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Toshinori wasn’t exaggerating when he said everyone had a crush on him at school. Well, okay, there were some people who were immune to his charms (thankfully), but the general population of U.A. seemed to adore him for one reason or another.
“I saw him rescue a cat from a tree!” Toshinori’s heard.
“Have you seen his muscles!” He’s also heard.
“He gave me advice in the gym and helped me talk though that really complex assignment I had due the next day,” was another Toshinori had heard too.
It was nice, really, to be respected and admired, though it sometimes was taken a little too far. Like now.
Resting his head against the wall of the music room he’d managed to sneak into, Toshinori let out a breath he’d been holding as a stampede passed the closed door. He’d tried about twenty different classrooms and, unsurprisingly due to the late hour, they’d all been locked. Luckily for him, Toshinori had struck gold eventually.
There was the scrape of a chair and Toshinori looked up in alarm, ready to bolt if it was another member of his fanclub. It wasn’t, and Toshinori relaxed as he took in the rumpled appearance of a dark haired first year.
“Sorry, sorry,” Toshinori began, opening his arms and smiling. “I just had to hide from… them…”
The first year blinked and shrugged. In one smooth move he’d placed his arms on the desk, head pillowed on them, and looked ready to fall asleep.
“Were you sleeping in here?” Toshinori couldn’t help but ask, and the first year let out a sigh.
“Was being the key word,” he said, and he looked back up at Toshinori, eyes narrowed.
Was this the Sleeping Prince Toshinori had heard rumours about?
“Then I really am very sorry,” he said, and the Sleeping Prince grunted, resting his chin on the desk, arms flopping underneath.
“You might as well sit down. I heard they were going to stay on campus until it got dark to trap you. Not even All Might could outwit those groupies.”
“I’d prefer if you called me Yagi,” Toshinori said, taking the advice and sitting in one of the seats. It was a small classroom, big enough for Toshinori to cross in perhaps five or six long strides. They had a good view of the sunset, though, at least.
“Aizawa,” was the reply, and Toshinori nodded. Not such a sleepy prince, if he was willing to offer up his name again. Unless, of course, he was part of the fan group. It was a possibility, though not one Toshinori’s instincts thought true.
“It must be difficult to put up with hoards of fans like that,” Aizawa said, and Toshinori gave a weak laugh.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, stretching his legs out and leaning back in his chair. “It’s part of being a hero though, right? I want to be the greatest hero too, so if I have to deal with fans, I better get used to it.”
Aizawa looked at him with his head tilted, as if he wanted to reply with some scathing comment. He looked down though, and Toshinori thought he saw the barest tinge of pink to his cheeks. His stomach dropped, and he swallowed thickly.
It seemed Aizawa wasn’t someone who fell into the category of being unaffected by Toshinori. Still, he was behaving himself and it was only Toshinori’s habituation with people crushing on him that he’d picked up on the fact Aizawa had a crush at all. It is still odd to think someone so young likes him, but there’s a lot to like in someone aspiring to be number one, truth be told.
“When I graduate I’m going underground,” Aizawa said, laying his head back on the desk, turned away from Toshinori and to the window. “No fans, less hassle, and I can sleep all day.”
“It takes all of us to protect the world,” Toshinori said. “I admire you for that. A lot of people are in this for the glory.”
Silence fell over them, and Toshinori was content to watch the sun set. He could hear even breaths from Aizawa’s desk, and he figured he must have fallen asleep. He smiled, eyes falling on the blanket pooled around Aizawa’s feet, and he rose quietly.
It was easy to pick the blanket up and drape it over Aizawa’s shoulders, and Toshinori rested a hand lightly on the top of his head for a moment. He looked so young, with so much potential, and Toshinori hoped he would cross paths with Aizawa in the future.
“Thank you for the company and refuge,” Toshinori said quietly, and then he was off, swinging his bag onto his shoulder and closing the door softly behind him.
He figured he’d head for the roof and try out a move he’d been practicing, using his powers to jump through the sky. Nana would be mad at him if he missed dinner, and Toshinori was already pushing it by hiding for so long. A quick jump and he’d be home.
