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It takes about an hour, but the dorms finally quiet down as the students of 1A head out to their morning classes. With a small pang of sympathy, Toshinori can't help but feel a little bad for the kids. After such a hellish night, they were sure to face the wrath of their homeroom teacher on full blast today.
Toshinori still hasn't moved from his chair next to Izuku's bed. The boy is silent now--nothing like before when he was muttering and whimpering up a storm. He's exhausted himself, and looks like he's finally settled down into his sheets to rest.
Toshinori can't say the same.
The silence is eating at him, making him feel sick with grief and guilt. His mind is whirling a mile a minute, reexamining every encounter he's ever had with the student in front of him, searching for some sign that could have led him to believe that his student was being abused by his middle school teachers and gritting his teeth when he can't think of one. Izuku was always so happy. Smiling like a ray of sunshine whenever they trained, so focused and dedicated he barely ever talked about anything else but the UA Entrance Exam and the occasional All Might trivia factoid. Not that Toshinori expected him to discuss his whole backstory with a man he'd only just met, but still, there had to be something--
He remembers then, with sudden and distinct clarity, the day Izuku had tried to hide a black eye.
The kid had shown up to their regular meeting at the beach. It was early on Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking out over the horizon. Coffee didn’t settle right in his nonexistent stomach, so he nursed a thermos of tea as he surveyed the sandy area. Slowly but surely, Midoriya had been clearing a path of junk from the walkway to the beach. Soon it may pass as an actual trail where people could walk.
The kid was doing well.
“Good morning,” the voice of the kid in question chirps next to him. Toshinori turns to see Midoriya, dressed in his usual exercise shorts and shirt, but he’s donned a baseball cap over his curls, pulled low over his eyes. Toshinori didn't comment on the kid’s fashion choices, though he did think it was a little strange since he’d thought the kid's curls would be too wild to try and stuff underneath a cap.
But, eh. Everybody got a bad hair day now and then. Even All Might.
Toshinori shakes off the odd feeling, saying nothing as the pair got to work. Today was the day the kid faced his newest challenge: moving two giant truck tires off the beach. It takes a better part of the morning for Midoriya to even lift the thing, noodle arms trembling, none of the less get it up into a position to roll it.
After his fifth aborted try, he flops to the ground, throwing his head back and letting out a guttural groan. Midoriya was anything but quiet as he worked, letting out little whiney cries and grunts as he used and abused his growing muscles. So, the noise wasn’t the thing that tips Toshinori off. It’s something in the way his scrunched-up face looks slightly discolored—it could look like a shadow, cast across his face because of the rising sun, but Toshinori can recognize a bruise when he sees one.
“What happened to your face?”
The reaction is immediate. The kid does a full-body flinch, curling into himself for a moment like a wounded animal. “O-oh, uh. I- I got hurt.” His chin is tucked toward his chest, the brim of that hat hiding his eyes from Toshinori.
“I can see that,” Toshinori frowns. Part of him wants to step closer, to grab the kid’s jaw and examine the bruise, but that felt a little too intimate for their relationship. Toshinori can barely look this kid in the eyes without him bursting into excitable hysterics. Lord knows what would happen if he tried to touch him. “You okay?”
“Ye-yes.” Midoriya seems to take a shaky breath, a soft hitching of his shoulders—then he looks up, wearing a sheepish grin. “How it happened is actually pretty embarrassing. We were using microscopes in science class and my arm slipped on the table. I totally ended up stabbing myself in the eye and my teacher freaked out.” He giggles a little dryly, rubbing at the back of his neck.
A small wry smile tugs on Toshinori’s lips. He’s only known Midoriya for about three months, but the kid has proven to be quite the little klutz, especially when he starts up that muttering. Toshinori can only imagine the fright that poor teacher must have experienced.
“Only you, kid,” he laughs, shaking his head.
And he’d left it at that. Children were allowed to get injuries, after all. It was nothing to lose sleep about.
