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Yagi wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to stumble all the way to the school, nor why he was headed there in the first place. A hospital would have been a better, and more logical idea. But having spent half of the last six years in and out of hospitals, it had become instinctual for him to want to avoid them as much as possible.
Nevertheless, he dragged his bruised and battered body through the halls, blood from various deep gashes - as well as the usual residual lung cough-ups - dripping behind him. Crap, he’d have to remember to clean that up.
He finally reached Recovery Girl’s mercifully unlocked infirmary, allowing himself a brief pause to lean against the doorway. This proved to be a bad move, however, as the focused breathing he had performed to get him there suddenly eased, which made his remaining lung realise just how overworked it was at the moment.
He doubled over, clutching his side as he entered a coughing fit. He felt dizzy at the lack of oxygen getting to his brain as each cough took up precious breathing-in time. A solid two minutes later, he could finally inhale uninterrupted, albeit shakily. He automatically wiped away the blood with the back of his hand, followed by a similar gesture with the heel of his hand to wipe away the reflexive tears that had come with the fit.
He shuffled over to the bed closest to the medicine cabinet, which was locked. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) for him, he and Recovery Girl had an arrangement: if ever she wasn’t in the office and he needed a top off of painkillers or bandages, she would leave him a hidden key. He rarely used it; something which Recovery Girl was all too aware of - the man was incredibly stubborn.
His hands went straight into the cupboard and grabbed a roll of bandages. It was inconsiderate to bleed out all over the place, after all. He gave himself a once-over, deciding where to start.
Hands. Hands were easy enough to begin with. He needed those, at least to bandage up the rest of him. There was a big gash on his forearm that needed tending to next, he reckoned. He managed to wrap it up, though he didn’t bother to clean the large scrapes, he just wanted something to hide the injury for school the next day. Looking at his handiwork, it was a piss poor job: it would definitely come loose in a few hours, but he was too physically and mentally exhausted to care.
As he clumsily started to wrap up his other arm, his elbow knocked into a tray of miscellaneous first aid supplies, sending it crashing loudly to the floor. He cursed just as loudly, his frustration at boiling point.
He tried to steady his breathing again, lest he fall into another coughing frenzy. He focused on the square patch of moonlight on the infirmary floor as he took raspy breaths in and out.
His concentration was broken by very sudden, very fast footsteps running down the corridor. The shock of it was enough to make him cough again. Dammit. Before he could even process the quick succession of events, the infirmary door burst open.
Aizawa stood there in a battle-ready stance, capture weapon wielded and hair floating. His piercing eyes, illuminated by the activation of his quirk, bore into Yagi with such intensity that it momentarily paused his coughing.
Once Aizawa realised who it was he released his quirk, and his hair and capture weapon floated back to their regular positions on his shoulders.
“Shit,” the Erasure hero said, exhaling heavily. “I thought we’d had a break in.”
Yagi was about to answer, but he was overcome by yet more blasted coughing. He was getting tired of that.
Aizawa quickly rushed over and placed a hand on his back. It didn’t do much physically, but the presence and warmth his palm provided helped a little.
“Aizawa-kun,” Yagi managed to ask eventually. “What are you doing here so late?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“I asked first,” Yagi said perhaps a little more curtly than he intended. Anything to take focus off of himself.
Aizawa expelled a huff and answered, “By the time I’d finished grading, it was late, so I decided to crash in the staff lounge.” It must have made logical sense to Aizawa to get more sleep by cutting his commute time. Yagi found it perplexing, but also a little impressive that Aizawa could just drop and sleep anywhere. He envied that.
“Wait, you heard me all the way from the staff lounge?” Yagi asked, astounded. He thought he’d been rather stealthy getting into the school. Although, he supposed, he wasn’t expecting to have to be quiet at this time of night.
“Don’t let the sleeping bag fool you. I don’t sleep, so much as close my eyes and give off the impression of sleep,” Aizawa said dryly, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I’m more or less always alert.”
