Chapter Text
He was there. When All Might fought All for One, Detective Tsukauchi was the one to help discover his whereabouts. Two months was spent in chase before slowly closing in. Tsukauchi didn't have All Might's strength, but he worked tirelessly around the clock until they found the villain... then Toshinori had to fight alone.
Tsukauchi still did what he could, using his influence and ordering his team to evacuate the area. The police set up roadblocks and everything within a mile radius was cleared out. Nobody else saw it when AfO was nearly defeated, and they didn't see Toshinori hesitate to deliver the final blow. Tsukauchi was the only one who caught a glimpse of AfO when he escaped.
Tsukauchi almost chased after him. The wounds he sustained from All Might were deadly, so much that even Naomasa could arrest him. But then he spots Toshinori.
"Fuck." The word falls flat, lost in the spinning emotions and thoughts that plagued him. Was he even alive? Blood and bone, with organs slick and able to be seen from a distance. Tsukauchi found his body was already moving toward the fallen hero, heart thudding in his ears. "All Might, stay still... I..."
It's good to know his habits could be relied on, even when he's working on autopilot. Still calling him All Might, shoving his insides haphazardly into place before shifting the bulky weight over his shoulder, just strong enough to fireman carry him out of the building. Tsukauchi didn't know how he managed to walk down the four flights of stairs and out to the road. Adrenaline, maybe.
"I got you– so stay with me, okay?" His rambling was more for his own benefit than anything else, trying to convince himself that it wasn't as bad as it looked. All Might's blood stuck to his shirt, soaking through immediately. The man's ragged wheezing was almost comforting. At least that was a sure way to know the hero was still alive.
"Tsu..kau...chi?"
Weak. All Might's voice sounded so weak, and it scared him.
"It's alright, don't speak. I got you, okay?" They stumble through the halls and out the door, wincing when trying to push against the metal latch. Tsukauchi's strength finally gave out when he saw the line of police, the sirens and yells melting into a blur of noise. Only one of the officers that ran to meet them seemed calm enough to be useful. Tsukauchi scanned for his name tag – the young man was one of their newest hires from the academy.
"Tamakawa, we need an ambulance, now." To his relief, the man helps him to his feet and takes some of All Might's weight on his shoulder. The only thing that gave away his worry was the distressed purr rumbling through his chest.
"There's one on standby, sir. Come with me." Despite being new, he was capable under pressure. Tsukauchi made a note to remember the face and name.
The paramedics rush to take All Might, who only groans at the pain when they move him into the ambulance. Losing the body contact feels empty and cold, but it gets worse as he watches the techs struggle to stop the bleeding.
All Might mouths Tsukauchi's name, not enough energy left for him to form sounds. The detective pauses apprehensively, looking back to the scene behind him.
"Sir, I can relay your orders – go."
Officer Tamakawa Sansa; he remembered the introduction now.
"Thank you. The villain escaped, but is hurt. Search the area... do not hesitate to shoot. Get forensics up to the fourth floor, and do everything to keep this out of the news." He relayed the orders quickly, hands gripping the back door of the ambulance. Was it irresponsible for him to leave? It was possible that if he stayed, they could catch AfO for good.
One of the paramedic shouts, and he can hear All Might let loose a painful hiss. It erases any and all of the doubt in his mind. Tsukauchi enters the vehicle.
"Contact Chief Tsuragamae and tell him my location. I have my cell if you need me." Nodding to the young officer, the edge of his lips upturn slightly in silent thanks. The space inside is cramped, but Tsukauchi didn't mind as long as Toshinori got to the hospital right away. Resting a hand over his friend's, he promises that everything will be fine.
Except that in every meaning of the word, everything was not fine. The surgeries never stopped, each one just finishing before something else went wrong. Shattered bones. Collapsed lung. Numerous lacerations and so many poisons seeping into his stomach that most of it had to be removed.
