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on hastily, not wanting anyone to see his scar or how skinny he really was. “Does this have something to do with One For All?”

“No, it has to do with you and your insistence on working when you should be resting!” The hero known to most as Youthful Heroine Recovery Girl frowned at him, the lines on her face deepening. “You think all that 'flexing' was without consequence? Hardly! Your body was always sturdier than most, but you have your limits and pushing past them hurts you in the long run.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose in a way it does have to do with that Quirk – now that you're not using it to disguise yourself, your skin and organs can catch a break. Staying the same size means you'll start seeing improvements that you should have been experiencing years ago.”

Toshinori closed his thin hands into fists and looked at the callouses on his knuckles, at the small scars that didn't stand out unless you really looked close. “It was worth it, though,” he said quietly. “I had a good run, all things considered. I passed on One For All before it could be the death of me.”

“Yes, to a boy whose disregard for personal safety nearly exceeds your own,” Chiyo fussed. She sat down in her desk chair and looked up at him with a steely gaze. “He's learning, I'll give him that. No thanks to you. At least he's smart enough to fill in the blanks when you forget to tell him important details!”

“Your criticism is always on point, Recovery Girl.”

“I'm truly glad you're finally doing better,” she replied with a small smile. “If I didn't bother lecturing you I'd be a poor caregiver, now wouldn't I?”

She watched him keenly as he buttoned up his dress shirt. “Haven't been seeing you around in the mornings lately,” she remarked. “You used to come hang around for hours, but now you seem to have found things to occupy your free time. Not that I'm complaining; it's about time you found something to do outside of this school and the pro hero scene. 'Why doesn't Toshinori pick up a hobby?' I was saying to Nedzu a couple months ago. And that Shouta, he just gave me a funny look when I asked him where you've been running off to.”

“People to go, places to see,” Toshinori said quickly, his nervousness betraying him; he realized his incorrect phrasing and balked. “Er, rather, I have a cat now. Among other things.”

“And here I always saw you as more of a dog person,” Chiyo laughed. “That's good. When you have people or pets depending on you, it's less easy to just throw yourself in harm's way. Who's going to care for them if you don't come home in one piece?”

Though her words were meant to be jovial, they sent a chill down his spine. If only you knew how much I think about that...

“Her name is Hime,” he said instead.

“Hime! Ahahaha!” Chiyo cackled. “You named your cat Princess! I'd expect nothing less from you, Toshinori!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” His shirt finally buttoned, he picked up his suit jacket off the cot and donned it, shrugging to let it settle on his shoulders. “Thanks for examining me, Recovery Girl.”

“If you need anything else, you know where to find me,” she told him sweetly as he left the infirmary.

He paused for a brief moment in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. “Chiyo,” he asked, daring to use her first name, “do you have a family?”

“Now there's an odd question from you.” She shook her head. “Nope, sorry. I'm kind of a spinster, you see.”

Ah, should've guessed that. Toshinori managed a smile for her. “I didn't mean to pry. Forget I asked.”

“Toshinori,” she called after him as he left, in a voice that held no chiding or sarcasm. “Be good to yourself, all right?”

“All right.”

He found himself deep in thought as he navigated the hallways. Anyone catching a glimpse of him might assume he was pondering his upcoming lesson, but instead his thoughts were decidedly un-academic. He reached one of the teachers' lounges and invited himself in, then took a seat at the table; no one else was around.

He pulled a hair tie from one of his pockets. It was a hasty gift from Inko, a suggestion he had yet to try out. He stared at it as if studying it for some inscrutable secret, then set to work bunching his thick, wild hair into a ponytail. His hands were unused to such things and it took him a couple of tries, but finally he could feel the air on the back of his neck and a tugging sensation on his scalp.

After glancing left and right to make sure no one was watching, he pulled out his phone, snapped a picture of his handiwork with an awkward smile, and sent it to Inko.

She responded with a string of emojis, most of which were variations on sparkles and hearts.

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Toshinori's mouth as he began typing a brief summary of what Recovery Girl had told him regarding his health.

“What are you doing?”

Aizawa now took up the doorway, leaning on it with his arms crossed.

“Trying out something new,” Toshinori told him in as a calm a voice as he could muster, gesturing at his hair and hoping it wasn't that obvious how he had nearly dropped his phone in panicked surprise. “Do you need something?”

“Coffee. Vodka. Maybe both. A five-hour nap,” the sleep-deprived hero muttered, moving in and taking a seat opposite Toshinori. “Media's getting antsy again. Endeavor might be Number One now, but he doesn't have the personality they want. Even I know when to be courteous to the pests, but he's as asocial as a hero can be without crossing over into villain territory.”

“I told Nedzu and the others I'll do whatever I can to help ease tensions,” Toshinori said. “Interviews, giving statements...”

“Nedzu thinks it might be better in the long run for you to lay low with the media,” Aizawa responded dismissively. “All they're gonna do is grill you over how you can't fight anymore. It's a shitshow no one wants to watch unfold. You still get fan mail, right? Focus on answering that and leave the sharks with cameras to us.”

“Still, though. If talking is all I can do anymore, at least let me shoulder that burden. The rest of you are still heroes and the media only serves to distract you.”

“I thought,” Aizawa said evenly, his bleary eyes meeting Toshinori's, “that you might be too busy to deal with the media right now.”

“Too busy? Nonsense, and besides, I'm feeling better than I have in--”

Aizawa's deadpan I'm-tired-of-dealing-with-your-shit expression was enough to make Toshinori stop talking. “You're in a delicate position,” the raven-haired hero said in a low voice. “I'm not here to tell you what to do with your personal life, but you were already pushing some serious boundaries when you gave Midoriya your Quirk knowing you would also be his teacher. That kind of relationship has consequences, whether you want it to or not. He's not just your student, and you're not just his teacher.”

Toshinori stared at Aizawa for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as he grasped the reality of the situation. “Ah,” he said delicately, glancing to make sure no one was eavesdropping at the door. “Who told you?”

“I have eyes,” Aizawa said bluntly. “I'm a logical man. No one ratted you out.”

In spite of recent events – in spite of how their differences had once made them nearly rivals of a sort, only for battles and hardships to forge what could almost be called a friendship – in spite of these things, Toshinori felt extremely uncomfortable.

I shouldn't be surprised... Aizawa's not a fool, of course he would guess.

“I suppose that's...” Toshinori sighed. “I suppose that's better than the guess that I somehow fathered the boy.”

“And yet you're making it easier for that explanation to seem more likely.” A smile that wasn't entirely unpleasant but still far from wholly benevolent spread over Aizawa's face, surrounded by stubble.

Toshinori stifled a cough and scowled. “I beg your pardon?”

“All I'm saying is that as a teacher, you need to remain objective.” Aizawa got to his feet and shrugged. “Hey, I'm not judging. I'm just stating facts as a fellow faculty member who cares about how these things can affect people.”

“What are you really trying to say, Aizawa?”

For a moment Toshinori expected his peer to say something stern, but then the other man shook his head. “Be careful,” Aizawa said in a tone that could almost be called beseeching, his smile now gone. “Don't give anyone the excuse they're looking for to stir up more crap. Consider this my way of expressing concern for yourself and Midoriya. And anyone else who may be involved.”

The hero then turned his back on Toshinori and left the teacher's lounge without another word.

Goddamn it.

He felt like a deflated balloon, even more so than back when he would run out of time and revert from his heroic form.

He has plenty of valid points but... damn it. I shouldn't feel so defensive. It's not like he's trying to threaten me.

In a way he was immensely grateful for the gesture. Aizawa's kindnesses were few and far between, as rare as the man turning up for anything but an official function looking well groomed.

Still though... for him to have deduced my connection to Izuku... I can't help feeling rattled.

He decided to spend the time he had left before class to finish relating the news of his improving health to Inko, smooth down his frayed nerves, and go over the notes he had prepared the night before. He left his hair tied back, feeling it was only natural to let small changes accompany the major ones currently unfolding. As he penciled in a few improvements to his notes he found himself contemplating a critical issue that Aizawa's words had brought to the fore of his mind:

Inko hasn't said much on the matter, and I've been so distracted I haven't even thought about it, oaf that I am... how are we going to tell Izuku, anyway...?

Class 1-A's reaction to his new look was more... enthusiastic than he expected. At least half of the girls went out of their way to tell him he looked “very sophisticated!” and even “handsome!” and of the boys, Eijirou crowed “badass!” and Izuku politely said it was “a good look!” while containing his excitement.

His lecture was on a subject he felt rather strongly about: collateral damage and how heroes were obligated to minimize it as much as possible. “As you learned back on your first day of class,” he began, “a hero who causes destruction to their environment and puts lives at risk with excesses of force is more of a liability to the city and its people than a benefit. You've also seen firsthand how villains think nothing of causing such damage and use it to build their sinister reputations. What separates heroes from villains isn't just a license or which side of the law they operate on, it's their respect for life and dignity. A hero who obsesses over being the best combatant or earning the most money instead of saving as many people as possible isn't really a hero at all, are they?”

Everyone shook their heads. Tenya raised his hand.

“A question, Iida?” Toshinori asked, noting the troubled look on the boy's face.

“Yes sir,” Tenya said in a more subdued tone than normal. “Following the... the incident at Kamino Ward, the media went on about all the damage caused to the city as if it was somehow the heroes' fault, even though it was obvious that the villains were responsible. Is it proper, then, for heroes to bear responsibility not only for damage they cause directly, but damage caused by villains they couldn't stop in time?”

Toshinori felt genuinely sorry for Tenya, and for all the others who had been present during that fateful battle. He could see Momo, Eijirou, Izuku and Shouto looking grave at the mention of that fight. Even Katsuki seemed suddenly melancholy.

“I'll tell you something I have struggled with myself,” he replied. He stepped out from behind his podium and grabbed a piece of chalk. He knew it was customary to use the projector instead of something this archaic, but doing it this way made it feel more personal.

He drew a large circle in the middle of the board. “This is the world,” he said. “Not the planet, but the world as a figurative entity, a representation of its people and society. A lot of heroes say they want to save the world. For one person to aspire to something that noble isn't a bad thing in itself. But consider...”

He made a tiny mark by the circle. “This is a single person. For the world to rely on that person alone is unrealistic. All of you know that I was known as 'the Symbol of Peace' by society, a title I built up in my desire to become someone the world could draw hope from through my actions. Popularity can do wonders when it comes to a goal like that. But in the end, no matter how popular a single person is, they're still just one person. And when that single person finally runs out of power, well... the world isn't too happy.”

Toshinori glanced at his students. “You can try as hard as you can to do good and the world will still try to blame you for things beyond your control. Even if you have fantastic Quirks, at your core you're still human beings. You'll make mistakes, you'll fail to catch villains, you'll stand by and watch as terrible things happen that you can't stop. I know what the answer seems to be: get stronger! Spend more of your free time focusing on your career! Train better! These things aren't bad ideas. Improving yourself is never a bad thing. But at the end of the day, if you have to give up the things that make you human to be a better hero... your feelings, your goals, your friends and family... if you have to sacrifice everything that makes you happy for a world that will keep on demanding more of you, it's time to reevaluate what's really important.”

He started making more tiny marks by the first one, until they numbered at least four dozen. “The answer was never for there to be a single Symbol of Peace. That kind of an ideal... it works well in theory, but in practice it's another thing entirely. For peace to become reality, that ideal must be championed by many people fighting for one cause. Your question, Tenya, was only about heroes accepting blame for damage caused by villains, so I apologize for this tangent. But it's something I feel goes hand in hand with my answer to your question.”

None of this was written in his notes. He hadn't even planned to lecture on this, but Tenya's words and his crestfallen expression had spurred Toshinori to say the things that had been weighing heavy on his mind of late. I need this more than they do, he thought. Saying these things... it allows me to face them.

“The media, the world, it expects you to be perfect. You'll probably be accused of many things as you work hard to make the world a better place. Negligence, weakness, the list goes on and on. But you must not let it stop you from continuing to try. Never forget that you're a human being. A hero must accept individual responsibility for their mistakes, but there are times when a hero must simply accept that they can't control every outcome and move on. Learn from it without allowing it to steal your resolve. And instead of trying to stand alone, let others stand with you. Isolating yourself in a never-ending pursuit of perfection is never the answer.”

The class was utterly silent, every single one of them attentive. Many of them looked shocked by his little speech. A few even looked emotional, especially Izuku.

He wasn't sure who started clapping lightly first, but in a matter of seconds they were all applauding. It wasn't an explosive fanfare, but instead a reserved, even affectionate acknowledgment. Tenya actually stood up from his seat and bowed stiffly instead of clapping. “Thank you, All Might!”

Toshinori was touched by their sincerity. For once he actually felt like a teacher instead of a rookie trying to be one.

“Now then, now then.” He motioned for them to be quiet and the applause petered out. “Everyone write this down and remember it well: a hero is defined by how they can win even while showing restraint in order to preserve life, while a typical villain cares little for either. While you will encounter villains who adhere to codes of morality and honor, the majority of your opponents won't think twice about smashing down buildings or taking hostages...”

The rest of the class went on smoothly. When it was over some of the students stopped to give compliments on his lecture or thank him. “He didn't even look at his notes more than five times!” he heard Tsuyu whisper loudly to Tooru as they left.

Izuku was the last to leave. He approached Toshinori with a smile that practically beamed. “That was so cool!” the boy exclaimed, showing the entire page of notes he had jotted down. “You really gave a good lecture! That was almost better than going to Training Dreamland!”

“Almost?” Toshinori raised an eyebrow.

“I-I mean it was just as good!” Izuku corrected, fumbling.

“Hahaha! Don't worry about it, my boy, just messing with you.”

“You seem to be doing better,” Izuku said as he stuffed his notebook into his backpack. “Not just with teaching, but in general. I'm so glad!”

“I'm glad too.” Toshinori sat down in his chair, feeling a bit worn out but also contented. “A lot's been happening lately. Mostly good things.”

“Same here,” Izuku answered. “I've been worried about Mom since she sounded so down in the dumps a couple weeks ago, but now she seems to be in a good mood. I hope she's found things to do while I'm not there or new friends to hang out with.”

“I've actually been visiting her so she won't worry about you as much,” Toshinori told the boy. It was a half-truth, not an outright lie, and he didn't see the harm in sharing at least this much.

“R-really?!” Izuku looked rather perplexed. “It's not, I mean, not a bad thing, I just didn't expect... wow! I'm... I'm glad you're getting along, actually. After all that tension over the dorm thing...”

“Suffice to say we've worked through a good deal of tension.” Toshinori half-smiled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. “Your mother's a strong person. She'll be all right.”

Izuku was staring at him now curiously, as if he really wanted to say something but couldn't just yet. “I...” The boy looked down at his shoes, biting his lip, then seemed to shrug it off. “I'm happy you're friends now. You've both done so much for me... I've looked up to you both for so long... this might sound silly, but in a way it's... it's kind of what I used to dream of. I-I hope it doesn't seem weird or anything! That is, I hope it's not--”

“You're fine.” Toshinori had to suppress the rising tide of affection toward Izuku that came rushing up at those words. Knowing what he knew now about the boy's father, about Inko, about the past... he really wanted to give the poor child a hug, but he had to keep his distance here for both their sakes. “It's not weird. Now... shouldn't you be catching up with your friends?”

He gestured at the doorway, where Ochako was trying to hide on the other side. She waved sheepishly upon realizing she'd been found out.

“Oh! Well then, I... I'll see you later, All Might!”

With that Izuku ran out of the room, his cheeks flushed pink.

Toshinori watched him go. There were so many things he wanted to say, things he knew he would eventually get to say if what he had with Inko continued to flourish...

But until that time comes, I must remain objective. I mustn't let my feelings interfere with his time here.

By the time he packed up his things and left the school grounds it was late afternoon. He already had a plan for the evening, one that incorporated the element of surprise. He considered himself lucky that the way to Inko's home led right past a flower shop of considerable repute here in this city. It took him ten minutes to decide which ones he wanted, however, and by the time he made it out with his bouquet his appetite was starting to gnaw at him.

I hope she won't be peeved that I'm just showing up out of the blue, he thought as he looked down at the assortment of yellow, blue and white flowers bundled in his left hand. I feel as though I should call ahead, but I really want it to be a surprise...

He was out of his element here. He was, and had always been, quite terrible at the skills most people considered essential for romance; he couldn't flirt to save his own life and his idea of seduction was finding out what movies a girl really liked so they could marathon them together. Once he had relied on good looks and popularity to compensate for those shortcomings, but now... now he felt like a fish out of water.

“It's simple,” he muttered to himself as he sat by himself at the back of a city bus. “Nothing to worry about. Just show her the flowers and tell her you'd like to treat her to dinner at the place of her choice. You've got this.”

When he looked up he caught at least two other passengers staring at him. They quickly looked away.

Or maybe it isn't so simple, he thought with a sinking feeling. I've been able to get away with sneaking around in this form for so long, but now people know what I really look like. I have yet to be hounded by the media but still... bah, why does everything have to be so complicated?

Getting off the bus, straightening his jacket and going over his scheme one more time made him feel more confident. As he walked the rest of the route he found himself increasing his pace and holding his head up instead of slouching.

He wanted to make Inko happy, wanted to give her as many reasons to smile as possible and as few reasons to cry as possible. Though when it came to the Midoriyas, tears often accompanied smiles when emotions ran high...

Smiles, tears, who cares! I'll take it all if it means she's happy!

By the time he reached her door he was in high spirits. He knocked quickly, straightening his posture and preparing a winning grin.

When the door opened and he saw Inko, however, his high spirits started slipping and he felt panic ripple through him.

She was wide-eyed, nearly breathless and somewhat disheveled, her hair down long instead of pulled up in her usual style. She immediately freaked out upon seeing him. “Oh dear!” she yelped, frozen in indecision as some great fear gripped her. “Toshinori, you... oh dear, oh dear--!”

“Toshinori? Who's that?” an unfamiliar woman's voice called from inside the house. “Sister, who is at the door?”

“Just a minute!” Inko called over her shoulder. She then turned her attention back to Toshinori, who was feeling horribly self-conscious by now. “You... you brought flowers... I...” Her face was reddening exponentially by the second. “Th-they're lovely, but I'm afraid I won't be free this evening...”

There was a commotion as footsteps pounded behind her. Toshinori caught sight of two children running up to see who had knocked, both of them at least ten years old and bearing a strong resemblance to Izuku with their dark curly hair and freckles. “Who's that, Aunt Inko?” one of them, a girl, asked as she pointed at him.

“Akio! Akemi! Give your aunt some space!” the voice from earlier commanded as a woman grabbed them both by their shoulders. She resembled Inko even more strongly than the children resembled Izuku, only slimmer and with darker hair cut short into a bob. She wore a black pant suit that looked tailored and an expensive watch. “Were you expecting someone, sister? You should have told me!”

“I-I...” Inko looked from Toshinori to her sister and back, looking more like a deer in the headlights than anything else. “Er, Asuka, this is, um, this is Mr. Toshinori Yagi, h-he's a schoolteacher a-and--”

Asuka's eyes flicked from Toshinori's face to the bouquet and then to Inko, realization lighting up her face.

“Ahaaaaa!” She released her children and clapped her hands together. “I understand now!”

Inko looked ready to pass out any minute now. “Actually, Asuka, you don't...” she said faintly, leaning against the door frame.

“OH MY GOD!” The young boy, Akio, had recognized Toshinori by now. “THAT'S ALL MIGHT!”

“What.” Asuka did a double take, then her eyes widened. “Wait, what on earth... Inko, what's going on here?!”

“I need to sit down,” Inko squeaked.

Seeing her so strung out and overwhelmed made Toshinori's desire to protect surpass how horribly awkward he felt. In that moment, all that mattered was making sure Inko was safe and at ease. Even if it meant jumping headlong into a situation he hadn't planned on.

“It's all right!” he said, tucking the bouquet under his left arm and offering Inko his right. “Why? Because I am here!”

Their eyes met and she seemed to understand his meaning. If this is going to be one hell of an awkward moment, he thought, at least let me endure it with you instead of asking me to leave.

“Move out of the way, out of the way! Let your aunt have some peace!” Asuka shooed her children aside and watched as Toshinori escorted Inko to the couch.

“B-but Mom, that's All Might...!”

“Hush! Don't be rude!”

“I'm so sorry,” Toshinori murmured as Inko sat down. “I should have texted or called. I didn't even think about--”

“No, no.” Inko took a deep breath and fanned herself. “It's not your fault, it's just all been so unexpected...”

“I'll get you some water,” Asuka announced, heading to the kitchen. “Akemi, Akio, go sit down and don't make a fuss.”

As the children shuffled over to their seats, staring at him in a combination of shock and awe, Toshinori fought to keep his composure and willed his racing heart to slow down. It took him a moment to realize that Inko hadn't let go of his arm yet. If anything, she seemed to be holding on for dear life.