Kind of like a cat, Yagi observed.
“I thought your coughing might have been a generator breaking,” Aizawa continued. Yagi squinted as if to say, gee thanks. “But then the crash and loud swearing was a dead giveaway that someone was here.”
“I just...needed to grab a few bandages,” Yagi said defensively. “I’ll be done in no time.” He attempted to tighten his flimsy first bandage wrap.
“You’ve not done a very thorough job,” Aizawa scolded, but it lacked his usual scathing tone. “Haven’t you ever patched yourself up before?”
“I didn’t used to have to,” Yagi replied, and he couldn’t quite hide the bitterness in his intonation. It went without saying that since his fight with All-for-One he’d had to learn self first-aid quickly.
Aizawa hummed, evidently choosing not to comment. Yagi shook his head, too tired to care that his statement came across as arrogant. The Number One Hero doesn’t need patching up because he’s good enough to avoid getting any kind of injury.
Usually…
Yagi huffed and said brusquely, “You can go back to the lounge. I can handle myself just fine.”
“Oh yes, you’re doing a marvellous job of it so far,” the other man responded with a great deal of sarcasm, observing the unopened cleaning solution and untouched bottle of iodine. He picked up said iodine and some gauze, ignoring Yagi’s protesting glares. “You really oughtn’t do this yourself. I daresay hospital staff know more about treating wounds than you.”
“You’re one to talk,” Yagi said weakly, taking shorter breaths to steady another onslaught of coughs he could feel coming. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you refuse hospital treatment in favour of a DIY patch-up.”
“Do as I say, not as I do,” Aizawa answered simply. It was so dead-pan that Yagi chuckled, which was inadvisable at the moment but he couldn’t help it.
“Is that what you say to the students?”
“Absolutely. It’s a terrible habit to get into, they might as well have it quelled at an early stage. Besides,” Aizawa added pointedly, “I don’t have several vital organs compromised.”
Yagi grumbled, clenching his jaw as he bit his tongue.
Sensing this, Aizawa continued. “Think of it rationally. Any job is done better with a second pair of hands. Especially when your own hands can’t reach, say, your upper back. Or a bandage on your forearm that needs two hands to tighten properly.”
Yagi groaned defeatedly. He couldn’t argue with that logic, nor did he have the capacity to. He sighed and relaxed somewhat, which Aizawa took as permission to carry on.
They sat mostly in silence as Aizawa worked, broken only by Yagi’s occasionally sharp inhales as iodine came in contact with sensitive exposed flesh.
Aizawa grumbled as his hair fell in front of his eyes. It didn’t usually seem to bother him, but because he needed to focus on patching Yagi up, it was actually getting in his way. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair to pull it off his face. Yagi tensed and froze. Aizawa’s eyes were seldom on display, and he couldn’t help but notice that his features were quite soft, and his eyes were very pleasant to look at.
Yagi deliberately avoided Aizawa’s gaze as he dealt with a scratch above his eye. He felt his neck and jaw tense as the man’s hands hovered above his face, so very close. Soon though, he noticed Aizawa look down.
“What?”
“There’s blood on your shirt.”
“Well observed,” he replied dryly.
“I mean, there’s a lot of blood pooling. That’s where your scar is, isn’t it?”
Yagi felt himself tense up again.
“It’s probably nothing, it does that sometimes.”
“I’m fairly certain it’s not meant to…”
“It’s fine, just drop it…”
“Let me take a look at-”
“No.”
“No?” Aizawa repeated, stunned.
“I said it was fine.”
“It clearly isn't! I don’t understand; despite knowing how little time you’ve got to do hero work now, why would you be galavanting off doing hero work when you should be focusing on other things.”
Yagi scowled, pinching his nose ridge and squeezing his eyes shut, hard. The last thing he needed tonight was a lecture. He’d been getting them left right and centre it seemed: Nedzu, Gran Torino, even Tsukauchi was back at it about the importance of keeping up with paperwork. While he usually appreciated Aizawa’s experience as a teacher, he was in no mood for a telling-off from a younger hero.
