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i.
Izuku must be quite tired.
Toshinori understands, of course. He's been working extra hard lately to stay on top of his studies. It feels like he's constantly rushing around, with little time left to waste with his mentor.
Not that Toshinori is upset. He's just glad that the boy is giving it his all, and of course he himself has many other students to attend to. It's fine that they haven't been able to meet for a few weeks now, and it's certainly no problem that Izuku is starting to nod off in the middle of the movie.
It’s something he picked out, promising Toshinori that he would definitely enjoy it. And he had been enjoying it, paying rapt attention until, about halfway through the movie, Izuku had yawned, curling closer to Toshinori and resting that head of green curls on his shoulder. Toshinori had adjusted the tablet in his lap, but when he glanced at Izuku’s face a moment later, he found eyes drifting closed, muscles quickly going lax.
He had smiled.
Now, nearly a whole hour later, the movie is nearing its end, and Toshinori has barely processed any of it. Izuku is still fast asleep on his shoulder, drool trailing down his chin. One hand grips Toshinori’s sleeve, and even asleep, Toshinori doesn’t think he could get Izuku to release his grip.
He wishes, with something that feels not quite like bitterness, that this could go on forever.
But Izuku had said he only had time enough to watch the movie, and barely even that.
“Wake up, my boy,” he whispers as the end credits begin. He sets the tablet aside, lifting his hand to card through Izuku’s hair. “Come on. Get up.”
Izuku’s face scrunches, and he turns to hide between Toshinori’s shoulder and the couch.
“No,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep. His group tights on Toshinori’s sleeve, and he presses himself impossibly closer.
“Yes,” Toshinori coaxes, slowly pulling away from the couch. Izuku groans, pressing his face against Toshinori’s shoulder again. His cheek is warm, and his eyes bleary when he blinks up at Toshinori groggily.
“Five more minutes, dad…”
And Toshinori can’t quite stop the cough that bubbles up from within. Blood shoots from his mouth, and he wheezes, wiping his chin with his wrist.
Izuku startles, shooting awake. He blinks sleep from his eyes, staring at Toshinori for about half a second before squeaking; he lunges forward, fumbling to grab him a handful of tissues from the coffee table.
He doesn't look at Toshinori as he hands them to him, instead squinting dazedly at the floor. Toshinori wipes the blood from his skin, and then coughs into the tissue to clear his lungs of the stuff.
“S-sorry,” Izuku says, stuttering, hands splayed in front of him. “I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep!”
“That’s quite alright,” Toshinori says, wiping his lips one last time.
“And now you - you’re bleeding again, All Might, I’m so sorry…”
“It’s alright,” he repeats. “It’ll stop in a moment. Don’t worry about it.”
Izuku nods. “Right. Yeah. Um, sorry, still.”
Toshinori shakes his head, but a fond smile sits on his face. “Really, Izuku, don’t worry about it.”
“O-okay.”
He sits back on the couch for a moment, whole body tense, and Toshinori holds back a sigh. The juxtaposition is almost laughable.
“I should go,” he says, rubbing his thumbs together idly.
“Yes,” says Toshinori, eyeing the clock on the wall, “you wouldn't want to be late.”
He grabs his bag from where it sits against the coffee table, shooting Toshinori the most unsubtle glance he’s ever seen. He slings the bag over his shoulders, idling awkwardly before nodding and turning toward the door.
“Izuku,” Toshinori calls, and his student stops in his tracks, nearly tripping over himself as he whirls around, eyes wide. “Don’t forget to get your homework done tonight.”
“Um. Right!”
As soon as the door closes, Toshinori leans over and drags a hand down his face. Do your homework? Seriously?
No, no, it’s alright. Izuku is… he's a good kid. He won’t resent the reminder.
Still. Next time, Toshinori will say… something else.
ii.
“You did very well in last week’s exercise,” Toshinori says, his students quieting down in the wake of his booming voice. It takes more effort than he’d like to speak that loudly in this form, but it’s the best way to corral a class of excited young heroes. “I had just a few notes, and I’d like each of you to take a look over yours before we continue to today’s exercise.”
He starts passing out sheets to each of his students, fully aware that some will take his feedback more seriously than others. He’d assumed once that no young hero would turn away advice from the symbol of peace, but a certain chance encounter plus a few months of teaching experience has shown him otherwise.
Most at least bid him thanks as they take their paper from him, although one explosive young man says nothing as he scans the paper and then rolls his eyes with a scoff.
Well. You can take a horse to water.
The rest of the class reads over their papers with at least some level of interest. Some look thoughtful, others bored, a few even sheepish.
Izuku and his group sit the farthest back, still chattering amongst themselves as they wait to receive their notes. He remembers most of theirs is praise: Iida has shown an incredible aptitude for battle strategy, Uraraka has majorly improved her tolerance to overusing her quirk, young Todoroki has improved vastly in his control over both his abilities, and Shinsou has impressed even Toshinori with his adaptability under pressure.
Toshinori coughs loudly when he gets to Izuku, who has been feverishly scratching away in his notebook. He startles, dropping his pen, and Toshinori offers him a smile when he holds out Izuku's feedback form.
“Here you are, young Midoriya.”
“Oh, thank you, dad!”
Toshinori pauses, and Izuku’s cheeks go red. He rips the paper from Toshinori’s grasp, leaving a corner behind between his fingers.