.
“Hey, hey, hey buddy!” a loud voice said as Toshinori exited the lunch hall, tray in hand. He’d been yearning to sit out in the sunshine for a bit, particularly as all his classes today were inside, winding down for their final exams and graduation. It was important but terribly boring.
“Buddy, pal, All Might,” the voice continued, a first year practically dancing around Toshinori as he walked. “A little bird told me you locked yourself in Eraser’s sleeping tomb and lived to tell the tale!”
His hands moved as he spoke in what looked like sign language. The moment he had finished saying what needed to be said, though, the first year’s hands began to cut through the air in what Toshinori could only describe as strange dance moves, there to grab attention.
“And so I thought to myself, Mic, that I should come check up on you, make sure you really did live to tell the tale, but also that you lived up to your shining reputation and didn’t take advantage of some who is cleeeeeeearly,” the kid drew the word out and then paused, eyes darting around them as he edged right up to Toshinori’s arm, “smitten with you.”
He patted Toshinori’s arm and took a step back when he’d finished, and Toshinori made a very conscious decision not to drop his lunch in shock.
“Excuse me?” he said, hardly able to believe that a first year was scouting out his honour in the name of his friend. “That you would even think that is-“
“No, no, no, no!” the kid – Mic? – said, shaking his head wildly. “I just wanted to check. I didn’t think it, but someone’s got to look after that idiot, and the duty falls to me!”
Toshinori’s shoulders relaxed, and he sighed.
“I know it’s weird right now because you’re gonna graduate soon, and he’s only a first year, but keep your mind open for the future, right? Shota’s a catch, and I promised him I’d find him a decent husband before he’s 40 or I’d marry him myself.” Mic’s eyes widened and he drew closer again, whispering conspiratorially.
“I can’t marry him because he’s obsessed with cats and I’m allergic and neither of us will compromise, so I have to keep my vow, you see?” Mic beamed and then he was waving, skipping off down the hall.
“That was odd,” Toshinori admitted to himself, and wondered if, perhaps, this was a strange dream brought on by graduation stress. It was entirely possible, but then a classmate approached him, wondering if Present Mic (as he apparently preferred to go by) had been bothering him.
“Not at all,” Toshinori said, finding amusement in the situation.
His classmate joined him as he walked outside, and Toshinori waved to a small group of their friends, moving to sit with them. They began discussing their afternoon, and Toshinori found he could only half-focus on what was being said, mind turning over his encounter with Mic.
How lucky Aizawa was, he thought, to have a friend willing to defend his honour no matter what.
It brought a smile to Toshinori’s lips as he ate, and he felt excitement stir in his belly at the thought of what great heroes those young men were growing up to be.
.
Toshinori didn’t actually see Aizawa or Mic (who he’d learnt was called Yamada, though only the teachers call him that at the moment) properly until the graduation ceremony. He’d caught glimpses of them in the hallway every now and then, but they were all too busy preparing for the end of their respective years.
He was good at hiding it, but Toshinori was nervous. He was still far from making his debut, and Nana still had so much to teach him, but he’ll be out in the real hero world now. He was going to make his mark on the world, save those who needed him, and Toshinori couldn’t wait to get started.
Graduation found him hiding again, though this time from Gran Torino. He’d been promised a lecture on how reckless he was on his final exam, but if Toshinori waited an hour or so, he’ll be able to slip away and straight to Nana’s, where he can endure the lecture peppered with her jokes. Gran Torino’s lectures ft. Nana were always the better option.
It was on a whim that Toshinori returned to Aizawa’s music room. He didn’t expect to find him there, but when Toshinori opened the door, two heads turned to him, one lighting up as if it was his birthday and the other looking away hurriedly.
“All Might! All Might! All Might!” Mic called, clapping his hands as he spoke, and then he settled, throwing a sly smile Aizawa’s way. “We figured you’d have some big plans for tonight. I know a lot of your class are out celebrating, aren’t they?”
Toshinori nodded. “I’m apprenticing from tomorrow so thought it best to have an early night.”