Crap, he thought to himself. He disliked having such negative thoughts or harboring any negativity towards fellow heroes and colleagues. Especially when they were currently stopping him from bleeding out. But he recognised the dark place he was currently going. And he needed Aizawa to get out soon, before he got pulled in.
“Noted,” he eventually answered with difficulty. “Thanks for your help, but I can deal with everything else from here…”
Aizawa wasn’t budging. “Take off your shirt and let me have a look,” he said sternly.
“I said no…” Yagi could feel his temper rising. It wasn’t a feeling he felt often, and he didn’t want it to become a familiar feeling either. But lately, his patience always seemed to be at breaking point. He wished Aizawa would just do as he’d asked and leave him be. But he knew he wouldn’t. For which he was simultaneously grateful, and frustrated at.
Aizawa changed tact, taking his signature no-nonsense approach, “If you had been resting tonight instead of going out on patrol-”
“I wasn’t on patrol!” Yagi snapped, much louder than he intended, and with much more ferocity as well. Aizawa was silent, taken aback. Yagi exhaled a beleaguered sigh, dropping his head into his hands. “I wasn’t even in muscle form…” he added weakly.
The room went dead quiet. Only Yagi’s raspy intakes of breath broke the silence. Aizawa seemed to be holding his breath as he mulled over what he just heard.
“All Might-san…” he eventually whispered, breathlessly. “What happened? Were you ambushed by villains?”
Yagi laughed, though there was no mirth. Just an empty, hollow expulsion of air from his one lung. “No, it wasn’t anything as dramatic or worthwhile as that.”
“Then wh-” the other hero began.
“I got mugged, alright?”
Silence descended again, this time more thunderously. Yagi dared not lift his head to see Aizawa’s expression. He would only see shock, horror, or worst of all, pity there. How pathetic...
Yagi bitterly recounted the event, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet. It was clear Aizawa wanted to ask, but couldn’t. So he’d spare him having to. “I’d been in this form for several hours. I was on my way home from the grocery store. The air was particularly dry around that area, so I started coughing. The guy must have heard me and assumed I was weak and sickly and unable to defend myself. And he was right…” he added bitterly, digging his nails painfully into his thighs.
“I couldn’t even bulk up for five seconds to get out of the alley he’d cornered me in. I don’t carry anything with me when I’m out and about, and he was very unhappy about that...” He laughed without laughing again, inwardly cursing himself. “I wouldn’t feel so crappy if it had been a gang of them. But it was just one guy. Not even a big guy. I could have taken him easily as All Might…”
But I’m not All Might; not like this.
With each passing day the Symbol of Peace was getting further and further away, soon to be a distant memory as One-for-All slowly but surely left him. He felt like he’s had to work three times as hard in the last six years, and it was all coming crashing down around him despite his best efforts.
All evidenced by his inability to defend himself from a mugging.
“Looks like you put up a fight,” Aizawa observed. Yagi lifted his head to glower at him, not liking what he was insinuating. However when he met the other man’s eyes, there was no trace of pity, condescension or anything Yagi was expecting. If anything, he was looking at him with approval. Pride, even.
He wasn’t sure he could handle that either, so he lowered his gaze again.
He could hear Aizawa’s tongue clicking as the other hero opened and closed his mouth, clearly trying to think of what else to say. Yagi didn’t much feel like hearing any words of comfort or assurance or pity, or any words at all. His head was swimming and his guts (what was left of them) were twisting uncomfortably. He wanted to get out of this office. Of this building. Of this body! This useless, weak, withering shell that now carried him around most of the day.
He must have been grimacing, because Aizawa tilted his head in a questioning manner. Yagi grunted, deciding to at least break the awkward silence. Much as he didn’t want to speak, Aizawa was surprisingly easy for him to talk to.
