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It was a small mercy of nature that soulmates didn't begin feeling each others' presence until they were a few years old, and even that was unfortunately soon, in most peoples' opinions. To be able to feel the trauma of birth? That would have been devastating. It was bad enough that a person's mate might have to feel them growing their teeth in, or getting chicken pox, or having growing pains, on top of whatever they might be feeling already. Soulmates who were around the same age had to go through everything twice in a short period of time.
But soulmates of significantly different ages had it worse, and the worst part of it was that it was uncommon enough to be extremely confusing-- not only to them, but to their parents and doctors. So while Izuku didn't have to deal with feeling someone else's teeth growing in, the young child was periodically subjected to pain that left him gasping for air, and left his parents worried.
“What's wrong with him, doctor?” his mother asked, after quite a few tests had been done to determine the cause of the pain. They'd worried he might be sick with some debilitating disease.
“Unfortunately, nothing,” the doctor responded. “I say 'unfortunate', because if there was something wrong then we could treat it. As it is, it can only be assumed that it's caused by his soul link.”
A horrified look came over his mother's face. “But, why would another child be in so much pain? Do you think they're being abused?”
The doctor shook his head. “We don't know that. It may not even be a child.”
Mrs. Midoriya's brows drew down as she considered this. It wasn't totally unheard of for soulmates to be so different in age, so she adjusted to that possibility fairly easily. “Why would anybody be in so much pain?” she wondered aloud, her heart sinking for both her son and the one he was fated for.
“I'm sorry,” the doctor said. “There's just no way of knowing. If something more specific happens, let us know.”
And so Izuku's tolerance for pain, at the tender age of four, began to climb to impressive (if frightening) levels. And yet, a few years later, he wasn't remotely prepared for the agony that overcame him in the middle of class one otherwise normal day. Despite an indifference to pain that no child should possibly know, he found himself curled in a ball on the floor by his desk, screaming and clutching at his side. Needless to say, his teachers and classmates were a bit alarmed. (The class was thrown into a panicked chaos.)
He was taken to the hospital as a precaution, even though most everyone knew what it likely was: soul-link pain. His classmates had all sorts of wild theories, but the one they decided on was appendicitis. That was something that happened to kids and teenagers sometimes, wasn't it? Someone in class had a sister who'd had it, and they said she'd screamed bloody murder when the organ burst.
The teachers, who'd been told Izuku's situation was a little strange, thought what his mother had first thought: that the child's poor soulmate was suffering some sort of abuse. They didn't consider how bad it would have had to have been for Izuku to notice it anymore, after the tolerance he'd built up.
Izuku's mother knew it was bad, and she knew that her son's mate was likely either dying or in a hospital at that point. As soon as Izuku had been sedated and calmed and reassured that everything was okay, Mrs. Midoriya stalked the halls of the hospital, looking for anyone else who'd come in recently with similar symptoms. It was a good idea, but a futile effort. According to the nurses, nobody else had been admitted with any serious abdominal pain.
They were allowed to leave the hospital the following day, when the pain had faded to a nearly bearable level, where Izuku only cried instead of screamed. The pain flared and ebbed back many times over the next few weeks, and Izuku took that time off from school because it was too difficult to concentrate with someone else's feelings running rampant in his otherwise healthy young body. He spent the time watching videos of his favorite heroes, which made him wonder if the pain had been caused by his mate's quirk. He'd never developed one himself, so he didn't know how it felt, but maybe that was it.
As much as he'd always wanted to know who his soulmate was, this event made him more curious than ever. If nothing else, he wished he could console the person. He knew what terrible pain they'd just gone through, and he knew how miserable they felt now. They felt sick, constantly nauseous. It was bad enough for Izuku, but if what scientists claimed was true, then what his mate felt was at least twice as bad. Izuku had nearly wished to die; how could his mate even be alive still?
He took the idea to his mother, that maybe they could send his soulmate a 'get better soon' card or something, though she seemed a bit uneasy about it.
“I'm sure they'd appreciate it, sweetie,” she said, biting her lip. “But there's no way to tell who the person is. And even if we could, it's-- it's best to let things happen naturally.”
Izuku didn't think very much of 'let things happen naturally'. What was so unnatural about seeking out the person your soul was connected to? Of course, he didn't know that his mother was lying about the impossibility of finding his mate; he knew the stories, and most people just ran into them one way or another, so it wasn't odd to think you couldn't force it.
