Work Text:
The flashes from the numerous cameras blind Toshinori as he climbs up the podium, feeling himself sweat through his suit under the heat of the lights. That’s alright, he’s done this part a million times.
What he isn’t used to is this loss of anonymity.
To all these people who have gathered to hear him speak, he’s no longer Mr. Yagi, humble secretary. Just a few weeks ago, most of these people probably wouldn’t have spared him a second glance if they had passed him on the street in this form. Now, he can’t even step outside to check the mail without some paparazzi with a convenient camouflaging quirk trying to catch an unflattering photo of him because he happened to be a little extra sore that morning. All Might used to be the one to deal with those kinds of things. Toshinori isn’t quite used to it yet.
As he turns to address the crowd he takes a moment to wrestle down a wet cough, hiding his grimace as the taste of iron hits his tongue. It's more out of habit than anything else. They all know now, after all. They await with bated breath as he adjusts the microphone to his unusual height, takes a deep breath and, for the first time, addresses the world not as All Might, but as Toshinori Yagi.
“It is with a heavy heart that I must announce my immediate retirement. As I’m sure you all know by now, and… as you can well see, after the battle with All for One I am no longer able to fulfill my duties as the Symbol of Peace. I am so sorry, and I thank you for all of your support over the years.” He pauses, giving a brief bow of his head and wincing as it jostles his bad arm. "It’s been an honor serving you all…”
And with that, the Symbol of Peace is no more.
Toshinori is not an ignorant man. He knew that this day would come eventually, he just… didn’t expect it to be so soon. He still had so much to do, so many people that were still counting on him. He hasn’t even gotten to finish training his successor.
What was he supposed to do now?
The rest of the press conference seems to go by on fast forward. The crowd explodes at his announcement, as expected. He answers a few of their questions and, when they have run out of anything actually relevant to ask, he takes his leave. The bodyguards assigned to him have to create a literal wall to stop the swarm of reporters from following him out. He’s ushered into a complimentary chauffeured car that he slides into without a word, unable to help but notice how the expensive leather feels wrong under his bony frame.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asks.
“Home, please.”
. . .
The concept of free time is foreign to Toshinori, and now he’s suddenly faced with more of it than he knows what to do with. He’s been all but banned from going back to teaching until he’s fully healed, so he's forced to find other ways to fill his time. Because he has to fill it somehow. He tries to indulge his old movie watching hobby, but he just ends up wandering around his house instead. So he braves the media and gets out as much as his aching body will allow him to. He runs errands, meets with friends, and sometimes he even sneaks off to sit in on his students’ training while trying and failing to avoid being caught by Chiyo.
They’re all coming along so well, he thinks as he watches them push their quirks to new limits in preparation for the provisional license exams. Midoriya, in particular, has finally found a way to utilize One for All without hurting himself. He’s truly made the power his own, and watching him grow closer and closer to taking his place only adds another pound or twenty to the guilty weight hanging from Toshinori’s frail shoulders.
He sighs. He would never regret stepping in and sacrificing himself, not ever, but was all of it worth forcing such a heavy burden onto that young man before he was even ready for it?
Tsukauchi would try to remind him that it isn’t his fault. He thought he had more time than this, there was no way they could have predicted All for One’s return would be so soon. But as he’s ushered out of the way of the rubble from his student’s zealous training and they have to scold him for not being careful enough, all Toshinori can think is ‘I’m sorry…’
. . .
He hasn’t visited his agency, yet. He knows he needs to, he should at least start cleaning out his office, but he’s been purposely avoiding it because once he does then it will be real. It isn’t until one day, when he realizes that he left some papers he’d been in the middle of grading back in his office, that he finally works himself up enough to go.
Oh well. Getting out would probably do him some good, anyway. Despite his body’s protest, he’d devolved back to pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room all morning, and it started to hit him how odd he probably looked.
In the end he calls Tsukauchi, because there’s no way he’s getting all the way over there by himself in this cast. With the help of his friend’s tinted squad car they manage to make it without much fanfare, and soon Might Towers is looming over him, more imposing than it has ever been before. As he heads inside he raises his gaze all the way to the top floor, squinting his eyes against the sun until he’s swallowed by the building’s great shadow.
It’s like stepping through a portal into another universe. His footsteps - his every movement - reverberates off the walls, the only sign of life in the too large building. He keeps expecting his staff to pop up from around the corner, even though he had given them all paid leave until things settled down and they… had time to find other jobs. He sighs.
At least, that what he thought.
“Ah! Mr. Yag- I mean, All Might… sir, what are you doing here?”
Toshinori jumps a little, hissing through his teeth when the sudden movement sends white hot fire through his worn nerves. He makes sure to turn around more carefully, feet shuffling along the floor, until he is met by a tiny young woman craning her neck up at him whom he immediately recognizes as Ami Sasaki from the PR department.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Are you alright, All Mi- sir?” she asks with a pinched frown.
“Yes! Yes, no need to worry. I’m fine.” He chuckles, rubbing his hand along his cast, but it doesn’t do much to quell the worried look on her face. “Still sore, you know. Ah, did you not get the message Sasaki? You didn’t have to come in today.”