“You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” he began in a deflated tone. “Hell, I’ve spent the better part of six years looking like this. You’d think, surely, with time, it’s got to get easier, right? But it doesn’t. It only gets harder and harder as I can feel my strength being taken from me. It’s not even something I can face head on. It’s part of me...and I-”
He covered his mouth before anything else could spill out. He made a habit of keeping this sort of stuff to himself. He didn’t know if he’d be able to reclose the gates.
“When’s the last time it reopened?” Aizawa asked eventually, nodding his head towards Yagi’s scar.
It took him a few seconds to answer. “Against Nomu.”
They sat in yet more silence. When Aizawa spoke, Yagi was completely taken by surprise.
“Do you blame me for your time being limited?”
“What?”
“Is it my fault that you can only do hero work for an hour now?”
Yagi spluttered, unable to comprehend what Aizawa was asking. “Of course not! You held your own against a huge group of villains single-handedly and protected the kids. Why would you even ask that?” Had he been carrying this around since the USJ? If anything the whole incident was his fault!
Aizawa was very calm when he spoke. “Then why should you be blamed for putting yourself at risk every day for decades? You’ve always done your job, and then some. Never asking for anything in return. How could anyone in their right mind look at all you’ve done for this country, and think any less of you? It’s not the Symbol of Peace who’s kept us safe all these years.” Yagi was about to interject that yes, arguably, it was. But Aizawa wouldn’t let him interrupt and said, “It’s you.” He closed his fist and rested it on Yagi’s chest. “Toshinori Yagi. It’s been him all these years, am I right?”
Yagi stared back at him, lost for words, acutely aware of the man’s hand on his chest so close to his heart. It had been a long time since anyone had addressed him as anything other than All Might. A long time since he’d been recognised as...himself.
Aizawa unfurled his fist and rested his palm gently on Yagi’s chest. “Let me take a look. Let me help you.”
It was not like Yagi was completely unable to accept help. He let doctors and nurses work on him when he absolutely had to go to the hospital. But there was a certain level of disconnect with them. They were doing their jobs. Even with Recovery Girl there was a sense of distance; healing was her duty.
With anyone else, letting them in was...difficult.
But seeing the sincerity, the lack of hollow pity in Aizawa’s surprisingly gentle eyes, the softness of his touch, Yagi exhaled and nodded. With some difficulty, he got his t-shirt off over his head.
When he freed his head from the fabric, he instantly regretted it as Aizawa’s eyes widened. Yagi hadn’t seen his scar for a while - in fact, he made a point to avoid looking at it as much as possible - but he knew that Nomu had done a number on it, making it more vulnerable to even a light punch.
He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, but as he was trying to get the thug in a hold, he had managed to clip his side. Yagi had felt it: a nasty visceral ripping sound of flesh detaching from muscle as the tentative scar tissue was torn apart. He’d doubled over in pain, gripping his side, which had given his assailant the opportunity to vent his frustrations of a failed mug job on the rest of his frail body.
So he knew how bad it must look to Aizawa, who had never seen it when it was ‘good’.
He’d gotten used to strangers looking upon his gaunt form with horror, but seeing it from someone he knew, someone he was slowly getting to know, and wanted to know better...it was just too much. He was about to scold Aizawa for looking at him like that, even if it wasn’t intentional - like he was fragile, like he was broken, like he was useless - but his throat closed up and he coughed again.
It was worse than earlier; as the fit continued, he thought he might pass out. That would be too kind a relief, so he knew he'd be conscious and suffering as it felt like his lung was trying to escape through his trachea. He felt his eyes wet again as his body protested at being put through this painful spasming yet again.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, he noticed a strong grip on his shoulder. Again, it did nothing physically to help, but the tight, assuring grasp of Aizawa’s fingers resonated throughout his body.
As his body finally started to relax, he realised the tears were no longer coughing-related. They flowed freely, of their own volition. Shit. And with someone else in the room, too. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d allowed himself to be that vulnerable in front of another person.
The grip on his shoulder tightened. It was not so tight that he felt trapped, but enough to remind him that he was in fact, still here. Still a physical presence, and not a floating spectre, like he sometimes felt.