“Now then.” Asuka stepped back into the living room carrying a plastic cup full of water. “Why don't we all introduce ourselves properly? I'm Asuka Ishihara, Inko's older sister. These are my children--” She gestured at the boy and girl. “Akio and Akemi. I would introduce my husband Hiroto, but he's at a meeting. We're in town on business, not pleasure, but I thought I'd drop by and check on my sister anyway.”

Toshinori exchanged a quick glance with Inko. Her face was set in an apprehensive but resigned expression. She was already accepting the inevitable.

I won't get anywhere lying in this situation. Not even a little. As my mother used to say, “my goose is cooked.”

“I'm Toshinori Yagi,” he said calmly, with as affable a smile as he could manage. “I'm a teacher at UA High. And...” He steeled himself. “I'm a retired hero, known to most as All Might.”

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since Inko Midoriya felt well and truly cornered.

The last time it was Hisashi with divorce papers, offering them to her without so much as asking if she was ready, making her feel as though she was physically shrinking down as her world caved in around her.

Now the source of that feeling was the sister who had preceded her by three years, Asuka. Asuka the go-getter, Asuka the witty extrovert, Asuka of the successful marriage and fancy clothes. Inko resented her for none of these things, envied not a single one, but she wasn't blind to how those things created clear differences between the two of them.

She could see a dozen questions lurking behind Asuka's eager eyes as the woman lounged at the opposite end of the kitchen table. The cup of water in Inko's hands was empty and covered in dripping condensation by now, but she couldn't put it down; it was something to clutch, something to ground herself with. She couldn't cling to Toshinori because he was in the other room with Akio and Akemi, who were utterly smitten with him. I suppose that's a good thing, Inko thought glumly. It means I can speak with my sister in private without involving him in our differences.

It was just like Asuka to show up on her doorstep unannounced with the kids, explaining how she and her husband were in town on a business venture even as she invited herself into the house. She was used to getting her way in... well, mostly everything. That was their dynamic, had been since they were small. Asuka was daring and innovative, while Inko got compliments that praised her “meek personality” and “sweet demeanor.”

But I'm not meek, not really. Inko thought of how she had put her foot down, how she had been honest with the man she loved about her concern for her son, and it gave her some small comfort. When I think of the people I care about, when they need me, I'm brave. I just don't know how to tell Asuka “no” when she's got the kids with her because I'm afraid of upsetting everyone...

“I honestly don't know what to say,” Asuka admitted. “I mean, I suppose I do, but... I'm sure you understand what a surprise this sort of thing is, especially with no warning.”

“I didn't warn you because I didn't want to tell anyone just yet.” Inko shook her head. “We, that is, he and I... we don't want the media bothering us, and we especially don't want this to affect Izuku's school life in a negative way. And besides, this is a fairly recent development...”

Toshinori would be better at this, she knew well. He was the kind of person who could appear fearless and confident in front of cameras and make the world think he had all the answers just by saying something inspiring. But he was also a jolly man-child at heart who loved kids, and she could hear him excitedly quizzing the twins on Star Wars trivia. Whatever reservations they had regarding his unusual appearance were long gone.

And besides, he understands that I need to be the one who deals with my sister.

“My little sister, dating a celebrity.” Asuka smiled fondly. “Who would have thought? I'm happy for you, I really am. And don't worry, I'm not going to run to the first reporter I see and deliver the juicy scoop. I don't want to cause you any more trouble.”

She actually knows she's caused me trouble? Inko felt flabbergasted. It was a startling display of self-awareness on her sister's part. “I-I'm glad,” she said. “I'm just... I want everyone to respect my privacy and his. There are so many people who feel entitled to every detail of a hero's life, just because they're famous... it's frightening.”

“It's high time you started having a string of good luck,” Asuka remarked. “First Izuku turns out to be a late bloomer, now this. You deserve some nice things after all you've been through. I just wish I could have been more helpful to you in the bad times.”

“It's all right! You've been so busy with the company and the kids, it's understandable.” Inko managed a shaky smile. “You don't owe me anything, really.”

Asuka looked away and for a moment Inko thought she saw a flicker of sadness in her sister's features.

“Well, I've barged in and discovered your big secret so I guess it's only fair if I share mine with you.” Asuka leaned back in her seat and sighed. “I'll put it plainly: my husband and I are here on business but it's not to do with the company. We sold the company. We've traveled here to finalize the details of our divorce. The kids don't know yet; we're going to sit down with them when we get home and explain it as gently as possible. It's... there are just so many things we can't fix at this point. So we both feel this will be best for everyone.”

“Asu... ka...” Inko's eyes widened and she set her glass down on the table, stunned. “I... I'm so sorry...”

“Don't be. It's not your fault, so don't be.” Asuka smirked, a halfhearted effort. “I was so upset earlier that I forgot to call ahead and warn you I was coming. I just... I tried to take the kids out for ice cream, but then Akio asked why Hiroto wasn't with us and I nearly lost it. I felt like I needed to go somewhere familiar to get a grip and the first thing that popped into my head was your place.”

They both listened for a moment as oohs and aahs went up from the living room. Toshinori was showing the twins a video on his phone. “See? That's your cousin. That's his hero costume. See how high he just jumped? He's become such a fine student. One of these days he'll be a popular hero, too.”

“He's good with kids,” Asuka mused quietly. “He looks so ill, though... is he all right? I couldn't watch most of the beating he took on TV, it was just so terrible.”

“He's mostly recovered now, I think. He wears an arm brace most days but otherwise he seems well.” Inko didn't mention all the blood-spitting and pain attacks, knowing it was too much information to share on her part. She also hoped it wasn't too apparent on her face how happy she was to hear Toshinori speak so excitedly about her son, praising the boy the way she had always wished Hisashi would. “H-he can't gain weight normally anymore. That's why he's so thin.”

“At least he's in good hands.” Asuka smiled, listening as Akio and Akemi chattered excitedly about Izuku and Toshinori continued to regale them with stories of their cousin's achievements. “They sound so happy. Even if this was a big accident, I'm going to treasure that sound... they deserve some happiness in the middle of all this mess.”

“Is there anything I can do?!” Inko asked urgently. “Anything at all. Do you need money?”

“Oh, money is the least of my worries right now. It's peace of mind I'm after, really.” Asuka gestured dismissively. “That will come with time. I just know I'm going to be between a rock and a hard place when it comes to my feelings for a while.”

Inko got up from her seat and approached her sister, then placed her right hand on her sister's shoulder. “I'm so sorry,” she murmured. “I'm really... really sorry.”

For a moment Asuka almost looked ready to cry. Almost. Then she stood up and hugged her sister tightly, the kind of hug they hadn't shared since they were children. “I already told you,” she scolded playfully, though her eyes were moist. “Don't be sorry!”

“Hey Mom, guess what!”

The sisters released each other as Akio and Akemi came bounding into the kitchen. “Hey Mom! All Might says when we finish junior high we ought to try applying to UA too!” Akio announced, hovering several inches off the floor with his Quirk.

“Yeah! We're gonna go to the same school as Izuku! We're gonna be heroes too!” Akemi joined in, jumping up and down much higher than a child her age should be able to. “I already have my hero name picked out: Rocket Jump!”

“That's great!” Asuka exclaimed, motioning for the twins to stop showing off their Quirks. “But remember what I told you about using your powers indoors...?”

“Yes, Mom.” Both twins sighed in unison and returned to the floor.

“Listen to your mother,” Toshinori admonished, coming up behind the twins. “One of the key traits of a hero is their willingness to obey authorities.”

Inko could see it in his expression: he had truly enjoyed himself. He looked a bit weary and pale but his eyes were bright and he wasn't slouching the way he usually did when he was just pretending to be fine. When he glanced over at her he gave her a real smile, a lopsided sort of grin that conveyed how relieved he was.

Light from the waning sun was starting to come through the windows. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Asuka declared, “but it's high time we went out for some dinner. I promised you both we'd eat at the mall and visit the arcade, so we'd better get going if we want to make it before the rush. Akio, Akemi, be polite and say your goodbyes.”

“Awww...”

The twins took their time bidding their aunt and their hero farewell. By the time they finally got their shoes on and headed out the door it was nearly sunset. Asuka brought up the rear, pausing in the doorway to wave at Inko. “Thanks for having us,” she said briskly. “Even if it wasn't very well thought out... I'm glad I got to see you, sister.”

“Feel free to stop by anytime!” Inko said. “Well... just try to call first from now on.”

Asuka laughed. She then turned her attention to Toshinori. “Thank you for being so patient,” she told him. “I feel terrible for crashing your date night, but still... thank you for being kind to my children. It means a lot right now.”

“It was no trouble at all.” He gave her a thumbs-up. “They're good kids.”

“Mom, are you coming? I'm hungry,” came the whining query from outside.

“I guess that's my cue,” Asuka sighed. “Well then! Good night to you both.”

As soon as the door shut Inko felt a wave of relief wash over her. She quickly bolted the door and leaned against it, suddenly aware of just how stressful the unexpected visit had been for her. “That was...” She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes shut as she tried to shake off the uneasiness. “That was certainly something.”

She felt sweaty and frumpy and anything but presentable. She knew she looked completely frazzled. But when she opened her eyes she caught Toshinori looking at her like she was all gussied up and ready for a night on the town.

She felt her cheeks heat up and knew she was blushing. “Are you okay?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Toshinori admitted. “I'm fine. I...” He looked down, stifling a cough. “I really should have called. Damn. I won't let that happen again.”

“You didn't know. It's okay,” Inko said. “Honestly I... I'm glad you showed up. I'm glad you came to see me, and that you brought me flowers...”

She looked over at the bouquet, which now rested in a glass vase on her coffee table. She wanted to tell him a number of things: how sorry she was that he had been forced to meet her relatives, how grateful she was that he chose to stay... she wanted to say a lot more than that, too, but she couldn't find the words.

“If you want to,” she said somewhat shyly, “You could stay for a while... I could cook something nice and then, I don't know, maybe we could watch a movie...”

He had already perked up when she suggested staying longer, but he really perked up when she mentioned a movie. “Are you sure?” he asked. “If you need to rest, please, don't be afraid to tell me.”

“That's what the movie is for, silly.” She stepped in close and smiled at him. “Now tell me: which Star Wars is your favorite?”

He was about to find out something this evening she usually didn't share with most people, simply because she rarely felt comfortable enough to do so.

Inko Midoriya wasn't just the mother of a bona-fide self-professed nerd; she was one hell of a nerd herself. All the movies stashed in the cabinet under the TV? Hers. From the old Gojira film that had given her nightmares as a young child to more recent movies, she had a collection that most people might assume belonged to her son due to the number of kaiju features and science fiction titles.

Movies had been an escape for herself and Izuku, something they could bond over as they weathered their troubles. Somewhere along the way she had gone from simply enduring them for her son's sake to appreciating and collecting them herself. She wasn't the sort of person to hoard merchandise but the films themselves were worth purchasing.

Toshinori appeared conflicted as he tried to give her an answer. “I'll have to admit it's a tie between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi . I'm a bit dated when it comes to my preferences, unfortunately.”

“Ah, but Empire is my favorite! It's settled, then.” Inko clapped her hands together and felt a surge of energy. “Dinner and a movie, my treat.”

She wasn't quite sure why she felt so upbeat after such a draining experience. Perhaps it was her second wind of the day finally kicking in; perhaps it was just nervous energy she needed to burn off. Or maybe she just wanted to get her mind off thoughts related to divorces.

“And here I was hoping I'd get to treat you to dinner.” Toshinori held up his credit card between the pointer and middle fingers of his left hand. “My first thought was going out somewhere, but now... how does ordering in sound?”

“It's no problem for me to cook something, really! But...” Inko stepped in close to him and looked up at him fondly. “If... if you really want to... I'd love that.”

His response was to reach for her with his other hand, almost as if he intended to put it on her shoulder, but then it changed course and brushed against her cheek. She sucked in the smallest of surprised breaths at the touch, heat once again rushing to her face. He looked uncertain, as if he didn't really know what he was doing-- but really, she thought, does it matter? The important thing was that even though he acted like a nervous teenager with a raging crush, he was sincere. She found it terribly endearing.

She caught his hand before it could drop back to his side. He wasn't a small man by any means but still... she could feel the tendons that led from his wrist to his knuckles, the lack of padding over muscle and bone, and it was nearly enough to make her forget that barely two months ago he could still throw punches powerful enough to level buildings.

She couldn't remember the last time Hisashi had touched her like that. She honestly couldn't recall it at all.

“I...” She could see color blooming over Toshinori's gaunt cheekbones as he struggled to say something.

“Hm?”

“I... really ought to call... for that matter, figure out where we're ordering from...”

His voice kept getting quieter and quieter as he spoke, and then finally – though he had to lean down to do it – he kissed her.

She couldn't help standing on tiptoes. She wished, oh how she wished she was taller so he wouldn't have to stoop to her level. Her eyes were shut when she kissed him back and for a moment she forgot to feel like a dumpy single mother approaching middle age. Instead she felt young and brave and happy again, happy because for the first time in a long time that old empty space in her heart was full.

“That was long overdue,” Toshinori told her when he finally came up for air. “I would have... well, earlier, but...”

“That would have been scandalous,” Inko teased, and they both snickered over it like children.

They were both redfaced and slightly breathless and giddy from the sheer satisfaction of getting away with something despite the considerable list of valid reasons why they probably shouldn't be doing the thing. When he placed their orders by phone they were on the couch where their first kiss had occurred, not quite curled up together yet but definitely on the snug side. While they waited for the delivery to arrive he played the same videos he had shown Izuku's cousins to her, and as she watched her son perform extraordinary feats in what looked like a deluxe training suite she fiddled with Toshinori's hair. It was naturally wavy and a bit rough, and as she ran her fingers through it he leaned his head back like a cat seeking more petting.

By the time their food arrived – hers a proper meal, his a sparse arrangement of things that wouldn't put him through a night of digestive agony – his suit jacket had been thrown haphazardly over the back of a kitchen chair as if it belonged there.

By the time their movie reached the emotionally charged carbon freezing scene – as Leia said “I love you” and Han replied “I know” – they were holding hands and both of them tightened their fingers simultaneously. Inko could hear Toshinori's heartbeat as she rested her head on his slight chest and it comforted her to hear the steady rhythm. He was warm and that warmth seeped through his dress shirt, lending itself to her.

Her home was dark now save the light emitting from the television and the faint glow from outside. After the credits rolled and the DVD returned to its main menu she fumbled for the remote, turning off the DVD player and then emitting a contented sigh. “It's getting late,” she told him.

Toshinori didn't appear too bothered by this fact. “Mmmhm.”

“I don't want to chase you off, but... I worry about you, the same way I used to worry about Izuku. The same way I still worry for him, even though he has powers. This isn't a bad neighborhood but I get so nervous around here late at night nowadays...”

“Mmhm.”

She tugged on his tie, feigning impatience. “When you do go home... promise you'll call me when you get there. Humor a professional worrywart.”

“You have my word.” His words were sincere but Toshinori's tone seemed absent somehow, as if his thoughts were far away.

Inko felt a twinge of uncertainty run through her. She wanted to ask if anything was the matter, but didn't want it to sour the mood. But before she could think of what to say, he shifted his position so he could face her while still allowing her to lean on him.

“I've been wanting to say something,” he began, voice low as he bowed his head, “but I didn't want it to cast a shadow over my intentions. If I may... will you humor a professional bumbler and hear me out?”

“Of course,” Inko replied. Please don't let this be anything else about Izuku, please don't let this be anything bad, please please please...

Her thoughts were a wild mess but she didn't show any of it. She had to hold out hope that there were no more secrets between them regarding her son.

“I've... well, you've probably guessed by now, but it's been difficult getting used to my retirement.”

His heart rate had sped up now. She let go of his tie and placed a reassuring hand on his chest over his sternum. “You've been through so much,” she said quietly.

“It feels wrong to talk about it, like I'm whining. I don't gain any satisfaction from complaining. But I...” He kept pausing, reaching for words as his feelings and his pride warred with one another. “In all of my difficulties, I've been able to feel so happy... because you've helped show me how to live without all the hero trappings. These things that might seem so ordinary to other people... I'm thankful for them, more than I can put plainly like this. I'm happy with all of this. With you. I'm happy to be able to be human... instead of feeling ashamed and powerless.”

This was the most emotional she had ever seen him in person, with perhaps one exception. Her mind flashed back to the glimpse she had caught of his face the day she barged into his house and helped him deal with illness. The failing stoic facade, the obvious cracks and gaps in his emotional armor, had been such a far cry from his typical composure... instead of pitying or reviling him for it, she only loved him more.

“I've learned so much,” he continued. “And I want to keep learning. I may be a teacher, but... there's so much I know I don't understand. I had myself convinced that living my life alone was the best possible solution but now... now I can't stand thinking about it. Everyone saw my weakness and now the whole world knows what a sham my pride has been. As the Symbol of Peace I was prepared to be lonely, I considered it part of a hero's burden, but now... I can't pretend everything is fine anymore. I can't trick myself and believe my own bullshit about not being afraid.”

Inko found herself thinking of that one video Izuku had watched over and over again as a small child, the footage of All Might's dramatic debut. She remembered thinking back then about how wonderful it must be to have no fear, to show such spirit in the face of such a great catastrophe. She remembered that borderline obnoxious laugh, the domineering and inexorable presence that seemed to leak from the computer screen, and how completely unreal such a magnificent hero seemed even in this age of superpowers.

She knew better now. She knew the truth. And she loved the truth more than she could have ever loved the unattainable ideal.

“And that's why...” Toshinori swallowed hard. “That's why I'm so happy with the way things are. Because being with you is enough to do what I can't by myself anymore. To chase away my fear and show me that maybe everything will be okay after all. You told me to live... I'd like to live as long as I can if it means being part of your life, and Izuku's.”

Her response was to wrap her arms around him as much as she could manage. Her eyes were threatening to leak. “Then live,” she said. “We can both keep on living and give Izuku... and each other... our best efforts.”

By the time he got ready to leave they had both made good use of Inko's tissue box. He paused after putting on his shoes and let her fix his tie, and when she finished she looked up to see a weary but contented smile on his face. She almost wished she hadn't expressed her worries to him; she hated thinking that she somehow added to his feelings of inadequacy and helplessness.

“I love you,” she said insistently, leaving no room for hesitation or uncertainty.

“I know.”

He kissed her on the forehead and then she strained on tiptoes to kiss him goodnight, and somehow letting him go out the door was the hardest thing she had done all day. It took surprising effort on her part to close the door behind him.

What a day...

When she climbed into bed two hours later after a hot shower she took her phone with her, laying it by her pillow as her eyes struggled to stay open. He still hasn't called yet, she thought drowsily as her head sank into the softness of her pillow. I want to call him and check, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. Maybe he just forgot. That frustrating man...

Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was that if she had gone ahead and voiced her last-minute silly idea, that he should just stay the night since it was so late, then he wouldn't have been able to go home and feed his cat.

Chapter Text

The man formerly known as the Symbol of Peace sat on the edge of a hospital bed and stared at the newspaper a nurse had been kind enough to share with him.

It was cold here. It was always too cold for his liking in hospitals. Hospitals had a smell to them that he despised as well, an ever-present antiseptic odor that reminded him of experiences he desperately wanted to forget. He wasn't wearing one of those dreadful paper gowns now, but a white T-shirt and some gray sweatpants Naomasa had obtained from somewhere for him to put on instead. He could feel the coolness of the tiles through his socks and as he drew in a deep breath, he forced himself to read the headline that dominated the paper's front page one more time.

ALL MIGHT MUGGED! FORMER #1 HERO HOSPITALIZED AFTER VIOLENT ROBBERY!

His phone was gone. His wallet was gone. Credit cards, driver's license, his credentials as a retired pro hero, all of it – gone. Taken by the people who had ambushed him as he walked to the bus stop. They had given him quite a few bruises as they pinned his arms and legs and took his things, following up with a hard shove to the pavement and a kick in the ribs. He couldn't even remember their faces very well. Describing them to the police had been a terribly embarrassing affair as he struggled to recall something, anything that would help in their capture.

I was... I was truly terrified. I'm no stranger to fear, but I've been so used to knowing I could handle the things I was afraid of... I was so scared that I froze up.

It had felt so unreal at first, the punches and the immobility as they restrained him. Even with the pain to remind him of reality it still felt like he was watching it happen to someone else. As if someone else, not him, was too weak to fight back.

A homeless man had found him in that dark alley, drawn to the sound of scuffle. Had mistaken him for competition and barked out a threat, that this was his territory and he would be raiding these dumpsters, until Toshinori's torn clothes and battered appearance made him realize what was going on. At first Toshinori had been grateful for the help, but now...

What an opportunistic little shit.

In exchange for attention, glory and the most tantalizing reward of all – money – that homeless man had also told everything to the media, who were now circling around Toshinori's plight like vultures hovering over a fresh carcass.

What was his name? Yasuharu, no, Yasuhiro? I'm almost pissed off enough to sue him.