Toshinori lost blood faster than the doctors could replace it. The orderlies scampered by with more and more bags, and Tsukauchi wondered if he could donate his own. Would it help more if they used blood directly from the vein? No, that didn't even make sense, and a hospital this large surely wouldn't run out. To be honest, he wasn't even sure if their blood types were compatible. God, he was useless.
After twenty nine hours, none of which were spent sleeping, Toshinori finally stabilizes long enough to be wheeled into a private room.
"How... how is he?" Tsukauchi's eyes follow the gurney out of the operating theater, snapping back to the doctor the moment his friend was out of sight. "Can I see him?"
"All Might looks like he'll survive the night, but he'll be bedridden for a good while. We have strict orders to only allow family, so unless–"
"Don't be stupid, we're his family. Need to check the records?"
Tsukauchi jumped at the gruff voice behind him, glancing down to see a familiar face. Gran Torino was there expression twisted in annoyance. He glared at the doctor standing in his way. With a stutter, the doc gave his apology and pointed them to All Might's room.
"You can't be polite with things like these, Naomasa. Don't give 'em any room." Gran Torino almost fusses at the detective, but seeing the dark circles under his eyes make him think better of it. "Sorry I'm late. I didn't hear until a few hours ago. Came here straight away."
"It's..." Tsukauchi sighs. "I should have called, but–"
"I get it, so don't worry. Let's just check on that fool." It was relieving to have Torino there. He was at a loss when the doctor was about to deny him access to Toshinori. What would he have done? His usual self would have merely smiled and nodded, trying to find a loophole. But right now, with such high tensions... his nails had bit into his fist so sharply that Tsukauchi could still feel the sting.
Toshinori was asleep when they got there – not very surprising of course, the amount of drugs in him would keep it that way for a while – but seeing him like that, bandaged beyond recognition, without his normal smile... Tsukauchi choked on his breath. Gran Torino only shook his head, unable to place his feelings. They both came close to losing someone they loved dearly. The older man placed a hand over Tsukauchi's arm in solidarity.
"Nao, I think I already know the answer... but you're already planning on staying, aren't you?" Tsukauchi's eyes swooped down to the left, holding his gaze steady against the old man's. Torino didn't mean just tonight, but through all this, until Toshinori recovered. "He's going to need you."
Tsukauchi doesn't answer verbally. If he tried, it was likely that no sound would even come out. Instead he nodded, jaw set tightly to hold back his emotions. The answer was: of course. Even if Toshinori didn't need him, he would stay.
The first day is the hardest. Someone told him that in the waiting room, some well meaning bystander that was only trying to help. Except the first day wasn't the hardest, not by a long shot. The day Toshinori woke up and the doctors told him how long he'll be in bed recovering, he frowned, but understood. His body was so weak he couldn't muster the strength to move his head more than from side to side. Tsukauchi had to help sit him up so he can look people in the eye. And in that room there was an impossible amount people.
"You'll be on a liquid diet, All Might. We had to remove your stomach, so eating will be one of the most drastic changes for you, especially as a hero. Expect to lose some of your bulk."
"The medicines you are taking will help with the pain. Most likely, you'll experience nausea, but don't stop taking them."
"When you can move without feeling dizzy, we'll start the physical therapy. You've broken a lot. Your collarbone, your ribs, and a part of your pelvic bone. Walking again will be a process."
Tsukauchi watched every doctor, every specialist speak to All Might, and he wrote down every word that sounded important. That was mostly all of it. But after awhile Toshinori could barely keep his eyes open.
"I think that's enough for today." Tsukauchi bowed, thanking everyone for their time.
"Shouldn't you go home too?" Toshinori asked.
With a tiny smile, Tsukauchi shook his head. There was a chair in the corner of the room, one he makes himself acquainted with, dragging it to Toshinori's bedside.
"No, I'm... not too busy these days. I'll be bothering you for a while." There was only so much you can do in a hospital room, and the small hanging television only gave Toshinori a headache. Leaning forward against the railing of the bed, the two friends spoke to one another – of the past, of regretting letting All for One go, but most of all of the future.