Aizawa spoke, and his inflection was shaky and uncertain. Something Yagi had never heard from him. “I can only imagine what you’re going through…” he began slowly, deliberately averting his gaze from Yagi’s scar. He suspected Aizawa felt bad for staring earlier. “So I won’t insult you by giving you any hollow assurances that everything will be fine. Or that things will eventually get better, because I don’t know. And I suspect you’re sick of hearing shit like that.” Yagi nodded, not looking at him. “But you should know...being considered ‘only human’ isn’t a bad thing.”
Yagi lifted his head to look at him at last. His expression was, as always, difficult to read. His eyes were as piercing and steely as ever, but his features were softer than usual in the dim infirmary light.
“People tend to forget that,” Aizawa continued. “Perhaps even you do sometimes. You may have set this impossible precedent for yourself, but you’re allowed to stray from that path for your own sake.”
Yagi’s eyes moved to the scar under Aizawa’s eye. He would often overexert himself in the field, just like Yagi. But the reality was that his eyes were damaged in the USJ ambush, and he’d had to adapt accordingly. How did he do it and maintain his grace and composure?
Yagi felt conceited for presuming to know Aizawa well enough to guess how he felt about that. And yet he couldn’t help but feel a pang when he thought about how even with his quirk working less efficiently, Aizawa still had his physicality, stamina and capture weapon to help him. All his years of training: gruelling sessions with Gran Torino where he was essentially a punching bag, his years in the States, the endless exhaustion of being the Symbol of Peace for forty plus years. And it all amounted to nothing, being left in this pathetic state: weak, powerless, useless.
It was with a twinge of horror Yagi realised he had said all this out loud. When had he started? How much had Aizawa heard?
“Sorry…” he managed, fairly sure it was out loud. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s fine,” Aiawa said quickly.
Great, now he’d made him uncomfortable, just like he didn’t want.
But no, the other man relaxed his shoulders and removed his hand, which Yagi hadn’t realised was still there. He felt an ache when Aizawa’s warmth left him.
“It’s obvious you don’t have anyone to talk to about this,” Aizawa observed carefully. His eyes were narrow, eyeing Yagi up and down. “And I’ve got nowhere to be. In fact,” he looked at his wrist, though he was not wearing a watch. Yagi allowed himself a light chuckle. “I’m early for work. So talk.”
Yagi shook his head. “I couldn’t ask that of you, Aizawa-kun…”
“You’re not. I’m offering.” So straightforward. “And you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly happy to patch you up in deafening silence if that’s what you’d prefer. It’s my natural state anyway. All this talking is very out-of-character for me.” His eyes seemed to light up slightly when Yagi chuckled again. “So if anyone was to do the talking, I’d much prefer it was someone else. I’m a very good listener.”
He raised a brow arch pointedly, but pressed no further as he gathered some more iodine, gauze and several rolls of bandages.
Yagi wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. It didn’t stop the flow, but at least Aizawa wasn’t blurry. He couldn’t help but notice that Aizawa’s hands were surprisingly gentle. He didn’t even notice the stinging pain when Aizawa applied the iodine to his scar. Whenever a doctor did this, he was always hyper aware of how cold and clinical the procedure was. However, right now, he was being treated carefully, tenderly.
“I’m...scared, Aizawa-kun,” he tentatively admitted, finally taking Aizawa up on his beyond kind offer. Yagi felt the wet streams track down his cheeks but felt no inclination to stop them this time. “Pretty soon I won’t be able to help when I’m really needed. I’m getting a taste for that more and more recently, and I hate it. I’m scared of what the future holds, because I already can’t help people the way I want to, the way I used to...the way I should be able to but can’t… Looking like this,” he gestured to his skeletal frame, “I’m Weak. Powerless. Useless.“
He coughed, lightly this time, a small grace. It did cause his side to hurt, though. He winced and clutched at it instinctively, out of habit. Aizawa quickly intercepted and grabbed his hand before Yagi’s vice-like grip undid his hard work.
