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It’s dark, Toshinori thinks. His breath feels heavy in his chest, heart beating too quickly, as if he’s been fighting.
You haven’t fought for a long while now, old man.
The darkness around him feels heavy. Is he trapped somewhere? Did he fall? Did something fall onto him? There are no answers from the darkness. Toshinori struggles to remember what he was doing, where he was, who he was with. His head is clouded.It’s all too much, so he closes his eyes, though he feels like there’s something, someone, he should talk to.
He is jelly. Toshinori’s not helping anyone like this.
When he next opens his eyes, Toshinori can see the outline of someone else, a broad back and a casual stance. They feel familiar, as if they are someone who Toshinori has known for a long, long time, and he puzzles that thought over as the figure raises their arm.
The figure turns, but nothing more than a blank slate is revealed. It’s like there’s a barrier between the world Toshinori is in and the world the other figure is in, and he starts when the figure lays a hand on his shoulder. Words are murmured, but they sound thick, as if they are spoken through molasses. Toshinori has no hope of understanding them, but he nods, his chest feeling lighter as the hand moves.
It seems there is nothing else to do other than watch the figure fade into the darkness. Toshinori wonders when he’ll begin to get scared of this darkness, when the comfort fades and he realises that, wherever he is, it’s some hell.
Toshinori knows he’s not alive anymore. Or, at least, he died. In his world, with its sunlight and seasons and flowers and people. That’s not his world anymore. This, darkness all around him and comforting figures, is his world now.
It doesn’t cause him to feel anything, truth be told. This, an almost empty darkness, is what Toshinori’s spent a large portion of his life scared of, and instead it brings him nothing. It’s empty, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. He’s had his life, hasn’t he?
Toshinori finds it hard to remember.
Without realising it, Toshinori realises he must have fallen asleep again. He wakes with a start, as if someone is watching him, and he stands when he realises the person just ahead of him is in full view. They’re curled on the floor, crying, and Toshinori steps closer and closer, eyes widening when he realises he recognises this one.
“Young Midoriya,” he whispers, and the figure – Midoriya – bolts upright, eyes red raw with tears.
“All Might!” he sobs, and Toshinori’s world breaks. He smiles, feeling the darkness crack and part, and then Midoriya’s in his arms, sobbing against his chest, fists curled against him.
“There, there,” Toshinori says, holding Midoriya tightly. He doesn’t say anything else, just lets Midoriya sob it out against him, fingers digging against Toshinori’s skin until he’s all out of tears.
“All Might,” he manages, though Midoriya sounds like he’s been shouting, cursing, crying out in his world. Toshinori thinks he knows why. He thinks he knows where he is now. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
“Ah,” Toshinori begins. The rest of his words dry in his throat, never enough to comfort Midoriya. His time is up, in more ways than one, and Toshinori lets his arms tighten around Midoriya before he feels himself fading.
He didn’t even get to ask… but no. Not yet.
Toshinori doesn’t sleep this time. He’s dressed in one of his older hero outfits, from the height of his prime, before All For One was once again a painful reality. He has a cloak, and Toshinori’s missed having a cloak. It became impractical, sure, but he doesn’t need practicality anymore. Cloaks remind him of Nana, and, well.
Toshinori knows he is dead. He doesn’t remember how it happened, but he passed from the world where he gave Midoriya One For All. There’s no going back, no matter what anyone might try, but it’s not the end of the line.
Everyone’s always wondered what happens in death. Toshinori doesn’t quite think his experiences are universal, but who is he to comment. Toshinori only has one life to end, perhaps this is normal for everyone.
“You’re thinking too hard about silly things,” a soft voice says, and Toshinori turns. There’s no pull at his side, no ache in his chest, of course not. He doesn’t have a body anymore. His body’s burnt and spread to the winds.
“It’s good to finally meet you, properly,” the voice says, and Toshinori can see the owner. It’s a young man, and there’s something familiar about him. It takes him a moment, and Toshinori’s body tenses automatically.
“Thank you for stopping him,” the younger brother says, and Toshinori wishes he had a name for this man. It’s not fair to tie him to All For One for eternity, yet here they are. “Thank you for succeeding.”