“Did you just call All Might dad,” someone asks, to a chorus of snickers. Izuku bows his head.
Uraraka’s eyes are alight with amusement, even as Iida acorns his classmates for their teasing.
“S-sorry, um, All Might-sensei!” Izuku's voice is at least an octave higher than its resting pitch.
Toshinori nods, hoping he sounds more natural when he next speaks. “That’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s just like in primary school,” someone whispers, and Izuku’s cheeks redden further, “when you called your teacher mom!”
“Maybe you did,” Kyoka says, slapping Kaminari on the back of his head, a gesture Toshinori decides not to reprimand. “The rest of us were far more sensible.”
“Enough,” Toshinori says gently. “Focus on your notes, please.”
Izuku’s gaze snaps downward, and Toshinori tries not to look at him as he passes out the rest of the notes, aware that it would only cause him further embarrassment.
And yet. Despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment… For just a moment, something warm starts to build in his chest.
He knows the boy's friends won't give him too much trouble over this. They'll tease him for the rest of the day, at most, and then it will be forgotten with the next sunrise.
Toshinori won't forget it, but he'll try not to tease Izuku for it either. A happy medium, he thinks.
“I hope you’ve had enough time to look over my notes,” he says after a minute, shoving aside the odd feeling and replacing it with a firm determination he hopes his students feel too. “It’s now time to put them into practice.”
iii.
Toshinori doesn't really visit the student dormitories - no matter how many times he's been invited to do so.
He's so used to having this wall up around him, refusing to let anyone get close. The last true friend he had was Mirai, and that…
It's been difficult to let people in since then, but in all honesty, it was difficult to let people in before, too. First he was quirkless, something which, while not as uncommon when he was a child, still defined much of his youth. And then, all of a sudden, he had One For All: a legacy to maintain, a war to wage, a secret to keep from everyone he was trying so hard to keep safe.
Nana told him from the very start what he would be taking on when he accepted her quirk. Years down the line, he doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t.
Always, always he had been set apart.
And then his time was running out, day by day. The miracle quirk that changed his life, changed the world, was becoming too much for his injured body. He was really, seriously considering Mirai’s advice, and then…
“All Might!”
Izuku is before him, just like that day; and just like that day, he is shaking, tears trailing down his face. He's clutching his phone in his hand with pale, white fingers - frankly, with that much force, Toshinori is surprised that the device is still intact.
“Izuku,” he says, eyebrows raised. He glances to Aizawa, standing behind Izuku, looking more haggard than usual. “What's going on?”
Izuku shakes his head. His shoulders tremble as he bends forward, clutching at his chest. “It's mom,” he says, voice thick and wobbly. “She… there was an accident, and she…”
Toshinori’s heart drops out of his chest as he recalls the emerging news article he'd read just a few minutes ago, the one about the attack downtown, and understands, horrified, exactly why Aizawa asked him to come.
No.
No, not Inko, not her. Life has already taken so much from her and her son, but please , not this. Not this. Toshinori had promised her - promised, truly, from the bottom of his heart -
“She's alive,” Aizawa clarifies, voice surprisingly soft. “But she's been admitted to Musutafu General.”
Toshinori’s heart continues to pound against his ribs, but he manages a miniscule breath of relief. “Oh, Izuku, my boy…”
“I want to go see her,” he says, looking up at Toshinori with red-rimmed eyes. “I need to go - to make sure she's okay.”
Toshinori is about to agree when Aizawa shakes his head.
“I'm sorry, Midoriya, I really am. But as I said, it’s far past visiting hours, and the hospital is likely very, very busy. Even if we could approve the outing, you would likely be turned away until morning, at the earliest.”
Izuku's fists curl tighter. Toshinori feels a thought form in his head.
“I'll break in if I have to,” Izuku seethes, turning on Aizawa with fists clenched. Toshinori thinks he hears that phone screen cracking, or maybe it's just One For All coming to life under Izuku's skin.
The power fizzles out with one blood red glance, but Izuku's rage only seems to swell.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa says, hands raised placatingly, hair still floating about his shoulders.
“Wait,” says Toshinori, and Aizawa glances at him, red eyes still aglow. Izuku stares too, eyes narrowed, and yet, looking almost hopeful. “I still have a lot of sway, even if I’m not… even now that I’m retired. I could - I don’t know if it would work, really, it might not, but I could see if…”
Toshinori trails off, the idea sounding much less reasonable now that he's voicing it. Aizawa looks on tiredly, his hair falling back into place as he finishes the proposal in his stead. “You want to see if they would make an exception for the former number one.”
Izuku’s brow furrows. Shame pools in Toshinori’s gut. What a stupid thing to suggest - that he is so important, so special as to be afforded special treatment. It’s not the selfless, righteous kind of thing a hero would come up with.
(But. He isn’t a hero. He’s retired. So.)
“It’s a hospital,” Aizawa drawls. “Not a fancy restaurant, or the zoo.”
“We could call them,” Izuku sniffles, contemplative. It’s a step up from rageful, at least. “Right? I mean, we could call and ask.”
Aizawa presses his lips together.
“I know this isn’t what you were thinking of,” Toshinori says, and Aizawa holds his gaze, his own sharp and calculating. “You wanted me to come and comfort the boy. But what could comfort him more than this?”