He felt the thin paper crumple in his grip as both hands clenched in anger. He had a reputation for taking things in stride and not losing his cool, but today his temper felt like the surface tension on a full glass of water, ready to break and spill out if one more drop fell in. It took him a moment to realize that he was so wound up his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

“Don't let them get to you.”

Naomasa stood in the doorway. He had dark circles under his eyes, having remained awake all night without any naps since. His short dark hair was uncombed and he gave a small, weary wave as he smiled. “I've already given detailed instructions. No one is allowed to see you right now unless you want them here. Of course this doesn't apply to your hero colleagues, just the general public.”

“Thank you.” Toshinori rolled the paper up and tossed it into the trash bin. “I've already called and ensured my money won't be misused. Those criminals now have some useless pieces of plastic with my name on them.”

“In the time between the incident and your calls to the bank and credit card companies, a few minor purchases were made that should help track the culprits. Nothing I can't reimburse you for if it comes to that.” Naomasa sighed. “Honestly. At first I was worried some villains had set this up, but now I'm positive those guys had no idea who you were. They would probably have attacked a little old lady if she looked well-off enough.”

“One of them had a strong Quirk.” Toshinori remembered how the gang's ringleader had simply melted into the shadows when the time came to flee the scene. “The others were just punks with minor Quirks. Not the kind of people any villain with an eye for talent would care to associate with.”

He knew he would probably be sitting here with quite a few more injuries if he hadn't done something very rash. After being flung to the ground and kicked, he had reacted the only way he really knew how: by drawing on what remained of One For All. It had been an extremely limited and practically useless transformation, one that ripped apart the clothes that had been altered for his emaciated form, but it had scared the entire gang absolutely shitless. They didn't stick around to wait and see if he could still throw a punch. They were gone by the time his five seconds were up.

He could at least find some consolation in the fact that they hadn't been around to see him vomit everything he had eaten for dinner immediately thereafter.

“At least you're not in terrible shape. When I heard they beat you up, my imagination... well, it wasn't pretty. But here you are, not a single rib broken. I wouldn't be surprised if you're discharged by noon.”

“Yeah.” Toshinori didn't say what was on his mind – that he would like to just sleep for the next five days or so, avoid the inevitable fallout. He stood up and walked over to the window, pushing aside the heavy curtain and looking down at the parking lot several stories below. “I appreciate it, my friend. I really do.”

He waited until Naomasa left and the door clicked shut to lift up his shirt and look at his scar. It looked angry again, aggravated by the kick that had grazed it and his reactionary transformation. Another reminder that he was no longer fit to perform heroics or even defend himself properly.

Another reminder that now he was as ordinary as he had been before he received One For All from Nana... no. He had been young and strong and whole then, capable of great athletic feats even without a Quirk. This was different. This was worse.

He could see his own reflection in the clean glass of the window as the sun hit him. He scowled at himself, at the sunken eye sockets and stark cheekbones now worsened by the presence of so many bruises, and pulled the curtain shut again.

I hate feeling sorry for myself. But... I can't ignore this feeling. I can't ignore reality, not anymore.

When he climbed back onto his bed and turned on the TV, he saw that it was already set to a major new station and several people were talking about him. “There's this sense of a taboo, if you will, regarding how people want to talk about All Might since what happened in Kamino Ward,” one of the reporters was saying. “No one wants to get to the hard facts: he was hiding this weakness from everyone and continuing to work as a hero when he could have run out of power at any time and been reduced to a helpless bystander. Doesn't that seem irresponsible? It almost seems like glory-hounding to me, caring more about your popularity than your ability to actually help others. If he's this weak in his real form it's just another indication that his pride was more important than public safety.”

“That's a good point, Noriko.” Another reporter nodded approvingly. “I mean, of course we'd all like to believe that All Might's heroic spirit just outstripped his capabilities. But when something like this happens it's pretty clear that some pro heroes just have ego issues, even the most beloved. This will undoubtedly rekindle the debate on mandatory retirement for heroes with disabilities--”

Toshinori turned off the TV.

They're wrong. You know they're wrong, anyone with a lick of sense knows they're wrong, he told himself. But it didn't stop the ache in his heart or the sudden desire to just stop being for a while.

He drew his legs up and leaned forward, arms folded on top of his knees while his forehead pressed into the skin of his right forearm. It was the posture of an emotionally overwhelmed child. He certainly felt like one; yesterday the world had made sense and now it was trying to swallow him whole.

Yesterday...

He wanted to turn the clock back twelve hours and return to that couch with Inko, watching Star Wars and enjoying their closeness. To go back to a time when everything really did feel like it was going to be okay.

He knew he needed to call her. He knew she was certainly awake by now and maybe even watching the news.

She was right. Everyone was right, telling me to be more careful, telling me to take more precautions and acknowledge my limitations. And yet I insisted on traveling by myself, doing everything as if I'm still powered up, ignoring that someone like myself is at risk in this society that still suffers from the dog-eat-dog mentality.

Thinking about being Quirkless made him think about Izuku. He could still clearly recall the day they had met, how weak and vulnerable the boy was at the hands of those who sought to take advantage of him. Having been Quirkless once himself, Toshinori had sympathized with him, but time had dulled his perception of those bygone days. He still had One For All then. He could still be a hero when it mattered.

Now he not only lacked One For All, he had a list of conditions that might kill him if not managed properly. And properly managing his health was something he was only just starting to truly grasp.

I'm... I'm even more powerless than Izuku was back then...

He felt ashamed more than anything. He didn't want to have to face everyone who had warned him, who worried over him, and admit yet again that he had been too proud to heed their advice.

I told All For One there was nothing he could do to take my pride away and yet... now...

As if to spite him, his breath caught in his chest and he began to cough. He tasted blood and his airways were clear again, for now. He climbed off the bed and went for a tissue, only to stumble as his bruised and sore legs failed him in one wrong step; his left knee hit the hard floor and the impact jarred him. But he braced himself with the bed's railing and pulled up, teeth gritted as a trickle of blood ran from his mouth and trailed down his chin and neck.

It was too much. The cold air, the antiseptic smell, the memory of days spent kept alive by machines and post-op drifting from drugged haze to painful, sharp clarity – it all added to his current anxieties and he felt a new wetness running down his face, one that wouldn't stain like the blood but vexed him nonetheless.

How can I be of any use to anyone if I'm this pathetic?

He knew better. He knew he knew better and still these thoughts ate at him. He thought of Inko telling him to live, of his promise to devote himself to Izuku's development, and felt even more ashamed for having such notions.

He felt like a failure, plain and simple. There was no pyrrhic victory to be had here, no “but at least I accomplished this” to console himself with. Not this time.

His gaze drifted to the hospital phone as he wiped his face and he knew what he had to do. But somehow, something as simple as a phone call felt like a do-or-die high-stakes mission where failure meant catastrophe.

She's going to cry, he thought as he started dialing Inko's number. She's going to cry again and it'll be my fault. Shit. Goddammit.

His shaky hands dropped the phone mid-dial as a knock sounded on the door. “Shit!” he swore aloud, flinching as the phone clattered to the floor. “Who is it?”

“The goddamned pizza delivery boy! Who do you think it is?” the unmistakable voice of Gran Torino bellowed as the door swung open.

The senior hero who had once seemed a giant to a younger Toshinori was now stooped with age and diminutive compared to his former pupil's great height, but the look on Torino's face was sharp and stern enough to chase away any suspicions that age might have mellowed him at all. The older man wasted no time inviting himself in, slamming the door behind him and huffing irritably. “So you do take after me a little bit after all, huh. Better be careful or they'll be running gossip columns about All Might's potty mouth next.”

It was so strange to see Gran Torino in casual dress. He looked like a harmless old man in a faded T-shirt, jeans and orthopedic shoes that had definitely seen better days. He even had on a comically large fanny pack and wore his sunglasses on top of his head. The sheer amount of surprise at the sight of it was almost enough to make Toshinori forget why he felt so miserable.

“I... didn't expect...”

“Didn't expect me to come harass you in the midst of your suffering? There's an underestimation if I ever heard one. Thought I pounded enough lessons on that into your thick skull to make a difference, but hey, my memory ain't what it used to be.” Torino's words were brazen but his eyes were tired as he looked Toshinori over. “You look like hell. Your friend Tsukauchi was kind enough to fill me in on the bare-bones details when I arrived, but... damn. At least you're not as much of a mess as you could be.”

Toshinori picked up the phone gingerly and set it back in its cradle. “I appreciate you coming here,” he said quietly. “It's... easy to feel alone here, even when I'm surrounded by people.”

“I didn't come here to shoot the breeze, boy.” Torino casually unzipped his fanny pack and pulled a folded black hoodie out of it, tossing it at the other man without so much as a warning. “Here, put this on. Oh, and these.” He took the sunglasses off of his head. “We're busting you out of this joint before the media can pounce.”

“We?” Toshinori held the hoodie out at arm's length and saw that it had USA emblazoned on the front in red, white and blue letters. “Naomasa said I would be discharged in a few hours.”

“It's being taken care of.” Torino snapped his fingers. “Now slip that on and make sure you pull down the hood, give your face a good shadow. You're recognizable now so we're going to take precautions the old-fashioned way.”

“But who is we?” Toshinori struggled to get into the baggy piece of clothing, his arms refusing to work just right since it hurt to move them in certain ways. “Is this a way to smuggle me to UA?”

“Not quite. Just roll with it, you'll see. Now then, add those aviators I spent too much money on last summer and... ha. Perfect.”

The hoodie's soft fleece was a relief from the perpetual flow of cold air. Toshinori blinked as his eyes adjusted to the shades. “Was this disguise your idea?”

“As a matter of fact, it was. You've still got your shoes, right? You're gonna need 'em.”

He glanced over at his shoes that had been placed under one of the chairs so they wouldn't be in the way. The rest of his clothing had been too torn up to salvage. “Yeah. I--”

His voice cut off as congestion caught in his airway. Trying to dislodge it caused a coughing fit so violent he doubled over and when he could finally breathe again, he was red-faced and blood was coming out of his mouth. Before he could so much as reach for a tissue Gran Torino was handing him one, and Toshinori felt the old man's hand rest on his shoulder. Those old joints were still capable of dealing blows strong enough to defeat villains... but this grip was gentle.

“Easy, now.” Gran Torino tsked as his hand moved from Toshinori's shoulder to lightly pat him on the back. “Don't go hacking up a lung. Breathe.”

“I seem to recall,” Toshinori panted hoarsely, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that might pass for a grin, “that you enjoyed making me spew in the good old days.”

“I did! But that was when you'd puke up ramen, not your own guts!”

They both laughed. But neither of them were actually laughing; it was something to fill the silence, something to make everything seem normal. Something to ward off the feeling that the world was crumbling apart.

“Come on now.” Gran Torino tugged at the younger man's arm. “Stand up. Wipe your face. You're gonna be fine.”

No , Toshinori wanted to say, I'm not, I'm not fine and can't you see pretending I am is what's gotten me into this mess?

“Okay,” he said instead. His head felt too heavy when he straightened up to his full height and he had to close his eyes from the slight dizziness. He could feel the tissue scraping against stubble that was starting to come up on his chin and jaw as he wiped away the blood. “Thanks, Gran Torino.”

“You can thank me once we're safe in an enclosed space where reporters aren't trying to shove microphones down our throats,” Gran Torino retorted. “It should be simple enough to slip out of here through one of the least busy thoroughfares. The media is watching the police since they know you're here and think that law enforcement ought to be huddled around you like guard dogs. Tsukauchi posted a bunch of guys with earpieces at the main entrance, so that's likely where the bulk of the action is. I'm fairly certain we can waltz right out of a less popular entrance as long as we keep our heads down.”

“I have to make a phone call first,” Toshinori insisted. “It's... important. Just give me five minutes.”

“Five minutes? We've wasted enough time already!” Gran Torino crossed his arms and scowled. “Do you want to get out of here without having to run through the media gauntlet or not?”

“I have to contact someone who's probably worried sick about me.” He didn't want to argue with his old mentor right now, but he couldn't just not call Inko. It went against everything he considered decent to leave her in the dark right now, with the media as her only source of information. “It's... not Izuku, or anyone at the school. I was busy getting up my nerve to make the call, before... well, I'll feel terrible if I don't do this. It won't take long, I promise.”

For a moment he expected Gran Torino to keep arguing, but the senior hero actually looked off to the side and his scowl softened just a bit. “Five minutes,” he snapped, turning and opening the door to walk out of the room. “I'm gonna go get you a yogurt since I know you haven't eaten yet. Bah. All these young people to fuss over.”

After the door clicked shut Toshinori couldn't stop the weary sigh that escaped him. It wasn't that he disliked the other man's presence or efforts to help... more like his brain was struggling to process sudden change at the moment.

I just need... I just need to focus on one thing right now, even if it's at my own expense. I have to let Inko know I'm all right. If I can't try my best to make sure she has peace of mind, what kind of hero-- no, what kind of man am I?

With this in mind, he punched in the proper code to place his call and dialed Inko's number.

One ring, two rings, three, four... when her voicemail activated he felt his heart sink. He tried not to lose his resolve, however, and cleared his throat so he could leave a message.

“This is... this is Toshinori. I... I'm sure you know what's happened. I just wanted to tell you I'm fine. Don't watch the news if you can help it, all right? I don't want you to worry... I'm sorry I wasn't careful. I'm sorry--” He had to pause as his throat grew painfully tight from emotion. “My phone was taken, so don't call or message that number. I--”

A single beep informed him that his time to record a message had ended. Slowly, dejectedly, he returned the phone to its rightful place.

He didn't realize he had been standing as if rooted to the spot by the phone for several minutes until the door swung open again and Gran Torino walked in carrying a cup of yogurt from the cafeteria while wearing a triumphant smirk.

“Hoo, you should have seen the line at that register. But you know what? Start chattering about how yogurt helps with your chronic flatulence and the bodies start parting like the Red Sea. I consider myself a miracle worker. Now catch.” Torino tossed his prize at Toshinori, who scrambled to secure it before it could splatter all over the floor. “Heh, heh. Gotta keep you on your toes. Now then, you can eat it while we walk out of here. Acting natural means we'll have better chances of remaining undetected by the media.”

Toshinori looked down at the plastic container in his hands and resisted the urge to grimace, the fragile remnants of his pride rendering him unable to admit that he really, really hated yogurt for the same reason he hated any type of pudding, popsicle, jello or broth – it went hand in hand with his dislike of how hospitals felt and smelled.

“You really think it'll be that easy?” he asked, feeling the weight of trepidation as the prospect of leaving this room – of having to go out and deal with people at a time like this – loomed before him.

“Nope.” Gran Torino was still smiling, but it was the sort of smile heroes tended to put on when they had no choice but to be confident and determined. It was a look Toshinori knew all too well. “But there's a ride waiting for us and if we play our cards right, we just might pull this off.”

There wasn't much more to be said after they started out. As he had done many times before, Toshinori signed all the paperwork that would allow him to leave and that was that. He felt tired and empty but somehow he managed to keep on walking when all he really wanted to do was just sit somewhere for a few hours. He knew that was why Torino was so damned intent on playing the wisecracking old coach – it was to engage, to prevent a collapse. To keep Toshinori distracted from all the reasons why he felt so hollowed-out and miserable.

When they passed the cafeteria (and after he managed to throw the yogurt into a garbage bin while Gran Torino wasn't looking) he caught a glimpse of the main entrance. Hospital staff and police were doing their best to keep the media from taking up too much space but still the reporters refused to back off. He froze in his tracks at the sight of the cameras but Gran Torino was there to yank on the front of his hoodie and snap him out of it. “Keep walking, son,” the older man muttered. “You're invisible to them right now.”

Disguise or no, Toshinori still felt like one of the single-celled organisms he had studied with a microscope in high school. Trapped in a dish, subject to the scrutiny of an all-seeing eye.

If he's this weak in his real form it's just another indication that his pride was more important than public safety, the voice of the TV reporter from earlier whispered snidely in his back of his mind.

It wasn't just today weighing on him, or the fact that he'd been mugged. It went back farther than that. It was the culmination of weeks of stress slowly piling up, everything from that final fight with All For One to the press conferences about his retirement to the realization that he had finally become truly weak. It was a pressure that he'd allowed himself to ignore in favor of pursuing enjoyable distractions – striving to find ways to teach Izuku and the other students properly, exploring his feelings for Inko.

Inko...

The fact that she hadn't answered her phone bothered him more than he would ever admit, even to her. As much as he liked to think he was beyond being clingy or needy in the slightest, he knew he was craving the reassurance her presence, even just hearing her voice, brought.

He stayed close to Gran Torino as they walked out of the hospital through the entrance on the other side of the cafeteria. There was hardly anyone here; the media hadn't gotten clever yet, wasn't staking out the side doors. Toshinori wished he was shorter, smaller even, any difference that would make him stand out less in public. Even in this disguise he still felt exposed.

It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, but instead of feeling invigorated by the morning sunlight and fresh air he felt the urge to just find someplace quiet and lay down. The sunglasses were hurting the bridge of his nose so he took them off and pocketed them as he followed Gran Torino to a parking lot that wasn't as crowded as the others.

“Not much farther to go,” Torino remarked. “At least the hardest part of this charade is behind us, eh?”

“Who's in on this besides Naomasa?” Toshinori asked. “You never answered my question when I asked who else you recruited.”

“Me, recruiting? Ha! I was recruited into this escapade, as a matter of fact. Now then... ah, there it is. Our chariot awaits.”

The “chariot” was a black Nissan sedan with tinted windows that sat idling away from the other cars. As the two men approached the driver's window rolled down to reveal none other than Aizawa, whose expression remained deadpan even though he gave a small wave. “Yo,” the dark-haired hero grunted.

“Aizawa!” Toshinori was genuinely surprised. “Was all of this your idea?”

“Nah.” Aizawa jerked his thumb at the occupant of the passenger's seat, who was already in the act of exiting the vehicle in a flurry of hurried motions. “Hers.”

Hers...?

She was already running toward him by the time he remembered to breathe again. She was fast, faster than he expected, and she nearly tripped over her own feet in her haste. Her face was discolored with redness and tear tracks but he couldn't remember seeing a sight more beautiful in his life.

“Toshinori!” Inko Midoriya nearly shouted, coming to a halt within arm's length of him. Her eyes were brimming with wetness but she wasn't crying now; she was utterly focused on him, and he had a feeling Aizawa and Gran Torino might as well be nonexistent to her as she faced him. “I had to... I couldn't just... I may have overstepped my bounds but... I'm so glad... you're okay...!”

She reminded him so much of Izuku then, so earnest and overcome with emotion, staring up at him and struggling not to cry even as her breathing came in short gasps between suppressed sobs.

It was a sight that moved him so deeply he forgot to feel nervous or self-conscious in front of others. All that mattered was the fact that she had gone as far as wrangling two pro heroes into aiding her in order to see him. Just as she had stood up to him when it came to Izuku's safety...

He didn't care how she had done it. None of that mattered, even if she had gone straight to the school and raised a ruckus. She could have hired a plane to spell out letters in the sky and it would still be okay. She was here. That was all he cared about.

He didn't realize how affected he was by all the emotions coursing through him until he felt suddenly weak-kneed and found himself settling to the pavement. Inko was there in an instant to grab him, worried he might fall over completely. “Toshinori!” She said his name again, wide-eyed and worried. “What's wrong?”

Aizawa and Gran Torino had both started toward him as soon as they saw him falter, but now they were hanging back. Aizawa's expression was guarded and neutral, an affectation of apathy, but Torino looked pained.

Toshinori didn't even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed about anything in front of them anymore. His surface tension was at its limit. One final drop and the glass started to spill its contents, leaking down his cheeks. He embraced her as he knelt and felt an emotion he hadn't expected on a day like this: joy.

“I'm happy to be alive,” he told her. “I'm happy because you're here. I just... can't... seem to smile about it...”

“Don't worry about it,” she replied quietly, sniffling as she hugged him back. “You don't have to smile. Not today. It's okay.”

He didn't realize how much he had wanted someone to say that to him until the words left her lips. It felt like a sucker punch, in the best way.

It's okay.

Okay to be weak, okay to be fragile and mortal and imperfect, okay to be human. She had taught him these things. Had showed him over and over again from the very start of their relationship.

He would eventually look back on this as the moment he truly became an honorary Midoriya, for all he could do until Gran Torino reminded him to get in the car already was cry.

Chapter Text

Inko's home was warm and welcoming and familiar in a way that invited Toshinori to relax. The couch greeted him like an old friend, the well-worn cushions trying to swallow him up as he sat down, and he remembered how he had spilled tea like a complete klutz on the occasion of that fateful home visit. He remembered being cold and damp and antsy, wearing clothes that belonged to man long gone from both Inko and Izuku's lives, and smothering under the weight of his own imagined guilt over being such a needy bother.

