Chapter Text
Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity.
-Edwin Hubbell Chapin
Toshinori wanted to go home and bask in this strange new feeling, but in light of the situation he decided it was best to be as responsible as he could convince himself to be, for as long as he could convince himself to be. Already he wanted to throw caution to the wind; to act on impulse, rush back into the Midoriyas' apartment and whisk Izuku off somewhere they could be glued to each others' side. Already, after just one innocent kiss. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to resist. So, while he still had his head about him, he decided to call his manager.
To be perfectly honest, he didn't like talking to Suzuki on the best of days. The man was high-strung (it came with managing the world's best hero, he always claimed), and always looking for problems (so he could head them off, he said). Now in Toshinori's opinion, this was a good day-- among the best he'd had in years, easily, but his manager was going to have an absolute fit. This was one of those problems he'd been looking for, and now that it was so close (upon them, really), he was going to want to head it off sharply.
“Toshi,” he said in greeting when he picked up the phone, friendly, but suspicious. “What did you do this time?”
He cursed the man for being so paranoid (even if it was justified). “Who says I've done anything?”
“Cut the crap,” Suzuki said, and Toshinori could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “You never call me unless you've gotten into some kind of trouble you need me to sort out. Hell, you hardly even return my calls. What happened?”
Although Suzuki seemed to be in an even worse mood than usual tonight, Toshinori knew he couldn't avoid telling him, especially since he'd already tipped him off. But if he just told him outright, he risked giving the man a stroke. “Maybe you should come over for a drink,” he suggested.
Suzuki scoffed. “I'll be there in a few, but I'm not drinking. I have a feeling I'm gonna have to be making calls tonight.”
The Midoriyas’ apartment was on the other side of town from the place he'd moved into recently, so his manager was already there when he arrived. He'd let himself in and started a pot of coffee and was angrily playing a phone game to distract himself by the time Toshinori got inside. He clicked his phone off and set it aside, a sure sign he knew they were in for a serious discussion.
“Okay, spill the beans,” he said.
Toshinori didn't know where to start. He hardly knew what to think about the situation himself. (He knew how he felt about it, but as other people with soulmates had told him before: thinking and feeling were two separate beasts.) Eventually he decided to just jog Suzuki's memory and let him do most of the rest of the work. There was a handwritten letter in a frame on his bedside table, a reminder that his actions didn't affect only him; he retrieved it and handed it over to his manager.
Suzuki took a moment to skim through it, annoyance still plastered on his face because why couldn't his idiot client just tell him? But it changed to a look of recognition after a short few moments, and he lowered it from his face and lowered his eyebrows and glared at Toshinori.
“You found him. When? Why didn't you tell me sooner?”
Taking a step back from the man's intensity, Toshinori smiled uneasily, appealing to the calm he knew was in his manager somewhere. “It just happened today. You're the first to know.”
“Hmm, alright,” Suzuki said. He did seem a little appeased. “So you found him. Alright. It's been seven years, so he's, what? Nineteen now? That's a tricky age, but I think we can swing it.”
Toshinori did a bit of a mental backflip, trying to figure out where on earth his manager had come up with such a number. Wracking his brain (as he stared, probably open-mouthed), he remembered telling Suzuki that his mysterious mate couldn't be more than twelve, back when they'd first received the letter. He grimaced; of course Suzuki had assumed what was most convenient for him.
“Fourteen,” he said, his eyes closed against the fury that was sure to turn his way once Suzuki digested what he said.
It was quiet for a good few long moments, so he opened his eyes and found Suzuki had gone over to pour himself a cup of coffee. He took a deep swig of it, stared down into its darkness for a moment, as if searching for the illusive answer to some question, then set it down on the counter and looked over at Toshinori. “Fourteen,” he said, somehow putting an equal amount of emphasis on both syllables, making the number sound like a curse word. “And you met him today? You're sure it was the right kid?”
He remembered vividly the expansive feeling when they first touched, how every nerve in his body trembled and he became distinctly aware of Izuku's entire being. How every color seemed bright and new and the whole world was cast in a shining light. How he could feel a twofold sense of wonderment and joy and something so much closer to love than made any sense.
“It was him,” he said, swallowing down the thickness that rose in his throat and chest just from thinking about it.