Aizawa looks between him and Izuku, eyes slightly narrowed. Toshinori can see the cylinders firing in his mind as he weighs the pros and cons of allowing his student out at this hour, even to see his sick mother.
Frankly, he’s not sure how much Aizawa’s consideration matters. Toshinori, for one, 100% believes that Izuku will break into the hospital to see Inko, regardless of the consequences. And he is absolutely certain that Aizawa knows this too, and is mostly weighing how much effort he really wants to exert trying to stop him.
He's just considering whether or not to tag along with the very much inevitable, very unofficial outing when Aizawa finally speaks.
“Call the hospital,” he says, nodding at Toshinori. “If they say yes, then Midoriya can go, and I’ll even excuse him from class in the morning to recover the lost sleep.”
Izuku brightens, just a little, standing taller even as he wipes tears from his eyes.
“But if they say no,” he continues, now turning to Izuku, “then you will be staying here, Midoriya. I may still excuse you from class tomorrow if you need, but I will not allow you to break curfew for no reason. Is that fair?”
“It is,” Izuku says, already pulling up the number on his phone.
“On speaker,” Aizawa says as Izuku presses the device to his ear. Izuku frowns at him, but puts his phone out in front of him so they can all hear the call. The dial tone rings, rings, rings…
“Hello. You have reached Musutafu General Hospital. Our regular digital answering system is currently down due to an influx of calls. You have been placed on the waitlist to speak to a representative. Your place in line is: 68.”
Aizawa pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Estimated wait time: five hours and forty-one minutes.”
Izuku turns around and bangs his head against the wall.
“Izuku!” Toshinori pulls him away from the wall, turning him around and rubbing at the red mark on his forehead with his thumb. “Come now, my boy. It was worth a try, wasn’t it?”
“This is so stupid,” he sobs, wrenching out of Toshinori’s weak grip. “I just need to make sure she’s okay, and nobody will tell me anything!”
“Midoriya-”
“I know,” he hisses, curling further away. “I know. She’s probably fine, and I’m worrying too much, and I’m just being a handful, I know!”
“You’re not,” Toshinori says, crouching down on protesting knees. “Izuku, you have every right to be worried, and frustrated, and yes, even angry.”
“But none of that changes the fact that I don’t know if she’s okay!”
“Go,” Aizawa says, rubbing at his eyes.
“You are not sending me to my room,” Izuku says, just short of shouting. “You aren’t.”
“Izuku-”
“I’m not a little kid! I’m not going to run off and sulk in my room, All Might. He can’t make me. You can’t make me.”
“You’re right,” Aizawa says, still rubbing his eyes. “I’m not sending you to your room. I’m sending you to the hospital.”
Izuku pauses.
“...what?”
Aizawa sighs, pulling his hand away from his face to gesture at Izuku. “This,” he says, looking him up and down, “clearly isn’t going to resolve itself any time soon, and I, for one, don’t plan on staying up all night to keep you from leaving.”
Izuku stares at him for a moment, blinking. He glances at Toshinori, then back at Aizawa, and Toshinori has to hold in his amusement when he sees the boy’s absolutely flabbergasted expression.
“You… you’re really just going to let me go? Even though I don’t know if the hospital will let me in to see her?”
Aizawa shrugs. “All Might will be going with you, and the rule still stands. If they turn you away, I expect you to come right back without delay. But if they let you in, then they let you in.”
“But won’t we just be wasting your time if they send us away?”
“You’re already wasting my time by asking questions instead of getting your shoes on.”
Izuku stares at him a moment longer. Toshinori fights the urge to laugh out loud. Aizawa’s lip twitches upward for about half a second, but otherwise his blank mask remains intact.
“Okay,” Izuku says. He hangs up on the hospital and stuffs his phone in his pocket. “Okay.”
He runs to the genkan, aided by a burst of green lightning that Toshinori notes goes unerased. He turns to Aizawa, brow quirked.
“You may need to get a move on,” is all Aizawa says before nodding toward Izuku, who is waiting by the door with a very impatient expression, shoes already tied, albeit haphazardly.
“Right,” is all Toshinori says before turning, giving one backward glance to Aizawa, and guiding Izuku out the door.
They run to the school lot, Toshinori struggling to keep up with Izuku. He imagines it would be faster for the young hero to run or leap all the way to the hospital, but he wouldn't dare suggest such a thing - not least of all because he wouldn’t be able to keep up.
No, Toshinori is happy to drive them, though it really has been a long time since he’s driven anywhere. He’s fairly certain his license is still valid; he’s not sure if he even has it with him, though in his defense, he hadn’t been expecting to go out this late at night.
Hopefully they won’t get pulled over.
He grabs his keys out of the locker by the gate, thankful that he even remembers the passcode. Izuku climbs into the passenger side the moment the car is unlocked, fastening his seatbelt before Toshinori even has his door open.
They drive in relative silence. Toshinori tries not to think about the way traffic thickens the closer they get to Musutafu General, nor the smoke and sirens in the distance. He can’t tune it out entirely, not after decades of pro heroism, but it’s easy enough to focus on Izuku instead.
He can’t help anyone out there, not as he is now. But there is someone right here that he can help. That he is helping.
He glances toward Izuku at the next red light. His eyes are shut, cheek pressed against the window. Toshinori feels something melt in his chest, and he resists the urge to pull out his phone and take a picture.