Now, the memories all come to him in wave after wave; the hundreds of times Midoriya explained away bruises or various cuts like it was nothing. (“Oh this? I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and I fell down some stairs.” “Our building attendants forgot to salt our walkways, so I slipped on some ice. It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt that bad.” “I ran into a door! Actually face-planted into it! Ha, ha! How clumsy am I?”)
Toshinori was such an idiot.
The guilt churns in his stomach like waves on a rocky sea. He’d been fooled so many times, blinded by the sunshine smile and easy explanation that his boy gave. If he’d just looked closer, would he have seen the tremor in that smile? Would he have seen the absolute misery Izuku was hiding?
Nana had a sixth sense to pick up on whenever something was bothering him. “You can’t hide anything from me, Toshi,” she’d chastised him good naturedly. “You’ve got your emotions written all over your face.”
And wasn’t Izuku the same way? The boy was so emotional, but Toshinori had never thought to question why. He’d come to learn that Izuku wore his heart on his sleeve. He thought that the boy was just a bit of a crybaby by how easily crocodile tears could form. But emotional dysfunction was a large indicator of trauma, especially for a child. Toshinori knew that. He just never thought to connect the dots.
He grits his teeth as his chest twists. He's been trying so hard to be a good mentor like Nana was to him, but he's been failing Izuku since day one.
His grip tightens around Izuku’s hand. The kid was still unconscious in his bed, hopefully getting through the worst of his fever. The fever that his own body had catapulted him into after he told the truth behind what he faced in middle school. He hadn’t even done it voluntarily—according to Aizawa, the boy had been in a state of hysterical panic when he let the admission slip.
His boy was hysterical. At the very sight of one man, who just so happened to be his ex-teacher. The thought reawakened his rage, and he wants nothing more than to go find that teacher and use the embers of One for All left to beat him into a pulp.
“A...’ight?”
Toshinori’s eyes snap up. Hazy emerald eyes blink at him, a tiny frown tugging on Izuku’s lips. “Wa…wha’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Toshinori lies, swallowing down his anger. “Nothing, my boy.” He leans forward in the desk chair he’s pulled to the side of the bed and touches Izuku’s forehead. His skin is still too warm, but it doesn’t burn like it did earlier this morning. That was good. His fingers linger there, pushing the boy’s damp bangs away from his face. “How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty.” The word is barely out of his mouth and Toshinori is already reaching for a water bottle that was left on the desk. Izuku accepts it and takes a few sips before collapsing back into his pillows. “And tired.”
“I know.” Toshinori smiles gently. “You can go back to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
Izuku peeks an eye open, as though to check if he was real. His voice is dreamy and skeptical all at once. “All Might is in my room?”
Toshinori can’t help but crack a grin at that. “Yep. It’s just as awkward for me as it is for you, little fanboy.” He’s pretty sure that the pink that colors his successor’s ears has nothing to do with his fever.
“Urgh.”
A laugh bubbles up in Toshinori’s throat. “Your collection is pretty impressive. I think I’ve only ever seen a few other hoarders with this much merchandise.”
“Shut up,” Izuku breathes, then slips back into unconsciousness.
Toshinori’s smile fades slowly as he watches the steady rise and fall of the boy’s chest until he’s frowning outright. It was no secret that Izuku put him on a pedestal, worshiped the very ground that All Might walked on. But the boy’s reverence was so misplaced. Toshinori wasn’t All Might anymore. He was just an old man who couldn’t even be bothered to notice that his student was in pain.
Toshinori has never been great with kids. Years of keeping people held at arm’s length because of his dangerous lifestyle trained all emotional connections out of him. He couldn’t pinpoint the reasons behind a child’s emotional responses like Aizawa could.
But Izuku was…different. The little twerp had weaseled his way into Toshinori’s heart and didn’t plan to vacate his spot anytime soon. Not that he wanted Izuku to. It seemed foolish, but part of Toshinori wanted the boy to stay young forever, just so he wouldn’t have to watch Izuku grow up and lose his youthful innocence and wonder.