And it was true. In a world of billions, it was no mean feat to find a person's soulmate on purpose-- unless they happened to be famous, and you happened to be on the lookout.
What Izuku didn't know was that his mother had already figured it out, and been in contact with the person. It wasn't a sure thing, and it could have been a coincidence, but that was fairly unlikely. Between her, Izuku's doctor, and the hospital's specialized service unit (which existed for cases such as this, finding at-risk individuals based on their soulmate's pains), the person whose recent injuries most matched Izuku's pain had been found.
Unfortunately, even though this was a fairly serious matter, as there was no definitive proof, they hadn't quite been able to get through to him. Channels for contacting heroes were pretty well guarded, so they'd had to deal with sending a fanmail and hoping it would end up in his hands.
At that point, Toshinori was still in recovery, and lacked the energy to even open his own mail. His manager was handling most of it, sorting through the letters and gifts and compiling anything that he thought was important. A month or so after suffering his initial injury, Toshinori was brought a letter that had his manager looking uncomfortable.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad mail, but I think you ought to see this one.”
Toshinori took the letter, which of course had already been opened, and gave it a read.
'Dear All Might,' the letter began. 'First, I should say thank you. My son is a huge fan of yours, and we both appreciate everything you've done to keep this country safe. I also want to say I'm sorry for your recent injury. My son doesn't know, but if he did, I'm sure he would say so too. But that's the reason I'm writing this to you.
I can't prove it, and even if there was proof I don't know if you'd want to believe it, but you're my son's soulmate. I'm writing this to ask you to take better care of yourself, for his sake. I know that your job as a hero is important. It's important to him too. But he shouldn't have to feel every time a villain lands a hit on you, and he should never have ended up in the hospital last month. Even now, he feels sick all the time. He's a very good boy, he doesn't deserve that.
I'm not asking you to change anything about your life. I'm just asking you to be more careful. Please.'
The letter was signed with only an M, and the envelope had been mailed anonymously. It seemed the parent who had written and mailed it on behalf of their son was not eager to be known and wanted no reply.
Toshinori felt sicker than usual, a terrible tenseness building in what was left of his stomach. He hadn't known for sure, but he'd had the feeling something had happened. For decades he'd been without the strange double feelings everyone always talked about. He'd wondered if maybe he just didn't understand the feelings, or if he really didn't have a soulmate. He wasn't uninterested in romance or companionship, not that that seemed to matter much anyway, according to other people. Once he'd become a well-known hero, people had started to approach him, claiming to be his soulmate, but until only a handful of years ago, he'd felt no sensations that hadn't belonged strictly to him.
“Did you know about this?” his manager asked, clearly worried. (More for All Might's reputation than his well-being, he was sure.)
“...” He shook his head, not sure what to say. Yes, he'd known, in his soul. But he hadn't thought about it, or about what it would mean, or about what he was doing to the other person. He'd just been living as he'd always lived, and that sometimes included getting into fights where he sustained injuries.
“A kid...” his manager said, thoughts off in PR-land already. “A little boy. Ugh, this is terrible. How old, Toshi?”
The feelings had started around four years ago. He remembered the first one-- just a little sting on his knee that he couldn't place, sharp and uncomfortable but nothing too bad. He'd been confused by it, thought it might have been a bee sting or something. But there were no marks when he went to check, no redness or cuts or punctures. He'd forgotten about it until something similar happened, and kept happening. Just little twinges here and there: stubbed toes, bruised elbows, unsuspecting fingers caught in cabinet doors, and a particularly annoying few months where he swore his mouth was trying to grow another set of molars, though all of his teeth had been in for ages.
“Not more than twelve,” he said. He didn't know much about children, but basic math said his mate was easily in the realm of prepubescence; a child. Still, it wasn't necessarily the son of the parent who'd sent the angry letter. He expressed this doubt to his manager, but the man just shook his head.
“Your injury wasn't in the news at all. This parent had to have done some digging to even get a rumor of it. But that's not the important thing. Suppose the kid isn't your mate; fine! If they go to the media with this, nobody will care if it's true or not. We need to be on our guard.”
'Not the important thing.' Toshinori took the slightest bit of offense at that. He knew his manager was just looking out for his career, but to him it was important to know if there was a child out there that he'd inadvertently been torturing through his carelessness.