The light turns green. Toshinori tears his gaze away, tightening his grip on the steering wheel, waiting until he can crawl forward, one in a long line of cars creeping down the road inch by inch.
He’s sure Inko will be alright. He knows, somehow, from deep within, that she will be. But that doesn’t make it any easier to lag through the congested streets, fingers pinched white against the steering wheel, waiting to arrive at the hospital.
“If they turn us away,” Toshinori begins, intending to make a joke, but already the words taste sour in his mouth. “Well. If traffic is this bad on the way back, you’ll be carrying me over the rooftops.”
Izuku hums, his eyes dark.
“I’m serious, my boy. I’m about to fall asleep at the wheel here.”
He yawns dramatically, slumping further and further until he shoots upward, looking around as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. Miraculously, Izuku snorts.
“It’s a shame you don’t have your driver’s license.”
“Huh,” Izuku says, now yawning himself. “You’d think UA would have… a driver’s course…”
“That’s in your second year. It’s an elective, if I recall, but required for hero students.”
“I’ll need extra lessons there, too,” Izuku says, turning back toward the window. “At least with these hands, anyway.”
Toshinori hums. “That could probably be arranged.”
They go quiet again after that, the main goal of their outing looming ominously over their heads. Izuku drifts in and out as Toshinori counts streets and alleyways, each one bringing them closer and closer to Inko.
She’ll be fine. She will. It’s just a matter of confirming it.
The sun has started to rise by the time they finally make it to the hospital. It’s a mess inside: doctors, nurses, and technicians run from room to room as patients continue to pour in. Beds are set up in the halls, and Toshinori’s stomach turns at the low hum of human suffering that rings throughout the building.
Izuku pales. A patient is wheeled in from ambulance, green hair, missing an arm, covered in hot, stinking blood, but -
It’s someone else. Someone else who might die here. But not…
Izuku closes his eyes while Toshinori flags down a nurse and sheepishly explains their request. He feels wrong voicing such a thing out loud, and the nurse regards him with a stern look, but then she glances at Izuku, and another flash of recognition takes her.
“I would need to confirm your identities,” she says reluctantly, “but if you really are who you say you are - both of you - then we could allow you to see your patient. But just this once, All Might-san.”
“Of course,” he says, bowing. “I understand how inconvenient this is. I just want to bring some peace to this boy’s heart.”
She checks their IDs - and look, Toshinori does have his driver’s license - then checks with her supervisor, rubbing at her horns the whole while. Toshinori puts a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, and Izuku leans in, propping his head against Toshinori’s arm.
“Alright,” says the nurse, returning their IDs. “We called your school, and they confirmed your story. I’ll have someone send you up in a moment. I’d like to reiterate that this is very much against protocol, and if you try this again, we will likely have to turn you away.”
“I understand.”
A very frazzled intern appears, bags under their eyes, to guide them upstairs. And the closer they get to the boy’s mother, the more nervous Izuku looks.
Toshinori reaches out, grabbing his hand. The boy looks up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He squeezes Izuku’s palm, and nervously, the boy squeezes back.
“She should be just in here,” says the intern, finally stopping and poking their head into a room. “Midoriya-san? You have visitors.”
“Wha…? Ah, send them in?”
Izuku pushes past the intern, and Toshinori apologizes profusely as he, too, slips past them and into the hospital room. Behind him, the intern sighs, closing the door gently.
“Mom,” Izuku sobs, pulling Inko into a careful, desperate hug. “Mom, I was so worried… They called me to tell me you were here, but they didn’t have any details, and when we called back, the answering system was down, and…”
“I’m so sorry to have worried you,” Inko says, green eyes laden with tears. She pulls Izuku closer with her good arm, burying her face in her son’s shoulder.
Toshinori takes a moment to glance at her chart.
“I’m glad you’re not seriously injured, Midoriya-san,” he says, once the moment has passed and Izuku is pulling away, still misty-eyed. “We were all quite worried.”
“‘We all?’”
“Me, All Might, and Aizawa-sensei,” Izuku clarifies, sniffling. “He’s the one who let us break curfew for this. I should really get him something, to thank him.”
“I’m just thankful you’re here,” Inko says. “I really didn’t mean to worry you. I would have called, or messaged, but with everything going on, they’ve restricted outgoing calls to emergencies only… I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.”
“Don’t be,” he says, still wiping tears from his eyes. Toshinori looks around, handing him a tissue box from the small desk by the window. “Really, mom, I’m just so glad you’re okay.”
“Well, mostly,” she says, glancing at her left arm and leg. “Broke three bones, and somehow got my leg infected, too, can you believe that? Oh, Izuku, I’m taking after you now, aren’t I?”
He giggles. “Don’t say that!”
Toshinori pulls up a chair for Izuku, who collapses into it with a bone-deep weariness. Toshinori sits next to him, hands clasped in his lap, listening to mother and son.
He remembers to message Aizawa nearly half an hour into their visit, just to confirm what he’s sure his colleague has already begun to suspect. He messages Nedzu, too, who only responds with a thumb’s up emoji.
Toshinori slips his phone back in his pocket.
“You look tired, Izuku,” Inko’s saying, eyeing her son with unguarded worry. “You should rest.”
“I don’t want to leave yet,” he protests, even as he fights back a yawn.