Yet in a way, his innocence was already gone. Taken and twisted by his middle school teachers, of all things. Toshinori is no stranger to the discrimination people without Quirks faced. While it wasn’t that bad when he was growing up, he’s familiar with the grim statistics. He can’t imagine how much worse things have gotten for that community.
Aizawa suspected that someone had intimidated Izuku into keeping quiet about the treatment he got. The very thought sends a knife slicing through Toshinori’s heart. No child should ever suffer like this, especially not alone. Didn’t the boy know that he could have told him? That he wouldn’t be judged, or punished, or met with anything except love and support?
Didn’t the boy realize how much he meant to Toshinori? That he’d move heaven and earth in order to keep him safe and happy?
Have you told him? A voice that sounds suspiciously like Nana’s prompts in his head. He can’t read your mind.
I know, Toshinori thinks back bitterly. He hasn’t told Izuku, but…that was because he felt that he didn’t need to. Midoriya was a smart boy. Surely, he’s picked up on how Toshinori really feels by now. Hell, half the faculty members thought they were related because of his unintentional favoritism.
Still...maybe saying it out loud wouldn't hurt. If he thought his psychological and physical pain wasn’t worth the trouble of prosecuting the man and institution that abused him, Izuku’s sense of self-worth was way off.
The kid’s timid words from the beach the morning of the entrance exam suddenly ring in his ears. “Are you sure? Do you really think I’m worthy?”
Toshinori clenches his jaw so hard his teeth ache.
He’d promised Inko Midoriya he’d protect Izuku, raise him up, and this whole time, he’s been breaking that promise without even knowing it. His heart fills with a new determination. He’d shower Izuku with affirmation and love every day for the rest of his life if that’s what it took to get him to understand just how important he was.
He bows his head, pressing his forehead to the boy’s scarred hand still clutched within his own. His heart fills his throat, the words escaping his lips before he even knows what he’s saying. “Izuku, precious thing, my boy …” Dimly, he realizes his face is wet. Thousands of things are flying through his head, all culminating into three little words that Toshinori was always afraid to say. But now, they rise up to his throat almost easily, as though he never should have been afraid to say them at all. “I love you, I’m sorry, I love you, my child, my son…”
He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, whispering things to his boy’s sleeping form. Eventually, exhaustion pulls at Toshinori’s bones, and it drags him down slowly into nothingness.
~
Consciousness pulls at Izuku slowly, bringing him back to awareness like he was floating gently to the surface of a lake. He notices a few things before opening his eyes: his head is pounding, his throat is bone dry, and he’s absolutely freezing.
And…damp?
There were small points of dampness underneath his arms, behind his neck, and between his legs. Izuku cracks his eyes open, pulling at whatever was behind his neck out in front of him. It was a melted ice pack, mushy and covered in condensation.
Weird. He doesn’t remember hurting his neck. Or taking an ice pack from the kitchen to use it. Izuku shifts, his vision slowly coming into focus. He was in his room, but it was dark, and a quick glance at his bedside clock revealed that it was 2:30 a.m.
Huh. The last thing he remembers was coming up to bed right after dinner. He had felt nauseous all day, and all he wanted to do was face-plant into bed to avoid thinking about his mistake. Even thinking about it makes him cringe.
He screwed up.
Big time.
He let loose a secret he’d been holding close to his chest since he was thirteen, and to Aizawa-Sensei of all people. The worst possible person to disclose such a secret. Izuku was constantly kept on his toes to avoid Aizawa finding out about One for All. Hiding secrets from an underground hero was hard, it was only a matter of time before one slipped through.
At least it was this and not One for All, he thought glumly. Still, it wasn’t ideal, because now Aizawa knows just how much of a deku he used to be. He goes to sit up, but finds that something is tugging on his hand. Izuku goes to pull at it but then stops.
All Might was sitting at his bedside, face pillowed on his forearms, asleep. He had Izuku’s hand clasped between both of his large palms. Izuku blinks. Is he dreaming? This position of his mentor falling asleep at his bedside wasn’t exactly abnormal, but it usually only happened when Izuku landed himself in the hospital.