Sasaki flushes. “Oh yes, I know. I just had to drop something off and then I’ll be heading home.”
She seems to be purposefully avoiding his gaze, and Toshinori can’t help but do the same.
After a few silent moments he begins, “I hope you know that I don’t wish you to think of me any differently, now that you… know my secret. Any of you.” He throws her a thumbs up and tries to put on his best, All Might-esque smile, though he’s sure it must be but a poor imitation of the real thing. “Please, just continue to consider me the same old Mr. Yagi.”
She gasps. “Oh, of course! It was just… quite a shock. All these years, we had no idea…”
“I know,” Toshinori sighs. “I’m sorry for not being honest with you all, but I hope you understand why I had to keep it from you.”
Sasaki pauses, her brow furrowing once again. “I meant, we had no idea how much strain you were putting on yourself.”
Toshinori blinks at that.
“We already knew you weren’t well, but to realize you were pushing yourself so hard as All Might on top of that…” Sasaki frowns.
“Ah, yes, well…”Toshinori tries to form a response, but all that comes out is an odd kind of choked stuttering that he tries to stifle with a fist. Finally, after glancing away with a self conscious cough, he says, “That was my own decision. You shouldn’t have to worry yourselves over it.”
“But we do. We care about you, Mr. Yagi,” Sasaki says. A gentle hand lays itself over his own casted one, and he shoots up in surprise. “You're such a good man, and you give so much. I realize that now more than ever! I hope that now you're retiring you'll take some time for yourself.” She smiles, staring up at him again with wide, earnest eyes that cause something to stir in his chest.
He laughs, a little uncomfortably. “Thank you. I’ll try.”
They end up walking together, Toshinori’s footsteps sounding far less lonely now that they were mingled with her’s. The comfortable silence adds to the otherworldly sensation of the sun filtering through the wide windows, the only source of light in the building, and the floor, so polished that he could make out both of their reflections. The tall ceilings and the currently empty desks; he takes them all in as they go, as if trying to memorize them. He supposes, in a way, he kind of is.
Sasaki shadows him all the way to his office. He’s about to tell her again that he’s fine, she doesn’t have to worry about him, but before he can his attention is caught by a rather impressive stack of envelopes in the corner of the room that he doesn’t remember being there before.
He cocks a brow. “What are all these?”
“Hmm? Oh, it's just fan mail,” Sasaki replies. “They’ve been coming in in droves since, well, you know…”
Toshinori nods. Of course, he was used to fan mail. He got quite a bit of it, mostly from his youngest fans talking about how when they grew up they wanted to be just like him. He loved all of these letters, and took great care to read each and every one, even if he didn’t always have time to write back. Now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure that he’d gotten more than one from a certain young, then quirkless, boy back before he met him.
He would have to find those and tease him about it one of these days, Toshinori thinks with a smile.
Struck by curiosity, he walks over and plucks one off the newest letters from the top of the pile to inspect it. What could they possibly have to say to him now? Were they disappointed? Do they feel let down now that they all know their hero is merely a shadow of his former self? His smile fades as he tears into the envelope, shaking out the contents and unfolding them with care. He has to steel himself for a moment before he can bring himself to read it, but when he does his eyes widen in surprise.
Dear All Might,
I am very sad to hear about your retirement. We’re all going to miss you. Please feel better soon.
Thank you for all you’ve done for us. You have always been my hero.
Thank you. He scans over those two particular words over and over again.
Thank you.
Those are words that Toshinori very rarely heard, if ever. Hero work, while far from a thankless job, did not lend itself to such things. He was constantly lavished with praise and gifts of course, but nothing compared to the relief on a citizen’s face when they heard his boisterous laugh, or seeing them reunited with their families safe and sound. Those had always been his real reward. That was what Shimura had instilled in him all those years ago, when she had chosen him to inherit her power. He never needed a ‘thank you.’
At least, he never thought he did.
He puts the letter down, gazing down at the rest of the pile and picking another one at random. This time it’s a colorful, homemade card. Inside is a charmingly simplistic crayon drawing of himself in his hero form. Toshinori smiles. He’s wrapped up in bandages, standing next to who he assumes is the child that made it. If he’s interpreting correctly, it looks like the bandages are coming from them, probably as part of their quirk. On the opposite side, in shaky handwriting, are the words GET BETTER SOON ALL MIGHT! surrounded by a bunch of hearts.
Once he starts he can’t help but keep going. They’re all like this, letters and cards and even a few packages. Some are from fans, some from people that he had saved in the past, all of them full of gratitude and well wishes. And there’s so many of them! He doesn’t even make a dent in the pile before he has to stop, putting down the most recent one and leaning on his desk with his good hand because he’s just so overwhelmed by it all.
Soft footsteps approach him, and he hears Sasaki say, “Are you alright?”
He recovers with a quiet sniff, straightening up and turning to flash her a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. I, um, think I’ll take these with me, if that’s alright.”
She gives him a knowing smirk. “Of course!”
. . .