"Next time," Toshinori keeps saying.
"We'll get him next time. When I get out." The All Might smile still shone on his face, still hopeful that he'll be out of the hospital soon. That's the difference between the first day and week ten or eleven. You still have energy, the will to go on. Before everything seems hopeless and never ending.
The physical therapy starts the exact same way.
No need for a cast anymore, Toshinori was healing on schedule with special visitations from UA's famous Recovery Girl; but she could only do so much against the sheer amount of injuries. By the time his internal organs were healed, Toshinori had to recover his strength on his own. The goals start off small. Toshinori still jokes at this point, feeling better when he can move his fingers slowly, curling them around the stress ball he's supposed to be training with.
"I could've broken this before, easily. How long do you think until I can again?" Tsukauchi only laughed, rolling his eyes at how far ahead Toshinori was looking. Already imagining himself back to saving people.
"Just focus on today, that's what the doctors keep telling you." He pushed a tray of food toward the man, Toshinori finally able to eat something other than soups and vitamin supplements. While Toshi was busy munching happily on the next step up – apple sauce and bananas – Tsukauchi takes the time to collect himself, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Naomasa practically lived at the hospital. He hadn't been home since All Might was admitted, going to work from the private room, then coming straight back when his shift was over. There's an overnight bag that Gran Torino brought for him the last time he visited, filled with sets of work clothes and grooming items. He came back once a week to see Toshinori and to replace Tsukauchi's things.
"I'm sorry you have to keep running errands like this." They speak in hushed voices when Toshinori is sleeping, Naomasa slumped over in his chair with exhaustion. He tried to give a smile in thanks, but the corners of his mouth never rise far enough.
"It's nothing at all compared to what you've been doing. How... how is he, really?" Torino forced a neutral expression, shifting his gaze back to Toshinori every few minutes.
"Still in pain, even with his insides back to normal. The bones could only be healed halfway, so we're looking at recovering the old fashioned way. And– they're dialing back on the assistance. He's already supposed to be doing things on his own, even though he clearly can't. Toshi... He's still upbeat. I don't think he's noticed yet, since we never stop by the mirror."
"How much weight?"
"About seven kilos so far." His face pinches with stress, and Gran Torino looks the detective over with worry.
"What about you? Are you okay?"
"The other officers have been taking some of my workload. They don't think I can tell, but... because of them, I can come here more often. I'm grateful."
Toshinori shifts in his sleep, low whine in his throat, calling out for Tsukauchi. The detective stands up quickly, head leaning forward to tell him he's there.
"Bathroom, please."
Tsukauchi nods, sweeping the hair out of Toshinori's semi-conscious face. Sitting him up and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed, Toshinori leans into Tsukauchi's chest. They've both gotten so used to the actions, the routine of it; that there wasn't any embarrassment between them. Even with the weight loss, Tsukauchi still strained, muscles tightening and shaking slightly to hold him upright.
Gran Torino followed them with his eyes, quietly observing. He didn't miss the way the detective's gaze softens at how Toshinori's head nods, still half asleep from the drugs. The next time he visits, he makes sure that Naomasa catches up on much needed rest, taking over his duties for at least one day a week.
It's been two months now, with All Might out of the news and people wondering where their number one hero had gone. They're oblivious to the fact Toshinori was just relearning how to push himself up from the bed, that he could only now bathe by himself, though Tsukauchi still needed to carry him. Even that much had Toshinori grinning triumphantly; it was probably the last time he saw him smile.
The progress slows, then plateaus.
"One more time, okay?" A week passed since he crossed any of the milestones. Tsukauchi holds his broken friend tight to his hip, supporting most of his weight. Toshinori whimpers as Tsukauchi slowly lets go so he can stand on his own.
