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Shouta wakes abruptly to find himself in one of the top 100 most uncomfortable napping positions: feet planted flat on the floor, body tilted sideways laid flat across the backseat of the car. He must have tilted the wrong way and ended up leaning towards the center of the vehicle and away from the window. He sits up gingerly and massages the cramp in his waist, slipping on his sunglasses against the bright glare outside.
The car is empty, but he can see Hizashi out front, perched on the hood and reading a magazine, so he opens the door and clambers out.
"Hey, sleeping beauty woke up!" says Hizashi when Shouta leans next to him. His magazine is written in Korean and there are a number of brightly dressed people on the cover, presumably musicians. The whole front spread is eye-wateringly bright even through the dimness of Shouta's dark-lensed sunglasses.
Shouta grumbles in acknowledgment. "How long have we been on the ferry?"
"Forty minutes or so," Hizashi says. "You missed getting on, it was a hassle. We've got a few hours until Yakushima if you wanna nap more."
Shouta does want to nap more because he’s still tired, but he doesn’t want to admit it just yet. "Where's Yagi?" Shouta asks next.
Hizashi gestures across the deck. The sea is calm and the boat is crowded, but Toshinori's bright head of hair, a good half meter over most others, is easy to pick out.
"He's been cornered by a fan with a life story," Hizashi confides. "I made my escape as soon as she came over, but he's too nice. He'll be there till we dock if he's not careful."
Shouta squints across the deck. Toshinori is never careful and would seemingly rather die than cause any offense. Shouta starts towards him with purpose. It’s easy to tell what’s going on once he’s several meters away; the woman talking to him is expounding at length about her troubled relationship with her parents. Toshinori looks half sympathetic and half awkward. Shouta comes up behind them, hooks his arm through Toshinori’s, and nods to the woman unceremoniously.
“We need to go,” he says. Leaving it at that, Shouta tugs Toshinori away.
Toshinori waves as he’s pulled off, probably trying to smile sympathetically, but as soon as they’re out of earshot he lets out a sigh of pure relief.
"You've saved me," he says, sounding relieved. "She was very nice, but…"
"She told you all about her bad family life?" Hizashi offers as they approach.
"How did you know, Mic?" Toshinori asks, looking surprised.
Hizashi shrugs. “I get it all the time, man. Calls into my show. Emails to my work address. People just telling me their deep dark secrets without so much as a ‘hey what’s up?’ Sometimes it feels like I’m just a convenient box for other people’s angst, you know? A stranger who they wanna think of as their friend because I make media. Sometimes I wanna tell them to get therapy, but I think that could be rude. I figured it might be similar for Mr. Big Hero, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Toshinori sighs. “It’s like they don’t think of me as a real person, with real feelings. I don’t know what to do about it, though.” He hunches over in that peculiar way he has, fiddling with his long fingers.
“Yep,” Hizashi nods. “People tell Shouta stuff too, but not like this. Right, Shoucchan?”
Shouta leans against the car next to Hizashi and shrugs. “It’s different,” he says. “I just talk to people. They know they can trust me, and they know me. They’re coming to me for concrete help, not just venting.”
“He’s approachable ,” says Hizashi. He waves a hand vaguely at Shouta. "He's relatable . No hero shine."
"At this point," laughs Toshinori, "I'm possibly one of the least approachable people in the world."
Shouta falls asleep in the back of the car again before the ferry docks, eventually waking when they pull into the hotel parking lot in Anbo Town. The abrupt lack of car-shuddering vibrations from the heavy bass featured in Hizashi's favorite songs is as good as an alarm clock.
Toshinori and Hizashi, in the front seats, bend almost immediately over a map, their heads together, Toshinori tracing one long, thin finger over the paper.
"We could visit the museum, too," he's saying. "The sea turtles aren't hatching this time of year, but there are a few beautiful waterfalls we could see."
"I'm all for the indoors," Hizashi says. "We should ask Shouta if he wants to see the waterfalls, though."
"I do," Shouta says. Both of the others start. "Any waterfall is fine."
Shouta’s sure they're marked on the map, but complicated diagrams and other things which require making sense of small markings have been hard for him to read since his USJ head injury. He's not about to go over there and try to pick any specific landform out.
“You don’t wanna pick?” Hizashi asks. “Nothing special about any of them?”
Shouta shakes his head and unlatches the car door.
"I checked in," says Toshinori as he climbs out. "Here's the keycard."
Shouta takes it.
Shouta ends up hauling all of the bags upstairs while the other two pore over their itinerary. They ask for his opinion as he opens and closes the trunk of the car several times, and he expresses his interest in hiking and lack of interest in tourist-trap trawling.