Luckily, nothing came of the whole affair. The parent never sent another letter, and the media never got wind of his injury or his potentially having a soulmate (as much as they tried; it was a hot issue, as always). Toshinori devoted himself to mending his body as fully as possible, to taking care of himself as if he were a loved one. And once he was back on his feet, and he'd taught himself to fight again, he used the utmost caution not to get caught in any painful situations. It still happened, from time to time, but it happened a lot less, now that he was conscious of it.
Meanwhile, he continued to feel his mysterious young mate grow. The tooth pain popped up every so often until it finally tapered off for good (until it was time for wisdom teeth, at least, but that wouldn't be for a while). What he recognized as growing pains happened far less often than he remembered when he was a kid, but puberty hit intensely a few years later. The soul link was considerate enough not to cause mates to feel simple touch or basic bodily functions most of the time, but the surprising feeling deep in his gut was apparently strong enough to count. He'd been winded by it, a few times.
All in all, though, it was not debilitating, and he kept on with his hero work and his intention to be the best (and safest) he could.
Izuku could feel this. Emotion didn't seem to traverse the link, but he could tell his mate was taking better care of himself. Though he still had a lingering feeling of sickness and fatigue sometimes, the haphazard physical pain was much less common than it had been in his earlier childhood, and he was glad that his soulmate was doing better.
He still wished he could know the person-- maybe make him something nice to eat (nausea was still a common problem) or give him a back-rub to combat the strange ache that plagued them.
“I'm sure you'll meet him when the time is right,” his mother always said. (Izuku didn't really consciously catch on that his mother had accidentally started using male pronouns, but he went with it too.) And because there was really not much he could do about it, he tried to put it from his mind and go about his life as normally as possible.
That meant going to school, and lamenting his unfortunate lack of quirk (fate really didn't seem to like him much), and wishing he could be a hero anyway, and continuing to obsess over All Might-- the one person he wished to meet nearly as much as his soulmate.
Did All Might have a soulmate? Maybe. Maybe he was even married already. A lot of heroes and other celebrities had relationships that were kept secret, out of respect for the other person. Izuku wondered what it was like, to be soul-linked to a hero. Was it exhilarating? Could you feel the rush when they fought villains and rescued civilians?
(In the dark of the night, he sometimes imagined being All Might's mate. More than once, the thought had kept him up far too late on a school night, left him shaking and exhausted-- sometimes for good reasons, and sometimes for bad ones.)
His crush on All Might helped him not focus too much on that mysterious mate of his, and he didn't feel too bad about it. The hero had a name and face, so he was a lot easier to think about, and he was hardly even a person anyway, so objectifying him didn't seem quite as rude. (Yes, of course he was a real person, Izuku knew, as real as the president or his favorite rock star or anyone else he was never going to meet; but if you never met someone, they may as well just be in your imagination, right?)
The trend continued into his fully-teenage years, and it suited him just fine. By the time he was set to graduate from middle school, he'd practically forgotten about the strange situation with his soulmate. He'd gotten used to feeling sick every so often, and the occasional flare-ups of pain in his left side, to the point that he simply thought of them as a part of life, just another pair of problems he'd been born with-- like quirklessness and anxiety and being too short to reach the top shelf of anything. Like the rest of those inconveniences, he decided to ignore them as best he could.
Toshinori had no such luck-- not that he was trying. He'd made a commitment to keeping himself safe for the sake of his mate, and that necessarily meant that the boy was on his mind most days. When some out-of-place feeling crept up on him, he was immediately conscious of what it was. He couldn't delude himself that it was normal, when it was still such a relatively new phenomenon to him, and he didn't want to, because keeping the boy in his thoughts was the only way he had to apologize for what he'd put him through before.
He wished he knew who the boy was, but it was mostly because of his own selfish curiosity and guilt. Knowing probably wouldn't make it any easier on either of them.
Izuku was fourteen when they both got their wish.
It had been years since Toshinori had lived in that particular town, but he'd moved back recently with the intention of getting a job at UA, the hero high school he'd graduated from. It was just as thick with criminals as any other city he'd lived in, and he was tracking a particularly slippery one when he suddenly couldn't shake the feeling that he was suffocating. He staggered and sucked in as much air as he could get, but that wasn't the problem; he was breathing just fine, but the pain in his chest was just too much.