“You should ease off it for a few days,” he advised sagely.
Yagi nodded, and began to pull his hand away, but there was resistance. He realised Aizawa was still holding onto it. But he made no attempt to remove it, so neither did Yagi.
“Thank you,” Aizawa said quietly. This almost prompted another cough.
“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?” Yagi asked somewhat incredulously.
“For everything,” Aizawa continued, as if he hadn’t heard him. “For what you did for the students...me.” Yagi felt his cheeks flush. “I was pretty out of it after USJ, so I don’t remember if I actually thanked you. So here I am. Thank you...Yagi-san” he added, not breaking eye contact.
Yagi’s hand, which up to this point had been shaking from fatigue, squeezed Aizawa’s with a renewed sense of strength.
He didn’t know how long they held that position, but once Aizawa stood and released his hand, Yagi knew it wasn’t long enough. Aizawa may have had this cold, gruff front, but he had revealed tonight just how kind he truly was. Yagi had always suspected this, but it was nice to see the facade torn down, even if just for a while. He supposed he had done the same, too. Forty years of plastered smiles was his own mask.
“You should rest. These beds would usually do fine,” Aizawa stated casually, gathering up the blood-soaked gauzes and throwing them away. “But you’re so damn tall. The couch in the staff lounge is pretty long, though. Why don’t you join me there?”
Yagi grunted slightly as he pulled himself slowly to his feet. “I think that’s a sensible idea, thank you. What about you, though?”
Aizawa shrugged. “I’ve got my bag. I’m happy on the floor.”
Yagi nodded slowly, the awkward nature of his next question making his head spin. “Aizawa-kun...I’m sorry if this sounds, erm, strange but…” He cricked his neck and grimaced. “If you’re going to sleep on the floor, would you mind sleeping on the floor...next to the couch?”
He glanced down, and rather than the perturbed or offended look he was expecting, he surprisingly saw a small, kind smile.
“Sure, Yagi-san. I think I can manage that.”
~*~
Weak. Powerless. Useless.
All Might was far from those things, even if the man himself had long ceased to believe it.
Watching the live feed of Yagi slowly lose a battle as his strength slowly left him, Aizawa felt just that: weak, powerless, useless.
Yes, he’d agreed to the press conference to lure the League’s attention away from any preparations the other heroes and police had. Yes, he’d agreed it was strategically sound.
No one had expected the plan to go this disastrously wrong.
I should be there.
He didn’t like feeling powerless, which is why he made it a point to train his body to overcome most combat situations. One benefit of his quirk as a teacher, was to give his students that temporary feeling of powerlessness so that they could learn to do without their quirks in a pinch.
But this was a different kind of powerless. The kind where he knew he could do something to help, if only he was there at Kamino Ward, and not dressed up to peacock around for the cameras! He suddenly felt stifled and suffocated in his formal suit. He wanted to don his hero costume and make his way to All Might’s side that very second. But it was on the other side of the city, he’d never get there in time to make any kind of difference.
If he was there, he might be able to erase at least one of those multiple quirks, maybe two. He hadn’t really considered the necessity of erasing more than one quirk in a single person, or if it was even possible. But if he was there he could at least try! Instead of standing there mutely staring up at a tiny screen.
On instinct, his eyes glowed and his hair lifted above his head, his gaze boring into the TV.
Vlad noticed this and stated gently, “Eraser, your quirk only works when you’re there in person... Right?” he added hesitantly.
Aizawa shook his head, but he did not remove his eyes from the screen, his quirk still active. He knew something the others didn’t: just how scared Yagi was.
He felt his eyes stinging, but it wasn’t the dry-eye.
If only I was there...I could do something...
~*~
It had been two weeks since the students had settled into the dorms. Well, ‘settled’ may have been a stretch: they were still in that honeymoon phase of enjoying the excitement of being in a new setting with no parental supervision. But Aizawa suspected that wouldn’t last much longer. He predicted the powder keg of twenty teenagers living in the same building 24-7 would go off soon enough. He had already had to deal with Mineta twice.