“We don’t have to leave, actually,” Toshinori says, sure that he will regret it later. “That nurse never gave us a specific check-out time.”
Izuku glances at Toshinori, his mouth open in a little ‘o’.
“I have extra pillows,” Inko says, trying to turn to grab one but struggling, gritting her teeth. She gives up after a moment, flopping back down on the bed. “Well. You’ll have to grab it.”
Izuku takes the pillow almost in a daze. He falls back into his chair, curling up and tucking his feet under him.
“He’s going to be so sore when he wakes up,” Toshinori mutters a few moments later, when Izuku’s breathing has begun to even out and his eyes have drifted shut. Inko laughs under her breath.
Truthfully, he’s thankful too. He’s not nearly as close to Inko as he is to her son, but he knows at least some of her story, and he could not imagine it ending here.
“Thank you for bringing him, All Might,” she says. “He would have worried all day, and probably gotten himself hurt…”
“He does seem to get hurt often,” Toshinori says. Really, Izuku’s shown incredible progress, but the point still stands. “And you can call me Yagi, if you wish.”
“Sure, Yagi-san.”
He reaches over and brushes his fingers through green curls. Izuku leans toward the touch, a hum in his throat. Inko blinks at him, a funny sort of smile falling across her face.
“Thank you, dad,” Izuku mutters. Inko holds back a small gasp, and Toshinori falters, his fingers stalling as he stares at her in shock and a little bit of horror.
She snorts at him, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Still, the delight shines through in her eyes, and Toshinori finds his cheeks burning. Izuku shifts, leaning closer to his touch, and he carefully, gently, starts to brush through his hair again.
“I wish I could take a video of that,” Inko whispers, and privately, Toshinori is infinitely glad that she did not.
iv.
“How’s your mom doing?”
Izuku aims a high kick at Uraraka, who blocks it at the last possible moment, turning his force back on him with a perfectly executed outside foot sweep. Toshinori nods in approval, and she beams at him.
“Mom’s doing much better,” Izuku says, once there’s air back in his lungs. She offers a hand, and he grins, pulling himself up and moving into position.
“You think she’ll be discharged soon?” Shinsou asks over his shoulder, blocking a punch from Iida.
Uraraka steps back, forcing Izuku to pursue her, and when he steps forward, she aims a punch which he barely manages to block.
“Should be home tomorrow night,” he pants, raising his fists to protect his face.
“Keep those arms up, Midoriya,” Toshinori says. “Pull them in tighter. Good, like that.”
Izuku beams at him.
“Seems your dad is doing well,” Shinsou drawls as Toshinori walks away to survey the other groups. He almost turns around to reprimand the boy, but he knows it will only be worse for Izuku if he steps in.
“Oh, yeah, he’s doing great,” Izuku says, and though Toshinori’s back is to him now, he can still practically hear the eyeroll.
“Leave him be, Shinsou,” says young Todoroki, glancing blankly at Toshinori before raising his arms to block a hit from Ojirou’s tail.
“I was just asking after our wonderful heroics teacher,” Shinsou says, and he must be well aware that Toshinori is still in earshot. “Y’know, the one he calls dad?”
“Come on, Hitocchan,” Izuku puffs. “How many times have you called Aizawa dad, hm?”
“Hey, that’s-”
“It’s not that different,” Uraraka says, before grunting. “Hey, not fair! I was grabbing my water!”
“That was an accident!”
“It’s my fault, Uraraka-kun. I knocked him over.”
“I don’t buy it. Deku-kun, get your dad right now, and tell him this delinquent deserves detention!”
“Ochako!”
“What? He’s allowed to tease you but I’m not?”
“That’s a two way street, y’know,” Izuku says. “I mean, you called Midnight mom once, didnt you?”
“Shut up.”
“Just saying, ‘chako. Just saying.”
Toshinori claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Koda and Hagakure look at him - or at least, he thinks Hagakure is looking at him - with odd expressions. Koda glances at his fellow students, still bickering, and smiles.
“Shinsou, stop it! I’m trying to hydrate, you monster.”
“Will a villain stop to let you grab your water?”
“Maybe if they had any honor,” she grumbles.
“It’s a villain, Uraraka! The whole point is that they have no honor.”
“Some of them do!”
“Izuku, if you start defending Stain again, I swear to god-”
“I am not defending him! At all! I’m just saying, a lot of villains still have a personal honor code. But that doesn’t mean he was right!”
Toshinori moves along, putting Izuku and his friends’ antics from his mind. He’s teaching right now, and that means everyone needs his attention, not just his protégé.
…no matter how endearing said protégé may be.
He helps Sato refine his stance, and shows young Iida how to perform a leg sweeping maneuver without exerting too much force on his exhaust pipes. He corrects Aoyama’s fist, marveling that the boy hadn’t yet broken his thumb with it tucked under his fingers like that.
“Sorry, All Might-sensei,” he says. “It’s a poor habit of mine…”
“Try to practice with your thumb on the outside,” he says. “You really wouldn’t want to break it.”
“Break it?! Mon dieu, I should hope not…”
“Yes, well…” Toshinori trails off, sharing a somewhat lost look with Kaminari. “Erm. Just be careful, yes?”
The boy nods vigorously.
The rest of the class is doing quite well. He's not surprised; they've been working on their hand to hand for nearly two weeks now, and the improvement is marked. They'll be moving back to quirk oriented combat soon, likely by the end of the week.