He ends up boxing them all up and (with Sasaki’s help, of course) carries them out to the car where Tsukauchi is still waiting patiently. He gives the pair a questioning look as Toshinori climbs into the passenger seat, to which he simply replies, “Fan mail.”
He takes in the size of the box for a moment with wide eyes, but then shrugs, satisfied. He takes Toshinori home and helps him to carry his things inside. The two wave goodbye to each other and Toshinori is left alone once again, but at least this time he has something to occupy himself with.
The rest of his evening is spent reading more letters and cards and munching on a few of the chocolate chip cookies that someone was kind enough to send him. Chiyo would kill him later for it, but he so rarely got to indulge himself in sweets anymore. Just this once couldn’t hurt, right?
Dear All Might,
My name is Kaori. You probably don’t remember me, you save so many people after all, but a few years ago you saved me from that mugger with the teleportation quirk.
He actually did remember that fight. Teleportation is a pretty unique quirk, and this guy had been using it to go around committing petty theft all over the city for a few weeks until he finally got a hold of him while he was cornering a young woman. He was glad that she seemed to be doing okay.
Dear All Might, I’m a big fan…
Dear All Might, Remember me…
Dear All Might…
Dear All Might…
You’re so cool
Thank You
Thanks
Thanks so much
Feel Better
Get Well Soon
Wow, but there are so many! As the night wears on they all seem to blur together in a mass of black and white, but they all held the same basic message: Thank You. Toshinori can’t tell if the uncomfortable itching behind his eyes is because of exhaustion or something else. He rubs them with his palm, risking a glance at the clock and realizing that it was almost five. He starts. Had it been that long already.
Forcing a sigh past the lump in his throat (when had that happened?) he glances back at the considerable pile of papers that had taken over his coffee table. He hadn’t gotten through the whole stack yet, not that he expected himself to, but every one he does read is like a balm to his recently aching heart. A reminder that maybe, despite all of his mistakes, he had done something right after all.
One more, he decides. Then he would take a break.
He chooses one lone envelope that somehow ended up on the floor, balanced precariously against his leg, and tears it open.
Dear All Might,
I hope you are recovering well. That villain must have been tough, if he was able to almost defeat you, but of course you won like always! As to be expected from the number one hero!
I’ve looked up to you ever since I was a little kid. My parents always told me that as soon as my quirk manifested, I went, “I’m going to be just like All Might someday!” So when I saw you that day, I almost didn’t believe it. This couldn’t be the hero I’d idolized for so long. All Might was supposed to be big and strong, not this scrawny man that was on the news. But even in your weakened state, you kept on smiling like you always do, and I knew it really was you. You kept fighting for us, even after you had reached your limit. Even after the entire world learned your secret.
And so I wanted to write to you and say, thank you.
Thank you for protecting all of us for so long, even though it put such a strain on you. I hope that, now you are retiring, you will be able to find some peace. I think you deserve it after all you’ve done for us. What does the number one hero like to do in his spare time? Whatever it is, I hope you get to do a lot more of it.
I’m sorry, I’m sure you get these kinds of letters all the time! Maybe you won’t even read this, but I just wanted to let you know that now, knowing the truth, you are even more of an inspiration to me than ever. I’m going to try even harder than ever to become the best hero that I can, so that you can spend the rest of your days with peace of mind knowing that the people are in good hands, even if you are gone.
You may not be a pro hero anymore, but you will always be the Symbol of Peace to me.
Sincerely,
A grateful fan.
Something wet lands on the paper with a muffled slap, blotting the ink. Toshinori straightens himself up with a sniff, wipes his eyes, and all of a sudden a bubble of laughter rises from his chest. It seems young Midoriya is beginning to rub off on him. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, placing the latest letter on the coffee table among the others with more gentleness than was probably necessary and leaning back into the couch.
Six years.
For six whole years he had given his whole self to others, despite his injuries, despite the pain that they often caused him, and not once had he ever asked for anything in return. Maybe he had just become so used to it that he forgot, he can't really say for sure. Then, in just a single moment, everything that he had worked so hard to achieve was suddenly gone, and he had been forced to sit back and let others deal with the aftermath. Ever since then, he’d been asking himself what the point of it all had been. Why work so hard to turn himself into a pillar for people to rely on, if he was just going to come crashing down and leave them to pick up his broken pieces anyway?
He thinks he understands, now.
It was never about being there for them forever. It was about being there just long enough that, when he finally couldn't be anymore, they would be able to move on without him. And if all of these letters are any indication, it seems that they’re doing that just fine. They were fine. They were going to be fine, without him.
After so many long years of stubbornly shouldering everything on his own, the hint of a thought starts to bloom in Toshinori’s mind that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to. A single pillar can only do so much on it’s own, after all. The idea is… freeing. Almost too freeing. It’s something he will have to get used to, but he thinks that with time he might even be able to embrace it. He has so many people at his side to help him, after all. His friends, his students, his colleagues, his successor… Even the people in these letters cared enough about him to send him well wishes, despite the fact that most of them hadn’t even met him.
He can practically hear them saying it’s okay, you can let go now. We’ve got you. We won’t let you fall.
He thinks he’s finally ready to let go.