"It hurts." He almost moves back to hold Toshinori upright, but he needs to keep going; needs to get stronger. Except Toshinori's been so pale lately, sweating even when he isn't moving. Toshinori keeps insisting that he's fine – so keeps nodding, keeps hiding his worry behind a reassuring smile.
"Hold on to the rails, you can do it."
Toshinori's arms shake, trying to give his legs some relief when his foot rises. He inhales a sharp breath before willing his right foot up, then forward; he touches the ground and shifts his weight only to collapse on the ground, the physical therapists running to his side.
"SHIT."
They look to Tsukauchi, afraid to touch All Might. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"
"Hey, no–"
"Why can't I do this?" Toshinori's voice cracks in the heat of the moment.
Tsukauchi shook his head, dismissing everyone from the room. His hands rubbed at Toshinori's back, trying to calm him down from the constant shaking.
"I was getting better, Tsukauchi! Now everything hurts, and I..."
The first day is never the hardest, because there isn't enough time for anything to have gone wrong. Toshinori trailed off in the middle of his sentence, eyes widening and nails scratching at his chest. He starts coughing, coughing, coughing... his face pales even more, unable to breathe. Tsukauchi yelled for the doctors, afraid to know what's gone wrong. His fingers dug into Toshinori's shoulders to still both of thrm. He wanted to hold on to Toshinori, but didn't. Because it wouldn't be helpful when he already couldn't breathe.
Toshinori hacked up blood and tar.
The doctors finally return, assessing the situation with hardened practice. There's orders Tsukauchi doesn't understand, and they push him aside to provide aid. He watched helplessly as they wheeled Toshinori away to surgery, something that he thought was long done with.
Relapse.
It's another two weeks before Toshinori can try walking again. He's been bedridden, forced off of solid foods until they figure out what's wrong. Tsukauchi gets into the habit of bringing the wastebasket when Toshinori starts to cough, and the sight of so much blood becomes common. It's much easier to carry him now, his arms wrapping further around the bulk of his friend's body.
He starts smoking again when that happens. Naomasa was starting to break, but he couldn't; he wasn't allowed to. Not in front of Toshinori, whose eyes were listless, darkening more and more every day. So Tsukauchi lit up a cigarette before and after work, the instant he stepped outside of the office or the hospital. It's the only six minutes he gets to himself before he slides on a courteous smile and tried to get through the day.
Toshinori was far worse off. The amount of doctors double, even when they return to physical therapy. Technically he's been doing better, finally able to take a few steps... but the improvement remains only physical.
"Are you ready, All Might? Just take hold of the walker, you've been doing great." The therapists have taken over again, and in a twist of irony, he's finally able to walk after he's decided that going back to what he used to be was impossible.
Naomasa watched quietly, taking note of Toshinori's new habit; looping his thumb and middle finger around his wrist to measure how close the digits were to touching. The doctors were busy congratulating All Might to really take into account how often he did it, but Tsukauchi's stomach drops.
Toshinori knows he's shrinking more than expected.
Tsukauchi woke up with a start – when did he fall asleep? It's been too long since he's slept in a proper bed, the joints and muscles in his body protesting loudly. When he's fully awake he can finally tell what's wrong. Where was Toshinori?
His eyes slid over to the empty bed, at hall the tubes and wires left behind. If he left to just go to the bathroom, he wouldn't have unhooked everything, right? Tsukauchi tried to process where Toshinori could have possibly gone.
Crash
There was a moment of panic. So, it was the bathroom after all.
Tsukauchi leapt from his seat, legs almost giving out when he does. He has to catch himself on the edge of the hospital bed, and there's a tiny stab of pain when he hits the railing; but right now it's more important to throw open the bathroom door.
The first noticeable thing was the mirror. It was shattered, with hardly any reflective surface left on it. Tsukauchi's gaze then dragged downward to where the pieces fell, and there was Toshinori, shaking with his fist cradled in his other arm. His hand was bleeding.