Things had changed a great deal since then but somehow they managed to stay the same. Here he was again in clothes that didn't technically belong to him, his nerves raw and his circumstances less than favorable. He closed his eyes and let the couch bear the full weight of his tired body, his eyes closing. He wanted to go back to the sensations and thoughts of the previous night, when he and Inko had been huddled in this very spot, but something like a mental block refused to let him have that solace. All he could think about were punks in dark clothing beating him up for his wallet, the horrible antiseptic odor of the hospital, and the headlines that highlighted how eager the media was to pounce on his powerlessness.

“What a nice little place,” Gran Torino remarked, startling Toshinori out of his brooding.

Both Inko and Aizawa were gone. Inko had run to the market to stock up on a few items despite Toshinori's fervent insistence that he didn't need anything, while Aizawa was carrying out two duties at the same location: feeding Hime and retrieving necessary meds. It had felt so surreal to hand the man his house key, but on the other hand there were only a few other people Toshinori would entrust such a task to and they weren't available.

Neither of these things were particularly bad, but it meant he was left here in Inko's home with only Gran Torino for company. And as grateful as he was for the older man's aid... Toshinori couldn't help the anxiety or the sweating that accompanied it in his presence.

Inko will be back soon, he told himself. It's not that big of a deal. You're not his student anymore and he's done so much for you already. There's no point in being scared of him now.

Still, though... he didn't know how much Inko had actually told Torino about their relationship. The conversations that had taken place during the ride from the hospital hadn't even touched on the topic. And Toshinori knew Aizawa well enough to know he would never tell anyone a secret of that caliber, not even All Might's old mentor.

“Smells like cherry blossoms,” Torino continued. “Must be an air freshener.”

It was bland small talk and it made Toshinori even more nervous. Gran Torino never wasted time prattling pointlessly unless it was for a specific purpose.

What do I even say? How do I begin to approach this discussion? He wished he could shrink down and hide somehow. I'm a teacher and I'm dating a student's mother and the student happens to be my successor. Is there even a proper way to explain this without it sounding like some kind of scandal?

He had always thought he would end up like Torino. A retired bachelor with few relations or acquaintances to speak of, someone isolated by the very career that had consumed so much of his adult life. It wasn't a pitiful existence at all and he had viewed it as a very honorable, very natural way for someone with such a dangerous life to go. Being a hero meant making sacrifices, eschewing things civilians took for granted –

But lately his perspective had changed drastically thanks to Izuku and Inko. He wanted to be a proper mentor to the boy and guide him in all the aspects of heroics that didn't just involve just punching one's way to victory. He wanted to be a proper partner to Inko, someone who could support her just as much as she constantly supported him. He wanted things instead of denying them in the name of some heroic abstinence creed.

Sitting here within arm's reach of a man who was, for all intents and purposes, his total opposite at this point... it made the tedious subject at hand seem even more daunting to tackle.

Thwack.

Something small and lightweight struck him on the shoulder and bounced onto the couch. It was a pouch of applesauce, the kind parents tended to buy their children since it was convenient to pack in a school lunch and had a built-in straw to eliminate the need for a spoon.

“You threw away your damn yogurt,” Torino groused. “Don't think I didn't notice. You owe me some yen, boy. But it's not a calorie deficit making you sit frozen there like a neurotic gargoyle. You're bad at hiding when you're being fussy about something, as usual.”

“You don't have to feed me,” Toshinori protested. “I'm fine, really.”

“Bullshit. If you weren't such a goddamn limp noodle right now I'd give you a good smack.”

There was a painfully long pause as Toshinori stared down at the floor and wished he was anywhere else. He wished Inko, Izuku, anyone was here to serve as a distraction. He wished...

What should I do, Nana? I could use your advice, Sensei... you always knew what to say when things got really awkward.

He knew he really should stop making a habit of mentally addressing his long-dead predecessor every time he felt emotionally overwhelmed, but imagining her helped bring him some measure of focus. She had been larger than life to him back then and she still was, always dominating his memories of her with that winning smile and boundless energy.

“I...”

He wanted to believe Nana would be in his corner at a time like this. That she would want him to be happy. But he also knew the facts: that she had given up her own son after losing her husband, and that she understood all too well the dangers that came with attachments to others.

“I'm sure you're wondering what... why Mrs. Midoriya went to such lengths to retrieve me.”

“Eh?” Torino tilted his head slightly, like a puzzled dog.

He's either being a smarmy bastard and pushing me to be as blatant as possible, Toshinori thought, or he's genuinely blind to something that's practically screaming and flashing in front of his face.

Of the two possibilities, the first was much more likely. He resisted the urge to groan.

“What I mean is...”

“What you mean is that you're worried I'll bite your head off for fooling around with Izuku's dear mother, is that it?”

And there it was. Toshinori steeled himself.

“So you do know.”

“I'd have to be a dunce not to,” Torino retorted. “You shed like a dog.” He emphasized this by plucking a single blond hair off the couch and holding it up.

Well... shit.

“It's not...” Toshinori gestured feebly, trying to figure out what to even say next. He hoped his cheeks weren't as red as the heat they currently held seemed to indicate. “We aren't... it's not like... I mean, we aren't... involved. Not like that.”

“You think the media's going to give a flying fuck whether you've made it to second or third base yet once this gets out?”

That hit a sore spot. Toshinori felt something flare in him and it almost seemed like anger. “The media can kiss my ass,” he growled.

“That's my boy.” Torino's eyes were gleaming now. “Been waiting all morning for you to show some spirit.”

It was all Toshinori could do not to sputter. Show some spirit? “If you have something to say about me... about us... I'm all ears,” he said evenly. It was the same sort of posturing he used to do when he was running out of time to rely on One For All but refused to let a villain see his desperation.

This seemed to please Gran Torino, who crossed his arms and regarded the younger man with a bemused look. “Oho, so you're feeling plucky now? Well then, who am I to turn down a challenge? I'll tell you what I think.” The smile vanished from his face and he scowled a bit, the lines around his mouth tightening. “I think you're an idiot, for one. I won't even go into how much of a kerfuffle it'll be with the public, but have you even thought about the boy? How are you gonna go about teaching him if nobody knows where the line gets drawn between teacher and... whatever the hell else you're trying to be? Hm?”

“Of course I've considered Izuku,” Toshinori insisted. “I...”

“And for that matter,” Torino continued, talking over him, “You got any plans laid yet for how you're gonna break it to your sweetheart that you snuck her kid a Quirk while she wasn't looking? Because what you're dealing with is a time bomb, and I don't think either of us want Izuku caught in the explosion when it blows.”

“Actually, we... already dealt with that.”

The look on Torino's face made all the discomfort almost worth it. “Well I'll be damned,” the senior hero grunted. “And she didn't pitch a fit?”

“We didn't speak for a week.” Toshinori looked away. “And... it was before we made things official, anyway. I'd been visiting to give updates on Izuku for her peace of mind, nothing more.”

Torino appeared to be at a loss for words for a moment. Then his features scrunched back into a curmudgeonly glower and he huffed. “Can't believe you squawked about something like One For All so easily. And here I thought you were immune to the charms of pretty girls. But tell me, boy, does Izuku even know about any of this?”

“No. Not yet. We... neither of us have found the right time to tell him. His ability to focus on his education is more important.”

“That may be a fair point, but either you're gonna tell him yourself or he's gonna find out the hard way when the media starts plastering it on every TV screen and magazine cover.” Torino shook his head. “He's a good kid. A strong kid, and not just physically. He'll handle it.”

“I thought you said my role as his teacher would be compromised by...”

“It already is! That kid thinks the sun shines out of your ass and has since he could walk. You handpicked him and whipped him into shape, hell, you've bent over backwards for him time and time again... and you care about him, too. It's too late to backtrack there. What you've got to do is figure out how you're gonna balance that with your obligation to him as his teacher.”

“Like Nana did with me,” Toshinori mused.

“It was harder for her than you know.” Gran Torino stared off into space, his expression softening into something less snappish. “Losing her husband, then sending her son away... and then there you were, the Quirkless wonder she picked as her successor. I think once she found out you didn't have parents she had to really work at making sure things stayed objective. Sometimes when she went on about you to me it was like hearing somebody list off all their kid's accomplishments.”

The conversation had just taken a rather unexpected turn and now Toshinori found himself unable to say anything in response. He had been bracing for more accusations and nitpicking, not sudden insight into his former mentor's past. What surprised him wasn't the nature of the admissions, but the fact that Torino was voluntarily contributing them at all.

“I respected her as Sensei ,” he finally said quietly. “I don't think I knew how to see her as anything else.”

“You were doing just fine with One For All until she died,” Torino pointed out. “After that I had to kick the snot out of you just to get you to stop moping. Felt like hitting a sad puppy, but I'd made a promise and I wasn't about to break it.”

A promise...

Back then it had all seemed so unfair. Nana gone, control over One For All slipping because his emotions were a tangled mess, and being stuck with a homeroom teacher whose concept of the word “mercy” seemed loose at best. He would never admit this to Izuku, but he had cried on a near-daily basis for a month straight. Frequent visits to Recovery Girl were a testament to how reckless and inexperienced he was, while Gran Torino's unceasing criticism only drove in that point.

But he had endured, adapted and ultimately succeeded. Had become the hero Nana knew he could be. And though he had continued to fear Gran Torino for years afterward, he couldn't deny that the man's efforts had been well-spent.

“I find myself wishing she was still here,” he confessed, “because most of the time I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to personal matters. My first reaction is always to consider the difficult choice and tell myself I'm better off alone. That others will be better off staying away. I've tried emulating her decisions but as you can see... I'm not very good at it.”

It felt rather like trying to navigate a minefield, saying something like that to Gran Torino, but it only seemed proper to offer a personal admission after hearing the other man do the same. Besides, he knew trying to dance around issues at this point would be useless.

“I should have been there.”

Toshinori stared at Gran Torino, noting how the older man's hands had now curled into fists.

“I should have been with her when she fought All For One. But she wanted to go by herself. Always wanted to do everything by herself. She was so intent on making sure no one else got dragged into her problems she forgot how to rely on her friends. Even other heroes.”

… what … ?

“You get what I'm saying, boy?” Torino fixed him with a flinty gaze, looking less like a scrappy retired hero and more like an old man with too many regrets. “She did what she thought was right and she never took it back. And I did what I thought was right and left her alone, even when I knew damn well she had no business throwing herself into danger without backup. And then she was gone, just like that. Gone.”

Something clicked in Toshinori's head. He had known Gran Torino briefly back when Nana was still alive. Torino had actually been someone interested in friends and family then, had seemed more like a person than the grim and fearsome loner he became.

Did you love her? He almost let it slip. Almost. But he knew some questions shouldn't have answers. Some things were better left unsaid, unknown.

“You didn't...” He sighed. “It wasn't your fault.”

“I know. Still hurts like a bitch to think about, though. And more importantly, it gives perspective. You think I came all this way to tell you that you ought to be living in some kind of monastic seclusion? Nope! I still think you're an idiot, but at least you're an idiot who's not going to end up a miserable old hermit. And goddamn if that doesn't make me feel better.”

Toshinori wanted to say something, but as soon as his lips parted he was startled by the sound of the front door opening. Both he and Torino turned to see Inko entering with several bags on each arm. He instinctively moved to get up and help her with her load... but Torino beat him to it.

“I heard you saying you like taiyaki so I bought a box,” Inko said as she handed off bags. “I thought it would be something quick and easy to fix.”

“Taiyaki! How delightful,” Gran Torino replied cheerily, showing no evidence of the heavy conversation that had been going on before she came in. “Here, I've got some yen that should cover the cost.”

“No! I mean, it really isn't important for you to pay me back, it was no trouble at all...”

Watching as Torino's insistence on paying her and Inko's insistence on refusing the money escalated into good-natured bickering brought a small smile to Toshinori's face. He found himself unable to look away from her, as if letting her out of his field of vision might cause her to disappear. When her green eyes met his and he saw the warmth in them he couldn't help giving the tiniest of waves, a wordless indication that he was glad to see her.

She blushed just enough for the pink to show on her cheeks even from a distance. Toshinori's small smile widened into a real grin that pulled on the bruise that currently dominated his left cheekbone.

Yeah... this is enough. This is what I want.

Here in this place, in the little world within these walls, he felt a sense of contentment that went bone-deep. If he closed his eyes, leaned back on the couch, took a deep breath and ignored the pain, he knew it would be easy to simply forget last night and its consequences had even happened. Inko's presence had a way of banishing all the dark thoughts as if someone was exorcising demons.

“Have you gotten in touch with Izuku yet?” Inko asked as she approached the couch, her back turned to Gran Torino – who was muttering to himself as he tried to figure out which canned goods went in what cabinets. “I'm sure he's beside himself with worry by now, what with all the news coverage.”

“I haven't called yet. I've... been a little distracted,” Toshinori sighed. “Perhaps I should go and find a pay phone, since I'm sure he'd be rightly confused if I used your home or cell phone.”

Inko's brow furrowed as she reached out and brushed his bruised cheekbone with her fingertips, the touch feather-light but still enough to send a jolt through him almost like electricity. “There's one close by,” she suggested. “We can walk together.”

A flurry of beeps sounded as Gran Torino started programming the microwave to heat up the taiyaki. “You lovebirds don't take too long,” he admonished sternly. “Or I might just eat it all myself before it gets cold.”

You old troll, Toshinori thought as both he and Inko physically flinched... and then both of them had flushed cheeks at the same time.

Inko laughed nervously, then held out her hand. “Come on,” she said in a tone that tried to be more upbeat than rattled.

He took her hand gently but didn't pull on her as he stood slowly. His legs sent pangs of complaint through his nervous system from all the bruises but he ignored them, his attention focused on the woman before him instead of his own aches. Slouching like this put only a foot or so of height difference between them and he wished he was shorter so he could do something nice without having to stoop – a kiss on the cheek, a forehead touch, anything really. The emotions that had been so jumbled up earlier were organized now in a way that put affection at the fore, and he wondered how averse she might be to the idea of just taking a long nap together once everyone else was gone.

“Are you sure you're comfortable in just the shirt and hoodie?” Inko asked as they went for the door, still holding hands. “It's a little chilly out.” She gestured at her own winter coat for emphasis.

“It'll only be a few minutes, nothing a good cup of hot tea won't fix.” Toshinori reached for the doorknob. “I don't intend to tell Izuku more than he needs to know. Poor kid doesn't need to be worrying over me when he should be focusing on--”

Before he could even turn the knob the door flew open. It was only reflex that pushed Toshinori to step back and pull Inko with him so they wouldn't be struck, and by the time he realized who was standing in the doorway it was already too late; he was still holding Inko's hand.

To call the look on Izuku's face surprise would be a gross understatement. Within seconds his eyes were so wide Toshinori feared they might fall out of the boy's head.

“M-mom?” Izuku asked faintly, dropping his backpack. “All Might?!”

Chapter Text

“M-mom?” Izuku asked faintly, dropping his backpack. “All Might?!”

“Oh! Hey, Izuku! You're just in time for taiyaki!” Gran Torino yelled from the kitchen.

“Gran Torino...” Izuku mumbled, his expression dim as if he'd just been stunned. “Why is... what's going on...?”

As if on cue, Toshinori spurted blood. Inko immediately sprang into action.

“Izuku! Come inside and close the door!” she commanded, pulling her son in by the front of his jacket. “Gran Torino! I need some paper towels!” She rushed to the kitchen, leaving Toshinori to face his successor – who was growing more and more bewildered by the second.

“What are you doing here?” Toshinori wheezed, attempting to wipe his chin with his sleeve.

“What are you doing here?” Izuku countered. “I thought you were at the hospital! I thought--!”

“It's a long story,” Toshinori admitted. “But I'm okay, even if I did get a little banged up.”

“You're supposed to be at the dormitory!” Inko scolded, hurrying over with a handful of paper towels that she shoved at Toshinori while addressing her son. “Did you even tell anyone where you were going?!”

“It's Saturday!” Izuku protested. “And I... I couldn't just sit around! I wanted to come here and talk to you because I felt really upset... I can't stand what they're saying on the news! But then... you're all here, and...” He blinked twice, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “Is... i-is there something going on, All Might? Mom?”

For a moment Inko appeared intimidated but it passed quickly. She glanced at Toshinori and he gave her a tiny nod, though he knew she didn't need his approval at all.

“Izuku,” she began calmly, her hands clasped together in front of her waist, “Pick up your backpack and shut the door, then we can talk.”

The boy complied quickly. He kept glancing at Toshinori as he ambled over to deposit his backpack on the couch, as if making sure the man wasn't a hallucination of some sort. “I didn't mean to barge in,” he said apologetically. “I should have knocked... but I didn't think...” He scratched the back of his head and looked away. “I mean, I'm happy! Happy you guys are getting along, it's just...”

“You can say what you feel, my boy,” Toshinori sighed. He felt badly for Izuku, badly for Inko, guilty that he hadn't taken any measures to address this properly yet. Even more than that, he felt acutely aware of someone who wasn't even present – the third Midoriya that no longer resided here and hadn't for over a decade.

He thought of how much he meant to Izuku, how much Izuku had come to mean to him, and how the lines between his goal as a mentor and his actual role in their relationship had been blurred from the very beginning. Idol, protector, trainer, forebear, teacher, confidante, friend ... he had worn many hats by now, as the saying went, and at this point he wasn't even sure which one fit best. And more importantly, he didn't want to find himself usurping a position he had no business filling without Izuku's express permission.

I don't want to intrude on... I don't want to encroach on boundaries that might be painful for him.

“What I... what I feel? Oh! Well, um...” Izuku pressed the tips of his index fingers together and shifted his weight anxiously. “I feel really glad that you're okay, and I feel relieved that things really are fine between you and Mom! Except I, uh, I thought you guys were just getting together every once in a while to go over my school stuff. But on the other hand, I remember you saying you thought Mom looked like your old master because of her hair, and Ochako was just telling me the other day how sometimes men are attracted to women who look like their mothers! Not that your old master was your mom or anything, but it's kind of similar! And now that I think about it, both of you have been a lot happier lately, plus there's the fact that--”

It was a string of mumbling by now accompanied by the intense look Izuku usually got when his speech devolved into one of these tangents. Toshinori had to hold back a wheeze as heat rushed to his face at Izuku's mention of what Ochako had said. A look at Inko and the sight of her utterly flabbergasted expression confirmed that she had heard it too, while Gran Torino could be heard failing to suppress cackling in the kitchen.

“Izuku,” Inko said in a patient but half-scolding tone, fighting to contain how flustered she was, “you're rambling.”

“Sorry!” Izuku immediately stopped babbling and flailed as if trying to grab onto something to steady himself, finally settling for what looked like hugging himself... except one hand was on his face while the other clutched his chest. “I-I don't really know how I feel! I'm not upset, not at all, but... this is a lot to think about all at once!”

“I think it's high time I took my leave,” Gran Torino announced, strolling through the tension with a napkin-wrapped taiyaki in one hand. “You all take care, now. Especially you, Toshinori! You still haven't eaten your breakfast!”

His demeanor was affable and he waved at both Inko and Toshinori before opening the door, and they waved back weakly. The look he shot the latter before the door closed behind him was a stern one, though, and its meaning was clear: don't fuck this up.

As soon as the latch clicked into place Izuku let loose a noise that was part-screech, part-whine, much like he had the first time he laid eyes on All Might's true form. Now that Gran Torino was outside the boy was quickly losing his decorum, and the fact that it meant he felt comfortable enough with both of them to do so didn't make Toshinori feel any better.

Inko was at Izuku's side immediately. “What on earth was that for?!” she cried, grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him gently. “Izuku, what are you--”

“All Might is dating my mom!” Izuku blurted, now in the throes of a full-on freakout. “Th-that's what this is, right? You guys are... together? I mean you were holding hands and that pretty much means you are b-but... but... aaaaaaAAAAAAAAH ALL MIGHT IS DATING MY MOM--”

He clapped his own hands over his mouth and forced himself to stop panicking, though he continued to make muffled distressed noises. Inko was distraught by now, standing close to her son like a mother bird hovering over a baby chick. “I'm so sorry, Izuku!” she cried. “I was, that is, we were going to tell you, it's just we thought it would be better to wait--”

Before he even quite knew what he was doing, Toshinori found himself reaching toward them only to stop in his tracks and let his hand fall to his side as he thought that maybe, just maybe, they didn't need him to mess with things any more than he already had. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes as insecurities welled up inside like nausea.

It's just like when I kept pushing Izuku to succeed even if it meant breaking his body. I still have no idea what I'm doing.

“That's not it!”

Toshinori dared to open his eyes.

Izuku was calmer now, still on edge but no longer hyperventilating. “I'm... you don't have to be sorry, Mom! Or you, All Might! Neither of you should feel bad! I mean yeah, I'm surprised and... and I still can hardly believe it, but... I...”

He was trying to smile but his eyes betrayed him, filling up with tears that slowly but surely began spilling down the sides of his face.

“It's just... I never imagined that All Might... could be part of my family...”

Toshinori sucked in a sharp breath.