'The boy?' he thought, trying not to let panic overwhelm him, trying to keep up with the villain even through this sudden distraction. He'd followed the monster into a sewer and was focusing on following its slimy tracks, but it was getting hard to keep his head about him. Somehow he managed to find where it had climbed back up onto the street, and he jumped up after it eagerly, his brain telling him that if he just defeated this villain, somehow he'd be able to breathe again.
And there he was; there they were. His vision was closing in around him (no it wasn't, he just felt like it was), but there in the center of the tunnel, back-lit by the bright afternoon sun, he could see the creature he'd been chasing and (he added up the evidence in his brain, faster than the speed of light-- as fast as a soul's intuition) the one he'd been hoping to meet.
There wasn't much left to the monster after that. He'd Texas Smash'd the villain to bits and had to scramble to scoop it up into a bottle before it could reassemble itself and slither off. He wasn't very gentle with it, he had to admit, still feeling a little overwhelmed by the situation and rushing so he could check on the victim, who had passed out. Once the goo was all safely collected, he turned to the boy and approached him cautiously, his breath held.
He was breathing; that was good. Toshinori's lungs didn't ache viciously anymore; that was good. The boy was still unconscious; that was bad. Gingerly, Toshinori patted him on the shoulder, and his heart skipped in relief as the boy's eyes flickered open.
“Wh--?” he asked, his eyes and brain fighting to focus and remember what was going on. And then Toshinori's anxiety spiked painfully as the boy scrambled away from him like prey from a predator. “A-a-all Might???!”
But Toshinori didn't have anxiety. At most he was only ever apprehensive about situations; maybe a little nervous. Now he was a little nervous, but not enough to make his heart feel like it was going to beat out of his chest. This kid looked like he was about to die from panic though.
“Ah, you're alright,” he said, grinning as reassuringly as he could manage, even though he didn't feel very reassured himself. (That was very much a part of being a hero, so he was pretty decent at it.)
“Yeah. I was-- Did you--?” The boy glanced around fearfully, until Toshinori patted his pocket where the sludge-filled bottle was and the tension drained out of him (mostly). “Oh god. You really saved me. I thought I was seeing things.” He looked up at Toshinori, who knew he cut a pretty impressive figure in his powered form, and blushed so hard Toshinori almost thought he could feel it. (Or maybe he was just projecting, because he wasn't sure yet.)
“I'm sorry you had to get involved in that, ...?” he said as he reached down for his hand to haul the boy back to his feet, leaving the end of the sentence as a fill-in-the-blank.
“Mi-midoriya Izuku,” the boy said, and when he reached up and grabbed on to Toshinori's hand, the world stood still. (Not literally, but it wasn't far off either.)
Neither of them had ever felt so much at once. People always said that the connection between soulmates was intense when they touched, but that never prepared anyone for how it actually felt-- and it certainly hadn't prepared either of them. Even though Toshinori had had his suspicions, given the last few minutes and the suffocating pain that was just too much to be a coincidence, he hadn't expected to be so suddenly aware of another person's entire being. In the span of just a second, he felt as if he grew an entire second body-- becoming conscious of Midoriya Izuku's heart, his veins, his bones, his flesh, right down to the tendons in his fingers and the way he held his jaw too tight (he was going to give them a headache).
And Izuku, aside from his fantasies (and those had just been fantasies! Just idle thoughts!), hadn't the slightest expectation that he would suddenly know All Might inside and out, as if he was the man, as if it was him who bore a terrible mess of scar tissue on his left side and where half of his organs ought to be. But it was an oddly familiar feeling-- one he'd known for about half his life now. It wasn't a nice feeling, not remotely, but it filled in a gaping hole in his understanding of the world and himself, and that was nice.
And all of this happened so fast that the world may as well have stood still. Between grasping each others' hands and Izuku yanking away from All Might as if he'd been hurt (in a way, he had been), jumping back to stare at him with the wariest, widest eyes Toshinori had ever seen, hardly more than a second or two had ticked by.
“What was that?” Izuku gasped, even though he was pretty darn sure he knew. “You. You're the one... No, th-this is a joke or something, right?” He didn't want it to be a joke, but in what universe was All Might really his soulmate? In what universe would he ever be that lucky?