The hotel room has two beds. Shouta and Hizashi share one without needing to have a discussion, as is usual in these situations; they've been bedfellows of various sorts for years. For a brief moment, it looks like Toshinori is about to ask if he can join them, but then he sighs and places his BiPAP ventilator machine on the bedside table of the opposite bed, plugging it in to start charging before night comes and he needs mechanical help to breathe.
Shouta feels a little something deep in his chest. After some examination of whatever emotion he might be having, he decides that he’s disappointed , but he supposes that there just might not be enough room for three larger-than-usual men in one hotel twin-size.
It's fine.
The hike purportedly takes about a day to complete, so they're all up early the next morning, a fact which Shouta finds incredibly unpleasant. Hizashi is also not used to early mornings, but sleep deprivation turns him into a kind of frantic beast of hypomanic energy, meaning he's zipping around and talking with his mouth full while Shouta's still trying to get his eyes and brain to work together again.
Hizashi will almost certainly crash spectacularly later but that's a problem for Future Shouta; current Shouta has to get his bearings and not fall asleep again on the bus.
The early morning mist is chilly and the air has that crisp clarity Shouta associates with getting out of the city and that particular pre-dawn atmosphere. He's fine in his heavy handmade sweater, nice and toasty, but he sees Toshinori shiver.
At the Arakawa trailhead, Shouta pulls on thick woolen socks and shoves his feet into his hiking boots before lacing them up tightly and stomping a few times to get his feet settled. His boots are worn-in and well-used; Toshinori’s are in about the same shape, old and loved. Hizashi's are only lightly used; he says they give him blisters, and he refuses to listen to Shouta telling him that it's important to break hiking boots in before wearing them on long walks.
"You should wear them around your apartment," Shouta had told him. "Bend them back and forth a lot. Break them in . You'll get more blisters if you don't. You need to mold them to your feet."
Hizashi had summarily and cheerfully ignored him.
This would also be a problem for Future Shouta. For now, he's got his boots on and a backpack in which he's collected snacks and everyone's rain gear.
"I know the way," says Toshinori, and then shuffles his feet a bit, embarrassed. "I mean," he says, "It is mostly just boardwalks and trails. And the first part's easy. But, what I meant is, you don't have to look at a map. You can follow me."
"Lead the way!" cheers Hizashi.
Shouta looks around. There's excellent signage in several languages and the path could not be clearer. There's really no need whatsoever for a guide. It's not particularly logical to follow someone, but it will make Toshinori feel better.
"Let's go," he says, in lieu of commenting on any of that. He hefts his backpack over his shoulders and gestures vaguely forward, and Toshinori gives him a brief bright smile and starts off.
Shouta and Hizashi trail behind him like ducklings. Hizashi vibrates more than he walks, and Shouta has to redirect him several times. It reminds him vaguely of herding his students along and makes a mental note to maybe take another field trip.
The kids need positive associations with areas of past trauma, he thinks. It's possible that many of them now struggle with forests, but returning to the USJ seemed to help their fear surrounding that structure. He’s not about to head back out to the Pussycat’s privately owned land, but there’s always parks.
Nature is calming, for many people. It reminds you that you are, ultimately, very small.
Shouta thinks that maybe that's why Toshinori likes it so much. They are all tiny creatures to the universe.
It’s nice to not have anyone to save for a while.
Toshinori is usually able to keep his steps shorter than his natural stride. It’s necessary, for someone with legs as long as his, so that he can walk and talk with someone at the same time without shooting too far ahead. Shouta and Hizashi, who are both taller than most civilians but fairly short for heroes, have similar skills, slowing down or speeding up as necessary.
Additionally, walking slowly is essential as a teacher, especially for early high school children not yet grown. Teachers must be especially on the lookout for the ones that lag behind, whether due to short legs or for purposes of mischief and misbehavior. The latter is unfortunately quite common for hero students.
They have the skills, but it seems like none of them are using them at the moment. Toshinori is far ahead, his long legs eating up the distance easily, and he keeps having to stop and decide whether to wait for them or turn around and come back before heading forwards again. It’s like he’s a very enthusiastic puppy, running ahead but not wanting to leave anyone behind.
Hizashi, on the other hand, is lagging. He’s never been the most athletic of heroes, although his slim frame and impractical clothes belie his strength and a certain necessary ability to move quickly when the situation demands it of him. He’s been excited about this trip because someone he cares about is, and without that sort of feedback loop he’s not at all interested in nature.He feeds off enthusiasm, and without any positive emotion immediately nearby, he wilts quickly.
It’s all incredibly annoying. Shouta, somewhere in the middle, can hear him grumbling, and he’s afraid Toshinori will tire himself out and they’ll have to find a way to get a large limp celebrity back from a day hike without allowing him to convince himself he’s a burden or attracting unwanted attention.