“It's just...” Izuku furiously wiped at his face, trying his best not to dissolve into crying. “I-I don't even really know how to say this, but... this is something I used to dream about, back when I was little...”

Inko looked even more bewildered than her son had when he first came through the door. “Izuku,” she half-whispered.

“Mom.” The boy swallowed hard. “I was so worried that you and All Might couldn't be friends because of how I hurt myself. If I could just get better at fighting, I thought maybe... maybe things might change. I just thought it would be so cool for you two to be on good terms, so maybe we could hang out once in a while or something... I never expected... I mean, this is good! This is a good thing!”

“And All Might!” Izuku said quickly, turning to face his mentor. “I... you... you've done so much for me... and you've always tried your best to help me, even when it wasn't convenient for you. You've always been cheering me on, just like Mom... so I think... I think it's all right if you're together. Even if it takes me a bit to get used to... there's no way I could feel unhappy about this!”

“My boy,” Toshinori said hoarsely.

Izuku wasn't the type of person to lie in order to coddle other people's feelings. He was always straightforward, even when it meant he might meddle in someone else's business or make someone his enemy. He had nearly let slip the true nature of One For All to Katsuki, of all people, just because his sincere nature compelled him to.

He's being honest... he really does mean it...

Toshinori thought of everything he and Izuku had been through together for the past year... the grueling training prior to UA's admission exams, the exams themselves, those first few weeks of school, the Sports Festival, the villain incursions, all the learning and growing both of them had done from the experiences and thanks to each other... and as Izuku stepped toward him, he couldn't help the surge of pride and affection that welled up inside.

From here on out, I will be devoting myself to your development .

He remembered the vow he had made to the boy on the beach after that final fight with All For One, how he had echoed that vow to Inko during the first home visit, and how even then it had meant so much more than the words by themselves could convey.

“Izuku,” he began, attempting to sound calm and composed, “I...”

His ability to speak cut off as soon as Izuku's arms wrapped around his torso in a fierce hug, the boy's face buried in the soft fabric of the hoodie.

At first Toshinori didn't know what to do. His right hand came to rest on top of Izuku's head, fingers swallowed up by all that unruly dark hair, but then he touched his shoulder instead and gave it a firm squeeze.

When he glanced at Inko he saw that she was fighting back tears even as she smiled. It was the smile of a weary but contented mother, a smile that held joy and relief and quiet pride.

Izuku's obsession with you started around the time his father and I were growing apart , he remembered her saying. In a way, you've practically been a member of our family since Hisashi took off.

A member of the family. Those had been her exact words. And now...

“Izuku,” he said again, his voice a bit strained now. “It's a little... hard to breathe...”

There were plenty of things he wanted to say, things that went with his feelings, but for now he was growing more acutely aware by the second of just how tight Izuku's hug really was.

“Oh!” The pressure around Toshinori's waist went away as Izuku released him. “S-sorry! I guess I'm not used to... um... being the strong one...”

“What nonsense!” Toshinori mock-punched Izuku in the same shoulder he had just squeezed. “I'm just having a bad day, that's all! I got mugged for crying out loud!”

Izuku blanched at the reminder, worried that he had genuinely hurt the man. “The way they talked on the news, I thought you were really hurt... but you seem to be more or less fine. Is there anything I can do for you, All Might? Do you need anything?”

“Tch.” Toshinori feigned annoyance, averting his gaze and shrugging dismissively. “There you go again, talking like I'm helpless.”

“N-no! I-I didn't mean--”

“Come here, you.”

Gran Torino isn't in here, he thought as he drew on what little he had left of One For All, so he can't yell at me for doing this!

Izuku yelped as Toshinori – as All Might – pulled him into a crushing bear hug that left the boy gasping for air as his feet dangled half a meter off the ground. It wasn't even a proper transformation, more of a clever trick than anything; in just a few seconds Izuku's feet had returned to the floor and Toshinori had to really work at not panting from the exertion. He thanked his lucky stars the clothes he had on were baggy. “Young man,” he said firmly, “Pestering people to see if they need help is one of the principle qualities of a hero!”

Izuku was beaming now. The sight of that smile made the growing ache in Toshinori's side and the sudden tiredness that washed over him worth the effort. Inko must have noticed how he had to step back a little to keep from losing his balance, for she quickly made her way to his side and placed a hand on his back to steady him.

“Why don't we talk some more over breakfast?” she suggested, gesturing at the plate laden with taiyaki that Gran Torino had left on the kitchen counter. “Izuku, do you think you could help me set the table?”

“Sure!” Izuku bounded into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and slinging it over a chair as he went. He paused midway and looked over his shoulder, as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and went about his task. Even without words, however, the way his mood had lifted was quite clear to see; his eyes were shining as he put plates on the table, the corners of his mouth pulling into emotional smiles now and then.

“Are you okay?” Inko murmured, walking with Toshinori as he went over to seat himself.

“Yeah.” He didn't mention how his side hurt or how the bruises on his body were starting to throb again; those were little pains not worth the trouble it took to vocalize. “Are you?”

“I think...” Inko kept her voice low, not wanting to alert Izuku to the nature of the conversation. “I think so, yes. He seems to be fine, so why should I be worried?” She stifled a laugh. “I honestly don't know what I was so afraid of. I just want Izuku to be happy. Safe, yes, but happy most of all.”

“That makes two of us.” Toshinori raised a fist and though it took her a second to catch on to its meaning, she bumped his knuckles with her own small fist. “You really think he's okay with this? With... us?”

It wasn't that he doubted Izuku's word, not at all. What he cared about was Inko's take on the matter.

“He...” She looked away as if embarrassed. “I think he may be even happier than we are!”

“Hey, this taiyaki's already getting cold! I'm gonna reheat it,” Izuku announced. “Oh, and does anyone want anything to drink? I can get drinks!”

Izuku Midoriya , Toshinori thought as he eased down into one of the dining room chairs, what did I ever do to deserve you or your mother?

Fifteen minutes later they were all seated at the table. Toshinori nibbled on the single taiyaki he had cut into small pieces and listened as Izuku recounted all the shenanigans Class 1-A had gotten up to over the past week. As Inko's laughter sounded from the seat beside him, he decided it was now his favorite noise in the whole world.

It felt natural, normal even, to be like this. It was as if he had found some long-lost beloved item he didn't even know he'd been missing. He felt like a sponge slowly soaking up all the warmth and positivity, letting it fill the void that typically housed all of his doubts and fears and darker thoughts. He knew the days ahead would be challenging – that he would have to give statements, interviews, justifications and explanations to the public – but here with Inko beside him and Izuku across the table chattering happily, he derived a sense of strength from the both of them. They were already a family and they didn't need him, not really, but they wanted him all the same; that fact alone was enough to give him hope.

Inko's leg brushed against his under the table and he relished that small touch, resting his knee on hers in return. She didn't verbally acknowledge it but he saw some color creep into her cheeks as her eyes widened just a fraction.

The last time they had all sat down together at this table, there had been an atmosphere of fear and distress as a mother with many justifiable worries faced off with her son's childhood idol and told him in plain terms how she absolutely could not allow Izuku to continue attending a school where he got hurt all the time. Her stubbornness had earned her Toshinori's immediate respect, while her sad face had motivated him to take additional action to ensure her worries were addressed.

Now they were all here talking and laughing on a Saturday morning, eating taiyaki and sharing in the closeness their bonds had created; in spite of past tensions, in spite of villains, in spite of muggers, in spite of the media, in spite of everything they were together and happy, even if it was only for a short while.

There's no way I could feel unhappy about this! Izuku had declared.

It was a sentiment that echoed within Toshinori's own heart and he held onto it as tightly as he could for fear of losing it. As tightly, he vowed, as he would hold onto this precious family he had found... or rather, that had found him.

Thank you for saving me, he wanted to tell them, but to avoid dampening the mood he settled for smiling quietly. Thank you for saving my heart.

Chapter Text

Toshinori jerked awake and suddenly the sensation of falling turned into lurching as he launched forward, one arm already raised as if fending off an attack. Already the memory of the dream was fading but he could vividly remember key bits and pieces – impossibly tall shadowy figures advancing toward him, grabbing him, hurting him, their faces cycling from Shigaraki to All for One to Nana of all people as their fists and feet landed painful blows on his body.

He remembered seeing bystanders, asking them for help, but the pity in their faces turned to revulsion and they refused to lend their aid. They were watching him as reporters circled like vultures, asking questions and demanding answers, shoving microphones at him even as he was being beaten down. Why? The word echoed ominously in his mind even now. Why are you so weak?

Disappointment. Betrayal. Resentment . Those feelings had followed him into the waking world and clung to him like hungry parasites. He could feel his heart pounding wildly as his chest heaved, wheezing breaths scraping in and out of what remained of his lungs; he could feel cold sweat soaking into his borrowed clothes and the sheets wrapped around his legs. More than anything he could feel the bruises on his body aching anew as if someone had just hit him again. Slowly but surely the arm he had raised in defense lowered to lay limply in his lap.

It took him longer than it should have to realize that this wasn't his bed. Wasn't his house.

Where am I--?!

Panic seized him, only to dissipate as soon as he remembered the events of the previous day.

Ah... this is...

His shaking hands found the sheets around his waist and clenched the soft fabric, twisting it in some vain attempt at stabilizing himself. He gritted his teeth and bowed his head as his neck and shoulders ached, as if simply holding his own head up was too much to ask of his body. He could feel the scar tissue that stretched from his chest to his abdomen tingling , and whether it was true physical pain or simply a psychosomatic reaction was beyond his ability to judge.

A single nightlight glowed in the corner of the guest room. It was a simple little thing, a plastic star-shaped light that emitted a yellow aura – something to ward off the dark and set young minds at ease. He didn't remember asking for it but Inko had plugged it in anyway. At first it had amused him... now he found himself grateful for its presence.

It had probably belonged to Izuku at some point. Hell, it was probably one of the many brands that made up licensed All Might merchandise.

His attention was drawn to the doorway as it lit up. Someone had turned on the hall light. The doorknob jiggled and the door swung open, a silhouette appearing and casting a long shadow that reached him where he sat on the bed.

“Toshinori?” Inko asked sleepily, her voice thick with drowsiness. “Wha... is something the matter?”

“I'm...” Fine, he almost said, but lies were tasting more and more bitter of late, even the white ones meant to smooth things over. “Awake,” he grunted instead.

“You yelled,” Inko pointed out. “Are you hurting?”

He wanted to answer, he truly did, but the words all stuck in his throat.

Staying here overnight hadn't been part of the initial plan. But when Aizawa returned from fetching Toshinori's meds he had brought unpleasant news of reporters camped out on the front lawn of his house. The theft of his ID cards had resulted in his personal information being leaked to the media... his full name, his address, his date of birth, and other sensitive sets of data. It was a mess the authorities would fight their hardest to resolve and contain, he knew, but the damage had been done.

He felt somehow more exposed than he had been the day All for One forced him to exceed his limit and revealed his true form to the world. He felt... trapped . Backed into a corner, his previous comforts and safe spaces cut off.

His silence was obviously received as a yes by Inko, who stifled a yawn as she padded into the room. She had on long flannel pajamas and her hair hung in unbrushed lengths to her shoulders. “Where does it hurt?” she asked, less groggy and more focused now. Even in the dim light he could see the worry on her face.

“It's...” He tried to find the words to describe what he felt. “It's not...”

His hand automatically went to his heart, clenching into a fist and pulling at his shirt.

It's in my head, he thought, remembering how he had broken down in front of Gran Torino and Aizawa. How he had cried for what felt like half an hour before the necessity of avoiding media attention forced him to buck up and get moving. It's in my head and in my heart and now that I don't have anyone to distract me like Torino or Izuku I feel like I'm going to burst again.

Being around her made him feel weak – not in the way that he felt weak around things that could hurt him, but in a way that relieved him as much as it bothered him. She was safe; her presence meant safety. He could be imperfect in front of her without fearing any backlash.

That didn't mean he wanted to make a habit of turning into a sniveling mess with her, though.

I can't believe I fucking yelled and woke her up. Shit. Goddammit. This is why I've lived alone.

He wasn't a stranger to nightmares. He had relived many things in his sleep over the past few years, chief among them the sensation of nearly being bisected and watching his own insides leave the confines of his body. New nightmares annoyed him because he was used to the old ones, knew how to deal with them and avoid pissing his own sheets.

He was still trying to think of an explanation when she brushed aside his bangs and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You're soaked,” she observed quietly, one of her hands settling on his shoulder. “Come on. I have some more things you can wear. Maybe getting a shower will help... I'll put some tea on in the meantime. Sound good?”

She was desperately trying to be optimistic and he loved her for it. If he wasn't so grimy he might have pulled her into a hug then and there.

Ten minutes later he found himself sitting in the bathtub, his sweat-stained clothes piled by the bathroom door, deeply regretting the notion that taking a bath would be more comfortable than standing up for a shower. Standard household bathtubs were not created for people of his stature. He could lean forward and rest his own head on his knees like this, though, which he found to be an enjoyable position once he tried it.

He didn't care that he was going to smell like persimmon-and-green-tea soap after this. The water was almost scalding but not quite, just hot enough to keep him from getting sleepy. When he inhaled he felt steamy air fill his chest and it left a pleasing sensation. He closed his eyes as he exhaled...

… only to open them abruptly as Inko poked her head in to check on him.

“Do you need any--” She stopped short at the sight of his aghast expression, but instead of getting flustered herself she just laughed. She almost looked endeared by his discomfort. “You remember now, I raised a son for fifteen years. There's nothing here I haven't seen before, trust me.”

Somehow he hadn't expected her to be so nonchalant about seeing him like this, but it made him feel better, if only marginally. It also reminded him of something he had been privately pondering for a couple of weeks now, something that he was still too indecisive on to even consider bringing up in conversation.

I know how I appear to most people. I've heard the remarks and seen their faces. I know I look like I'm rotting away, like I'm already dead and I just haven't stopped moving around yet... but how do I know if someone cares about me despite my looks, or if they see something desirable even I can't detect?

It was a strange feeling, perceiving one's past self as some sort of rival to be measured up to, but when he thought of his former appearance it was like gazing upon competition one could never hope to surpass.

I can't believe I'm even hung up on this, but could she... does she...

He found himself drawing up more tightly like an animal trying to curl into a ball and hide its vulnerable underbelly.

“Nothing you haven't seen, eh?” he found himself musing, remembering the day she had taken him into her home and given him dry clothes after that unfortunate (or was it fortuitous?) downpour. Remembering how she had stopped short after seeing his scar.

How can she even stand to look at me uncovered like this? How can she see anything but a warning that this might be Izuku's fate?

He knew he looked even worse now with so many fresh bruises. He looked down at his slight chest, at the rope-like muscles of his arms that barely even qualified as such, at all the mass that wasn't there and felt bitterness rise in his throat.

How can I –

He realized he had sunk so quickly and so deeply into self-loathing that he failed to perceive her moving from the doorway to the tub, where she knelt and looked intently at the bruises that adorned his right shoulder like a splatter of ugly paint. “These must be painful,” she observed as her brow furrowed. “That's... one, two, three, four...”

She kept going until she reached the final count of eighteen, having looked over as much of him as she could see. As she counted the last bruise, which adorned the side of his right knee, her fingertips brushed against his leg and he felt suddenly antsy. He desperately hoped the heat he felt in his face and neck was just a side effect of the hot water and the steam.

The tiny involuntary flinch did not escape her notice. She tilted her head ever so slightly, the furrow in her brow deepening. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Toshinori?” she asked, worry creeping into her tone.

Yes and no, he thought, struggling to understand whether his nervousness was simply due to his own self-esteem or some other factor at play. “Actually,” he said in an attempt to sound lighthearted, “I was worried I might make you uncomfortable.”

“Make me uncomfortable?” At first she seemed puzzled by this, but when she saw his left hand resting on his scarred side she made the connection and her eyes widened just a little. “Oh...”

“I know it must bother you,” Toshinori continued more quietly, looking away from her, “that I'm like this because I fought as a pro hero, which Izuku is striving to become.”

All I could do back then was apologize to her for my appearance, he thought, once again recalling that fateful morning. But now I want to face the underlying issue. I want the air between us to be as clear as possible.

“It bothers me.”

Hearing that stung... but it wasn't as if he didn't expect it.

“It bothers me that you still feel so ashamed when there's nothing to be ashamed of.”

Toshinori glanced at her furtively, only to freeze as he saw her lifting her pajama top.

What...

“It was a tough job, bringing Izuku into the world.” Inko smiled as she looked down at herself, a wistful smile heavy with memories. “He decided to arrive much too soon and there was no chance of a natural birth going well. So the doctors did what they had to do. I was so sick... I didn't care that I'd have a mark. I just wanted to live and have the chance to know my son.”

A scar about as wide as Toshinori's index finger ran vertically from just below Inko's navel down past the waist of her pants. Perhaps once it might have been barely noticeable aside from the discoloration, but the weight she had gained since her younger years made it stand out. There were also stretch marks peeking past her waistband, subtle stripes that reminded him of faded old battle scars.

All women are warriors, Nana had quipped once, wearing that seemingly indefatigable smile of hers. Mothers doubly so.

It felt profoundly intimate, being granted the privilege of seeing this. He found it hard to look away, not because of any particular fascination with the marks themselves... but rather, because the fact that she chose to expose them to make him feel better was absolutely incredible to him.

“It's not the same, I know,” Inko admitted a bit shyly as she lowered her shirt, “but I just wanted you to see... to know that you don't have to feel ashamed of yourself with me. I'll always be worried about my son. But I'll be even more worried if you think of yourself as unsightly.”

Toshinori nodded slowly, not knowing whether he ought to feel repentant or not over the thought that someday he might like to find a way to kiss that scar of hers.

It must be my emotional state and this hot water. Maybe I'm running a fever? I really am not myself tonight.

“Now then.” Inko began rolling up her sleeves. “Let's finish cleaning you up, hm?”

“I-I don't need --”

He immediately stopped protesting when she cupped her hands, dipped them into the bath water, then dumped what she had scooped up onto his head. His hair plastered itself against his face and neck, weighed down by the sudden wetness... and then she was scrunching it with her hands as she worked shampoo into a lather.

It didn't even occur to him to be bothered by the fact that her shampoo smelled like some type of garden flower. He was too busy enjoying the feeling of her hands in his hair; it was such a pleasant and relaxing sensation that he couldn't help closing his eyes and leaning back just a little.

I'm worse than my damn cat when it comes to being petted...

It didn't feel right to try and stop her from doing whatever she wanted at this point. It still felt strange, someone wanting to take care of him instead of expecting things to be the other way around, but he knew he could get used to it for her sake. It didn't diminish his determination to somehow be just as generous in return... but if she was so dead set on giving, he didn't have the heart to reject her. Rejecting these kindnesses would be just as senseless as an endangered citizen rejecting the aid of a hero.

He opened his eyes after she finished rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair and blinked as his vision focused on her. She was still somewhat sleepy and had a case of bedhead, but all he could think of was how warm and soft she looked, how he wanted to hold her close. She caught him staring as she wiped her hands dry on a towel and he didn't realize he had a dopey smile scrawled across his face until she emitted a small laugh.

“What?” she asked almost anxiously.

“You're my hero, you know that?” he told her.

Her eyes widened and color crept into her cheeks, and for a moment he thought she might get teary-eyed... but she took the towel in her hands and draped it over his head instead.

“The tea's going to get cold,” she declared. “Don't take too long drying off!”

With that she excused herself, leaving him to finish bathing. As soon as she left the room it was as if his brief good mood left with her; he felt his shoulders slump as a hollow sigh escaped him. He crossed his arms around his waist, feeling how his own ribs stood out, and let his forehead rest on his knees once more.

She goes out of her way to be kind to me... to make me feel better... why can't I just get a grip and be happy for her sake?

And yet that way of thinking contradicted what she had told him herself – that it was okay for him to be unhappy. Hearing those words was one thing. Actually putting them into practice was another entirely.

He could feel the tension from earlier still stored in his body, like a spring coiled too tightly. He wished he knew how to get it to leave. When he lifted his hands and stared at them he saw his fingers trembling. His face scrunched into a disapproving scowl. He couldn't tell at this point whether the heavy feeling in his chest was his own gloom or something connected to his injuries, only that it seemed to be growing more insistent by the second.

I've saved so many people with these hands... fought so many foes... and yet they're so thin now, and they won't stop shaking...

He managed to finish his bath without further incident. Inko had left clean clothes and he put them on eagerly. The smell of the fabric softener she used clung to them and he found the scent oddly comforting as he towel-dried his hair and attempted to comb it down with his fingers. As usual, it refused to be anything but unruly.

"Hnnng--!"

He was jolted out of trying to tame his hair by a squeezing sensation right in the center of his chest. Not just a heavy feeling anymore; more like an invisible hand trying to grab his heart, which was starting to race again.

The fuck?

"What's wrong with you?" he asked his own reflection. The emaciated husk of All Might had no answer to give besides a small cough.