“It's alright. Please calm down, Midoriya,” Toshinori said, scrubbing at his face as it ached by proxy and Izuku realized that he was probably nearly crying. Calmly, Toshinori reached out his hand again and waited for Izuku to take it in his own time. The man's calculated calm slowly spread to Izuku, and after a few moments of breathing, he gingerly gave him his hand.
It was like the first time, but less sudden and surprising. They could feel each other, their pulses where their palms touched, and the beat of their blood as it traveled down their veins and arteries. Toshinori was doing his best to remain calm for the both of them, and Izuku was trying to follow his lead, and it seemed to be working.
They stood there for several minutes in the thankfully empty street, caught in an endless, motionless handshake. There was so much they needed to talk about, but the most important part was done.
“I have to take this guy to the police,” Toshinori said, after a little while had passed and their heartbeats had synchronized to a slow and steady rhythm. He nodded towards his pocket, his right hand still latched on to Izuku's. “If you're not busy, come with me and we can go somewhere to talk after that.”
Izuku nodded eagerly, a little surprised that though his heart rate had picked up, it wasn't going crazy. Still rather in a daze, he let go of his idol's hand, and the hyper-focus the world had been in fell back to its standard definition. He looked down at his hand, then up at All Might, who was also a bit surprised-- and surprisingly disappointed. Neither of them had even really noticed the way the colors and sounds and edges of shapes had all sharpened, until they'd gone back to normal.
They didn't really talk much on the way to the police station, just walking side-by-side and keeping their hands carefully to themselves, because as all-affirming as that connection was, the intense strangeness it brought was not really conducive to getting anything done. A few times, Toshinori could feel the panic welling up in Izuku's chest, and he very carefully willed himself into as zen a mood as possible.
(And it was notable, too, that things they'd have never been able to feel from each other before were now fairly obvious. Anything less than strong physical pain before would have gone under the radar [with the occasional exception of physical pleasure], but now much more subtle physiological reactions were showing. They didn't know if it was because they'd finally met, or because they were in close proximity, or because they were still recovering from that initial connection.)
The police were as surprised but pleased as ever to have a high-profile hero show up on their doorstep with a violent criminal nicely wrapped up for them, and they took it off their hands in short time, profusely thanking All Might for a job well done. He nodded to them politely, but left without lingering, and Izuku followed.
Rather unexpectedly, Izuku found himself being taken by the hand (there it was again, everything in sharp focus, the surreal immovable feeling of scar tissue) and given a questioning look by All Might, to which he responded with a nod that would definitely have been too trusting in any other situation. All Might nodded in return, and then launched them into the air, because the only reasonably private place for speaking with your newly discovered soulmate was apparently a rooftop. The hero set Izuku down, and then sat down too, their legs both a bit shaky.
“I'm sorry,” Toshinori said once they'd settled, quite the opposite of what Izuku had been expecting. “You've had a hard time because of me, haven't you?”
Izuku gaped at him. “Don't apologize!” he said. “You went through all the same things, and it must have been worse for you.” He remembered in vivid detail that time seven years before, the concentrated pain and the nausea that had dogged him for months. He wrapped his arm around his side instinctively. “What happened? I didn't see anything on the news, but you must have almost died.”
Toshinori nodded. “It was dangerous. I didn't think about how much it would have affected you, at the time.” He paused, looked over Izuku's face, trying to judge if he seemed trustworthy, even though they both already knew they'd trust each other with their lives. “If you don't want to interact with me, you don't have to,” he said. “Regardless of the situation. We don't have to be involved in each others' lives, if you don't want it.”
Even he hadn't honestly expected Izuku to say no, but he had to offer it anyway-- a way out, in case this was too much for him. But as predicted, Izuku shook his head. “No! I've wanted to meet you ever since I was a little kid. I mean, you, All Might, and you... you.”
Toshinori smiled, relieved that the fears that maybe weren't even fully his to begin with had been assuaged. “If you're sure that's how you feel, then I should show you something before this goes any further.”
Izuku didn't freak out nearly as much as he thought other people might, at seeing his hero transform into a man who was decidedly less heroic-looking. It didn't strike him as odd. Really, it was just another piece of the puzzle.
“From the injury seven years ago,” he explained, though he didn't really have to. “And it's why I was sick all the time, too.”