The next time Toshinori decides to walk all the way back to where Shouta is instead of just waiting for him to catch up, Shouta snags him. He looks down at Shouta’s hand on his wrist and then back at his face and smiles, eyes curving upwards, and they both wait until Hizashi’s level with them.
The path has gotten rather steep, and although it's still drizzling rain they're all sweating in the midday relative heat. Toshinori—who has his bangs looped back into a ponytail— has a drop of water running off the end of his nose, and wisps of hair have escaped Hizashi's braids and stuck to his face. Shouta knows he's not much better, the humidity of the subtropical air turning his usual wave into curls that increase his hair volume twice over.
Toshinori can be skittish around touch when his smaller form is involved, even now that his form is always small. It’s partially that he doesn’t like physical contact and partially that he’s got it ingrained in his head that he should not impose physical contact on anyone when he’s not powered up. It’s not like Shouta himself is any better, but he does like to touch people he’s close to. The interpersonal issues surrounding physical contact that he has with Toshinori is more that he knows that Shouta only likes physical contact with people he cares about and wants to give him space for that. It’s a nice thought, but it comes without him realizing that he’s actually a part of that small group.
There are some forms that are generally okay; linking arms on the ferry the previous day didn’t seem like a problem. So Shouta manhandles the other two into the position he wants, their elbows linked together, and then steps back and surveys his handiwork.
They're both smiling at him in that way which implies that he's done something amusing.
"What?" he says.
"You're so sentimental, Aizawa-kun," says Toshinori, beaming. “It’s sweet.”
"You needed to slow down, and Mic needed to speed up," Shouta huffs.
They chorus " It's only logical " with him, and then exchange looks and grin.
They're ganging up to tease him and somehow that's not awful. Shouta tries his best to retreat back into his own neck like a turtle and hustles them both forward ahead of him.
“We should keep walking if we want to finish the hike by sunset,” he says. “Let’s go, come on.”
“We have time, Eraser,” says Hizashi. “We’re not gonna get caught out in the dark. You just don’t like to be teased, I get it.”
Shouta flashes his quirk and his hat lifts with his hair, and Toshinori catches it and settles it back on his head. Hizashi laughs, and Shouta pushes them both between the shoulder blades, driving them forwards, and they start off ahead of him.
Shouta was right; they travel at a much better pace when they’re together. They chatter away in front of him, looking back periodically to check if he's following and alright. He watches for a bit and then starts to drift off into a haze of nature and exercise.
He's not thinking much as he walks, or at least not thinking in words. He lets the burn in his legs, the smell of the rain, and the sight of deer passing by take him out of the roiling anxieties that come with being away from his students.
Shouta has never actually visited the Jomon-sugi cedar tree; he likes hiking but has never really seen the point in traveling anywhere to do it, preferring instead to find whatever parks he can close to the city and wander the trails there. Hizashi is only here because Toshinori wants him to be, and has been clear about that fact. Toshinori’s the only one to have seen the tree in person, and he gets visibly more excited the closer they get. Somewhere along the path he and Hizashi have stopped linking elbows and started holding hands, and now Shouta’s the one falling behind. They both look back at him periodically, blinding grins on both their faces, the sunlight through the leaves dappling over their blond hair, and every time Shouta has to duck his face further into his neck warmer to keep his own smile hidden.
Toshinori stops, and Hizashi stops, and Shouta knows they’ve arrived. He can see some of Jomon-sugi from here, but the tree is so massive he’ll have to get closer to get the true perspective. Even now, from this vantage point, it’s awe-inspiring.
Everything feels very hushed.
“I understand,” says Hizashi, quiet for once. “I get it.”
“It’s very beautiful,” Toshinori agrees. “I’m glad I could teach you about the beauty of trees.”
“That’s not it,” says Hizashi.
Toshinori frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Understands why you brought us here, maybe,” Shouta says, coming up behind them.
Their hands unlink and he steps between them. Hizashi takes Shouta’s hand instantly. Toshinori is slower, more cautious, but as Shouta keeps looking upward he feels long fingers snake between his.
The tree is not particularly tall but it's massive , a wide, imposing giant that wears its craggy millennia with dignity.
Shouta is used to being surrounded by people who seem larger-than-life; his two companions certainly fit that bill. But they’re so small, now, together. Even surrounded by other tourists, they are small.
Eventually Hizashi says, "You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees through the desert for a thousand miles, repenting."
He's speaking slowly, as if he's translating as he goes. He does this, sometimes, for Shouta's benefit, when he wants to reference an English poem.
"Mary Oliver, right?" Toshinori says.
When Hizashi smiles at him, Toshinori replies, in the same cautious cadence,"You must love what the small animal body loves."
He pauses. "That wasn't the right phrasing," he says.
"How about 'You have only to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves?'" says Hizashi.
Toshinori nods.
Shouta says nothing. He keeps looking upwards.