Why was All Might in his room?
And why was Izuku shirtless with a bunch of melted ice packs tucked all around his body? Did something happen with One for All? Did another Quirk manifest and he somehow hurt himself?
A chill runs down Izuku’s spine. He’s so cold, and his head hurts so bad. He glances down at his hand wrapped around his sleeping mentor, and his closet, where he knows he’s got a cozy hoodie or twelve.
Biting his lip, Izuku ever so carefully extracts his hand from All Might’s, letting out a tiny breath of relief when the man’s soft snores don’t falter. He slides his feet to the edge of the bed, mindful of the way he shifts his weight as he stands so the bed won’t dip and wake his mentor—
He yelps as both his legs collapse underneath him, sending him crashing to the floor. Pain rockets up from his tailbone all the way through his spine to the base of his throbbing head. Izuku bites down a groan as a wave of dizziness and nausea washes over him, leaning his head back to rest against the mattress. All Might was a sound sleeper, maybe he didn’t—
“Young Midoriya!”
Never mind.
Izuku cracks an eye open to see a concerned pair of blue staring back at him. “What on earth are you doing, kid?”
“I wanted my hoodie.” It sounded like such an achievable goal, but apparently, his own legs were against him.
His mentor lets out a little breath of mixed relief and strain before helping him to his feet. “You could have just asked.”
“Didn’t want to wake you,” Izuku admits, perching on the side of the bed. He knows how little rest All Might gets thanks to his injury. He watches as the blond steps over to his closet, “There should be a gray one on the hanger—no no wait not that one—” A blue, red, and gold sweatshirt hits him in the face. Like over half of the plainclothes Izuku owns, it’s All Might themed.
“First one I grabbed,” his mentor tells him with a sly smirk. Izuku makes quick work of dragging the thing over his head so he can hide his blush. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he responds automatically before he can really think about it. He frowns, “Actually, a little dizzy. And my head hurts.”
All Might hums, “That’s probably your fever.” He presses the back of his hand to Izuku’s forehead.
Izuku blinks. “I have a fever?” That would certainly explain the cold chills and the headache.
“Seems pretty low now,” Toshinori murmurs. “That’s good.” He grabs a water bottle from the desk and passes it over. Izuku takes it and cracks it open, downing half of it in two gulps. “I’d say you’re officially through the thick of it.”
Izuku wipes at the trickle of water that dribbles down his chin. “How long have I been sick? I don’t remember feeling too bad in class earlier.”
All Might glances at the clock. “You’ve been out of it for about…ten hours, I think.”
Izuku gapes at him. “I missed class?”
The blond waves him off, sinking back into the chair. “Aizawa knows. Trust me, he’s fine with it. You were pretty delirious and going to classes certainly would have made it worse. You gave both of us quite a scare.”
His stomach flips. He really hoped it had something to do with One for All. He was almost too afraid to ask. “What happened?”
Toshinori presses his lips together, evidentially coming to a conclusion in his own mind. “It’s probably best if you don’t remember.”
“Oh.” Izuku looked down, fingers fumbling with the ends of the hoodie sleeves. He wants to apologize, but for what he doesn’t know. Nothing. Everything. “I-if it was that bad, couldn’t Recovery Girl help instead of making me wait it out for ten hours? Or another doctor at a hospital?”
Something in All Might’s face pinches. “It’s…not that kind of fever.”
“What?” Izuku glances up, confused. “Was it Quirk-induced?”
All Might hesitates, and fear punches Izuku in the gut. Oh no, what had he done to make his mentor look at him like that? Had he said something when he was delirious? Had he accidentally told Aizawa about One for All? Had he said something much worse?
“Izuku,” the blond begins gently, and Izuku’s face heats equally in panic and at the use of his given name. “Do you know anything about psychogenic fevers?”
“Uhhm, no?”
“It’s a body’s physical reaction to states of extreme psychological distress,” Toshinori says, and Izuku feels his blood go cold.