Nodding, Izuku scooted closer and reached toward him. “Can I--?” he asked, hesitant and shy, but so very curious. Toshinori lifted his shirt in permission, and softly Izuku touched his fingertips to the sprawling scar. The skin was tough, sort of leathery against the softness of his palm, which he laid over it. He could almost, almost feel the ghost of the touch on his own side, feather-light even if he applied a little pressure.
“It's not very sensitive,” Toshinori confirmed.
And there they spent the next hour, sitting against each other as Toshinori showed him his scars-- new and old, some of which Izuku remembered, and some which were before his time-- and let Izuku's fingers roam over each one to his heart's content, committing each to memory on his own skin.
Toshinori had expected it to be awkward, not only showing another person these very private parts of him, these marks of failure, but allowing them to stroke them delicately as if they were pieces of art. But it wasn't, not the slightest bit. It wasn't strange that this fourteen year old kid he'd just met had his hands all over his body, eyes wide and reverent; instead it felt fulfilling.
But Izuku was still just a teenager, and he couldn't stay out forever, or his mother would get worried. It was Toshinori who brought this up, and insisted that they take him home.
“I think it would be best if I speak to your parents anyway,” he said, and Izuku had to agree. As much as he wanted to keep this new development to himself for a little while, his mother had always been there for him, and he needed to keep her informed.
About a hundred different emotions crossed Midoriya Inko's face when the two of them showed up at the front door of their modest apartment. Looking between the two of them, and then staring at All Might (who'd gone back to his muscled form) with warring expressions of worry and relief, she hugged her son and then ushered them in.
“Izuku, why don't you go clean your room up a bit?” she suggested, as she poured a few glasses of tea and set them on the kitchen table.
“What?” Izuku said, lightly betrayed and very obviously of the opinion that he was supposed to be there for the conversation.
She gave him a knowing look. “Do you really want to show your favorite hero your room before you've had a chance to clean it up?” she asked.
The color drained from his face, because she was right; he and Toshinori might be about as close as humanly possible now, but that didn't mean Izuku was comfortable with the man seeing his mess or his obsessive amount of hero merchandise. “Uh yeah, I'll go do that!” he said, waving at All Might as he dashed out of the room.
When the door to Izuku's room had been loudly shut, Toshinori turned to Inko. “It was you who sent the letter, wasn't it?”
Inko nodded. “I'm glad you read it. Things were hard the first few years, but they've calmed down a lot more recently. I'm glad you started taking care of yourself better-- and Izuku is too. He cared a lot about you, even before he knew who you were. ...He's a good boy.” She looked up at him from across the table, softly pleading, and she didn't say anything more, but she didn't really have to. By her expression alone and her status as a mother, Toshinori knew what she was asking: 'Please take care of him.'
“Of course,” he said, nodding solemnly. There was no question that he would do his absolute best for Izuku now that he knew who he was. “I wish you would have told me who you were back then though.”
Smiling sadly (but not too sad), Inko shook her head. “I think it worked out just fine. A seven-year-old doesn't need to be courted by a celebrity. Even now... he's still so young, you know?”
“I could keep my distance, if it makes you more comfortable,” Toshinori offered, even though it hurt him to think of separating himself from this strange and wonderful thing he'd finally found after all this time. It was more important that Izuku and his family be happy with the situation. (And he'd waited ten years; he could handle a few more. ...Maybe.)
Inko laughed. “Oh no, I know better than that. He'd be miserable. That's the last thing I want. And if he caught wind that I had any hand in it, he'd never forgive me. No. He's young... but I think he's old enough to decide for himself, with some help. And I trust you. You brought him home, after all.”
Looking a little flushed, Izuku re-emerged from his room then, having cleaned up enough not to be mortified if Toshinori saw it. He joined them at the table, sitting between the two-- though a little closer to the hero. “So, um, did he tell you?” he asked his mother.
She grinned, all traces of worry gone or hidden. “Yes, and sweetie, I'm so happy for you!” She reached across the table to hold his hand, and Izuku was unspeakably glad that she wasn't upset. There was no logical reason for her to be mad at either of them; they hadn't chosen the situation, but he knew that wouldn't stop her from being uncomfortable about her son coming home with a soulmate more than twice his age. He appreciated that she was taking it well.
Neither she nor Toshinori felt it was necessary to tell Izuku about the letter; not just yet, when things were still so new. If Inko didn't bring it up before long, Toshinori would, but for now instead they sat and chatted and drank tea, and didn't really talk about the logistics of the situation.