It's only a few seconds that he's stood there, but Tsukauchi understood what happened. The sharp hiss that escapes from his lips makes Toshinori turn; somehow the door slamming open wasn't enough to catch his attention.
"Hey. What happened?" The question wasn't angry, only filled with concern. Tsukauchi knelt down next to the trembling man, taking his hands gently. Shards of glass stuck into his skin, blood trickling down into a growing puddle on the tile floor.
"Toshinori... let me see." The necessary supplies were already in the bathroom, a small reprieve in the grand scheme of things – tweezers, gauze, peroxide. Tsukauchi picks the glass out, turning and studying Toshi's hands to make sure he's found all of it.
"It's not me."
Blinking up at Toshinori's face, his work slowed to a crawl so he could listen to the quiet words. "No matter how many times I look, it's not me. I hate it. I'm wasting away."
There was no way to deny the physical changes. All Might was the picture of health and strength, and that was draining, dwindling down to a hollow, dark look. Toshinori flinches when the peroxide pours over the cuts on his hand, Tsukauchi sympathetic to the unnecessary pain. The bandages were next.
"You're a little skinnier, but it's still you. So don't give up just yet." He was still trying to keep the morale up, still smiling despite how bad things have gotten.
It only made Toshinori snap.
"There's nothing left of me, not one thing left of All Might! I don't know why you're still here, Tsukauchi. Are you having fun putting a broken hero back together? I can see it in their eyes – the nurses, the goddamn doctors!" His eyes were so dark, cold, and lifeless.
Stop. That kind of look, that didn't belong on the face of his best friend. That wasn't his Toshinori.
"Leave, like everyone else."
Tsukauchi opened his mouth – then closed it.
"I'm here because I'm your friend. I'm here because I love you." The things he wanted to say, Toshinori didn't need them. He didn't need the excuses, or explanations; apparently he didn't need Tsukauchi, either. Face twisted with self doubt, he wondered if he was trying too hard for all the wrong reasons. Because he couldn't let go.
"Do you want me to leave?" Toshinori's eyes immediately widened in fear.
"NO!"
It had to hurt, how tightly that bandaged hand clenched around Tsukauchi's shirt, but still Toshinori held on like it was the only thing stopping him from disappearing. "Tsu, Tsu – I'm sorry. Please, don't leave me too."
The frantic desperation, the utter fear that he would actually walk away... Tsukauchi's heart crumpled beneath his chest.
"I didn't mean it. I... I hate this; me. You're the only one who still sees All Might. I want to – need to – see what you see."
Fuck. Fuck.
He trembled, tears collecting and threatening to fall. Tsukauchi's only seen him cry once, after Nana died. The entire day he kept to himself, until he came back determined to keep smiling for his crazy version of justice and heroism. Tsukauchi had thought it strange and unnecessary, but now he wishes that it would come back.
"No matter what happens, you'll always be All Might. It's you, okay? You're my best friend... my hero. Always. Always, so I'm not going to leave." It's not enough to cup Toshinori's face in his hands. Tsukauchi asks again; okay?
There's a slight nod. Some of the light in his eyes come back, and Tsukauchi pulls him to his chest in a shaking embrace.
This was fine, right? He was only holding him for comfort, because Toshinori needed this. Just for tonight – no. Just until the hysterics calmed. It would be nice to stay like this, but the doctors would get angry if Toshinori stayed unhooked from their machines for much longer, and he needed to clear the floor of blood and glass.
For now Tsukauchi tightened his grip, breathing in the faint remains of Toshinori's scent hasn't been covered up by cleansers from the hospital. A part of him felt guilty that the smell of ash probably lingered in his own clothing, and he hoped that it didn't affect Toshi's breathing.
If it did bother him, Toshinori doesn't complain.
"How're you doing?" Gran Torino sat at the side of the bed, trying not to seem too relieved that his pupil was lucid again.
"I'm fine. Getting around, slowly." He eyed the walker shoved halfway under the bed. "You're here two days earlier than usual – and Tsukauchi hasn't come in yet. Why?"