Suzuki wasn't as touched by the situation as Toshinori was; as was his wont, he put aside the emotional considerations and offered what he thought was the most logical course of action. “We'll have to pay him off,” he muttered, staring off into the middle distance somewhere beside Toshinori. “If he knows, it won't be long before the media knows, unless we get him to sign a non-disclosure agreement. I'll call up Sameka and get her to draft us one tonight. A four year stipulation... no, six would be better. I think you can afford it.”
He had his phone halfway to his ear before Toshinori could grab it out of his hand and end the call. “Wait. A non-disclosure agreement? That's going a little far. I don't think we need to pay him off.”
“I'd rather not resort to blackmail,” Suzuki said, reaching for his phone (but failing to take it, as Toshinori evaded him).
Toshinori scowled at his manager. The man was as shrewd as ever. “I'm not going to blackmail him either,” he said. “I don't want to scare him off! You're taking this too seriously.”
“Just seriously enough, I'd say.” Suzuki snatched his phone out of Toshinori's hand, but luckily didn't try to dial his lawyer again. “This isn't something you can just charm your way out of, Toshi. You can't just grin at a high school kid and ask nicely for him not to tell everyone he knows that he's All Might's soulmate. You really think he's going to keep this a secret for the next five years without some kind of legal agreement?”
Honestly, Toshinori hadn't really thought about how long they'd keep it a secret. Until Izuku was an adult seemed logical, but... “That's a long time to keep a relationship a secret,” he said. “I'll talk to him about it, but I don't think we need to involve Sameka.”
Suzuki gaped at him, and for a moment Toshinori wondered if he'd accidentally been speaking in English or something because his manager seemed confused. “A relationship? Toshi. Are you honestly thinking of pursuing this kid?” He looked like he couldn't fathom the idea.
Toshinori couldn't fathom not pursuing Izuku. ('Pursuing' did make it seem a little one-sided though, and he was pretty sure it wasn't.) Since both Izuku and his mother had given him permission to stay in their lives, the idea had solidified in his head to the point that the thought of putting his soulmate aside for four or more years made him almost physically sick. (He didn't know what he'd have done if Inko really had wanted him to stay away. It would have been rough.) Still he wasn't sure what kind of relationship he and Izuku were going to have, but it was going to be some kind of relationship, for sure. He wasn't going to break off all communications with him just to avoid a scandal that would probably find some way of popping up anyway.
“I've already talked to him and his mother. We're going to give it a try.”
Drawing a loud breath through his nose, Suzuki gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment. “This is a nightmare, Toshi. The media's been thinking you're asexual for years. How am I supposed to tell them you're fucking a teenager?”
Crudeness aside, there were so many things wrong with that. The assumption that the first thing soulmates would want to do when they met was have sex was offensive in general; that Suzuki thought he'd go so far with a kid he hardly knew was... more telling of the man's pessimistic personality than it was anything about Toshinori. And the fact that Suzuki thought he'd, what? Have a one-night-stand with Izuku and then bribe him to silence? He really hoped that wasn't the sort of person his manager thought he was.
“I'm not,” he said, in response to Suzuki's accusation, hoping his ears weren't as red as they felt. “And even if I was, it's not the media's business.”
“It's my business!” Suzuki yelled. “That's what you pay me for! And who cares that it's not the media's business? You know they'll make it their business as soon as they get wind of it. And no, look, I don't care who you're sleeping with, Toshi, you know I don't. I only care that it's going to affect your image.”
If nothing else, it was true that this was Suzuki's job, so Toshinori tried not to let himself get upset over it. Sighing, he went to make himself a cup of coffee too; if Suzuki was going to be up all night, he probably would as well.
They sat down together on the couch as Suzuki typed notes on his phone in a frenzy. “I'm happy for you, Toshi,” he said, in a tone that sounded like, 'I'm not a cold-hearted bastard, I swear'. “I just don't want this to get out of hand, so we need to be on the same page.”
So Toshinori spent the last few hours of his day (which had been, otherwise, a pretty fantastic day) relating the details of the afternoon to his manager and discussing how they were going to handle it.
“If you're set on going through with this, we should make a press statement as soon as possible, and get the Midoriyas to sign an agreement letting us handle it.”
Toshinori shook his head. “I don't want to go public,” he said. “Not yet.” He'd just met Izuku; he wanted them to have a little time to get used to each other before they had eyes watching their every move. He wanted for them just to be regular soulmates (as regular as they could be at their ages, at least), and get to experience each other without looking over their shoulders all the time. He'd never regretted being a hero before, but this feeling came awfully close.