A few students have already approached him on the topic of supplemental lessons, at which point Toshinori had regrettably referred them to Aizawa. A few years ago, perhaps he could have led such a lesson, but now…
He can facilitate a class, but he can’t really participate in it the same way. Not anymore.
“...think that makes sense?”
Ah. He’s circled back to Izuku’s group now, still bickering amongst themselves.
“I’m just saying, what does it matter if I accidentally called him dad? He’s my mentor, which, y’know, not the same thing, but… you know.”
Ah. Still bickering about that.
“So he is your dad,” Shinsou says, blocking a high kick from young Iida.
“Sure,” says Izuku, and Toshinori has to hold back a bloody cough. “And I’m the queen of England.”
“Wow,” Uraraka says, drawing out the syllable in mock reverence. “Didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty!”
“Less chatter,” Toshinori manages to get out, swallowing back blood and laughter. Izuku squeaks and he whirls around, subsequently taking a direct hit to the back of his head.
He falls right at Toshinori’s feet, looking up at him with wide, green eyes. And, oh, wow, those pupils are definitely not the same size.
“Ow,” he says woozily, as Shinsou and young Todoroki laugh, and as Uraraka sputters out an apology.
Toshinori sighs.
“Go see Recovery Girl,” he says. “Uraraka, you take him.”
“Sorry, Deku-kun,” she whispers, crouching down to help him to his feet.
“It’s fine,” he mumbles, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ow.”
She pulls him up, leaning him against her shoulder. Toshinori nods at her, and they start walking, each leaning against the other.
“The rest of you,” he says, turning to address the class, now watching Izuku and Uraraka hobble out of the gym, “back to your partners.”
He turns, watching Uraraka struggle with the door before giving up, floating Izuku next to her and pulling him along with one arm. He swallows, a pang in his heart for his s-
His student.
For his student.
v.
Toshinori isn’t quite sure how he got roped into this, but he recalls it has something to do with bright green puppy-dog eyes and no small amount of bribery.
“I can drive you there and back, but,” he gestured to his thin arms, “I can’t really help you carry any of her things.”
“That’s fine,” Izuku had said. “I’ll take care of that part. We just don’t want to pay for a taxi, or try to get around on the train.”
And so they had arrived at the hospital, Izuku practically buzzing with nervous energy. Toshinori was half expecting to have to put him on a leash, but he manages to slow down enough for Toshinori to follow without getting lost.
“Izuku!” Inko exclaims, already in her wheelchair when they arrive. A nurse stands behind her, passing her things to Izuku after he leans down to give his mother a hug.
“Is your leg feeling better?” Toshinori glances at her cast, paling. “Or, ah, the infection, I mean.”
She nods, ignoring his faux pas. “Oh, much better. I can’t wait to get up and moving again, but it’ll be a few more weeks yet.”
Izuku hoists her bag of personal effects over his shoulder. “I want to sign your cast when we get home!”
“Of course!”
Toshinori trails behind the small family, trying to keep up with the pace set by the nurse pushing Inko down the hall. They slow down after Toshinori almost trips, stumbling forward with blood dripping down his lips.
“All Might-san!”
He rubs it off on his sleeve. “I'm alright. Let's keep going.”
They move significantly slower after that. Izuku keeps glancing back at him, one hand on his mother's shoulder. Toshinori tries his best to keep up, sheepish to have stopped their procession once already.
The elevator ride is silent. The walk to the parking lot is too. It's almost unbearable, but he supposes it's slightly better than Midoriya-patented waterworks.
The nurse parks the wheelchair right outside the exit, reciting the discharge instructions for Inko and Izuku one more time. Toshinori listens in, mildly interested, but mostly because he has nothing better to do.
“And make sure you stay off that leg, Midoriya-san. We'll send you a reminder a few days before your appointment, but if you have any issues with the cast before then, please call the number on the page there.”
“Of course, thank you so much!”
The nurse nods. “And were you bringing a car around for pickup, or did you want to try the crutches?”
“I might as well try the crutches. I'll need to get used to them eventually.”
Izuku holds them out to her, and she reaches for them, wincing.
“Do you need some painkillers?” he asks, and she shakes her head. She winces again, and then nods.
“Should be some in my bag,” she says.
“I'll get it!” Izuku passes Toshinori the crutches. “Here, dad, take these.”
Inko’s mouth opens in a little ‘o’. The crutches slip from Toshinori's fingers, clattering on the floor. The nurse makes a small sound, quickly overshadowed by a thunderous bloody cough.
“Y-Yagi-san,” Inko exclaims, reaching up carefully. He waves her away, and Izuku too, as he tries to apologize for startling him.
“I'm alright,” he wheezes after a moment, wiping more blood onto his sleeve before daring to bend over to retrieve the crutches.
“No, wait, I can do that!” Izuku says, but Toshinori is already holding them, back admittedly aching after the exertion. Izuku shrinks back slightly, a sheepish look on his face.
“It’s no problem,” he wheezes. “Just my butterfingers, really. Let’s not dwell on it.”
Izuku grabs the pain medication, and the nurse offers a bottle of water from who knows where. Inko manages to transfer from the wheelchair to the crutches with only the nurse’s help, though Izuku is standing close to catch her should she fall.