Torino just snorts.
"Naomasa's downstairs getting his wrist checked for a sprain. I imagine it has something to do with your missing mirror?" He's not accusing, per se, but still the blond looks away guiltily.
"That was... that's okay, for now. My fault, not his. I still don't want to look at myself, so there's no point in replacing it."
"Changes happen, Toshinori. Sometimes faster than we want them to." It didn't seem that long ago when he was still looking eye-to-eye with an upstart brat, training him to become the so called symbol of peace. He had gotten so old, so quickly. Then there were the worst of the changes, like the death of his best friend; but he doesn't want to think of that, not with Toshinori still hospitalized. "They're talking about a release date if you keep up this progress."
Toshinori doesn't answer.
"Nao... he's a good man, so don't worry him so much."
"Just him, or you too?" It's slight, but the lighthearted banter returns.
"Everyone wants to see All Might come back – I suppose you can add me in there too." Gran Torino is surprised when Toshinori laughs quietly, muttering about how Gran would always be stubborn.
There's a cough from the doorway, Tsukauchi tipping in a shallow bow to apologize for his intrusion. His wrist was swathed in gauze, dark purple splotches edging out from where it the bandages couldn't reach without limiting his mobility. Toshinori is already eyeing the sprain, regret showing in his expression.
"Ah, it looks worse than it is... should heal in a few days." Tsukauchi spoke gently, worried that it would make the spiral of self hatred continue. "Really, it's fine."
Having brushed off the injury, Tsukauchi settled in his chair to work on some case files from the station.
"Did you already finish today's physical therapy?" He looked to Gran Torino, who nodded while collecting his things.
"Its coming along, but the pace is still too slow. Villains aren't going to stop hurting people until All Might's return." The detective gives him a stern look, but Torino is insistent. "You know it's true, Naomasa."
"Still–"
"No, he's right." Toshinori's hand reaches for Tsukauchi's sprained one, though he winces with the effort. "You need to take care of yourself too, or you'll end up in here with me. Can't have Japan losing a good policeman too." The compliment catches him off-guard, eyes widening before his years of practice slides him into a more neutral look.
"Oh... of course." The poker face cost him a few points in eloquence.
Torino snorts at their awkwardness, turning to leave for the day but promising to come by again soon. Once he slips out of the room, Toshinori leans closer.
"Tsukauchi, I'm serious. I– I'm trying, but it isn't that easy. Walking was still hard, and... do you know how many machines in the hospital are reflective? Having you here is the only thing keeping me going."
Furrowing his eyebrows, Tsukauchi looks like he wants to object. Instead, he sighed, shutting his case files and scooting them off to the side. The nurses might get angry, but suddenly he felt like they needed a break from this room, from routine and sitting idly in bed.
"It's a little more work for you, but do you want to take a walk around the hospital? Just this once should be fine. I'll take responsibility if they complain."
Toshinori takes his outstretched hand, this time strong enough to pull himself over the edge of the mattress. It takes a few minutes to remove all the monitors from his body, and he almost snaps the sensor stuck to his back before Tsukauchi peels it off. Tightening his grip around the rubber handles of the walker, his balance is shaky – but he can stand.
They only make it down a few halls before the nurses find him panting near the waiting room. Tsukauchi is close enough for him to lean on, bowing apologetically and smiling despite the scolding lecture. It's more exercise than Toshinori's gotten in a long while, but the burn in his lungs is the good kind, and for the first time since his relapse his body feels light in a way not related to his size.
They get in to trouble a few more times with their late night walks; but they always seem worth the lectures in the end.
Tsukauchi was late today; there was a work meeting he couldn't get out of because it ran too long, which cascaded down to getting stuck in rush hour traffic, then he spent twenty minutes finding a parking spot at the hospital. He's winded by the time he runs to Toshinori's room, heart almost stopping when he finds it empty. One of the nurses pops their head in the door behind him.
