Chapter Text
“Thank you for waiting! Now, how can I help you, Yagi-san?”
“Oh, good morning, Kayama-kun,” he began hurriedly, ready to apologize for pulling her aside so early in the day only to find her beaming at him, patient and willing and bright. Again, came that pinch, the flaw in his character: that of seeing happiness and not wanting to ruin it.
But it was important. It was important for Aizawa, and thus, for the two of them standing there.
“I was actually wondering if you could help me … or help Aizawa-kun, rather,” he asked mildly, trying not to let his hands wander and fret on his lecturing things and thus telegraph his anxiety as they stood awkwardly in the empty staff-room. Despite his calm tone, Kayama's expression tightened instantly, her ice blue eyes pinning him where he stood.
“Yes?” she prompted him with certain care, hands frozen on her own folders. Wondering, the same as all of Aizawa's circle must, what exactly he was doing there and what he wanted. They were so protective of him. The thought simultaneously warmed his heart and offered an impressive barrier, making him think very carefully about his next move.
Toshinori looked at the floor and tried to wonder, for the millionth time that morning, how to edit the proposition so he wouldn't give too much away. He was working two angles here – how to keep his and Aizawa's arrangement quiet, as well as not reveal his knowledge of Aizawa and Midnight. He had never been adept at subterfuge, as unflinching honesty had always been a part of his identity as All Might … Now, he had subtle lines to tread.
“You're much closer to him than I am, and I don't assume that you don't already know … but I intercepted him last night on the edge of campus and he was having a bit of trouble at a vending machine.”
Kayama frowned as he paused and Toshinori swallowed thickly, one hand going nervously to his neck. Though speaking in low tones was the only polite option here, it was impossible to shake the feeling that he was informing on his new friend.
“I asked, and he had a pack of cigarettes.”
“Oh.” Her thoughts were clearly whirling, darkening an expression of intense concentration. When she noticed him still looking, she put a manicured hand to her chin, frowning. “This isn't his first time, for that. It's … a habit he picked up.”
“Would it have anything to do with his time undercover?” he asked carefully, averting his gaze.
If Kayama was surprised that he knew about the secret, the only indication was a wary flash of her ice blue eyes.
“Yes. To blend in, or just cope. That's how it started and it only stopped when he came to teach here.” She took a deep breath and said grimly, “We were all so pleased with him.”
“Right,” Toshinori said with a firm nod, fist in his hand. “So, that said, I was hoping ...”
It was a bit bumbling trying to explain, but much to his relief she caught on immediately: if the burden of his new responsibilities had anything to do with why he was considering taking up smoking again, they could all work together to take things off his hands and stack the deck in his favor. Less stress, less motivation to smoke. Happier, healthier Aizawa.
“You're a good man, Yagi-san,” she said warmly, reaching out and shaking his enormous hand with considerable strength. Just the touch of her hand made him inexplicably shy, or just crushingly grateful in a distant, secret way. He was thoroughly dazzled and was very glad he could hide it in their current task: collaborating on strategies to lessen Aizawa's personal task load without infringing directly on a very strict man's autonomy.
They talked and offered and agreed and Toshinori could already sense her 'forceful nurturing' activating, what with the hardness in her voice and the sparkle in her eyes. The svelte, no-nonsense tone. He felt confident that this was something they could do, and succeed in, for their part. What Aizawa did with the help was up to him, but Toshinori felt good about their chances.
Then, her lips pursed and she looked aside, expression growing stormy.
“Just … please don't ask Yamada about this?”
“You would prefer it be you?” he confirmed, just to make sure. He hadn't thought so far ahead. She nodded and hesitated only briefly before seating herself on the staffroom table, lacing her hands in front of her bulky belt and crossing her legs.
“Back when Shouta went undercover, it was a hard switch. In order to protect everyone, he literally had to disappear overnight. It was too dangerous for anyone to even know where he was going, lest word spread through the hero network. He was such a staple in the underground, even then, no matter if he wouldn't admit it,” she said quietly. “He tried to let us know. He dropped hints about it for months beforehand, probably, but Hizashi ...”
“Has selective hearing,” Toshinori said, already seeing where this was going.
“Not really receptive to subtlety, as I'm sure you've noticed,” she agreed tiredly, perfectly manicured hands brushing her bangs back behind her ears and lingering on her temples, pressing. “So he walked into Shou's empty apartment and thought he'd been kidnapped or something, freaked out, and then had to be told, in the basement of the precinct HQ, by the chief of police, that he couldn't talk to his best friend for a year or more. As long as it took to take those assholes down, and Shou had agreed to that.”
There was particular emphasis on the last part, as if that had been the real betrayal.
His best friend had left, and without telling him. It was one thing to be kidnapped, it was entirely another to kidnap yourself. It could all seem a bit … underhanded, or could even a means of escape from a relationship in the eyes of someone with such perplexingly low self-confidence as Yamada, with absolutely no way of securing direct affirmation from the source. It must have been something like purgatory, waiting out that time with no guarantee of reuniting at the end.
It made Toshinori remember the way Yamada explained Aizawa's time away – that they hadn't spoken for a year or two – and how immediately he seemed to withdraw and grow anxious. It was a piteous, painful inversion of his outgoing personality, as if Yamada didn't know if he would be coming back even if Aizawa physically survived. It would be hard to believe that someone as introverted as Aizawa was a true friend if he never said so, and that separation must have brought out all of Yamada's doubts.
“His and Shouta's relationship changed entirely afterward, because it had to. No more fighting, no more sucker punching or insults, not really. They used to beat the tar out of each other, but now Hizashi just can't take the strain. He has separation anxiety, really,” Midnight continued, as if speaking his thoughts, and Toshinori could only stare as the pieces lined up in his mind.
Yamada Hizashi, the man whose joyous holler was heard by thousands on a weekly basis on Puts Your Hands Up Radio, had abandonment issues?
“I hate to pour all this out in the open, but it's necessary for you to understand, and I trust that you have our best interests at heart, hm? It's a good plan and I can guarantee Mic will go for it, but I still want to tread carefully with him. Any mention of that year, it just ...”
“It triggers him,” he offered, then wondered if he'd overstepped his bounds when she gazed at him, shocked.
“Yes,” she said, then smiled, a blossoming expression best described as bewitching. “You are quite an interesting man, Yagi-san.”
“I'm learning. An unexpected side-effect of teaching, it seems,” he said with a soft chuckle, muffling the trailing cough in his hand. Stealing a glance at the clock, Toshinori rose from his seat at the table and gave a deep bow. “I do have to get to my lecture now, but please consider me an ongoing resource for this or anything else the two of you need. You have my number. I trust you to inform Yamada-san of our plan, then, Miss Midnight.”
“Thank you, my dear,” she gushed and hopped off the table, giving him a wink as she turned. “Hi-kun hated him smoking more than anyone else so I'm sure we can pull this together in no time! We're quite the team, and now we have back-up of the mightiest sort! Now, if I can just convince him not to put this in his stupid English worksheets...”
Toshinori pretended, for the betterment of all, that he did not hear that last part, and headed to lecture with renewed confidence and a thoroughly soothed heart. Midnight could imperiously step in on his behalf anytime, he thought with a tickle of heat in his face, and hurried into the 3rd floor bathroom to transform and order his notes.
Having coworkers was pleasant, it seemed, but not nearly as much as having friends to work and fight and heal beside.