The hike back is quiet and uneventful. Hizashi claims the first shower when they return to their room, and Toshinori and Shouta doze on opposite beds. Eventually, the whirring of the hairdryer shuts off and Hizashi bullies Shouta into getting clean himself, and then he sits, hair dripping onto his shoulders as it air dries, while Toshinori takes a turn in the shower. Hizashi tousles Shouta’s hair with an old t-shirt to dry it further and then scoots closer so that he can peer over Shouta’s shoulder as they scroll through the police blotters on the island hero network. None of them is particularly interested in working tonight but it’s always good to be on alert in case something terrible goes wrong.
The door to the bathroom clicks open and Hizashi raises his head from where he has his chin digging into Shouta’s collarbone.
“Hey, All Might? Ya mind bringing me a comb? Should be one on the counter,” he calls.
“Sure,” Toshinorii calls back, and emerges, his own damp hair feathering out around his ears. He hands a long-handled comb to Hizashi with a smile, and Hizashi taps it in a jaunty little rhythm on the top of Shouta’s head.
“Perfect,” he chirps, and gathers the top layer of Shouta’s hair up into a bun so that he can start working the comb through the worst tangles at the nape of his neck.
Toshinori watches them with some surprise.
“You let him do that?” he asks Shouta.
“If he doesn’t pull,” Shouta clarifies.
“Would I pull your hair?!” Hizashi asks, all overblown offense, hand clutching the comb pressed to his chest.
“No,” Shouta says. "I'd disown you if you did."
When Shouta's hair is free of knots (but still puffed up like a cloud from the humidity) and the top layer is pulled back in a small braid, Hizashi pats his head and then starts pulling the comb through his own hair, which is much less tangled.
Toshinori sits on his own bed, quiet.
"There's room," says Hizashi, gesturing at the bed. "If you want to join us."
"I don't think there is, actually," says Shouta.
Toshinori's face falls. Hizashi hisses " Eraser! " and elbows him, and Shouta elbows back.
"Let me finish!" he says. "I don't think there's room because these beds are tiny, but we can try. We could always try to shove them together, too." He turns to Hizashi. "You should say what you mean instead of implying it through untruths."
Hizashi shoves him , very slightly. "No romance in this one," he says to Yagi. "None at all."
Yagi laughs. "I don't think shoving them together is practical, either, Aizawa-kun! You're more romantic than you want to admit."
Shouta flushes and grumbles.
"It's alright," Toshinori says. "I don't sleep solidly, anyway. I'd probably keep you both up turning over all night."
Hizashi blows a raspberry at him and flounces his way over to the other bed. Toshinori looks surprised.
"Shouta got his physical contact," says Hizashi. "He doesn't mind, do you?"
Shouta shakes his head no, and starfishes out over the covers.
The other two putter around for a while, small idle things to eat up time, but Shouta simply burrows deeper into the scratchy hotel sheets and closes his eyes against the humming fluorescent lights.
He wakes several times over the night, glances over at the other bed. It's not that he minds sleeping alone, or is afraid to wake and be by himself. It's simply that he's worried that he'll wake up and people who were there before will have disappeared.
It's probably a teacher thing. Keeping children alive is much more stressful than keeping himself alive.
Each time there’s an amorphous mass of blankets, the sound of pressurized air and Hizashi muttering to himself in his dreams. Their phones, charging on the bedside tables, blink with the slow notification light of midnight emails.
Each time he closes his eyes again.
They’ve only got three days’ worth of vacation; they’re all busy, even Toshinori, who’s supposedly retired from hero work, gets a lot of requests to speak, and of course he’s still studying pedagogical theory. So in the morning they pack, and Shouta hauls all their bags downstairs again while Hizashi chats to the hotel staff and Toshinori skims the room to make sure they haven’t left anything behind. And then they’re off again, and Shouta stays awake so that he can watch the scenery pass by the road down to the ferry.
They lean on the rail and watch the foam bubble on the sea.
“Thank you for coming with me,” Toshinori tells them both. “I know it was a bit abrupt, me inviting you out here, but I had fun.”
Hizashi waves his hands in the air. “Thank you ,” he says. “Been a long time since I had a break, dunno about you.”
There's a gust of sea wind over the edge of the ferry, kicking up a bit of spray and swirling Shouta’s hair around his face. A few strands catch on the side of his mouth, in the cracked skin on his lips. He shakes his head to try to dislodge them but they’re stuck fast.
Toshinori reaches one large hand over and pauses about an inch from Shouta’s face, waiting for permission. Shouta says nothing, so Toshinori very carefully unsticks the strands from his lips.
“Better?” he asks.
He’s always asking for permission, for clarification, for validation. It’s very different from bombastic All Might, full of certainty.
Shouta smiles at him. It feels strange on his face, because he’s rather out of practice, but it’s worth it.