The words fall quickly out of his mouth. “I don’t know anything about that.”
His mentor looks at him with so much concern and raw pain shimmering in his eyes that it makes Izuku’s heart stutter.
He plasters on an innocent, timid smile and rubs at the back of his neck. “I- I guess I have been a little stressed with trying to figure out Blackwhip, and Mic-Sensei’s English quizzes have been getting harder. But I promise I feel fine now! I’m sorry for worrying both of you.”
“Mmhm.” All Might’s expression doesn’t change. He looks as though he wants to say something else, but Izuku talking before the retired hero can get a word out.
“Or, or something could be going around? Last week Mineta had a cold and because I sit in front of him in our homeroom, he could have sneezed on me or something—which is actually pretty gross, now that I think about it—but you really shouldn’t be around me if I’m sick because of your immune system. I don’t want to infect you, even though I actually feel okay right now—”
“Izuku.”
His name is spoken barely above a whisper, but it echoes through Izuku’s head like a thunderclap. He snaps his mouth shut so fast he bites his tongue. As his heart makes a valiant attempt to break free from behind his ribs, Izuku thinks, This is it. All Might was going to make him talk about what happened in middle school, was finally going to see all the cracks and blemishes in Izuku’s armor, all the things that made him wrong, then the hero would say, I’ll take my Quirk back now, please. You can’t stand up for yourself against one mean adult, how can you possibly think you’ll ever be good enough to save the world from All for One? You’re just a Quirkless nobody in over your head and you don’t even deserve to be in my presence.
His lungs are burning, holding his breath in anticipation for what the blond is going to say.
But Toshinori hesitates, mouth forming half of one word before closing. After a beat, he seems to change tactics. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.” He’s not, but if he stuffs enough food into his mouth, he won’t be able to answer any more of All Might’s questions.
“Okay,” the blond nods, then repeats the word quieter to himself. “Okay.” The retired hero stands and collects all the mushy, melted ice packs from the bed. “It’s about time I changed these out, anyway. I’ll go make you some rice—you should probably stick with the plain stuff just in case it makes you feel nauseous.”
“Wait, you’re going to cook? It’s two-thirty in the morning!” Izuku goes to push himself to his feet. “I’ll do it—you should go to bed, you don’t need to worry about me.”
A large hand claps his shoulder—not enough to hurt, but enough to push him back down on the mattress and keep him there. “Stay.” A stern blue gaze pins him in place, and Izuku can’t find his voice to protest. Feeling as though he’s swallowed an egg whole, he remains perfectly still until All Might leaves.
And then, he panics.
Shit, All Might knows. He has to know, there was no other explanation for the way he’d looked at Izuku. It was all over. His time at U.A., his stint using One for All, all because Izuku had been stupid and had a meltdown at the sight of a man who probably didn’t even remember him. In Suga-Sensei’s eyes, he was just another dunce Quirkless student. Izuku knew he didn’t matter to the man, knew he was just another kid to push around, but that didn’t make seeing him sting any less.
The feeling that had shot through Izuku was deeper than the fear he’s felt when facing villains. It was something primal. An animalistic panic.
And he’d been so good about hiding it. He’d switched to wearing baggy sweaters instead of T-shirts to hide the bruises on his arms, bought concealer for that time when Suga actually backhanded him so hard one of his rings left a welt on his cheek, came up with a billion easy lies to redirect any curious glances. His mother never asked questions. Maybe she thought it was Kacchan. But in fifth grade, Kacchan had gotten smart enough not to leave marks anywhere visible.
Suga wasn’t like that. Suga didn’t care.
All Might didn’t care, either—at least, that’s what Izuku had thought. During their time cleaning up the beach, he’d explained away hundreds of bruises and marks. The hero just thought he was being clumsy. And, to be fair, Izuku did get a lot of scrapes from cleaning trash from that beach. After all, what was the big deal about a klutzy Quirkless kid showing up to training with a few bruises now and again?
Izuku remembers lying awake one night, secretly wishing that the hero would notice that something was wrong. If anyone could save him from his bully of a teacher, surely All Might could.
