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He definitely wasn’t agile, or particularly graceful. Hair matted against his head, long limbs moving in an uncoordinated pattern, Yagi looked more like a puppy splashing in the pool than the former number one hero.
Aizawa sat on one of the benches, hidden in the shade. His legs were loosely crossed with a forgotten book balanced on one knee. He watched as Yagi reached the opposite end of the pool and turned, swimming back toward him.
It was summer break and most of the students were visiting home or on vacations. They had the pool to themselves. It was warm enough that Aizawa wore a sleeveless shirt and pair of shorts. He briefly regretted not stealing Yamada’s sunglasses on their way out.
They should go somewhere, he thought. It didn’t have to be anywhere far away, just somewhere off campus for a day. Maybe they could take an overnight trip. Maybe they could even find a place where they weren’t All Might and Eraserhead.
They had never actually taken an overnight trip together. Not as a couple, at least. School trips didn’t count, as most of their time was spent herding students. And besides, Aizawa commended himself on his ability to keep his personal and work lives separate.
Aizawa studied Yagi as he climbed out of the pool. His white shirt clung to his skinny frame. He was gaining muscle tone; the laps were paying off. His swim shorts were red and blue. He looked like a damned flag. Aizawa snorted and feigned interest in his book as Yagi approached. He had probably read the same sentence five uncomprehending times before looking up to see Yagi grabbing a towel. He flung the cloth over his head and began drying his hair.
“Let’s go to Izu,” Aizawa suggested.
Yagi dragged the towel off his head. He wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “Izu? Like the peninsula?”
Aizawa nodded. “I thought you might like to go to the beach.”
Yagi frowned. “I would have thought you’d hate the beach.”
He did; at least, he hated tourist beaches in the summer—which was precisely what he was suggesting. What was he thinking? With a one-shoulder shrug, Aizawa responded, “it might be okay with you.” He nervously scratched behind his ear.
Yagi couldn’t lie. He would enjoy it. He’d love to see Aizawa in the sun. “Can we?” He smiled unsurely and Aizawa’s heart skipped a beat.
That was how Aizawa found himself on a train out of the city on a Tuesday morning. He sat next to the window, thankful for the shaded tint on the glass as the sun rose higher. Yagi sat next to him, long legs folded uncomfortably and sticking into the aisle. Despite his discomfort, Yagi grinned from ear to ear. Aizawa covered Yagi’s hand on the armrest with his own. Yagi turned his hand over to twine their fingers together.
Aizawa felt strange going off campus in casual clothes. His capture weapon sat hidden in their bag in case of emergency, at least. His and Yagi’s legs looked so pale poking from under their shorts. Yagi’s thin body was hidden by a T-shirt.
“Thank you, Shouta,” Yagi muttered in Aizawa’s ear. Aizawa didn’t know why Yagi was thanking him but gave a small smile in reply. Yagi went back to reading the news on his phone. Aizawa himself had a book to keep himself occupied.
The train ride only took about an hour. They rode in silence for most of the journey, not needing to say anything to one another and comfortable with the silence.
When they arrived at the station, they transferred onto a local bus to one of Izu’s popular beaches. Tourists and locals alike crowded the sand. Aizawa hesitated, but Yagi took his hand and led him a bit further down, away from the thickest of the crowds. A part of Aizawa balked at showing even innocuous affection like hand-holding in public, but this day was about Yagi, not him. He took comfort in knowing that if he pulled away, Yagi would let him without question, but he did allow the other man to lead him.
They set their towels up somewhere between a small family and a group of what looked to be college-aged women. As Aizawa busied himself with tying his hair up and applying sunscreen to his skin, he couldn’t help but notice the women out of the corner of his eye, looking over at them and whispering among themselves. They probably recognized them as heroes, he figured. Yagi’s face was fairly well known after Kamino, and the two of them attended a few interviews for LGBT-friendly news sources after coming out. He sighed and wished they hadn’t been recognized so quickly.
“They’re whispering about you,” Yagi leaned over to murmur. “They think you’re attractive.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aizawa growled in return. He smoothed the lotion over his arms and shoulders under the fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He couldn’t quite reach the back of his shoulder blades, though, and was prepared to suffer the inevitable sunburn there.
“Here, let me help.” Yagi plucked the bottle out of his hand and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers. Before Aizawa could object, he began massaging it in to the exposed skin. Yagi would never actually admit it to his lover, but aside from just enjoying the feel of Aizawa’s skin under his hands, he also felt a possessiveness welling up in his gut. It was illogical—Aizawa wasn’t even interested in women—but he wanted the simple action to stake his claim. Aizawa was his.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Aizawa shooed his hands away, a redness washing over his cheekbones. He rummaged in their bag for a pair of sunglasses and put them on.