Inko thanks them, and they head inside, wishing her a swift and painless recovery. Toshinori is left behind the two Midoriyas, guarding Inko’s bag, though he imagines he’s going to be little help if someone tries to nab it.
“Izuku, can you grab my things?” Inko says once she’s fully situated on the crutches. Red-faced and silent, Izuku picks up her bag, and the three of them hobble through the crosswalk.
“The car is right around the corner,” Toshinori says. Inko nods, face set in a determined mask. She’s huffing slightly, and Izuku still hovers just behind her, arms ready to support her should she stumble. “I could bring it around-”
“It’s only a few more feet,” she says. “I’ve got this.”
She’s red in the face by the time the car is in sight, letting Izuku help her into the front seat without a word of protest. He takes the crutches, sliding them into the seat next to him.
There's a tangible sense of relief once everyone is buckled in. Toshinori starts the car, looking to Inko for their next move.
“I assume you want to be dropped off at your apartment, Midoriya-san?”
“That’s right,” she says, once her breathing is a little smoother. “You should stay for dinner, Yagi-san.”
“I don't know… I wouldn't be much help in the kitchen.”
“Let’s do takeout. Unless Izuku wants to cook?”
Toshinori glances in the rearview mirror. Izuku looks up, eyes wider than a deer in headlights.
“Takeout it is,” he says.
1
It takes nearly an hour to get Inko all settled in at the apartment, by which point Toshinori can hear everyone's stomach rumbling - even his own, which is impressive, considering he doesn’t have one anymore.
“Alright,” Izuku says, having just returned from Inko’s room. He slumps onto the couch next to his mother, practically deflating into the cushions. “Your stuff is on your nightstand. Ah, do we know what we’re doing for food?”
“Teenagers,” she teases, nudging his shoulder. “Only one thing on their minds.”
“Mom!”
“Yes, yes, I’m on it. The question is, should I order delivery, or do you want to go pick it up?” she asks, obviously having noted Izuku's restless energy.
“We can pick it up!” he shouts, jumping up from the couch. “Ah, assuming you wanted to come with, All Might?”
“I'd be happy to.”
“Great! Where are you ordering from?”
“I was thinking of that ramen house a few blocks away.”
“The one with the really good pork, or the vegetarian one?”
“The first one.”
“Awesome! I'll take a bowl of their tonkotsu, if that’s okay.”
“Mhm. And you, Yagi-san?”
Toshinori startles. “Oh, uh, yes! Food. Um…”
“I can send you the menu,” Izuku offers. “Oh, but with your injury… are you able to eat ramen?”
“I can, but I’ll have to eat a small portion now and finish the rest later,” he clears his throat, trying to remember what he did the last time he had ramen. “Do they have miso ramen?”
“They do,” Inko says, scrolling for a moment before showing him the picture from their menu. His mouth waters. “It used to be my favorite, it’s really good. Then Izuku got me hooked on their tonkotsu, but I prefer the thin noodles…”
“Do they still have fried rice?”
“They do! Here, let me add that…”
Toshinori grabs his coat and shoes while Izuku and Inko finalize the order. He hadn’t quite realized how hungry he was until they started discussing food… but it’s been a few hours since he last ate, and he forgot to bring any protein bars.
“It’s a short walk,” Izuku assures him while he ties his shoes. “And so worth it. They have the best ramen in town, All Might, honestly.”
“I’m excited to try it,” he says honestly.
He pulls his hood up for most of the walk. It’s still light out; he’s still not quite used to people recognizing him in this form, approaching for autographs or just conversation. Usually he doesn’t mind it, but he doesn’t want to keep Inko waiting.
Nor himself. He’s very hungry.
When they get to the restaurant, Izuku hands him the smaller of the two bags of food.
“Do you want to double bag that?” he asks, pointing to Izuku’s much larger haul. Izuku considers for a moment, then shakes his head.
“It should be fine,” he says, though he does place one hand under the bag for extra support. Toshinori raises an eyebrow, but decides not to question Izuku’s judgment.
He should have, though, he realizes as they near the apartment complex. They’re just crossing the last street when Izuku stumbles -
“Oh, no-!”
The bag splits open, containers tumbling into the crosswalk. Toshinori winces, but by some miracle, all the lids stay on. He sighs, thankful for small mercies.
“Do you need a hand?”
Izuku shakes his head, cheeks pink. “No, no, I've got it! You go across, I'll just pick this up and wait on this side for the next light.”
“Hurry, young man,” he cautions, but continues to cross, keeping an eye on the crosswalk timer.
He sets his bag down when he reaches the other side, watching Izuku balance the last of the containers in the nearly ruined bag.
The whole world seems to slow as the car approaches.
The timer is still counting down. It's a red light. It's still a red light.
“Izuku!”
Brake lights flash, but still the car skids onwards, tires screeching against the road. Izuku looks up, hands full, eyes wide. He's still on his knees. He’s fumbling, like he can’t find his balance.
He's not going to make it in time.
Toshinori’s breath catches in his lungs. Their eyes meet -
And suddenly Toshinori is surging forward, possessed by a power he thought long gone. Ghostly hands push him into the road, and he moves, faster than he's ever moved in his entire life.
Echoes of embers burn within him; he grabs Izuku around the waist and runs, wind rushing in his ears.
The car skids through the crosswalk, right where Izuku had sat, and finally stops in the intersection. A few pedestrians are rushing toward him and Izuku, who has gone completely still in his arms.