Three weeks since All Might officially announced his retirement…
The former Number One was finally out of his big cast and bandages, his right arm now in a lighter cast and sling. He had evidently been instructed to take it easy, if Yagi’s visible frustration was any indication. Aizawa knew him well enough by now that he was unhappy being unable to perform basic two-handed tasks. And he knew how difficult he was going to find it being unable to do hero work at all now.
Aizawa had spent the last few weeks after their shared visits to the families’ homes keeping Yagi company whenever they were in the staff lounge. And he often found his mind wandering to the retired hero, whether he was in the room with him or not. And now that they were living in close proximity to each other in the teacher dorms, it was happening more frequently.
Usually this would be rather an inconvenience. Aizawa always preferred to be focused on one thing at a time; lesson planning, teaching, grading, training, patrol, sleeping and so on.
Yet somehow, he didn’t mind that his thoughts were being occupied by something - someone - else.
As the realisation gradually dawned on him, his head would start pounding and his chest would tighten. He thought it was heartburn at first, but he quickly realised he couldn’t blame spicy ramen when the feeling intensified whenever Yagi caught his eye. He would have to look away lest his reddening cheeks betray him.
The next thing was to decide what to do with this information. It would be presumptuous of him to assume that Yagi might feel the same way… wouldn’t it?
He thought back to that night in Recovery Girl’s office, how the man had opened up about his fears to him, at his most vulnerable. He didn’t have to. He didn’t even want to at first. Aizawa had merely offered a listening ear, and did not force the issue. And still Yagi had opened up to him. Would he have done that with just anyone?
Aizawa pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was overthinking this.
Enough wasting time. It was irrational to dwell on ifs and buts. The first thing he needed to do was thank the man.
Thank him for facing the ultimate villain for the sake of everyone’s safety. For risking his life and facing his fears to save a kidnapped student. For bearing such a heavy burden for so many years.
For being the Symbol of Peace. For being All Might. For being Toshinori.
He had been formulating some semblance of a statement of gratitude in his mind, but he was no good at that sort of thing. And that sentiment was not something he would usually ever say out loud. But as the days passed, he felt the need to express his thanks in person more and more.
He spotted Yagi on one of the greens near the dorms. Aizawa noticed he liked to walk among the trees when things got quiet. Perhaps he wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion, but Aizawa decided to worry about propriety later. He needed to let him know.
“Yagi-san,” he called to the much taller man, who turned and caught Aizawa’s eyes with his striking blue ones. There went his chest tightening again. The man smiled at him. He had been more insistent recently that Aizawa use his name, so he obliged. It was becoming comfortable; familiar.
“Aizawa-kun,” he replied, pausing his walk to allow Aizawa to close the gap. “A fine day we’re having, isn’t it?”
Aizawa hummed and nodded, not really paying the weather much heed. “I hope I’m not intruding,” he began awkwardly.
“Of course not!” Yagi was quick to say, gesturing to Aizawa to join him with a wave of his hand.
“Mhm,” was all Aizawa managed as he matched Yagi’s stride on his afternoon stroll. Thankfully Yagi didn’t seem to expect much of a conversation, which was on-brand for Aizawa enough for him to attempt to string his words together.
After a few minutes of walking in complete silence, save for the gentle breeze whistling through the leaves, Aizawa finally uttered, “Thank you.”
“Hm?” Yagi asked, distracted, as if woken from a daze.
They slowed to a stop, Aizawa’s hands clenched in fists in his pockets. “Thank you for fighting for us, and defeating All-for-One. Because you did that, and saved us, I can look out for the kids, and train them to be the best heroes they can be. So… thank you.”
He felt a lot more comfortable saying it than he thought he would. Almost like he’d rehearsed it.
He looked up, expecting Yagi to be his usual bashful self, something Aizawa found both irritating and endearing: the most charismatic and popular hero in the world couldn’t take a compliment.