"There you are, detective! If you could hurry to the physical training room."
The words don't do much for his nerves – 'hurry' wasn't something you wanted to hear when you've been looking after an almost dying friend for three and a half months. Tsukauchi tries not to panic, but his breathing doesn't settle until he can see for himself that Toshinori is safe.
"Oh, Tsukauchi! Stay... stay there." Toshinori chirps out excitedly to his friend, who still stands in the middle of the doorway with a look of concern. The mess of blonde hair sways when he straightens up from his walker, pushing it aside and taking a deep breath.
One cautious step.
He waivers for a moment, shifting his weight slowly, steadily.
Another.
Time stretches on forever, Tsukauchi clutching at the lapels of his coat in wonderment. Toshinori's face crinkles in concentration, small beads of sweat forming on his temple – but he keeps going. When he crosses half the room he almost stumbles, and Tsukauchi hesitantly moves forward. Toshinori jerks his head up, waving him away.
He starts again.
Tsukauchi's eyes begin to mist over when they're only ten feet apart. Eight feet, six, then only four. By the time he stops, Toshinori's legs are trembling. He's damp and tired, the dark circles under his eyes dark and shadowed. Still, the smile on his face is so utterly vibrant that he's never looked lovelier.
"What'd you think?"
Breath catching in his throat, Tsukauchi finds himself closing the distance before his brain has time to process. He almost knocks him over in his excitement, arms circling around Toshinori and practically crushing him against his body. The taller man squeaks out a sound of surprise when he's lifted to his toes off the ground.
"...oud... I'm so proud of you, Toshinori." All the stress seemed to melt away, and he didn't want to let go; it was the only real way he could get across how pleased he was.
Eventually though, he had to. Toshinori could hardly breathe with his single lung, and his hospital gown was only getting damp from Tsukauchi's tears. Setting his friend back down, he swiped away the moisture from his eyes.
"Does Gran Torino know?"
"No, I wanted you to be the first to see." They're both grinning like fools, and the doctors almost feel guilty for interrupting the moment.
"E-excuse me, All Might. We still need to finish the session."
"Hm? Oh, sure."
Tsukauchi reluctantly uncurled his fingers from where they were entangled in Toshinori's sleeve. He settled on patting him lightly for encouragement.
The hardships never truly disappear. Toshinori still coughed up blood; he still lay awake after seeing his reflection for too long, cursing how pathetic he's become. But those things become tolerable in time, especially as the rest of him gets better.
Tsukauchi knocked on the hospital room door, peering in to see if Toshinori is ready. He's hunched over the bed, signing the last of the discharge paperwork so they can leave. His clothes now hang limply over his thinner frame, but overall it's an improvement from the depressing blue hospital gown he'd been sporting.
"Ready to go?" Tsukauchi shifted the bag of medications he's holding into the crook of his arm. Both their personal things have been shoved into his overnight bag, leaving Toshinori hands free and able to focus on walking. With a short grunt, Tsukauchi brings the bag over his shoulder.
Toshinori smiles and nods; their progress was still slow, but they can walk out down the halls, through the elevator, and out the front door together. Tsukauchi leans close enough that Toshinori can rest on his shoulder when needed. There's too many unknowns for this to be the end – how would One for All work in this new body, for example. He can walk, but can he still fight?
They've only passed the first hurdle, and the next one seems to loom over him ominously. But this time Toshinori knows he has someone to rely on.
"You alright?" Tsukauchi tilts his head, forehead wrinkled in concern. They've been standing at the hospital entrance for some time now. The doors slide open automatically when they leave, Tsukauchi rummaging his pockets for car keys.
The sunlight shines warmly, it's brightness softer than the harsh lights of the hospital. The air is fresher, somehow; even so far downtown. Toshinori's hand reaches around the detective's shoulder, pulling him close as they walk toward the parking lot. For stability, for thanks, just because he wanted to – there were a mix of reasons.
"Yeah, Tsu. I think I am."