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Yamada Hizashi had always been quite a physical person. On top of being loud and flashy, he was prone to touch whoever was in his presence - elbow nudges, wrapping his arm around their shoulders, light, friendly punches… That was a way to show that he cared. Often, he grabbed his students by the shoulders and shook them to show encouragement. However, that was often interpreted as the opposite. It was quite hard to understand his mannerisms if one was not a close acquaintance of his or had not known him for a long while. All of his coworkers were used to this, by now. Even his boss, Mr. Principal Nezu, did not get to escape friendly pats of the head. That was just the way he worked.
However, ever since the USJ incident, this habit of his had died down drastically, and with no warning. Suddenly, unless he was hosting a filmed radio show, he didn’t gesture as much as he used to do. No more wide arms movements, no more impromptu half-hugs, no more nudges. He was still loud, he was still flashy, but now, Present Mic hardly moved anymore.
That sudden and unwarned change did not fail to startle his close friends. All Might, Midnight, and other teachers had inquired about his well being. He only dismissed them with a smile. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing!” he claimed, with the same pitch to his voice as usual.
But one person kept quiet. One person never made a single comment on it. Aizawa Shouta, former classmate, childhood friend, colleague, and closer friend than anyone else in this school - never once did he bring up how motionless Hizashi had become.
It wasn’t like things had changed between the two of them otherwise. Hizashi would go drag Shouta by his sleeping bag after class to bring him to the teachers’ office as usual, so they could grade their students’ work together and chat. That much didn’t change. And when the sports festival came, Hizashi didn’t fail to ask Shouta to be his co-presenter during the event. After all, Class-A would be put in the spotlight. It was only a normal, logical decision. Shouta wasn’t much of a talkative person, even less in public. Hizashi knew that his commentaries would be valuable and, during the event, Shouta didn’t fail to provide.
Just for his beloved listeners that could now see him, Hizashi pushed and forced his limits. He gestured wildly, slammed his hands to his soundboard, stood up quickly enough to make his chair topple over - but never once did he touch Shouta. Every move was carefully directed in a way where it would not even move a strand of his friend’s hair.
That was when Aizawa Shouta knew for sure what exactly was going on.
The sports festival over, and everyone got a well due break. Students and teachers were allowed some time off. However, Hizashi decided to stay on school ground for his entire break, with the exception, obviously, of his live shows.
On the third day of his break, Hizashi got a phone call. With a very specific tune, that he had set to a very specific person. You Spin Me Round started playing while he was nose deep in paperwork, the tip of his pencil tapping rapidly against his cheek in annoyed concentration. But the tune broke it immediately. It had been… A long time since his phone played this tune. It was a joke, between him and the caller. A decades old joke, that started when he knew he would be able to host his first radio show.
His hand was trembling slightly when he picked up the call, and his voice felt drier, weaker than usual when he answered.
“S… Shouta? You don’t usually… Call me.”
“Come to Recovery Girl’s office as soon as you can,” was the only response his friend gave him before Hizashi heard the clicking sound of an ended call.
For a moment, he stared at his phone in astonished dumbfoundment. His glasses had started sliding down his nose, and, after a good minute, a shaking hand pushed them up. Then, wasting no time, he abandoned his work, letting his pencil fall to the floor as he rushed out the teachers’ room and started running to Recovery Girl’s office. His heart was racing. There was no rush in Shouta’s voice, but there was… Something. Something he couldn’t pinpoint.
Turning the last corner, he saw the silhouette of his friend, back resting against a wall next to the office’s door, arms crossed, and Hizashi came to a sudden halt, panting. Shouta’s head turned to face him, looking tired as ever.
Careful, slow steps. Try to compose yourself, Hizashi. Why are you freaking out like this? That was what the voice in his mind was repeating. Until it hit him.
Shouta’s face was not covered in bandages anymore. Some were still visible on both hands, up to his knuckles. But his face was free. And Hizashi could notice, even with the distance, an obvious scar under Shouta’s right eye.
Before he knew it, and before Shouta could even react, Hizashi was leaping towards his friend. None of them could do anything before their bodies hit the floor, and Hizashi’s face was buried in the mess of Shouta’s hair. His arms were draped around his neck, and he held onto him like a lifeline. His headset was probably smushed against Shouta’s cheek, and his speakers poking painfully against his chest. But he couldn’t bring himself to let go.
Eventually, Shouta’s hands, that still were held up in the air in surprise, rested on Hizashi’s back. And when he realized Hizashi wouldn’t let go, he spoke.
“I’m okay now. You don’t have to hold back anymore. Everyone’s worried about you, idiot.”
A faint noise somewhere in between a choked sob and a laugh escaped Hizashi’s lips, making Shouta shudder. He hadn’t realized how close his lips were to his ear.
“You nearly died, Shouta. I saw your face. I saw your elbow rotting. You nearly died.”
The vague touch Shouta had on Hizashi’s back instantly tightened. “Of course I didn’t. You remember that promise we made, don’t you?” He could feel Hizashi nodding against his face.
“Yeah. Together until the end. And even after. Plus Ultra.”
“That’s right. Plus Ultra.”