However, Yagi looked quite calm and relaxed, his smile gentle and appreciative. In fact, there was no hint of surprise at all; but recognition.
He squinted at Yagi suspiciously. “Why are you acting like you’ve heard all this before?”
The other man cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, I’m not really sure how to answer that.”
“Give it your best shot,” Aizawa replied impatiently. “What, were you sworn to secrecy?”
“Sort of…”
“By who?”
“Uh...you, Aizawa-kun.”
Aizawa blinked. “Pardon me?”
Yagi briefly explained what Aizawa had (apparently) said to him as they had left the impromptu get-together with Yamada and Nemuri after finishing their visits to the families.
“And I said to you that we can watch over the students… together,” Yagi continued sheepishly. “I very much appreciate you coming to me today, but you really didn't have to, because you already told me.”
Aizawa blinked again, visibly confused. “Hm.”
Yagi hurriedly waved his hands defensively. “F-for the record I didn’t technically mention it, just like you requested! I only repeated it because you asked just now.”
Aizawa nodded. “That’s quite convenient, actually.”
“Oh?”
“It will make this less awkward.”
Before Yagi could even raise a questioning brow, Aizawa’s hands were on the back of his neck and pulling his face down to his own as he drew him into a kiss. The first thing Aizawa noticed was that despite being quite thin and chapped-looking, Yagi had incredibly soft lips. There was a brief moment where the retired hero went incredibly rigid - from surprise, Aizawa assumed - which was understandable. However he soon relaxed and his lips loosened to follow Aizawa’s rhythm. In fact, Aizawa felt him shift his weight to get a little closer. That was a relief.
Aizawa broke contact, but kept his hands in place on the other man’s nape as he held their faces close. Yagi was blushing furiously and donned a sheepish grin.
“Sorry,” Aizawa muttered. “But I talk better with my actions than my words.”
Yagi’s grin grew wider and more bashful. “You’re very well-spoken.”
Aizawa snorted, and he felt Yagi touch their foreheads together. This allowed him to run his fingers through that mass of blonde hair.
“I never dared to think,” Yagi said with breathy inflection, “that you’d even glance in my direction, let alone return my feelings…”
“I’m a little slow on the uptake,” Aizawa admitted, balling his fists in Yagi’s hair. He felt his heart skip a beat upon hearing Yagi express the same feelings he’d been having. “Good to know I’m a decent enough actor, though.”
Yagi laughed heartily. What a wonderful sound, and in such close proximity. He was glad to have been the cause of that melodious mirth. Aizawa swallowed that smile in another kiss.
When they broke apart again, Yagi whispered. “Thank you, Aizawa-kun…”
“I thought we’d established who was thanking whom today,” he replied, placing his lips softly on the crook of Yagi’s neck just below his jawline. Yagi shuddered slightly, but offered no complaint. Aizawa amusedly catalogued the discovery that he was particularly sensitive around his neck.
“I meant,” Yagi eventually managed, running his own hand through Aizawa’s thick, raven hair. “Thank you for everything. For how you’ve helped me, what you’ve taught me; about teaching...and myself.”
He moved his hand from the back of Aizawa’s hand to under his chin, tilting his head upwards to gaze into his eyes. They got lost for a moment, before Yagi spoke.
“Thank you...Shouta-kun.” Aizawa felt his cheeks get hotter hearing Yagi say his name. “For lifting me up when I was weak.” He lowered his head slightly, and the look was instantly recognisable to Aizawa. He believed that’s all he was now: weak, powerless, useless.
Aizawa scoffed gently, and placed his closed fist onto Yagi’s chest, gently and reassuringly.
“You are not weak, Toshinori-san.” Aizawa said softly, unfurling his fist and placing his palm over Yagi’s heart. “You are strong.”
Yagi placed his own hand on top of Aizawa’s and held it tight. His smile was gentle, grateful, sincere. “I’m stronger now.”