“Are you alright?” he breathes, energy fizzling out, fading. Izuku nods, clearly frazzled, but safe.
The driver stumbles out of the car, eyes wide, one hand running through their hair.
“All Might,” he says, falling to his knees, “I'm so sorry, All Might, it was my brakes, I'm so sorry-”
The buzzing in his ears crescendos. He clenches his fists.
“Don't apologize to me,” he snaps, turning to the driver, pushing Izuku ever so subtly behind him. “You - you nearly killed my son with your carelessness.”
“All Might-”
“Didn’t I just say not to apologize to me? You apologize to my son, now.”
The man nods fervently. “I am so sorry, young man.”
“I should call the police on you,” Toshinori snarls. “You nearly killed a child!”
“I am so, so sorry! Please, find it in your heart to forgive me!”
Izuku stares, still not entirely recovered. “Um. I. I forgive you?”
Toshinori glares at the man. “I don’t ever want to see you driving like that again. And if there is something wrong with your car, do not take it onto public roads. His blood would have been on your hands.”
The man bows his head. “O-of course, All Might!”
“Now go.”
Get out of my sight!
The driver climbs to his feet, walking backward. “I, um, I need to go park that! But - but I won't be driving it, of course, not until I fix those brakes. I - I swear it!”
Toshinori glares until the man has slunk back to his car, moving it out of the intersection and onto some side street. All the while he holds Izuku behind him, arms tensed and heart pounding.
The small crowd that had gathered to watch the exchange has mostly dissipated. A few linger nearby, likely looking for an autograph from the former number one, but he pays them no mind. There is only one person who matters right now.
“All Might,” Izuku says. Toshinori clenches his jaw, but he turns, moving back to give the boy some space.
“Are you alright?” he repeats, aiming for a softer tone this time. Izuku looks a little more present when he nods this time, rubbing at his eye.
“I'm sorry,” he says, averting his gaze. “I didn't see them until it was almost too late. I didn't mean for you to exert yourself like that - I mean, you're bleeding again and everything…”
Rage curls against Toshinori's ribs. He wipes the blood from his mouth and looks Izuku in the eye.
“If that is the price I pay to keep you safe,” he says, wrapping Izuku in a tight hug, “then so be it.”
Izuku huffs into his shirt, but wraps around Toshinori with shaking arms nonetheless.
They hold there for a moment, basking in the safety of the moment. Izuku is safe. Toshinori didn't expect to find any dregs of his former power left in him, but he knows he would have run into the intersection even without it.
He is lucky that he was fast enough. Strong enough, even for the briefest of moments, to keep Izuku safe.
“I think the takeout is ruined,” Izuku mutters. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he says, heart finally beginning to calm. “We can get more.”
“Okay.”
Some kind soul has brought Toshinori's bag across the street for him; he pulls away to take it from them, nodding in thanks. Izuku eyes the crushed ramen containers in the road mournfully.
“I'll pay for it this time,” Toshinori says. “You might want to text your mother that we'll be late, though.”
Izuku nods - then freezes as he pulls out his phone. He turns to Toshinori slowly, eyes blown wide.
“You…”
He swallows. Toshinori watches him, scanning him again for any sign of injury.
“Earlier,” he says slowly, glancing at his phone, “you called me your son.”
Toshinori blinks.
“Oh.” Right. When he was yelling at that man. “I… I did, didn't I?”
Izuku stares at him. Toshinori stares back, his cheeks beginning to burn.
Izuku laughs.
“Well,” he says, faux casual, “I've accidentally called you dad enough times, right?”
And for a moment, Toshinori considers it. He really thinks about it, calling Izuku his son. About claiming him as his own, about raising him, supporting him.
It wasn't necessarily what he meant to say, but…
But wasn’t that the promise he had given with One For All? Wasn’t that what he had promised to the boy’s mother? Wasn’t that what he had promised himself?
“My boy,” he says, “it wasn't an accident.”
Izuku swallows his laughter. “W-what?”
Toshinori's heart races again, and it takes all of his willpower not to look back at Izuku as they walk along. “I… I meant it. I care about you, Izuku. And I don't mean to overstep, not at all, but…”
Izuku is silent beside him.
“Sometimes, I do think of you as my son,” he admits, as much to himself as it is to Izuku. “I am proud of you, every day, and I want nothing more than for you to know it.”
He thinks that's alright to say. It doesn't feel like enough, and at the same time, it is far too much. Understating and overstepping, all at once.
After a long moment of quiet, he dares to glance at Izuku. His face is wet with tears, his lip trembling. He looks up at Toshinori with misty green eyes, sniffling.
“All Might…” he croaks, slowing to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “All Might… you really…?”
“Yes,” Toshinori says, feeling more confident than he ever has before. “Yes, Izuku.”
The boy barrels into him, sobbing into Toshinori's shirt. Toshinori pats his back, heart swelling.
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he says between sobs. When he pulls away he is smiling, wide and bright even through the river of tears.
Toshinori reaches over, ruffling his curls. Izuku laughs, batting his hand away.
“Come on now,” he says, wiping the tear tracks from Izuku's cheeks. “They'll be closed by the time we get there, at this rate.”
His son. His son.
His son.
Yes, Toshinori thinks, smiling. He likes the sound of that.