Toshinori doesn’t have much to say to that. He doesn’t need thanks for something that was always going to be his duty, but he accepts it. The younger brother turns away, coughing, and Toshinori smiles.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says, and the younger brother’s eyes widen behind his fringe, as if no one has ever asked him to do such a thing before. Perhaps they haven’t. Perhaps Toshinori really is the first.
What else are they going to do.
Toshinori isn’t sure how long he listens to the younger brother for. It could be moments, it could be years. The world around them closes in on them, as if it’s supporting them. The younger brother asks about Toshinori’s life too, even though he must have seen it, or at least parts of it..
It feels like parts of his brain are locked up, memories inaccessible until suddenly they aren’t anymore. He feels like there are other parts, other people, of his life from before he should be missing, but Toshinori can’t think what they are. He remembers Midoriya and Midoriya and Midoriya and…
Was there anyone else? Was there anything else? Was Midoriya the only thing that mattered in the end?
“It’s the way this world works,” the younger brother says. They’re cross-legged before each other, sitting on the ground. He’s fiddling with his hair, eyes bright and curious as they watch Toshinori try to puzzle his life from before out.
“We’re here for the next wielder of One For All. Some of us stay here. Others go elsewhere when they can.” The younger brother tilts his head, looking away.
Toshinori doesn’t try to ask where elsewhere is. Elsewhere is elsewhere. Perhaps it means what Toshinori’s been calling sleep, perhaps it means there is an afterlife, and he’ll eventually pass on, returning here when One For All demands him. Perhaps it’s something else entirely, something that will never let him return here.
“Can I see her?” Toshinori asks the younger brother, breath hitching and hands clenching against his thighs.
“That’s up to you,” the younger brother replies, and he’s smiling sweetly. He stands, silent for a long moment, and then turns to Toshinori once more. “I’m grateful you were you,” he says, and his hand brushes the crown of Toshinori’s head before he walks away.
They’ll see each other again.
Time seems to stretch and pull tight. Toshinori spends most of it sleeping, in stasis, whatever his non-active periods here are called. It’s almost as if he’s catching up on sleep deprivation, and he wants to laugh at that. Only now, with no physical body, can he actually rest.
He meets with the younger brother frequently, and they smile together. He doesn’t see Midoriya. He doesn’t see Nana. It’s a long while before he is needed.
“Hello?” a voice says. It’s deeper and in anguish, but Toshinori recognises it right away. He runs, desperate, to get to Midoriya, and when he does, Toshinori feels a laugh escape him. He can’t help himself.
“I’m here,” he says, and he’s in the uniform he ended his career in. Midoriya is on his knees, but he looks up as if Toshinori is his beacon of hope. He is, was, and Toshinori holds his hand out, pulling Midoriya up.
“Look at you,” he says, looking Midoriya up and down. He’s grown, still a fair amount shorter than Toshinori is, but he’s bulked out. It’s perhaps ten years since he last saw Midoriya, Toshinori thinks, and he feels his eyes well with tears.
All those years he missed.
“My boy,” he says, and Midoriya rubs at his cheeks, wiping away his tears and snot. He smiles, and then he throws himself into Toshinori’s arms, squeezing as tightly as he can. “My boy! Look how you’ve grown!”
MIdoriya laughs as Toshinori can’t help himself. He picks Midoriya up in a bear hug, spinning him around, and when he sets him down he smiles wider, eyes searching Midoriya’s face for the young kid he saw through his first year at U.A.
You had more time with Nana, he thinks, and Toshinori regrets leaving Midoriya so quickly. He can help now though, and Toshinori straightens.
“Now,” he says, voice calm. These fights aren’t his, and he knows now that dying doesn’t always mean disappearing. “What have you gotten yourself into, Deku?”
Midoriya launches into the situation at a million words a minute, but Toshinori follows. There’s a situation, Midoriya can’t stop the villains, and his friends are getting hurt. He thinks a few of them might be dead already, and Toshinori winces. He remembers watching his own friends die, and he spares just a moment’s thought for Nana.
“I need help,” Midoriya says, and Toshinori understands why he’s here.