Yagi grinned at him and applied the sunscreen to his own skin. His clothing covered more of his body, so he didn’t have a similar problem, and even if he did, he thought at this point that asking Aizawa to help would be pushing his luck. “I’m going to go to the water, okay?”
Aizawa nodded and pulled out his book.
Yagi subtly touched his leg before hoisting himself up and stretching. He almost felt younger, being here and in love. He dodged running children and made it to the tide. He stepped out just far enough for the upcoming waves to submerge his feet. As it receded, he felt his tensions fall with it. He stared out to the horizon. Gulls swooped to and fro, and occasionally, fish jumped in the distance.
He stepped further, until the water covered his ankles, and then his knees. He paused momentarily and turned back to the shore. Aizawa still had his book out but he was watching Yagi. Yagi smiled and continued to walk further out. The water soaked his shorts, submerged him up to the waist. Waves buffered his scarred abdomen. He could still feel the push and pull of the tide. The motion felt like an ablution. His body felt like it was being cleansed.
When the water came up to his shoulders, he stopped again. Taking advantage of his height, he’d left most of the other waders behind. He took a deep breath and ducked under the waves. He closed his eyes and let himself float. The world was gone; the only thing left in this solitude was his own beating heart.
His butt touched the bottom and he counted to three before standing again. He inhaled with a gasp as soon as he breached the surface. His hair covered his face. He pushed it back with a wet hand and kept breathing hard. His lung capacity would never be the same and the salt stung his eyes, but he felt good. The imagery of baptism popped into his head, and even though he didn’t subscribe to any particular religion, the sentiment of the act resonated with him at the moment.
“Toshi.”
Yagi turned and saw Aizawa wading out towards him. He stopped a few feet away, where the water came up to his chest. Yagi waded back to him.
Aizawa’s heart calmed down and he tried to mask his anxiety. He’d looked up from his book in time to see Yagi disappear quickly under the water. And while he knew the other man was probably alright, he had to check. Yagi could have hurt himself and fallen. There could have been jellyfish. A thousand possibilities ran through his head as he made his way deeper into the water, only for Yagi to come back up just in front of him. And now here he was, a dopey grin on his face. Aizawa could breathe again.
“What’s up, Shouta?”
Aizawa checked if there was anyone nearby. Seeing no one that far out in their section of the breach, he took Yagi’s hand under the water and pulled him out further, until his feet left the ground and he had to kick to keep his head above the surface. He let go of Yagi’s fingers and slipped underwater. He swam a few feet to the side and resurfaced, grinning. Sometimes, maybe he could stop being grumpy Aizawa, if only for Yagi.
Yagi chased after him. Elation felt like a drug coursing through his body. Aizawa was laughing and Yagi realized that, despite his wheezing, he was as well.
Finally, Yagi caught ahold of Aizawa. The other man’s fair was a waterlogged mess, his hairband was gone, and he looked more relaxed than Yagi thought he could be in public. Pulling Aizawa close, Yagi darted forward to kiss him. They both fell under the surface again and Yagi clawed his way back up, laughing through his coughs. The tips of his toes found the sandy ground and Aizawa used him as an anchor. He molded his body against Yagi’s, ran a hand through his wet mop of golden hair, and kissed him again. Yagi held him steady, close enough to feel his heart pounding.
People had probably noticed, but neither could find it in them to care.
Eventually, they waded back to the shoreline. Sand clung to their bodies as they sat back on their towels.
“That was fun,” Yagi commented. Aizawa nodded.
Aizawa used his towel to dry his hands off the best he could so that he could go back to reading. Yagi edged to the wet sand above the tideline and started forming shapes with his hands. The disfigured mounds weren’t sandcastles by any means, but he proudly ornamented them with shells and twigs strewn along the beach. A couple of children strayed from their watching parents to join him, patting more sand into what the imagination could call turrets and castle walls. The little girl scooped out a moat.
Aizawa smiled as he watched, happy that he’d thought to bring Yagi out here. It was good for him to get away from campus, where he’d always be All Might in some sense.
As it got later in the afternoon and they started to get hungry, they found a place to change out of their wet clothes and dry off. They had brought a plastic bag along with the expectation that their clothing may get dirty, so they stuffed the whole sandy lot into it and then back into their duffel bag. They took the train home. The bridge of Aizawa’s nose was red. Luckily, they kept burn cream on hand at the apartment. The shorter man was napping against Yagi’s shoulder, breath calm and quiet. Yagi had no idea how he would ever be able to thank him for giving him this day. It had been a long time since he’d felt so free from his own identity.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Aizawa gave no indication of hearing, but Yagi hadn’t expected him to. He thought about their day in the sun and sunk back into his seat, ready to doze as well.