But he never said anything, and Izuku accepted that. After all, it certainly wasn’t All Might’s responsibility to dig into the messy details of his screwed-up life. He was a busy guy, the Number One Hero! He was already sacrificing so much of his time to train Izuku, Izuku didn’t need to be bothering him with something so stupid.
And then he’d graduated, received One for All, enrolled in U.A., and all his injuries started coming from himself instead of someone else.
They never talked about it. Izuku didn’t mind. He didn’t want to. Talking about it meant thinking about it, and thinking about it made him feel sick, so… That was that. It wasn’t until stupid Touring Day that Izuku’s repressed trauma decided to take the wheel and drive him straight into Aizawa-Sensei’s arms.
That must have been what set off his fever. The idea of his homeroom teacher knowing about his issues made him uncomfortable, but Aizawa was different than his other teachers. He’d asked Izuku not to worry about Suga anymore, and Izuku had said okay. He trusted that the hero wouldn’t cause trouble for anyone if Izuku asked him not to.
Now, though, he realized he should have been worried about Aizawa causing trouble for Izuku by telling All Might.
Izuku weaves his fingers into his hair and pulls so hard it hurts.
He thumps back on the bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands until little sparks appear behind his lids. So what if All Might knew? That didn’t mean they had to talk about it. Izuku was a bad liar, but he was an expert at putting on a smile that made everyone forget why something might have been wrong in the first place. Hiding the way he felt was like a game, and he was great at playing.
He’s lied to All Might before, he could do it again. It might sting a little more this time, sure, but it certainly didn’t need to hurt for the retired hero. The man could give Izuku a pat on the back, say a hearty Your middle school must have truly sucked Young Midoriya, but it’s in the past and I’m glad you’re feeling better now, and go back to his room to sleep. If Izuku barricaded himself in back of his closet and combusted into tears for the next five hours, All Might would never be the wiser.
Okay. He could do this.
As if on cue, All Might nudges his door open with his foot, balancing a steaming mug, a bowl of rice, and a few water bottles in his arms. Izuku sat up, accepting the mug that's handed to him, the warmth immediately seeping through his fingers and easing the constant ache in his joints. He inhales, letting the sweet scent of chamomile calm his nerves. He mindlessly picks at the rice with the chopsticks.
A sudden thought occurs to him. “Did you miss classes today too?”
The blond nods, “Someone had to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.” Izuku tilts his head, and All Might is quick to fill in the gaps of his confusion. “You were so delirious this morning, you nearly fired off One for All. Luckily Aizawa was here to put a stop to it before you hurt yourself.”
Izuku frowns. A vague memory resurfaces, fuzzy and incomplete: someone looming close, hands reaching for him. He remembers the rush of One for All in response to his fear, sending power coursing through his limbs before it suddenly was gone. He takes a large gulp of the tea, the hot liquid burning down his throat and scalding his stomach.
“If you’ve been here all day, you really need to go rest yourself,” he says as lightly as he can. He gives his mentor an earnest smile. “I feel much more coherent now, you don’t have to worry about me accidentally calling One for All.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” All Might agrees, but doesn’t move from where he’s perched in the chair next to the bed.
Izuku’s stomach twists. There goes his first tactic.
He turns his attention to the bowl and busies himself by shoveling as much rice as he can into his mouth. Maybe, when he’s finished, the other man will leave.
It’s quiet between them for a few moments, but the silence is eating away at Izuku like a rabid animal. He wants to talk, but once he opens his mouth, he’s not sure what will come out. His heart beats like a nervous rabbit in his chest, waiting for that other shoe to drop.
Eventually, it does.
“You know you can talk to me anything, right?”
Izuku takes a sharp inhale, then coughs because rice gets stuck up his nose. Toshinori doesn’t seem phased, leaning forward and slapping him on the back a few times until he can actually breathe again.
“Of- of course I do,” Izuku rasps. “I know that if I need any help with One for All I can ask you about it.” He smiles a little, hoping the expression doesn’t look as nervous as he feels.