He realised that didn’t explain why he was loitering here, though.
“I’m avoiding Gran Torino,” Toshinori explained, shrugging his shoulders and smiling. “He didn’t like some of my techniques in the exam.”
“So you’re hiding,” Mic said, pulling an impressed face. “Want to play cards? Shōta usually sleeps, so I never get to play.”
It wasn’t how Toshinori expected his final day at U.A. to go, but playing cards with first years was nice. Mic kept up an almost constant stream of chatter, clearly pleased to have someone to bounce off of and question in Toshinori, and even Aizawa seemed comfortable, snoring slightly into the wood of his desk.
“Thank you,” Toshinori said when he headed out. “It’s been a pleasure spending time with you. I hope to see you soon!”
It was a generic goodbye. Mic seemed to appreciate it, but there was something in Aizawa’s eyes, something a little sad and dying. Toshinori tried to crush the guilt in him that he’d caused the reaction, and he couldn’t help but lay a hand on Aizawa’s head, smiling down at him. There was no harm in a crush, and if Aizawa felt disappointment his crush wasn’t proclaiming true love and whisking him off into the world then, well, he’d hardly be the first.
“We’ll race you to the top spot, yeah!” Mic said with a laugh, and Toshinori smiled back.
He didn’t say anything else, striding onwards to the future. He had a world to change, a title to earn, and a duty to change his dreams into reality.
.
When Toshinori had first travelled to America, he’d assumed jet lag would be nullified by One for All. In the time he’d spent over there, he’d clearly forgotten that it wasn’t nullified even a hint, so when Toshinori returned to Japan and found himself caught up in heroics pretty much the moment he stepped off the runway, he was not pleased about the jet lag crushing him.
“Shit,” Toshinori groaned, head throbbing as he began picking rubble aside, looking for survivors in the remaining wreckage of the airport terminal. He began collecting bodies, all alive thankfully, draping them over his shoulder carefully, smile plastered on his face.
It wasn’t the worst act of heroics he’d performed – there was that one time after his 25 th birthday when Dave threw a ridiculous party that left him hungover for a week. Heroes never stopped, and that week had, of course, been busier than any other week.
Jet lag was what Toshinori blamed for his slightly dull senses, and he would have been screwed if not for some timely back up. One of the villains who had helped in destroying the terminal had been about to shoot something towards Toshinori. He’d realised too late, turned and prepared to jump, but whatever was supposed to come of the villain’s chest… didn’t.
“We’ve got your back!” someone shouted, and Toshinori saw a figure in the distance. A voice quirk? Toshinori nodded and continued working, stacking victims up on his shoulders and beginning the task of delivering them to the emergency services.
More heroes poured onto the scene, though they all deferred to Toshinori. It was a strange feeling, to be on home soil and already treated with respect, and he hoped he could send each of the heroes here a fruit basket as a token of gratitude.
It wasn’t until the moon was high in the sky that the mission was called to an end. All of them had combed through the rubble, and the villains were apprehended. There were no fatalities, miraculously, and the press had caught wind that Toshinori was a big shot over in America. They began calling his name, and Toshinori waved, smiling politely but declining an interview. He wasn’t even in his hero suit!
“I’ll take this one,” a familiar voice said, and Toshinori had a moment to catch Present Mic’s wink before he was performing for the crowd. His hand jerked behind him, gesturing Toshinori and toward a pile of rubble, and Toshinori realised Mic was offering him a way out. And a reunion.
“I take it that was your handiwork back with the villain?” Toshinori said as a greeting.
Scruffier, a hell of a lot wearier, and incredibly handsome in a rugged sort of way, Aizawa crossed his arms over his chest, nodding tightly.
“Thank you,” Toshinori said, and Aizawa opened his mouth, closing it a second later.
“Follow me,” he said, and began leading them away from the scene. It gave Toshinori the chance to study him, decked in black with an interesting looking scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked the part of an underground hero, that was for sure, and Toshinori was glad he made it.
The fact he said that aloud was definitely attributed to the jet lag.