It's okay, I'm okay, we're okay, he told himself. He recited this mantra mentally as he made his way to the living room, where Inko was already pouring tea into cups. She glanced up and smiled at his approach. "Are those warm enough?" she asked, referring to his clothes.

"Warm and comfortable." These weren't her ex-husband's old clothes; these were items she had picked out especially for him, a buttoned flannel shirt and some fleece pants with thick socks to complete the package. As if she had been counting on him sleeping over at some point. "Look, about earlier..."

"I really should have asked before barging in," Inko admitted. "I'm sorry."

"No! No, no, not that, earlier than that," Toshinori corrected, gesturing with his hands to emphasize she wasn't in the wrong. "The, uh... the thing with Izuku. I've given it some thought and I think once it hits him what's going on, he might have a few more things to say about all of this."

"It only makes sense." Inko set the teapot down on a folded towel. "He was... he was so relieved you were okay and I think it bled over into his feelings about us. Not that I doubt his words, it's just... well, call it motherly intuition. He just hasn't had the time to process it completely."

“Do you think he'll be all right?”

Inko nodded. “I think so. In spite of all my fears and worries... I think he'll be okay.”

Toshinori started to smile, only for the corners of his mouth to pull downward as his chest squeezed once more and his already speeding heart rate climbed another few beats. The edges of his vision seemed to blur just a bit as he walked over to the couch. It was a frighteningly surreal feeling and his unease must have shown, for Inko's attention shifted from preparing tea to watching him as he sat down.

“A better question is, are you all right?” she asked him. “Are you feeling sick?”

“I... don't really know, honestly.” Toshinori remembered the terror that had held him in its grip when he awoke from the nightmare; this was similar but also different. It felt like being stalked by a cunning predator instead of fighting a conventional foe. He felt restless, acutely aware of everything from the texture of the cloth on his skin to the smell of the tea. “Everything just feels... strange, all of a sudden.”

“You just stay seated,” Inko admonished. “I'm going to go grab sugar from the kitchen--”

“Don't worry about it.” He got up, figuring he might as well spend this nervous energy by doing something besides sitting around. He swiped her cup and his before she could so much as verbally protest. “How much do you like?”

“Two teaspoons,” Inko answered. She looked torn between admiring him for his volunteerism and scolding him for it. “But--”

He was already striding to the kitchen by the time that “but” left her lips. He was familiar enough with the layout to know where she kept her sugar and focusing on the task helped steer his thoughts away from his own discomfort. When it was done he turned and flashed her a grin that bordered on cocky as he began walking back to the couch, a teacup in each hand.

Then...

… everything slowed down …

… his chest clenched, his heartbeat so strong now it felt as if the muscle might burst …

… and he gasped for air as panic jolted through him like an electric shock, his thoughts scattering as a combination of adrenaline and sheer overwhelming fear tore through his facade of calm.

He didn't even realize he had dropped the china until both teacups shattered on the hard floor, slopping their contents everywhere. But instead of rushing to clean up the mess he remained frozen in place, his arms folding around his waist in an attempt at stabilizing himself as his chest heaved from rapid breathing.

He dimly recognized this feeling. “Fight or flight,” people called it – the rush of chemicals and survival instinct necessary to push someone past their normal limits and enable them to endure great stress. The same instinct that had kept him alive on numerous occasions. All of those occasions had been difficult battles, so why...

Why am I feeling this here? Now?

It felt so viscerally real and yet unreal ; his surroundings were unfamiliar for a brief moment, and when Inko called his name it took him several seconds to process that she was her and that was his name. His vision blurred as she rushed toward him and he faltered, stepping back as he doubled over. He might have fallen if the refrigerator wasn't behind him to stop his descent.

By the time he realized she was holding him by both shoulders and desperately trying to get him to answer her he was sitting on the ground with his shoulder blades pressed against the cold, hard surface of the fridge. He didn't remember sliding down to sit or Inko reaching him. Everything past hitting the fridge was a blank space in his memories, probably three to five seconds lost.

“Toshinori!” Inko cried out. She must have seen the light of comprehension in his eyes, for her hands left his shoulders and came to rest on his face, cupping his jaw in her grasp. “Toshinori... please say something!”

“Help me,” he asked in a small voice.

Hearing those two words seemed to shock her greatly. She released his face and reached for his hands, taking them in her own. “Do you need me to make a call?” she asked quickly. “Where does it hurt? Toshinori?”

“I can't turn it off,” he finally said, his own voice sounding strange and wrong. “I feel... like I'm feeling everything at once. Too much. I can't--”

I feel like I'm having a heart attack and a nervous breakdown and God knows what else , he almost said, but the words wouldn't come.

“You...” Inko studied his face before something dawned on her. “You've never had a panic attack before, have you?”

A what...?

He shook his head, no.

“I don't... do things like this. I've always... I just move on. I have to. I can't afford to...”

Always shrugging things off and continuing on his way. Always finding a way to distract himself from unpleasant feelings, package them up and compartmentalize them away where they couldn't hamper him. That was his way of doing things, or rather, had been back when he could hide behind his job and his duty and whatever else he could drudge up in the name of not facing feelings that dragged him down.

But now they were flooding out of all the little nooks and crannies where he had shoved them, demanding to be felt. And he was powerless to stop them. Just as he was powerless against most things in the world now.

“I'm sorry,” he told her as he glanced at the fragments of her teacups. “I broke your cups--”

“No apologies,” Inko said firmly. “Just breathe. I'm here.”

“You're always here when I fall apart,” he said sadly. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt at keeping the wetness in them from slipping out. “I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to keep putting you in this position. I don't...”

“Hush.”

He opened his eyes and saw her wearing an expression that was as fierce as it was compassionate.

“You asked me for help,” she stated. “You... actually said those words to me. I'm so glad you did. Now let me help you.”

She kept holding onto his hands even though he was still shaking like a leaf. She didn't seem to care much about being on her knees in her own kitchen floor, or about the mess only half a meter away.

“You've already done so much--” he began.

“And I'll keep on doing it, too.”

Inko leaned forward, a determined scowl on her face.

“If you really do love me,” she half-whispered, “then please... trust me, believe me when I say that I will never, ever resent you for needing help.”

With that she released his hands and pulled him into an embrace. At first his arms remained in his lap and he stared straight ahead as tears tracked down his cheeks... then slowly, languidly as if he had just awakened from a deep sleep, he returned the embrace. He could feel his chest vibrating with every thudding heartbeat between rapid, strained breaths, the thoughts in his brain still held captive by the fear that had seized him so violently. But with her to hold, to focus on... it made riding the storm out a little easier.

When the panic finally passed several minutes later he continued to cling to her until she gently suggested that he lay down on the couch and relax. She swept up the pieces of broken teacups and wiped up the tea, then went over to ask if he needed anything. His only response was to sit up and stare at her for a moment as if seeing her for the first time again... then he leaned forward and rested his head on the soft curve of her stomach just below her bust.

Inko just ran her fingers through his hair and then offered him her hand. He took it without hesitation.

When she led him to her bedroom instead of the guest room he didn't hesitate either. Words were extraneous at this point. He didn't need to be told it was okay to curl up beside her under her two quilts, or that it was okay to wrap his arms around her waist as she pressed herself against him. The lights were out now, the place was quiet... and Toshinori felt warm, so very warm and so very safe.

“My hero,” he mumbled into her hair, and she shifted a little so she could plant a tiny kiss on his neck.

When he finally drifted off to sleep he didn't feel afraid of the dreams that might come. He knew no matter how terrible the nightmare, he wouldn't be alone when he woke up. He wouldn't be facing that terror on his own.

Believe me when I say that I will never, ever resent you for needing help, she had said.

He believed. Perhaps more desperately and more ardently than he had ever believed in anything else in his life, he believed.

Chapter Text

The coffee shop was warm and dry – the exact opposite of conditions outdoors – but Inko couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that refused to release her as she sat at one of the tables along the far wall and gripped her phone as if it was some sort of lucky talisman. She kept expecting a message or call at any second despite her better sense. She knew it was silly to be so on edge, that she should just put the phone down and let herself relax, but still...

She couldn't help wishing that she could be with Toshinori, even if she knew her presence likely wouldn't help him at all at the school. He had friends there, friends who would go to great lengths to accommodate and assist him, yet her anxiety persisted. She couldn't help feeling that maybe all the other pro heroes except maybe Aizawa still saw him as All Might and not the person he truly was: someone all too human, someone with so many needs...

But that's why you decided to come here today , she told herself, glancing at the man who sat across from her. This is someone who is close to Toshinori, not just All Might.

“Are you sure you don't want anything, Mrs. Midoriya? It's no trouble at all for me to buy you a drink or a snack,” Naomasa Tsukauchi asked politely, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I don't want anything, really.” She tried to smile... tried to feign some semblance of cheer, but she knew it fell short.

“Well, if you do decide on something I'm at your command,” Naomasa told her. “You could even say I'm in your debt. It does me good to know that someone has been so kind to my friend in his time of need.”

“I-it's nothing,” Inko insisted. “It's been no trouble at all... I mean, now that people know where his house is it's not safe for him to be there. And with Izuku living at the school there's plenty of spare room at my place. I feel a lot better than I would if he was staying at some hotel.”

Naomasa's demeanor was friendly and his speech was gentle, but the man was a police officer; not only that, but he was Toshinori's best friend. She wanted to trust him but she barely knew him. Trusting Aizawa had been an act of sheer necessity born of her desire to protect the man she loved and it had worked out just fine but... what little she knew about Naomasa pointed to him having been close to Toshinori since they were children. That kind of history and rapport made her feel like an outsider, even if she knew things were otherwise.

“He speaks very highly of you,” Naomasa remarked.

“Ehhh?!” Inko could feel her cheeks heating up. I've been a conversation topic between them already?! “W-well I'm glad! It's just... what has he told you, exactly? Not that I mean to pry, it's just...”

Naomasa laughed. He appeared very close in age to Toshinori but his voice had a youthful quality to it that only increased with laughter. “Only good things,” he assured her. “He says your cooking makes eating less of a chore and he wishes he had half your housekeeping skills. He's said a few other things, too, but I don't want to fluster you.”

Too late , Inko thought as she felt her entire face redden. “He really does feel comfortable telling you everything,” she mused.

“He'll never see it this way, but from where I stand it's my responsibility to keep him safe. Even if he routinely does his best to avoid letting me know he's in trouble.” Naomasa sighed, setting his empty cup down on the table. “I'm honestly surprised he's let someone this close, especially after what happened, but that doesn't mean I'm worried. In fact, I'm relieved. As I said... knowing he's being looked after does a world of good.”

Inko didn't know what to make of the look on the man's face; it was weariness and happiness at once, an expression that hinted at painful memories. “He described you as his best friend,” she stated. “But he shuts you out?”

“Oh, it's not something I resent. I've known him for so long that it's something I expect, really.”

She thought of all the times Toshinori had attempted to reject her efforts to help him and felt her heart sink. “You mean how he tries to make people walk away and leave him alone when he needs help?” she murmured, recalling the look of shame on his face every time he would spit blood or find himself in a pinch in her presence.

“Ah, so you do know about it.” Naomasa leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Hm... well, I suppose it won't hurt to tell you. When he was so badly injured several years ago he spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals, so I wasn't able to see him very much. My work kept me busy and he preferred to be alone in his condition. At first it seemed only natural. But then... I started getting free time and tried my best to see him, only to get turned down. He would tell me not to worry and insist he was fine, even when it was obvious he wasn't. And then one day I learned he had moved to another city without bothering to inform any of the people closest to him.”

“He... left? Just like that?” Inko could barely believe what she was hearing. “And he didn't tell anyone?”

“When he finally did call me,” Naomasa continued in a quiet tone, “he was pretty broken up about everything. I mean, anyone who knew about his wounds knew he wouldn't be the same afterward, but I don't think he knew until it all fell apart. I think one day he woke up and it hit him that this was his new reality, and the only way he knew how to deal with it was to go away where no one could see how much he was suffering. All he could tell me was how sorry he was. As if he had let everyone down by becoming weaker.”

He wouldn't do that now, Inko told herself. Even if we weren't... even without me, he would still have Izuku. He's changed, right? He knows he doesn't have to run away from his own weakness anymore...

… right?

“He's frustrating,” she admitted, remembering how she had to force her aid upon him when he was so sick. “But he knows better now, I think. He's learning to ask for help.”

Naomasa gave her a good-natured but peculiar look. “Asking for help? Not that I doubt you, it's...” A smile spread across his face. “That's good. That's very good. An improvement over just thanking whoever steps in to help of their own volition, to be sure.”

“It feels wrong to ask, but...” Inko looked away, glancing over at the customers waiting in line for their orders. “Was he always like that? When he was young, did he... didn't anyone ever tell him it was okay to be human?”

“It's something I've thought about more than once.” Naomasa shrugged. “I'm not a psychologist, so don't take what I say as fact... and please don't think I enjoy gossiping about my friend, I wouldn't say this if I didn't think you deserved to hear it... but I think being Quirkless made him feel like he had to justify his own existence by being useful. He tried so hard to avoid being someone who couldn't contribute, and then when he was chosen to receive One for All it went to his head in the worst way. Especially after his mentor died. He worked so hard to become a hero... but I think deep down he's always been terrified of going back to feeling like someone who can't do anything.”

Inko could only listen in stunned silence. She fought to hide the mixture of sorrow and horror that rose within her as she heard these words.

If I didn't know he was talking about Toshinori... I might think he was talking about... my son...

“Well, that's just my opinion. Back then he just seemed like a chronic overachiever. But now that we're all older and so much has happened... I think if I could go back, I'd be able to see what was really going on in that head of his. And I'd kick his ass every time he started spouting all that nonsense about never needing help.”

Inko tried to picture Toshinori in her head. Not as he was now, not even his All Might persona, but as a boy shouldering so much responsibility and bearing that crushing weight on his shoulders. A boy with a dream and a fear of failure so terrible it consumed his ability to forgive his own mistakes. Someone who would gladly offer himself up to the world and let it break him into pieces if it meant fulfilling his purpose.

She wondered how much of that boy Toshinori had seen in Izuku when he chose him and exactly what measures had been taken to ensure that her son would not end up crushed under such a weight.

Don't think about that right now, she thought. Not today. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day, but not today. Izuku is doing just fine now and Toshinori is still recovering. This is a problem for later.

“I didn't mean to delve into such a heavy topic,” Naomasa said, as if sensing her unease. “I apologize. You must be concerned for your son after hearing all that.”

Inko balked. Can he read minds...?

“I worry about Izuku, yes.” She met Naomasa's gaze. “I... you've been forthright with me so I'll return the gesture. It's been difficult trying to sort out my feelings sometimes. When I learned how Izuku got his Quirk I felt so devastated. My son has so many scars now because he hasn't used it properly, and yet I feel no hatred toward the man who gave him that power... I feel as if I'm supposed to be resentful but I just can't do it. The chance to be a hero is all Izuku has ever wanted. And when I hear Toshinori praise him... my heart is so full of joy!”

And when I see how much that man suffers, she thought, I can't hate him because I can't blame him for being the way he is... because if I hated him for being imperfect and making mistakes, how could I live with myself?

“I want them both to learn,” she continued, “and to be kinder to themselves. I can't protect either of them by getting angry or making demands. But if they know they're loved no matter what... that they don't have to hurt themselves to make a difference... then they won't make such risky decisions. What's good for the student is good for the teacher too.”

When her vision finally cleared, once she had blinked all the tears away without letting them fall to her face, she saw Naomasa looking... impressed?

“He was right about you,” the policeman stated kindly. “Not that I doubted his enthusiasm, but... it probably says a lot about my pessimistic tendencies that I assumed he was exaggerating. I've never been happier to be mistaken.”

“I'm not offended,” Inko assured him. “He... does tend to go on about certain things sometimes!”

They both laughed. “Has he ever told you about the time he visited the United States to see his grandparents?” Naomasa asked with a grin. “If not... do try to ask him about it, but only if you're prepared. He could write a super-long book on the subject.”

Inko recalled the photograph Toshinori had shown her and the story about his American-born mother. “I never knew he actually went over there,” she admitted. “Maybe that's why he loves to speak English so much!”

“It was a vacation, so he didn't do much in the way of heroics,” Naomasa explained, “but he did win a hot-dog eating competition... and fulfilled a lifelong urge to jump off the edge of the Grand Canyon. Yes, that Grand Canyon. Got in trouble for it too. And then the magnificent bastard got lost in New York City. It's just... it takes a few hours to get through but it's a hell of a story. You really should pester him about it when he's feeling well.”

The conversation took a decidedly happier turn from that point onward. Inko found that Naomasa was a wellspring of stories about not only Toshinori, but the late Nana Shimura and even Gran Torino as well. She was so amused by all of it that she finally relented and had the policeman buy her a latte. By the time she realized it was mid-afternoon and the rain had stopped falling outside, her mood had greatly improved from its initial slump.

“Well, I should probably get back to the station,” Naomasa admitted as he stood up and slipped on his coat. “I'm glad to have met you, Inko Midoriya. I hope we see more of each other in the future.”

He held out his hand and Inko shook it. She was so comfortable doing so she didn't even hesitate beforehand. “I'm glad Toshinori has friends like you,” she told him. “Thank you for inviting me here and telling me all those things. It means a lot.”

They walked out of the coffee shop together. Inko went left; Naomasa went right. As the distance between them increased and the cold air nipped at Inko's nose, she allowed herself to feel satisfied at the outcome of their meeting.

The time spent walking and riding the bus seemed to pass in an instant; the people around her might as well have been ghosts aside from the body heat that filled the bus and helped chase the cold away. Inko smoothed the front of her coat as she stepped out of the vehicle and inhaled deeply, letting out a contented sigh as she walked along the sidewalk that led to her residence. The sky was gray and winter was determined to chill her to the bone despite her layers, but even so...

… even so, she felt as if things just might be okay after all.

When she stepped over Toshinori's shoes upon entering her apartment she felt relief flow through her. He had made it. She took off her coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, then slipped out of her own shoes and looked around. Toshinori was nowhere to be seen.

“Toshinori?” she asked, walking further in. She looked from the kitchen to the couch to the hallway. “Are you all right?”

No answer. Inko fought to hold back the dread that threatened to spike.

Please be okay please be okay please be okay...

She found him napping on her bed, still dressed in his black suit. Hime – who had been covertly moved here thanks to Aizawa – was curled up by his feet and barely opened her eyes to acknowledge Inko's presence. Inko couldn't help smiling at the sight of them both in such a tranquil state.

Toshinori was completely unconscious; his chest rose and fell slowly as he slept, his shirt partially unbuttoned as if he had been halfway through trying to undress when fatigue overtook him. His tie was piled at the foot of the bed by his jacket. He hadn't even bothered to get under the covers. He was limp and blissfully unaware of the world, half-snoring softly as he always did in a deep sleep.

The bruises on his face were faded now, not quite vanished but not as harsh as they had been. He was healing. He was safe .

She thought about leaving him alone, maybe getting started on dinner... but she found herself tip-toeing over to sit on the bed beside him, listening to him breathe and drawing comfort from the simple fact that he was here and alive .

Hime, who would not be overlooked by anyone, rose up and stretched with a noisy rattle, walking over to rub her head against Inko's elbow. The nasally mewling sounds the cat kept making were apparently enough to rouse Toshinori from his slumber, for he stiffened and sat up with a groan before realizing who was present.

“How was your day?” Inko asked him, reached up and smoothing down his wild hair.

“Good,” he mumbled groggily. He gestured at the pile of items on the nightstand that Inko's singular focus on him had prevented her from noticing. “Got some presents. Kids were all happy to see me. Izuku cried. A good day.”

“Izuku cried?” Inko asked, though she knew full well what her son's emotional extremes were.

“Yeah... and then Kirishima started crying... it kind of got out of hand...”

He slumped forward and rested his forehead on her shoulder. Inko pulled one of the gifts to herself, a wooden Matryoshka doll, and marveled at how colorful it was. “These are some interesting presents,” she mused, looking over a few of the other items: a pink teddy bear, more than a few cards with well wishes scrawled inside, a paper crane, a pocket knife ...

And then she came to the one that had to have come from Izuku. It was a snow globe with a tiny but extremely detailed forest inside, with one particularly tall and famous tree right in the center. Inko wondered where he had managed to find a souvenir from Yakushima so quickly, but that was a superfluous concern. She held up the Jomon Sugi snow globe and shook it, watching the white flurries rain down on the trees.

“They're good kids,” Toshinori said quietly. He sat up and gave her a crooked, sleepy smile. “Oh yeah. That one was Izuku's.”

I knew it . “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, setting the gifts back on the nightstand. “I was a little worried... this being your first day back and all.”

“A little tired. But I get picked up by car to go to the school now. I feel like I'm taking it too easy,” he joked.

“You deserve it,” Inko told him.

“I'll take your word for it,” he conceded, pulling her into a hug.