He’s quirkless. Toshinori gave everything and more to Midoriya, back in the real world. The others have quirks and advice of their own to offer Midoriya, trump cards and tricks to fight his way out of a corner. Toshinori has none of this, nothing that will give Midoriya a new power or unparalleled success. What he has is stronger, though, and he sets his hands on Midoriya’s shoulders.
“Do you remember the first day we met?” Toshinori asks, and Midoriya looks at him, frown marring his face.
“Of course, All Might,” he says, shaking his head. “But what does-“
“You didn’t stop to think. You knew what had to be done, and you did it.” Toshinori make sure Midoriya looks him in the eye before he speaks again. “You are a hero. One of the greatest. You already know what you need to do, don’t you?”
He does, Toshinori knows, and he nods, certainty settling on his shoulders. He gains confidence, raising his chin, and Toshinori sees the hero Deku, his Midoriya sinking below the surface. He’s going to win, Toshinori thinks, and he is so, so proud.
“I am proud of you, my boy,” he says, and Midoriya’s smile shakes, eyes welling up with tears once more.
“We miss you, All Might,” he replies, and then his eyes widen, as if there’s something he’s just remembering.
Toshinori expects something to do with his villains or perhaps how he can save a friend. Or perhaps something about their quirk that he’s always wanted to know, or something about one of the other previous holders. What he expects is nothing like what he gets.
“I promised Aizawa-sensei that if I ever saw you again, I’d tell you he’s sorry he wasn’t there. And that-- ” Midoriya looks down at this, and Toshinori is thankful. “-- that he loves you.”
It’s not the time for his world to crumble, not when Midoriya needs him. Midoriya came for help, and while he’s rearranged all of Toshinori’s universe with a simple sentence, he cannot repay him by giving in to the breakdown. He remains strong, a pillar, and somehow thanks Midoriya for passing the message on.
He has no reply. When he goes to speak, his words are stolen from him, and a part of Toshinori is grateful. He can’t put Midoriya in that situation, not when Toshinori knows Shōta wouldn’t appreciate it anyway. He’s long gone, dust in the wind, and he lives on in Midoriya.
“You can do this,” he says instead, and Midoriya looks at him, nodding. “And remember, I’ll always be here for you.”
Toshinori feels the world fall away from him once again, and he watches Midoriya vanish. He is ready for battle, strong and unwilling to back down. Toshinori will do all he can to support him, and he closes his eyes, pouring his love and his pride into his thoughts of Midoriya. It’s not an earth-shattering punch, but it’s what will back Midoriya up.
“You did well,” someone says behind him, and Toshinori knows two things in that moment.
One: Deku defeated the villains and saved his friends.
Two: nothing could have prepared him to meet Shimura Nana once again.
“No smile for me?” Nana jokes, and she’s crouching before Toshinori suddenly, decked in her hero costume, complete with crooked smile and half-closed eyes.
Midoriya, Shōta, Nana – it’s too much too fast. Toshinori doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he does both, frantically wiping at his eyes as he laughs. He feels hot and cold at the same time, and when he finally manages to calm himself, he’s jittery, hands shaking.
He’s slimmed down, baggy white shirt and cargo pants filling his post-All For One fight body. Toshinori wants Nana to see him as who he ended up as, to see if she can be proud of him even like this. He knows the answer, knows that should his fate end up Midoriya’s too that he could never not be proud.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come before,” Nana says, and she moves to sit beside Toshinori. The world around them changes, strangely, and they’re sitting on a grassy hill, sunlight and blue skies above them. It’s the first time Toshinori has seen something other than the darkness, and he closes his eyes to the warmth of the sun on his skin.
He’s missed this. How could he forget the sun?
“Things work strangely here. We forget ourselves when we die, and it’s our afterlife’s work to try to remember who we were.” Toshinori inhales, this time with two lungs, and he feels young again. Physically he’s unchanged.
“I couldn’t come to you until now, and you know I can’t stay. Our paths split a long time ago, and you have so many more people to share this journey with now.” Toshinori opens his eyes, and it doesn’t hurt to see the smile on Nana’s face.
She’ll be eternally younger than him, Toshinori thinks. He doesn’t think they can go beyond the moment of their death, but even if they did, Nana would still look beautiful.
“You lived well,” Nana says, and Toshinori gives a little laugh.