“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” were the first words out of Aizawa’s mouth when they got to somewhere a little more private. It was, in truth, a car hire garage, but it would do.
“Reservations at a hotel, at least until I can invest in an actual office.” Toshinori smiled softly as he met Aizawa’s eyes, his goggles slipped under his scarf. “I’m moving back permanently. I’ve missed home a little too much.”
It was a truth of sorts. Aizawa looked down, nodding sharply, and Toshinori wondered…
“I hope to see you soon, then,” he said, bluntly, eyes darting up and then back down. “It’s been nice seeing you,” he finished, and then, to Toshinori’s surprise, his scarf wound round his fingers, the length of it stretching up. Aizawa followed it smoothly, and Toshinori was transfixed as he watched Aizawa manoeuvre through the world by a simple scarf.
“Wow,” he said to himself, scratching the back of his head.
Hope to see you soon again indeed , he thought.
.
“This has gotten ridiculous, and I wanted to make it clear to you that I have nothing to do with the situation,” Aizawa said, and Toshinori felt like laughing. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glued to Toshinori’s window, hands clenched at his side.
“It’s really-“
“I told Hizashi to stop meddling, that you’re a busy man and just because we went to school together doesn’t mean he has a right to send you stuff like that with my name on it .” If Aizawa could be breathing fire, he would be spitting smoke right now.
The items in question consisted of a bunch of roses (in a vase on Toshinori’s desk), a heart-shaped box of chocolates (the top tray had already been eaten and Toshinori was considering cracking into the second tray when Aizawa left), a teddy bear wearing a t-shirt with a heart printed on it (cute, not Toshinori’s style, but he’d keep it anyway), and a book of love poems. He hadn’t had a chance to read the poems yet, on account of Aizawa bursting in and practically accosting the delivery kid, but he was looking forward to reading the book in the bath.
“I am deeply sorry, Yagi-san, for crossing the line. Hizashi shouldn’t have sent those gifts, they are wildly inappropriate.” Aizawa seemed as though he’d just carry on, and Toshinori tilted his head, considering his options.
Jumping in head first sounded like the right course of action this time.
“Does it bother you the gifts were sent, or that it was Hizashi who just stuck your name on them?” Toshinori asked, and Aizawa stumbled, eyes flickering to meet his. He looked shocked.
“There’s only one way to settle this I suppose,” Toshinori said, tapping his chin as he pushed away from his desk. Aizawa held steady as he approached him, glad the delivery kid had shut the door behind him as they’d scarpered.
“Close your eyes,” Toshinori said, smiling slightly at the defiance that crept into Aizawa’s eyes.
“Why?” he asked, and Toshinori shrugged.
“Just close them,” he said, and Aizawa’s eyes dropped down, to his lips and then the floor.
“Fine,” he grumbled, and Toshinori moved slowly, the back of his knuckles smoothing against Aizawa’s jaw, against the stubble on his cheek and over his cheekbone.
Aizawa lent into his touch, and while his eyes moved, he kept his eyelids tightly shut, wrinkles appearing between his eyebrows at the effort. Toshinori’s hand crept to smooth his fingertips into Aizawa’s hair, closing the space between them with no resistance.
Aizawa’s lips were chapped but warm. He kissed so tentatively, as if he couldn’t believe what Toshinori was doing, and pulled back after just a moment.
“Don’t pity me,” he said, and Toshinori shook his head, other arm slipping around Aizawa’s sternum, drawing him closer.
“This isn’t to save Mic from sneezing over his adopted future children,” Toshinori promised, and realised he’d probably have to explain that once he’d finished kissing Aizawa properly, judging by the look on his face. “Or some chance to give you what you’ve always wanted. It’s something I wanted to do right now.”
It wasn’t a declaration of love or a promise of a future together. Toshinori knew they needed to work out a fair amount, more than an average couple on account of their hero personas, but it was something.
And, as Aizawa grinned, hooking a leg behind Toshinori and pulling him down for a deeper, electrifying kiss, Toshinori found himself thinking that this something could, quite easily, become his everything.