He was so huge even without all the muscles that he practically folded around her, but she didn't mind. She just held him close and listened to his heartbeat, closing her eyes as her cheek pressed against the fabric of his shirt. Without the overhead light on the room was a bit dark and the light from outside wasn't much light at all... she relished this closeness, loved how they could enjoy things like this away from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

And yet... something troubled her, vexing her mind like an itch demanding to be scratched.

“Toshinori,” she said in a small voice.

“Mm?”

You won't just leave one day, will you? She wanted to ask, her paranoia begging to manifest verbally, but she bit down on the words and refused to let them leave her mouth.

She hated feeling this way. Hated how her anxious mind chose to fixate on what Naomasa had told her. Hated how she wanted, needed to be assured otherwise.

Most of all, she hated how she still couldn't forget the sight of Hisashi's back as he walked away for the last time, even after all these years.

“I love you,” she said instead, hoping it would do. Hoping it meant enough to communicate that she wanted him to stay no matter what.

She felt him shift as he looked down at her and knew he was probably wearing one of his usual concerned frowns. But his grip on her tightened just a notch, just enough to let her know he understood that there was something else behind those words.

“I know,” he answered – and she was torn between smacking him and crying, because as much as she wanted to hear him say it back to her she was utterly undone by that damn Star Wars quote.

So she laughed. Laughed even as her eyes burned with tears.

“You nerd,” she told him in a mockingly accusatory tone. You frustrating man.

Her show of bravado wasn't enough to convince him, however, for he leaned down and bumped her forehead with his own. “Hey,” he prodded. “What is it?”

Inko's fingers curled and she got handfuls of his shirt in the process. As much as she wanted to just say it... she couldn't.

She couldn't because the memory of his breakdown, of watching him succumb to stress, of holding him while his emotional walls crumbled was just too fresh. She didn't want to add to his troubles, didn't want to make the weight any heavier.

I can say anything to him when it's his safety or Izuku's on the line, but when it comes to my own feelings... I...

“It isn't important,” she told him. “It's—”

She stopped short when she looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes more than made up for his lack of muscle; they were so blue and so full of life, and right now they were completely focused on her. She almost felt intimidated by their intensity.

Inko couldn't maintain eye contact like this; she had to bury her face in his chest because she couldn't hold back tears. She felt them soak into the fabric and decided that now it would be pointless to deny something was upsetting her. But she didn't want it to sound like a nearly-middle-aged divorcee's paranoia, even if that's what it really was... she didn't want to accuse or insinuate.

So when she finally did say something, it wasn't a question. It was a request. “Please stay,” she blurted, looking up at him intently.

Toshinori looked a little bewildered by the question and rightly so; he didn't know what she had discussed with Naomasa, had no way of knowing. For a moment she half expected him to express confusion, but instead he just took the bewilderment in stride and tried to smile for her.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he replied with sincerity.

It was enough. Inko blinked hard as she drew in a breath, hoping furiously that the memory of Hisashi's back might be banished from her mind.

When she opened her eyes and saw Toshinori still watching her keenly, she suddenly couldn't remember what color Hisashi's shirt had been that day. Or what he had even been wearing, really. None of that mattered now, not when this man was sitting right in front of her.

“Thank you,” she managed. She swallowed, trying to dispel the tightness in her throat, and wiped her eyes. “I... I'm sorry. I get to thinking about things sometimes and I just... I feel like if I don't say something I'll burst.”

“You've done so much for me,” Toshinori said gently. “I'd like to return the favor if you'll let me. I want to hear what you have to say, honest. Scout's honor.”

He emphasized that last bit with a silly little salute. It coaxed a small laugh from Inko despite everything.

“I'll take your word for it,” she answered softly, parroting his earlier quip.

There would be a time to discuss what she had learned from Naomasa... but it certainly wasn't now. Not while her emotions were running so high and Toshinori still looked so battered from the mugging he had survived. What she wanted to do now was find a way to move forward, to seek new frontiers instead of looking back at where she had been. For her own sake... and for the sake of the man before her, who managed to be so lively despite his corpse-like appearance and the pressure of his own issues.

You make me want to be stronger, she thought. Not as a rival... but so I can be a better partner. So I can take care of all of us. Myself, you, Izuku...

Once upon a time she would have laughed herself into breathlessness at the suggestion that she would end up wanting to take care of All Might, of all people. But once upon a time she had also been a married woman assuming her son would develop his Quirk like all the other kids and that All Might's presence in her life would forever be limited to her son's toys and the TV.

So many assumptions, so many radically different outcomes.

I'll take your word for it, she repeated mentally, noting how the worried strain in Toshinori's features pinched his already drawn features more sharply. She reached up and cupped his right cheek with her left hand, her thumb resting on the pronounced curve of his cheekbone. The corner of his mouth closest to her hand quirked into a grin.

Wishing for assurance was one thing. Believing in it was another entirely. But Inko felt peace in her heart where there had formerly been the fear of being left behind.

“I'm going to start on dinner,” she half-whispered in an almost conspiratorial tone, “and then I'd like for you to tell me about the time you went to America.”

Chapter Text

Ten days. Over a week since what should have been a simple bus ride home from a date turned into a mugging and more of a media shitstorm than Toshinori cared to ever go through again.

Over a week since that brush with terror, that final straw, pushed all the feelings he had been trying so desperately not to give in to since that last fight with All for One over the edge of his emotional barrier and forced him to face his own truth: that he had become truly powerless in nearly every sense of the word.

Over a week since he moved in with Inko Midoriya in an attempt to avoid paparazzi who now knew the location of his home thanks to the people who had stolen his ID cards.

He sighed and set the paper calendar aside, wishing he could do something as simple as checking the date without thinking of unpleasant things. It was one of the standard-issue calendars every teacher at UA High received at the start of the school year, though he had barely used his copy at all. In fact, he couldn't remember ever looking at it before today.

It was definitely something he would be keeping. He had two piles going on his desk now: the “trash” pile and the “save” pile. So far he had only been able to part with some scraps of paper, a few pens that no longer worked, a broken pencil, and a notebook he had accidentally spilled tea on. Everything else was on the same side as the calendar, a hoard of items that might have looked ordinary to a casual observer but counted as precious memorabilia to him.

He glanced over at Aizawa, who was leaning against the blackboard and watching the sorting process with a customary bleary look. “I can pack up on my own, honest,” Toshinori insisted. “You look exhausted. Don't worry about me.”

“I'm always exhausted,” Aizawa drawled. His bloodshot eyes narrowed and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “So this is it, huh?”

“This is it.” Toshinori held up a daily planner covered with UA logos up as if appraising it, then set it on top of the calendar. “Tomorrow will be my last day. I want to say my farewells, give the children a proper goodbye. But I figured I'd go ahead and move out all my crap before then.”

“Tch.” Even without looking, Toshinori could tell Aizawa was irritated. “Even with all that's happened I honestly didn't think you'd quit. You, who seemed the least qualified to take a teaching position here, have become slightly competent. Why leave now?”

Why indeed...

Toshinori set down the pack of UA-themed erasers he had been scrutinizing and emitted a short sigh.

“Do you remember what you said to Izuku that first day, after you stopped him from breaking his entire arm just to throw a ball?”

Aizawa's silence told him two things: one, that Aizawa did remember what he had said and two, that he had already guessed where the conversation was going and didn't like it.

“This isn't the same concept, Yagi. You know that,” the unkempt homeroom teacher finally groused.

Hearing the use of his own surname still seemed strange, especially from this man. But Toshinori appreciated it nonetheless.

For a pair who initially didn't get along... we've come quite a ways, haven't we, Eraser Head?

“I'm putting everyone here at risk,” he stated quietly, “because if I have to rely on you all to save me, that hinders your ability to save yourselves. I've accepted that now.”

“I'm not going to say you're wrong,” Aizawa muttered, “but not everyone here is a natural combatant. Take Recovery Girl for example, even Nedzu. And then all the kids who don't have Quirks suitable for the hero course.”

“But this is the hero course.” Toshinori shook his head. “At any rate, I'll still technically remain a staff member in an 'advisory' position. But I can't keep up like this. Always needing others to protect me... if something as simple as a training exercise puts me in danger, I'm more of a hindrance than a help to these kids. They don't need to be worried they'll accidentally break me. They don't need--”

“But they want you anyway,” Aizawa finished, cutting him off. “Because you're All Might. You don't even have to do anything. Your presence is a force-multiplier in itself.”

The fierce glow of the afternoon sun made Toshinori's eyes water as he looked toward the windows of the classroom. His gaze swept over the now-empty desks and he remembered all the attentive faces from today's session. Once upon a time the students of Class 1-A had despised being cooped up in the classroom instead of getting to roam around a training ground, but now they seemed eager to listen to his attempts at lecturing. They asked questions, took notes, participated. They offered him tissues whenever he spat up blood and made sure to ask about how he was feeling.

Yeah... they're good kids, all right.

But he stifled the wistful feeling that welled up in his chest and forced it down, remembering that first terrible villain invasion and how his poor health had nearly resulted in the deaths of his students. Budding heroes who had put themselves into harm's way to help him, to protect him ... and he thought of what might happen if such a catastrophe ever repeated itself, now that what remained of his Quirk could only manifest for a few seconds.

It's because I feel such affection toward them that I must do this.

“They have so many other fine teachers to learn from,” Toshinori managed, his throat feeling a bit tight. “Teachers who can instruct them while also fighting to save them when necessary. As you've done on several occasions, Aizawa.”

“Don't flatter me,” the other man warned. “It's not going to make me smile about this.”

“Even I'm finding it hard to do that at the moment,” Toshinori admitted.

For a moment he thought maybe Aizawa might leave the room. Seconds became a full minute as silence hung between them, but then:

“What about Midoriya?”

“I'm going to talk to him after I finish up here, actually. Take him off campus for a bit. Get ice cream, maybe.”

“Ice cream.” Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “It's winter.”

“And now you see why I was never cut out to be a teacher,” Toshinori groaned.

He was too busy rummaging around in his drawers to notice Aizawa approaching him and by the time the other man's hand came to rest on a thin shoulder, Toshinori could only glance up with an expression of incredulity.

“You were never unwanted here, Yagi.” It was the quietest and most solemn tone Toshinori had ever heard Aizawa take with anyone. The man's eyes were fixed forward, a thousand-yard stare that held a gleam of something Aizawa probably preferred to leave unnamed. “Remember that.”

The hand lifted and the scruffy hero took his leave without another word.

Toshinori gritted his teeth and looked down at his own hands in his lap, resisting the urge to call out after Aizawa. Resisting the urge to say just how much he didn't want to go despite his better sense.

“Never unwanted,” he repeated in a half-whisper.

Are you okay, All Might?

Do you need anything?

Are you feeling better today?

You should probably stand back or you'll get hurt!

Somebody keep that debris from hitting All Might!

Thanks for the advice!

Hey All Might, you look a little pale...

He could almost hear their voices as he looked at the rows of seats. He knew where each student sat, knew which ones were prone to daydreaming and which ones had a sort of jealous rivalry going on when it came to answering his questions. He had come to know so much more about them than he ever bargained on knowing; and they knew more about him than he ever thought they would end up learning, too.

He knew he would miss them and that they would miss him too, even if he did stop by now and then to fulfill whatever responsibilities this new “advisory” role entailed.

“Fuck.”

He lowered his head and rested his forehead on the cool, hard surface of his desk, eyes tightly closed as he tried his best to swallow down the bitter taste of change. It was a flavor that had become all too familiar these last few months.

This was a decision he had made on his own, not something foisted on him against his will... but still it wasn't a happy one by any means, no matter how optimistic he tried to be.

I can't start moping around now, though. This isn't just the end of one thing, it's the start of something new as well. I have to remember what's important. I have to...

He sat up and drew in a deep breath, thinking of the good changes that had come about as well. Recalling with perfect clarity how he had awakened this very morning sharing a bed with the woman he loved. How he had a responsibility now to be just as good at easing her troubles and burdens as she was at easing his.

He thought of the person who had brought them together, whose wellbeing was their common goal – who he had damaged unintentionally in his haste and zeal to train up a successor to his power, whose development now mattered more than ever before.

Izuku...

Toshinori scowled and picked up his briefcase from where it rested against the side of the desk. He began cramming everything he intended to keep into it, mindful of the time and how the temperature outside would only dip lower as afternoon turned into evening. When he was finished stuffing the briefcase he gathered up everything he didn't want and chunked it into the trash bin. He sent Izuku a short message notifying that he needed to speak with him, then set about putting on his outdoor clothes.

Two jackets, an overcoat, a scarf and thick gloves later he was nearly ready to depart. He pulled his favorite knitted toboggan down until the rim covered his eyebrows and then lifted the hood of his coat over that. He picked up his briefcase, walked to the classroom door and took a moment to give the room one last look before turning off the lights.

Tomorrow would be the real goodbye. But even now he felt a somber sense of finality as he walked through the doorway. Not a confident stride, not one of the flashy exits he was so fond of in his hero form; it was more of a shuffle than anything, a slow and cautious gait to match the frailty now covered in so many layers of clothing.

A few students and even a couple teachers passed him by as he walked to the main entrance. Not many people knew about his resignation yet. This was how he preferred things to be; he didn't like it when people thronged around him with sad faces. Just telling Class 1-A in person was going to be difficult enough...

When he reached the dorm of the class in question he could hear raised voices coming from within. The hand that rose to knock on the door hesitated at the sound of a loud thud, then Toshinori quickly rapped three times and waited.

It was Katsuki Bakugou who answered the door... wearing only a tank top, knee-length shorts and socks despite the frigid air coming in from outside. “Wha-” he began, then realized just who the person in front of him was. “All Might?!”

“ALL MIGHT?” came the chorus of voices, followed by the sound of many footsteps at once. Suddenly Toshinori was facing a crowd of expectant teenagers, all of whom appeared to be dressed for strenuous physical activity and flushed from exertion.

He mustered a smile that he hoped didn't show his nervousness. “And just what are you all up to, looking so out of breath?” he asked.

“We're playing Twister!” Mina crowed. “Would you like to come in and watch, All Might?”

He could see the game mat spread out behind them. Mineta, for whatever reason, had been wrapped like a mummy in Sero's tape and lay helplessly on one of the couches, unable to move. “HELP,” the boy mouthed, but Toshinori didn't acknowledge it. Knowing him, he had probably jumped at the chance to play a game that would put him in close contact with girls... and someone had rightly taken offense to his antics.

Toshinori could feel the heat emanating from inside and, as he looked at each of the eager faces before him, he realized that he really did want to go in and partake in their fun, even as a mere spectator. But his emotions were already starting to fray from just seeing their smiles. They had no idea what he had done, what he was planning to do.

“Is young Midoriya around?” he inquired, noting that his successor was not among the children bunched up in the doorway.

“Deku went to the bathroom!” Ochako answered. “But that was a few minutes ago, so he should be--”

“Hey everyone, what's going... o-oh, All Might!”

And there he was. Izuku hurried and both Ochako and Tenya stepped aside so he could get closer.

Toshinori hated to spoil their fun. But he knew that it would be evening soon and he only had so much time to tell Izuku what he wanted to say. The boy was dressed for the outdoor weather, his appearance a bit haphazard as if he had just pulled on whatever he could find, and there were still beads of sweat from gameplay clinging to his face.

This... had not been very well thought out, Toshinori realized. I should have just told him to meet me off campus instead of coming here and asking for him. The last thing he needs is for anyone else to think I favor him.

I'm already letting my feelings cloud my judgment...

The other kids were already glancing from Izuku to Toshinori and connecting the dots. Especially Katsuki, whose brow furrowed in what could either be envy or annoyance (or perhaps a mixture of both).

“Let's get back to it,” he snapped. “Remember, I was winning. And I swear to God, if any one of you fuckers sticks your ass in my face one more time I'm blowin' it up.”

With that, Bakugou turned and stalked away from the door. Slowly the others began to trail behind him, though they parted with polite waves and good-nights instead of vitriol. Todoroki in particular lingered as if wanting to say something, but thought better of it and went back to spectate the game from a safe distance.

Izuku was quite flustered by now. He quickly exited the dorm and shut the door behind him, pulling up the hood of his jacket – which happened to be an All Might jacket, one of several rare ones that had been produced over the years.

“Ahh! Limited edition!” Toshinori exclaimed, recognizing the make of it. “I was hoping to find one for you, but you beat me to the punch.”

“Y-you were?” Izuku's eyes widened, as if the concept of receiving an unearned gift from his mentor was strange and unusual. “I found this one on eBay. It was unexpectedly cheap, considering...”

They both flinched as a screech went up from the other side of the door. “I said no more ass in my face,” Katsuki roared.

“Then maybe this isn't the game for you, you casual!” Kaminari retorted loudly.

“YOU CALLIN' ME A CASUAL, SHORT-CIRCUIT?”

“Maybe we should go somewhere more peaceful,” Toshinori suggested. “Like... hm. I'd say the beach sounds like a good place to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Izuku asked, walking alongside him as he began to move toward the main gate of the campus. “Is something wrong, All Might?”

Instead of answering immediately, Toshinori tucked his nose and chin into the protective folds of his scarf and blinked against the rush of cold air that came with the wind. “There's just... a few things I need to tell you,” he finally confessed, his voice somewhat muffled. The briefcase in his left hand felt extremely heavy despite only containing a few small items.

Izuku didn't reply to that. When Toshinori glanced at the boy he saw him looking down at his own feet, his hands jammed into his pockets and a worried pensive look on his face.

You still haven't told me precisely what you think about me and your mother, have you, my boy? We still need to get that settled... and now here I am about to tell you something I know you won't like on top of that.

It was all small talk from then on out. They boarded the bus together and sat side by side, but Izuku remained oddly quiet and Toshinori couldn't think of a single constructive thing to say. They were practically invisible in their winter clothing, blending right in with everyone else on the bus; no one stared at him or eyed him suspiciously.

Toshinori rested his arms on the briefcase in his lap and wondered how to even go about starting the inevitable conversation. No matter how he rehearsed it in his head, he couldn't come up with anything that didn't sound awful.

When they finally got off at their destination he suppressed a shiver as the cold hit him anew. Izuku must have seen him tremble, for the boy immediately became attentive and faced his mentor with a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He had to focus on not breathing too quickly or the cool air would start an ache in his chest. He managed a grin that showed over the edge of his scarf. “Look there! We've arrived at your beach, Izuku. If I could, I'd get the city to change its name from 'Dagobah Municipal Beach Park' to 'Midoriya Municipal Beach Park'! Or perhaps just 'Deku Park' for less of a mouthful.”

He gestured at the sand and the water beyond. His enthusiasm almost worked; he saw Izuku's mouth twitch into a small smile and his eyes briefly shone, but then worry took over once more.

“You wanted to come here to talk about something, right?” the boy asked. “Something important enough for us to come to this place in particular.”

“Hm. I guess that was my motivation for choosing this location, yeah.” Toshinori walked off the sidewalk and felt his shoes sink into sand. “But don't fret. This isn't about... well, your mother, or anything like that.”

The relief was plainly visible on Izuku's face, even if it didn't banish the worry entirely. “That's... I mean, I didn't really think it was, I just... that's good.”

The wind coming off the sea was stronger than Toshinori had expected. He reached up to hold his scarf in place with one hand while the other clutched at his briefcase. The sky was gray now, the sun obscured by thick clouds, and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

“I came to this town to find a successor,” he began. “I took a teaching position at the school for that same purpose. Even after I found someone to bear One for All... I wanted to stay and help you as much as I could. I wanted to be there to see your accomplishments and cheer you on.”

He walked toward the shoreline. He could hear Izuku's footsteps crunching behind him. Toshinori stopped right at the edge of the ocean, the water ebbing and flowing mere inches from the tips of his shoes.

“You've exceeded my expectations, you know that? Even though you still have so much to learn... you've never disappointed me. It's been a privilege to watch you grow as a student and as a hero.”

“All Might.” Izuku's voice was a bit shaky. Scared, even. “I appreciate it, but... it almost sounds like you're trying to say...”

“And you'll keep on growing!” Toshinori turned to look at him. “So much of what you are has nothing to do with my influence. Your own efforts have contributed most to your victories. Maybe you didn't believe it until I told you, but you've always had the spirit and drive necessary to become a hero. All you got from me was a Quirk.”

All the praise didn't even seem to be registering with Izuku. He only grew more visibly agitated with every word.

“You sound... as if you're trying to say something else,” the boy intoned fearfully. “Almost... you're not leaving UA, are you? All Might...”

Toshinori was silent for a few seconds, then he inclined his head in a somber nod.

When he looked back up he saw that Izuku's hood had fallen back and he was struggling to hold back tears, an utterly stricken expression on his freckled face.

“But why...” Izuku begged, hands extended in a plaintive gesture. “Why?!”

Toshinori hated to see the boy so upset. But he also knew that in spite of his many shortcomings, Izuku still saw him as the hero he had been and not the weak retiree he was now.

That's why I wanted to bring him here, to this place that has so much meaning for both of us.