“I lived well,” he agrees, because he really did. He left early, that much was true, but he’d lived and he’d lived and he’d lived. He’d been on top of the world and yet still able to love and be loved. In the end, Toshinori had been surrounded by those he’d loved, and what more could anyone ask for?
“When Midoriya no longer needs you, and you’ve found the person who’s keeping you here, come to mine for dinner. We have so much to catch up on, Toshinori,” Nana says, and she flops back on the grass. There’s a breeze, and it plays with Toshinori’s hair. He inhales again, wildflowers filling his senses, and opens his eyes to see a bee fly past.
“I promise,” he replies, and he clings to the sensation of the grassy hill as it, and Nana, fade. Time’s up, she’s not who Toshinori is waiting for, she’s not the one who decides when he can move on.
Only Toshinori is the one who can decide that, and there’s more he needs to wait for.
The years flow strangely. Toshinori spends time with all users of One For All, even Nana. They never spend long together, Midoriya needing them from time to time, other times to spend in their own afterlives. He thinks all of them, save for the younger brother, can leave this space, that they have something more beyond this. Toshinori won’t know himself for a while yet, he feels that in his gut, and so he waits.
He thinks often of Midoriya, because how can he not. Although none of them can watch Midoriya’s life directly, they know what is going on instinctively. Sometimes Toshinori will wake suddenly and in terrible fear, knowing Deku is fighting a strong villain. Unless he’s called upon, though, there’s nothing Toshinori can do except wish his power to Midoriya.
Toshinori tries not to think too often of Shōta. He tries and he fails, again and again. He had the scarcest of memories of Shōta now, only a handful kicked into his mind from Midoriya’s words a long time ago, but they are enough to sustain a lifetime.
He remembers Shōta one morning when he hadn’t woken early, hair sprawled around the pillow and lips parted. He’d snored horrifically that morning, denying it when Toshinori had teased him. He remembers Shōta in hospital, bandaged and bruised. He remembers the way Shōta’s eyes lit up whenever he saw a cat. He remembers the way Shōta held him.
Toshinori can’t quite grasp the shape of his face, though. He can’t quite remember the pull of muscle on his back, or the sound of his voice. The details are fading, and Toshinori isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to pull Shōta together from his memories alone.
Midoriya is reaching the twilight years of his career when things change. He’s by no means done, but there are younger heroes to nurture, and Midoriya feels as though he has found his successor. All of them can feel it, there is a ripple through the darkness, and Toshinori thinks he can almost see blue skies sometimes.
And then Toshinori wakes to a rising sun. The darkness breaks to golden pinks, and Toshinori has never seen such a beautiful sunrise before. He can feel electricity in the air, and he wonders if Midoriya has done it.
It’s not Midoriya who stands silhouetted by the sun, though.
“I didn’t think,” Shōta says, and his words are broken as he sniffs. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
He’s older, of course, but Toshinori thinks he still looks too young to be here. Or perhaps he just wants to appear that way, Toshinori has no idea how time works here or there. It just is.
“Shōta,” he whispers, and he feels flowers bloom around them. They’re in a field, soft petals reaching Toshinori’s elbows, and his heart soars as Shōta lets his hands fall away from his face.
“Toshinori,” he says, and Toshinori understand what Nana meant. All this time, it’s been Shōta, of course. He’s been waiting for Shōta, Shōta’s been waiting for him, and not even death could stop that.
“I missed you,” Toshinori says, and he’s before Shōta now, hardly aware of moving through the sunflowers. “Oh, I missed you,” he repeats, and his hands take Shōta’s face gently. He litters Shōta’s face with small kisses, lingering on the deep crow’s feet and the frown lines, and he gives a small laugh when Shōta pulls him closer. There are tears on their faces, but Toshinori isn’t sad. He’s anything but.
They’re dead, both of them have died, but oh how they’re about to live.
“I don’t know how any of this works,” Toshinori admits, and Shōta glances up at him.
“When do you ever,” he replies, and Toshinori feels his chest tighten. He’s missed Shōta so much.
“We have an afterlife,” Toshinori says, and blinks. “And dinner plans.”
First, though, he lets Shōta pull him down, pressing their lips together as the sun fully crests the horizon. They struggled for this, fought against the world itself, and now they can rest.
Together.