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“So what about you?” Yagi asked gently, his breath condensing in the cold evening air. “How are you doing?”
He caught Aizawa’s eye and their gazes remained locked momentarily, while the latter mulled over the question. After a few seconds, he let out a sharp “Tch!” and looked away. He responded, somewhat annoyed, by asking, “Who told you, Tsukauchi? So much for classified. Or perhaps it was Gran Torino?” He felt his shoulders tense as his throat began to tighten as he glared demandingly at Yagi for an answer.
“Actually...” the former Number One replied solemnly and matter-of-factly, “it was Mic.”
Aizawa froze, whatever rage was bubbling under the surface suddenly subsiding. He gave another “Tch” and let out a beleaguered sigh. “Of course…”
His shoulders slumped and he pinched the ridge of his nose, trying to suppress the pounding headache that had been creeping up on him all day. He then heard a shuffle and glanced at Yagi, who had moved from the centre of the bench to make room for him. Aizawa exhaled defeatedly and sat down.
“So,” Yagi began, but did not finish. He did not feel the need to. He hoped Aizawa would take it as a sign that his question still stood, but he would not be pushy about it. The darker haired man appreciated this.
Eventually he said, with difficulty, “It...hasn't been the easiest day…”
Yagi nodded somberly. “It must have been hard to-”
“We’re heroes,” Aizawa interrupted quickly. “Comes with the job. S’what we were trained for,” he said flatly, gripping his hands tightly together to steady the shaking; but it wasn’t the cold that was causing it.
Yagi tilted his head towards him and his brows curled up sympathetically. “This is different, though.”
Aizawa pursed his lips and kept his eyes forward.
“I can’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through. Or what you went through back then,” Yagi continued slowly. “I never really had friends growing up, so…” He trailed off, worrying he might veer off-topic. He continued, “But I do know how hard it is to be so young and lose someone so close to you.” He found himself glancing into the distance again, the memory of his master more vivid than ever. He could almost see her waving at him from the trees.
Aizawa finally looked at the other man, and noted his far-off, longing look. He had always seen the indomitable All Might smile through everything, and it had never occurred to him - or anyone, really - that he experienced the same pain and loss as everyone else. Because he always managed to save everyone he set out to rescue. But it was clear now, that there was a time before the Number One Hero All Might: a time of Toshinori Yagi, a hero-in-training, a rookie...a kid.
Yagi swallowed and concluded, “And I can’t imagine how traumatising today must have been for you both.”
Aizawa felt his eyes stinging, and it wasn’t because of the wind chill. He dropped his face into his cold hands and his breathing became shallow and irregular as he tried to hold back the inevitable explosion of sobs. His whole body was shaking.
Suddenly he felt a large hand place itself gently on his back, just between his shoulder blades. There was a warmth to it, deeper than the physical heat, and it calmed Aizawa. Enough so that the stinging in his eyes was relieved as he allowed the tears to stream down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away with the heels of his hands, but his chest felt lighter.
“I know what it’s like to have your world turned upside down. And I also know how much strength it’s taken for you to be the amazing hero and teacher you are,” Yagi added with a smile. The warmth radiating from his hand spread when his soft but resonant voice spoke.
Aizawa exhaled, his eyes shut tight, and nodded appreciatively.
They sat in silence. After a minute or so, Yagi noticed that Aizawa’s exhales were becoming increasingly shaky, not to mention he was shivering. He was either too polite or too stubborn to admit he was cold. So Yagi unwrapped his scarf from around his neck without hesitation.
“Here,” he said lightly, holding it out. When Aizawa gave him a puzzled look, he continued, “You look chilly.”
“I’m already wearing a scarf…”
Yagi chuckled. “It’s hardly made for winter, is it?”
Aizawa let out a light sigh and took the scarf. He noticed it smelled like Yagi’s cologne. As he began to wrap himself up in it, he said, “I’m going to look like I’m drowning in tartan fabric.”
Yagi laughed jovially, and Aizawa felt the corner of his mouth curl upwards as well. Given the moods they had both been in earlier, he was grateful they could both smile. “Better than you looking like a human popsicle,” Yagi noted.
“That’s true. Blue really isn’t my colour.”
“We could go back inside if you-”
“No. It’s alright. It’s...nice out here.”
Yagi felt his cheeks flush.
“I owe you thanks, as well,” Aizawa said after a few moments of awkward silence.
Yagi beamed. He rose to his feet and turned to Aizawa. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll keep on being the same guy I’ve always been…” He held out his hand and smiled. “As long as you do the same.”
Aizawa looked at Yagi’s hand, then into his eyes. There he saw a flash of that familiar unabashed optimism return to those sunken blue eyes. He took his hand and allowed himself to be lifted to his feet.
“Deal.”
They stood for a while, each of them absentmindedly still holding the other’s hand.
Soon, the silence was broken by Aizawa’s teeth, which he didn’t realise were chattering. With a soft laugh Yagi beckoned him closer. Initially bewildered, Aizawa complied, and soon found himself wrapped up under the other’s jacket with him.
“This is huge,” he observed.
“Heh. Yeah, it’s an old one.”
“You really should buy some clothes that actually fit you.”
“It’s come in handy right now, hasn’t it?” Yagi asked, chuckling.
“Yeah, as a tent,” Aizawa answered, unable to hide his smirk. He gave in and fastened his hands around Yagi’s waist. He felt the taller man’s breath catch in his throat as he shuddered at the closeness, but relaxed into it as he, too, wrapped his arms around the other.
“Do you want to head inside?”
“In a little while.”