I need him to understand...

“Because I'm not fit for the Heroics Department anymore,” he responded in as gentle a tone as he could muster. “A lot has happened... things can't go back to the way they were before what went down with All for One. I've accepted that.”

He raised his free hand, curled it into a fist. Imagined holding his resolve as tightly as he could.

“But more important than my limitations is the fact that I would like to work on things I can't teach you in a classroom,” Toshinori continued. “Izuku... the time I have left, I would like to spend tending to what's important. I swore to devote myself to your development. I would most enjoy getting to know you better not as a teacher... but as a friend.”

A friend? His own conscience nagged at him. Is that all? Or perhaps “father” would have been a better choice of words, hm?

Izuku was staring at him with eyes wide as saucers now, tears leaking down his cheeks as the wind toyed with his dark hair.

“My...” The boy blinked rapidly, his expression wavering between disbelief and shock. “My friend? You want to be... my...”

Toshinori stepped in closer and placed his hand on Izuku's shoulder, trying his best to smile.

“Of course I do, you nonsensical child. Haven't you realized by now? I think you're really cool!”

That did it. Izuku started crying in earnest, sobs shaking his body. Toshinori dropped his briefcase to the sand as the boy's head came to rest over the place where his stomach had once been.

“I... I... I'm s-sorry, All Might. I know I shouldn't cry... you're always telling me to stop...” Izuku managed between sobs, lifting his head and wiping at his face. “I--”

“It's okay, my boy.”

Toshinori's grip on Izuku's shoulder tightened just a fraction as his own experiences from the past few weeks came back to him in the heat of the moment... as he knew exactly what he needed to say.

“Sometimes... it's okay to cry.”

I will save you from following the same path I did, he thought as Izuku resumed weeping into the front of his coat. The same way your mother saved me. This is what I want to do with the strength I have left.

Something small, light and cold brushed his exposed cheek. When he looked up at the sky he saw tiny flurries of snow descending in droves.

The end of one thing, the start of something new.

His chest hurt, his nose was now numb, and he could feel the chill biting through his pants – but the warmth in his heart was nearly enough to make it all irrelevant.

Chapter Text

“I know your reasons were completely rational, but... I still don't think you should leave UA.”

Izuku sat across from Toshinori, a cup of steaming hot chocolate gripped in both hands. They were both still bundled up, having ducked into a bakery to get out of the snow. The heat was a welcome relief for Toshinori, who was still suppressing shivers as he huddled in his seat and looked down at his own beverage: a plain cup of water. There were only four other people in this place including the woman behind the counter, so he didn't feel nervous about talking here. Their table was surrounded by empty ones and nobody appeared to have recognized him.

“I know it seems like I've decided overnight,” he admitted. “I didn't really talk it over with anyone before I gave Nedzu my letter. But I felt it was something I needed to do on my own. I've been thinking about this since... well, since before what happened at Kamino Ward, to be honest. I've known since the beginning that my time as a teacher wouldn't be very long.”

“Even so,” Izuku began, his eyebrows knitted in determination. “Even so... I know things have changed, and it won't ever be like it was... but it doesn't have to be like it was! Things can change and still be good. You're still good for UA, All Might.”

“I can't keep relying on my own students to save me,” Toshinori protested, mindful to keep his tone gentle. “That's the opposite of what a Heroics department teacher should be doing.”

This wasn't like arguing with Aizawa or any of the other teachers; this was Izuku, whose perspective on UA and the entire situation was much different. Izuku, who had once been Quirkless and weak and vulnerable. Whose legacy was that of someone who pushed past limits and overcame near-impossible odds. Whose very hero name, Deku, turned an insult implying uselessness into “I can do it!”

“I know the media hasn't been very nice lately,” Izuku said quietly. “I know... there have been people, even other heroes, suggesting you should resign, but none of them are bigshots and even if they were, their opinions would still be wrong. I know there's been so much criticism about how you hid your true form and about how you get hurt so easily now, but that's just because they can't find anything else to criticize. You're so great they have to go after your health instead of actual faults. But it still bothers you, doesn't it?”

“You've always been perceptive,” Toshinori sighed. “I won't lie to you; it does bother me. But it's just a drop in the bucket compared to my real reasons for resigning. Do you remember what happened the first time the villains attacked? How I was nearly unable to save anyone because of my health? Imagine something like that happening again. What use would I be?”

Izuku paled a bit and he seemed to shrink a little in his seat, looking away and biting his lip.

“You...” His eyes met his mentor's and Toshinori could tell he was struggling. “You can still teach, though... even if you don't come to training exercises...”

“I'll still be dropping in to check on you all from time to time,” Toshinori assured him. “What, you thought I was going to leave forever and never return? As if! I'll be behind the scenes troubleshooting your simulations and giving a lecture now and then. I just won't be a full time teacher anymore.”

The expression on Izuku's face was something between surprise, annoyance and relief.

“You could have said that earlier!” he cried. “I thought you were leaving UA for good! All Might! Don't scare me like that!”

“Officially I am leaving UA,” Toshinori stated. “Unofficially... well, my name doesn't have to be on a roster for me to stay involved with my alma mater, does it?”

Izuku looked torn between smiling in relief at his mentor and maybe leaning across the table to give him a good smack. But then he took a deep breath, exhaled, and sipped at his hot chocolate before coming up with something to say.

“So since you're not teaching full-time...” The boy glanced up, something very like hope in his green eyes. “You'll be... um... doing other things? With me?”

“You don't have to make it sound scandalous,” Toshinori groused. He rested his elbows on the table and put his hands together. “Hm, how to put this... as I said, I'd like to focus on some aspects of your growth as a future hero and as a person outside of that, too. In simple terms, it's high time I started making sure you don't end up like me.”

“I've already stopped using my arms as much. I haven't hurt myself with One for All in a while, too.” Izuku tilted his head slightly. “Or is this not about how I fight?”

“Nah. It's about this.” Toshinori poked his own chest through his many layers of clothing, right over his heart. He felt suddenly shy talking about this topic, nearly as shy as he had felt baring his feelings to Inko. “It's... I would like for you to succeed not because you're afraid of disappointing people, but because you know you can learn from your mistakes and keep going anyway.” He paused for a moment, hoping the emotions starting to stir inside didn't affect his tone. “When I say I don't want you to end up like me... I'm not talking about your health. I'm talking about you as a person.”

Izuku was quiet now, staring at Toshinori as if catching a glimpse of something he had never seen before.

“But you're not a bad person,” he finally stated.

“Heh, that's very kind of you. You know what, though? It took a hell of a lot of persistence on one person's part to make me see that it made no sense to keep denying I needed help. I was so fixated on clinging to my pride that I couldn't see kindness for what it was. I was...”

Toshinori coughed slightly and downed a bit of water to try and fix the issue. Even in this heated environment his chest was still hurting from breathing in the freezing air outside.

“I was an idiot, Izuku. I was so concerned with not showing weakness, with keeping up some kind of performance, that I forgot how to be human. Isn't that silly?”

He emitted a small laugh but Izuku was not amused. If anything, he just looked dismayed.

“All Might,” the boy mumbled. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I care about you,” Toshinori said plainly, looking Izuku in the eye. “Because I've pushed you to do dangerous things and I'm responsible for your scars. I want you to know... I want you to know I care for you and I'm proud of you even if you don't win. I want you to succeed at your goals because you want to, not because you think you'll lose my approval or anyone else's. Do you understand? You're going to be a hero because you want to be one, not because I'll be disappointed if you don't or the world needs you to save it or any of that nonsense!”

He started coughing again, the fit triggered by his outburst, and a few of the other people in the bakery looked over with worried expressions. But Toshinori just wiped the blood from his mouth with a few paper napkins and cleared his throat, unwilling to let such a thing ruin the moment.

Izuku looked as if he had just been slapped across the face, so profound was his shock.

“I...” The boy's cheeks were blushing just a bit and he looked down at his hot chocolate as if it had suddenly become extremely important. “I think I already figured that part out, at least some of it, but... to hear it from you...” He looked up and smiled, a genuine wide smile that only wavered a little as his eyes brimmed with tears that blinking didn't banish entirely. “It's such a happy feeling...”

Toshinori relished the sight of that smile. “To that end,” he continued, “I thought maybe I'd offer my services as a friend instead of a teacher. Sure, there are still things I'd like to tell you about heroism now and then... but there are other things I'd like to do for you. And...”

And I'm woefully out of my element now, he thought anxiously. But I want to say it...!

“I've been staying with your mother ever since... since last weekend,” he admitted in a mutter. “What with the... the paparazzi camped on my front lawn. It's... it's only supposed to be a temporary solution, but um... well... in the event that things keep going the way they're going...”

Izuku's smile was fading fast now as his eyes got wider by the second. For a moment Toshinori feared the boy had forgotten how to breathe.

“What I'm trying to say is...” Dammit, how the hell do I go from pulling great speeches out of my ass to stammering like a moron in less than five minutes? “My point is, if there's ever anything you need to talk about... anything at all! If you need someone to listen, like that day we first met when you told me about your life... I would like to be that person. And if you ever need help it won't bother me at all to lend a hand.”

He desperately hoped this wouldn't upset Izuku. What with his mostly fatherless childhood and all... Toshinori hated the idea of crossing a line that didn't need to be crossed. Yet at the same time he wanted to step up to the plate, wanted to present himself as ready and willing.

He wanted to be more than a hero on a pedestal, more than a face on a poster, more than a coach or a teacher.

He wanted...

“I know it's been a little awkward with everything that's happened, but...”

“Are you saying,” Izuku cut in, his eyes still wide and his face nearly drained of color, “you want to be my dad?”

Time might as well have stopped for Toshinori in that instant.

Slowly the world began to move again; he drew in a breath and inhaled the smell of fresh-baked bread and pastries, felt the wetness of melted snow soaked into the scarf around his neck, and blinked as his focus zeroed in on the boy before him.

“I...”

He thought of how he had fought with his own hands to defend Izuku from harm, how he had once been able to hold him like the child he was with those same hands... how he could no longer do either of those things.

How in spite of that, he still wanted to do everything in his power to protect and preserve him.

He remembered the blissful tension that had surged in his chest at the beginning of the sports festival, before things went sour... the excitement and pride and affection that came from watching Izuku triumph. The same feeling that had washed over him after the battle of Kamino Ward, seeing Izuku safe and unharmed despite the risks he had taken.

He reached for those memories and held onto them, letting them steady him as he mustered his resolve.

“I-it's not that I want to intrude,” he fumbled, feeling less like a retired pro hero and more like a shrinking violet. “I mean... it's not like I asked how you felt before I started seeing your mother, and I know I've been a bit clumsy with... well, everything, but... what I mean is...”

Izuku stood up suddenly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor from the motion. It was enough to make Toshinori flinch. Even worse was the look on Izuku's face: the same pallid and wide-eyed blankness from before, almost a look of horror.

I fucked up, didn't I?

But before Toshinori could so much as spit out an apology the boy tore out of the bakery as if escaping a burning building. His hot chocolate remained on the table, still a little over half full.

“Shit!” Toshinori swore aloud, feeling all eyes on him in that moment. He scrambled to get out of his seat, grabbed his briefcase and lunged after Izuku, knocking his cup of water to the floor in the process. “Sorry!” he called as he made for the door, hoping the shopkeeper wasn't too irritated over the spill.

As soon as he opened the door he felt freezing air hit his face. It was starting to get dark and the snow was still falling, illuminated by street lights. He didn't pause to pull up his scarf, however, for he was too busy looking left and right in search of Izuku. “Midoriya, my boy!” he called out, not even bothering to hide the panic in his voice at this point. “Izuku! I--”

He had to stop then and cough again, hunching over as he put a gloved fist to his mouth and hacked into it. His eyes stung and his heart raced. I fucked up, I fucked up, I really fucked up . The combination of alarm and guilt plus the pain in his chest and throat was a recipe for misery, and as he saw a few small drops of red hit the snow at his feet he couldn't help the small strangled noise that escaped him.

But then... then someone was patting his back, touching his arm, and when his vision cleared he realized it was Izuku.

“I was just standing by the door,” the boy admitted sheepishly. “I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I had to come outside before...”

Izuku's eyes were spilling tears profusely at this point. He sniffled and wiped at his face with a sleeve, shaking his head. There was something odd about him though, Toshinori noted, something... different. He looked tense, the tendons of his neck standing out where his clothes didn't cover the skin.

“It's One for All,” Izuku explained. He was crying and laughing at the same time. “It just... it kicked in and I felt really weird, you know? Like I did on that morning when I finished cleaning the beach and all I could do was scream... it... it feels kind of like that, only...”

“One for All?!” Toshinori reached out and grasped Izuku's right arm with his good hand, feeling the muscle tension there. “Be careful, Izuku! If you go past your limit--”

“It's fine! I'm not going to hurt myself, I promise.” More laughter followed that assurance. “It feels... it feels good! I feel like a million bucks! Everything's okay!”

Toshinori felt utterly perplexed... and relieved, so very relieved. He released Izuku's arm and let out a quiet sigh, hoping that might help slow his pounding heart.

“I was afraid I'd upset you,” he confessed quietly, watching as snowflakes drifted between them on the faint breeze.

“No! N-no, I'm not upset, I just...” Izuku flexed his own hands, opening and closing his fingers as if working out stiffness. “It was really sudden and I didn't want to make a scene... though I guess I ended up doing that anyway...”

There were many things Toshinori wanted to say, but none of them made it past his lips; he kept staring at Izuku and trying to make sense of the tangled knot in his heart, only to lose his nerve every time he decided on the right words.

Is he saying that it activated on its own in response to his emotions? And yet he says he's not upset...

… does that mean he's happy?

“You're sure you're fine?” he managed hoarsely.

“Yeah.” Izuku smiled up at him, still leaking a few tears but otherwise the picture of joy. “I'm fine. Really. You don't have to worry... you didn't hurt my feelings. I'm glad you told me all of that. I'm grateful...” He sniffled again, swallowing hard as his smile faltered. “I knew things were still settling with you and Mom, so I... I was afraid to bring it up... but...”

Toshinori suddenly realized what was really at play here and felt acutely aware of his own buffoonery over how he hadn't picked up on it yet.

“It's something you've wanted, isn't it?”

Izuku didn't say anything in response, just started nodding until his head bobbed up and down furiously.

Toshinori reached out and placed his hand on top of Izuku's head, mussing his curly hair and gently stopping the nodding. Then without saying anything – without bothering to 'beat around the bush', as Americans liked to say – he pulled the boy into a hug.

It was different than the hug they had shared in the living room on the day Izuku discovered Toshinori's relationship with Inko. Toshinori couldn't afford to activate One for All like this, so the strength he used was only his own; just as he had done the day he lost his powers, the day he swore to continue helping Izuku, all he could do was put his weakened arms around the boy and hope it was enough.

I can't fight for you anymore , he thought as he felt Izuku's arms squeeze him carefully despite the immense strength they were currently charged with. I can't be the kind of teacher I used to be. But I still want to be part of your life, now more than ever. I still want...

His train of thought screeched to a halt as he saw that everyone who had witnessed the hasty exit from the bakery was watching them through the window. The shopkeeper looked as if she had just finished watching an emotional roller coaster of a movie. One patron, an elderly woman, was even crying.

Fucking hell, don't tell me they heard any of that through the glass! How thick is that window anyway?!

He knew Izuku saw it too when the boy froze after glancing in that direction. “Um, All Might,” Izuku said faintly. “I think we should go...”

“I think so too!”

Izuku was faster, but instead of leaving the older man to struggle behind him he grabbed Toshinori's hand and half-pulled him along as they hurried in the direction of the bus stop. Their footsteps crunched in the fresh-fallen snow as they went. Even though he had to really work to keep from tripping at this pace, Toshinori couldn't help grinning as he fought to keep up with his junior. Instead of feeling ashamed over this obvious shift in their dynamic, he found it incredibly endearing.

When they reached the stop Izuku didn't let go of his hand and Toshinori didn't bother pulling it away. He could barely feel the boy's grip from the combination of cold and his own nerve damage, but there was something like an echo of warmth that registered from the contact.

The bus was running late due to the inclement weather and after several minutes had ticked past, Izuku pulled up his hood and let his head rest on Toshinori's shoulder. When Toshinori glanced down he saw that the boy's eyes were closed and he had a small contented smile on his face.

He couldn't do much with his ruined hand, but he tried his best to give Izuku's a gentle squeeze. He was rewarded by the tiniest of squeezes back.

“How's One for All?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Powered down now,” Izuku said. “That was super weird. But it felt really good too...”

Toshinori stifled a cough. He could see headlights approaching from down the street – the shape trundling through the snow looked vaguely like a bus. He hoped it was, at any rate. His chest felt like it was burning now every time he breathed in the cold air, even if he was breathing though a scarf.

“I'm glad it felt good,” he told Izuku. “For you to be that happy... it's what I want.”

Izuku's head left his shoulder and the boy leaned into his field of vision, peering out from under his hood.

“I'd like for you to be happy, too,” Izuku countered. “So I... I hate to bring this up again, but...”

Toshinori knew what was about to come out of his mouth.

“You still think I should stay at UA, hm?”

Izuku looked away guiltily.

“I know what you said,” he muttered. “And I know it's not really a bad decision, but... but remember when you gave that lecture two weeks ago, about moving on from mistakes? 'Instead of trying to stand alone, let others stand with you.' That's what you said. So I... I think... I think that even if you can't fight or protect us anymore – even if Class 1-A has to work harder to make sure you're okay – even so, there's still a place for you as our teacher! We've already come so far, right? We've done things no other class has ever done before... so I think since you gave it your all to protect us, it's only fair that we do our best to return the favor.”

The bus was so close now but Toshinori almost wished it would slow down. Hearing these words from Izuku... he couldn't help the tightness that gripped his throat or the way his eyes started to sting.

Izuku's hand was still firmly clasping his, a physical reminder of the boy's resolve. He couldn't remember the last time he had held hands with anyone who wasn't Inko.

My dear, dear boy.

“I'll...” He spoke without thinking, spurred on by emotion. “I'll think about it, all right?”

“YOU WILL?!”

Izuku's squawk was nearly drowned out by the groaning and squealing of the bus as it stopped and opened its doors. But Toshinori heard it and responded with a terse nod.

Izuku was in a nearly manic state for the duration of the ride to the school, kicking his legs back and forth and unable to truly relax his face from a grin. He had released Toshinori's hand by now but occasionally his shoulder would bump the man's arm due to the movement of the bus. The sheer contrast between them, reflected by one of the mirrors mounted up near the bus's ceiling, was nearly enough to make Toshinori snort; while Izuku was more or less adorable in his All Might jacket, Toshinori looked more like a winter-wear cryptid than a person, much less a former hero. And yet Izuku kept looking over at him now and then with an expression that held nothing but affection and admiration.

I told him I wanted to spend more time with him instead of teaching, and yet he still insists I should remain a teacher... not that I expected him to be selfish in this case, but still...

When they got off the bus Izuku paused at UA's gateway and looked back at Toshinori uncertainly, his breath hanging in the frigid air like a small cloud.

“You really mean it?” he asked. “You'll think about staying?”

“I'll sleep on it, as they say. I make no promises,” Toshinori warned. “I... whatever happens, I'm glad you said those things to me.”

Izuku beamed out from under his hood, his eyes looking wet again.

“But you should get back to your dorm!” Toshinori commanded, pointing at the buildings that rose over the school wall for emphasis. “It's getting late and you really ought to be--”

He had to cough then, what should have been a single cough escalating into a fit that made his chest burn again. When Izuku stepped toward him with a worried look he shook his head.

“Go on,” he managed. “Shoo. Tomorrow's going to be a big day either way, so go rest up for it!”

Izuku nodded, turning and walking through the gateway. But before he could turn and head in the direction of the dorms he stopped to give Toshinori one last smile, accompanied by a wave.

“Good night, All Might,” he called out.

Toshinori returned the wave as best he could, even though his glove was now stained with blood.

“Good night, son.”

He might as well have told Izuku he won the lottery. The boy practically skipped away, giddy with emotion. Toshinori waited until he was out of sight to shudder from the pain in his chest and the cold that assaulted his exposed skin.

As he set down his briefcase and went about the unpleasant task of removing his glove so he could use his phone to call for a ride, he found himself wishing he hadn't told Izuku he would reconsider his resignation. It felt like a cheap solution to give the boy false hope... but at the same time, he truly did feel conflicted over the decision. His head felt too full of thoughts: what was best for UA's reputation, what was best for the students, what was best for him... it was all too much to sort through at the moment.

And yet despite these things he felt a sense of satisfaction. Fulfillment, even. Tonight's little trip with Izuku had yielded more fruit than expected.

Whatever happens, he thought as he looked at his phone's wallpaper – a photo of Inko he had snapped while she was holding Hime, unaware the picture was even being taken – whatever happens, at least I can say I didn't leave my feelings unsaid.

Whatever happens, I will never leave Izuku wondering what he means to me.