“Hmm, yeah, I guess not,” Suzuki agreed, and Toshinori was surprised by his uncommon empathy before he realized the man had a more logical reason for it. “That wouldn't work with your secret identity. You're at about six hours max these days, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” Toshinori nodded and felt a little dumb that he hadn't even considered that particular limitation. Suzuki was right, though. If they came out and told the press that Izuku was All Might's soulmate, that would trap them in a position where they could only see each other when he was in his powered form, or risk exposing his weakness, and he couldn't do that yet.
“And how's your search going?” Suzuki asked, his thoughts in line with Toshinori's (at least for now).
“Nothing, so far,” he said.
Suzuki grumbled, but he didn't seem surprised or particularly upset at Toshinori. “Right. So we'll have to keep this a secret until you've trained up a successor, at the very least. Ahh, this is going to be fun.”
Toshinori agreed with the sarcastic statement, though he was at least moderately more optimistic about the situation than his manager was. There was still a slight tingling throughout his body that hadn't been there before, a full-body memory of another person, and it was pleasant and warm and made him itch to be near Izuku again. Even if public relations turned into a full-on fiasco, he didn't think he'd regret this feeling.
Luckily, Suzuki didn't feel the need to stay all night, and he left Toshinori alone after getting him to promise that he'd: a. be careful, and b. get the Midoriyas to sign some damn papers for them because, “Look, it's not personal. This is standard procedure for heroes' soulmates, okay? It's just as much for their safety as yours.” Generally speaking, Toshinori hated dealing with paperwork (that was why he had a manager), but in this case he'd much rather be the one to convince Izuku to sign something than let Suzuki do it and risk scaring the poor boy to death.
He took a few minutes to clean up after Suzuki finally left, turning off the coffee pot and washing a couple dishes while his frayed nerves settled. Then he wandered off towards bed, where he finally had the chance to look at his messages. There were several from Izuku, as he'd expected. The earliest had come in around 10pm, at which point Toshinori had been in the middle of explaining things to his manager and had to try to studiously ignore a very distinct feeling pooling warm in his gut. The message had been far more innocuous, just a simple |Good night|, and he couldn't help but wonder if it had been a precursor to Izuku's actions, or an epilogue. And if it had come afterward, had he sent it cheerfully sated, or in bashful apology? (Or perhaps innocently unaware? He thought not; they still didn't know each other very well, but he'd already gotten the impression that Izuku was too clever for that.)
The second message was a little over an hour later: |Can't sleep|, it read, and he was glad it hadn't accompanied another round of youthful nighttime activity, because he remembered being a teenager and, furthermore, he'd known Izuku longer than he'd known him, and a second round was absolutely within the realm of possibility. Normally Toshinori would be in bed by then (or alone, at least), so it didn't usually bother him if his mate had his way with himself a couple times. He'd come to expect it, and sometimes plan his own schedule around it; honestly he felt sort of guilty, engaging in that sort of behavior when he knew the one receiving the echoes of it was decidedly underage, but at least if he was going to do it he thought doing it around the same time wouldn't be too disrupting. (And he wasn't nearly as beset by hormones as he had been when he was younger, or as Izuku clearly was now, so he didn't do it all that often anyway, relatively speaking.)
|Can't sleep| was followed by a more verbose text, a few minutes later. |Sorry. I hope I'm not bothering you. I just can't believe this isn't a dream.| Toshinori smiled, quite in agreement. That message had been only forty minutes ago. He wondered if it was too late to text back. He didn't want to keep Izuku up on a school night, but then he supposed he already was, and maybe getting a response would give the kid enough closure to rest.
|You're not bothering me, don't worry. I feel the same.|
The response came quickly, not as if Izuku had been waiting for it, but like he had his phone nearby. |Really? I meant it in a good way though|
Toshinori mentally shook his head at the kid's self-depreciation. He wasn't sure if Izuku was joking around or if he really thought Toshinori wasn't ridiculously excited about this whole thing. He thought it was pretty obvious when they touched, the way the sheer joy they felt echoed between them. He texted back, |Me too| and added a |=]| for good measure.
They chatted back and forth for a few minutes, nothing consequential, before Toshinori remembered the promise he'd made to Suzuki. |If you're not busy tomorrow after school, do you want to meet for lunch?|
To which Izuku responded very quickly, |Yes please!|. He couldn't have taken more than a split-second to think about it. Then again, Toshinori rightly thought that maybe even that was more than he needed.
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