“Do you, um, wanna see my room?” Izuku asked, after they'd sat for a while and the evening was quick approaching. He knew the day had to come to an end, but he wanted just a little bit more alone time first. Alone together time, that was.
Toshinori looked to Mrs. Midoriya. He didn't know quite how a situation like this was supposed to be handled, still mostly playing it by ear, but he knew it could get awkward pretty quickly if everyone involved wasn't on the same page. She smiled, so he nodded and followed Izuku.
The room was much the same as any other teenager's, full of school-related things and half-organized piles of clothes and stacks of books-- and posters with All Might's glowing face on them. He remembered his mother's letter saying her son was a big fan. He wasn't sure if that made things easier or harder, but it was what it was.
Izuku's heart was beating a little hard; Toshinori could feel the pressure of it, so he tried to breathe deep and evenly. However, Izuku wasn't all that interested in calming. He took advantage of his heightened state of emotion and boldly grabbed for Toshinori's hand. It wasn't just nervousness Izuku was feeling, Toshinori could tell as soon as they touched. It was excitement, and joy, anticipation and eagerness, and a few other tendrils of physiological reactions rooting around in his body, all his nerves pleasantly on-edge from the contact.
It would be a different story happening then, if they'd been closer in age. If they'd met when they were both adults, if they were standing in a shared college dorm or an apartment that didn't belong to someone's parents, if Izuku was old enough to be trusted to make his own decisions without the help of an adult who was necessarily more aware of social mores. Toshinori knew what kind of story it would be, and he could tell that Izuku did too. But Izuku knew what the story was, and instead of lamenting what it wasn't, he decided to guide it. Despite the pleasant tingling throughout his body, a feeling he didn't want to let go of, he released Toshinori's hand. Then he fished his phone out of his pocket.
“I, um... I'm sure you're busy, probably all the time, but if you're ever not, maybe I could see you again?”
Still falling from the high tension their contact caused, Toshinori's heart melted even further. He smiled fondly at Izuku's innocence-- his shy and very careful innocence. The boy knew what he wanted, and what was expected, and how he was going to have to balance those things.
“I'll make time,” he said, finding his phone as well and pulling up a new contact. They traded information, and permission to call or text each other any time. Idly, Izuku imagined receiving a phone call from the hero while he was in the middle of class and having to come up with some excuse because there was simply no way he could admit that he'd found his soulmate in All Might. Not yet. He wondered if there would be a time, or if that would be too dangerous for both of them. It was a strange world they were living in, and there were definitely people who might take advantage of information like that.
They said their goodbyes before the sun had fully set, and Toshinori thanked Mrs. Midoriya for her hospitality, and her understanding. She thanked him too, then let Izuku see the man out.
In the hall, with their door shut and nobody lingering nearby, Izuku lightly touched their hands together again. Already it was getting easier to adjust to the ebb and flow of the electric feeling they got when they made contact and the sudden loss when they parted, but it was no less exhilarating. When he had Toshinori's attention, he took a deep breath, didn't think too hard about it, and leaned up on his tip-toes to brush their lips together so briefly and so softly it might have been just a touch of the wind, if not for the emotional static it sent down both their spines.
“Thanks,” Izuku whispered, blushing fiercely. There was a lot more he could say, and a lot more he wanted to say, and still quite a lot they probably needed to say, but he left it at that. He knew Toshinori understood, so he nodded in finality, turned, and went back inside.
Toshinori stood staring after him, stunned but heartened by the gentle strength of emotion that had crossed between them in that fleeting moment. Yes, perhaps this wasn't the easiest of soulmate situations, from an outsider perspective. (And his manager would probably have another fit when he told him.) But now that he had experienced it firsthand, Toshinori was quite positive that he wouldn't trade it for anything. And against all odds, he wasn't worried either. They hadn't spoken nearly enough to establish any sort of real relationship yet, but he felt he knew Izuku, and he felt that the boy had a good head on his shoulders and that between them they could work this out.
As he was halfway down the stairs to the street level, his phone buzzed with a text. | I forgot to say good night |, Izuku had sent, followed by | So, good night! =) | and | <3 |.
He smiled the rest of the way home, an echoing joy in his heart. Yeah, things would be alright.