All Might’s expression shifts to something a little bit sterner. “With more than just that, though.”
He can only look at the retired hero for a moment before the weight of his gaze is too strong. “Yes,” Izuku murmurs, but it sounds like a lie to even himself. He takes another big gulp of the tea. He didn’t need help with what happened in middle school. He did, years ago, but when it became obvious there was no point in asking for it if none was going to come, Izuku just…dealt with it.
Go ahead, tattle on me, he remembers his teacher sneering at him once. No one would ever believe a Quirkless kid over me.
And he was right. The administration had brushed him off, certain he was trying to get attention. So, Izuku adapted to the problem, just like a hero would. He learned how to play Suga-Sensei’s game. It was all he really could do in order to survive in Aldera.
But it was over now. He didn’t have to deal with those kinds of teachers anymore at U.A. Not to mention he had a great group of friends who actually liked talking to him, and All Might as his mentor. Izuku literally couldn’t ask for anything more.
Maybe getting out in front of this would be a good idea. It would help him steer the conversation, at least.
Izuku sets the bowl and mug on his bedside table and folds his crooked hands in his lap. He turns to look All Might directly in the eye with bravery he doesn’t feel.
“I know Aizawa-Sensei told you,” he says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t clarify what, mostly since he just doesn’t want to say it. “I just want to let you know that I’m fine. None of it matters anymore, and I’m sorry if I worried you, but I promise I know how to manage my own problems.”
Please, a voice in his brain whispers frantically, please don’t think I’m weak.
All Might stares at him for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is soft and pained, “None of it matters?”
Izuku cringes at his poor choice of words, but presses on, tone still just as firm as before. “It was just such a long time ago! And all of it happened when I was Quirkless so it made sense that I was picked on, and it was kind of my fault anyway—”
“Midoriya Izuku.” All Might’s voice is hushed and harsh, and Izuku flinches as though he’s been slapped. “What that man did to you is not your fault. You also aren’t to blame for being Quirkless.”
Toshinori’s gaze is so intense, Izuku has to fight himself not to shy away from it. All Might is upset, angry at him for thinking this way. Automatically, the words fall out of his mouth, “I’m sorry.”
The blond lets out a weary sigh. “Kid, I should be apologizing to you. I’ve been a terrible mentor. Even if you don’t blame me for not noticing what was going on, you should blame me for not letting you feel safe enough to come to me when you’re hurting.” All Might’s intense expression falters, cracking into something much more vulnerable. “I made you think…” His mouth twists, and then he drops his face into his hands.
To Izuku’s absolute horror, the man’s shoulders begin to shake.
“It’s not like that at all!” he says quickly, panic making him nearly vibrate out of his skin because he somehow made All Might cry. God, if this doesn’t make him want to curl up and die. “I just—didn’t want to bother you! You put so much time and work into helping me with your training plan, and you barely knew me. I didn’t think you’d want to get involved with all of my stupid crap and I didn’t want you to look down on me or think I was weak for not being able to stand up for myself. It’s not your fault!”
I’ve been hiding from everyone, not just you, he wants to add hysterically. Really, it all evens out!
“You thought if I thought you were weak, I’d take One for All from you.”
It’s not phrased like a question—All Might isn’t even looking at him, head still bowed. Izuku looks down, focusing on picking at his fingernails rather than panicking about his inner fear being spoken so clearly by the one person who could actually make it come true.
All Might lifts his head, eyeing him. “Do you still think that?”
Izuku feels like he’s been kicked in the gut by Iida running at full force. The breath is knocked out of him, rendering him unable to speak.
Apparently, his silence is enough. His mentor’s face pinches in concern and sorrow. Ugh, what would his four-year-old self be thinking of him right now, putting this kind of expression on his favorite hero’s face? Izuku is a terrible human being.
“Oh, my boy,” Toshinori croons, his tone so soft Izuku feels like he’s going to shatter. “I don’t think you’re weak. I’ve never thought that. And I’m certainly not going to take One for All from you. The Quirk is yours, and—” His voice cuts off with a crack. “I fear I have been unintentionally grooming you into thinking that the only thing special about you is that Quirk. That anything outside of that doesn’t matter. One for All is a unique power, but its true might comes from within its users’ hearts. I recognized that same spark and soul of a hero when I first met you, even without a Quirk.
“I gave it to you not because I wanted you to be a vessel, but because I believed in you. I want more than anything to see you succeed, as Izuku, not just as a hero with incredible power. But I also want to be there for you when you fail and support you when you need it. Yes, I made that promise to your mother, but I made it internally to myself when I met you, and I fear that I've let you down so much already.”
Izuku is shaking. He feels scared, but not in the same way he feels around villains. This was a prickling trepidation, one that makes him feel as though he’s standing on the edge of a cliff. He can see Toshinori waiting at the bottom, encouraging him to leap. But Izuku still has to make that jump, and even though he knows his mentor will catch him, the fear of the unknown is overwhelming.
“It hurts me knowing you’ve been suffering like this,” his mentor continues, voice almost pleading. “I…I want to help you heal. If—if you'll let me. I’m sorry you weren’t comfortable coming to me before, but I want to change that. Will you forgive me for being ignorant and let me try again?”
All Might looks at him then, watery eyes full of anguish and hope and unconditional, unwavering love.
And Izuku bursts into tears.
He really doesn’t mean to, but at this point, he can’t hold it back any longer. Years of repressed pain rushes out of his eyes like a geyser. His breaths are coming in quick, harsh gulps, and he wants to apologize, but his body is fully disconnected from his brain, refusing to do anything but let his emotion take over.
He feels like he’s falling, stomach swooping as he careens toward the bottom of that cliff.
“Oh my boy, shhh, come here, that’s it,” All Might’s voice is as gentle as the hands that guide him forward, and Izuku can’t help but cling to the man’s shirt. Large hands wrap around him, catching him, grounding him in safety and warmth. “Shhh, you’re safe, I’ve got you, I am here…”
Those words beat along in time with Izuku’s heart. I am here, I am here, I am here…The words he’d repeat to himself as a kid in the darkness of his room, whenever he was sad and had the hero’s debut video playing on loop.
Only this time, All Might was here. Was real and solid underneath Izuku’s fingertips, was murmuring sweet, calming things in his ear. It all seemed too much, to have confirmation that his favorite hero care about him so deeply, to have the man openly see and not shy away from the ugly sides of Izuku, to feel so loved.
Part of him feels like he doesn’t deserve any of it.
“I—I— ‘m so- sor—” Izuku can barely get a full word out between his frame-wracking sobs, but he still tries.
“No,” Toshinori murmurs, “No more apologies. You haven’t done a single thing wrong. You shouldn’t have been put through any of this, but you’ve been so strong through it all.”
The words hit Izuku like physical blows, each one compounding onto the next to send him crumpling and curling further into his mentor’s chest. Their positioning is a little awkward, and Toshinori must feel it too, because he manages to scootch Izuku over enough to let him climb into bed with him. Izuku lets himself be maneuvered, unable to do much else besides just cry and cling. All Might doesn’t seem to mind, tucking Izuku’s head underneath his chin.
“I never want you doubting how special you are. How much you mean to others. How much you mean to me.” The words are whispered into the crown of his head, washing over him like a blaming rain. “You are so precious, my boy, so worthy of love, worthy of everything…”
Sweet and comforting words keep falling from his mentor’s lips, and continuing even as Izuku gets more of a handle on his tears. Large, body wracking sobs turn into quieter sniffles and gentler tears. He still holds on to All Might, even as he feels exhaustion from the fever and emotional outburst prickle at the corners of his mind.
All Might runs a large hand up and down Izuku’s back, murmuring soft encouragements even as his eyelids begin to droop. Izuku feels something in him shift then, something he had been holding tight in his core for so long looseness.
And for the second time in the past week, he lets his teacher take care of him.