Work Text:
Now
For as glamorous and eccentric as Aoyama Yuga was, he wasn't the happiest person in class 1-A.
Granted, he didn't have the abusive background of Todoroki, nor an odd relationship with someone such as the one between Midoriya and Bakugou, nor did he have the determination of some of his classmates (Uraraka and Iida were examples quick to come to mind).
But Aoyama couldn't deny that his truth, his horrid little secret, led to a boy who wasn't exactly as happy as his constant smile and twinkling would lead you to believe.
"I'm afraid it's gotten worse," Doctor Itanabuchi says, removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. " Much worse," she looks up, meeting his eyes as she puts her glasses back. "Yuga, you need to slow down," she purses her lips. "Maybe heroics isn't for you,"
The blonde smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He knows Doctor Itanabuchi is worried, she's been his doctor since his quirk manifested at the tender age of 3. She's watched him grow up. She was the one who delivered the diagnosis to his parents, the one who wept with his mother every time he got hospitalized, the one who ended up signing off on his admission to UA. He couldn't imagine how difficult it was for her to see his test results every month. "I'll slow down," he starts. "But a twinkling star such as moi cannot leave UA now. It's third year, I can't stop,"
Her lips are still set in a hard line, but she knows that he's right. And they both know it's been too late for nearly two years, the same conversation over and over again. "I'll write you a note to assign you less training," she says, turning to her desk. "Are the medications working?"
" Oui ," he replies, smile a little more genuine. "They still work,"
She nods, handing him the note. "Good,"
The two sit silent as Aoyama looks over his papers and she sends a copy to his family. It's grim, and he knows he must make the best of it.
12 years ago, Dr. Itanabuchi's office.
His mother sits across from the doctor, rubbing his back and handing him small toys as they wait in tense silence. The doctor swallows, unsure of where to begin. "Well," she begins, pulling out his test results. "Ma'am,"
His mother looks up at that. "What did you find?"
Itanabuchi swallows, throat suddenly much drier. "It appears that Navel laser is radioactive, and the spillage is not limited to the outside of his body," she begins. "It appears there is significant blowback to using his quirk, and that is part of the reason he gets nausea,"
His mother sits up straight. "What does this mean for Yuga?"
"He can't use his quirk too much. It may lead to him developing cancer," she exhales, bracing herself. "If that happens, it could quickly metastasize,"
The room went still, but he looked up at the adults. "I can't use my quirk?" his lip wobbled. "But all the other kids can!"
His mother looked conflicted and sighed, pulling her little boy close and meeting Dr. Itanabuchi's eyes. "There's more, isn't there," it's not a question.
The doctor nods. "The leakage happens either way,"
His mother nods, holding her son close. "You can use your quirk baby," she whispers in his hair. "We just need to be careful,"
Now
He returns to the 3-A dorms that evening much subdued, mulling over his test results. "You have 6 months left, at most," Itanabuchi had said once he had read through the now familiar medical documents. "It's metastasized,"
He wanders into the empty common room, looking around.
He was a third year, almost 18, and he was going to die after graduation.
'Too young,' he thought. 'I'm too young,'
"And to think I had a clean bill of health a year ago," he murmered as he made himself a tea. The rest of the year would be strange, he'd fall behind physically.
How long could he go, and still twinkle like the star he is?
The answer, as it turns out, is quite a while.
It takes a few months for the cancer to really take it's toll, the medicine helps tremendously, as do his stretches and new diet. It's a month until graduation when he looks in the mirror and notices that he's losing weight. The change is so severe, yet he knows it's not new.
Make up quickly hides it, and he sits out more and more training sessions. Never explaining, only handing over his doctor's note and helping to grade tests and performances. His classmates remain carefree, and he grows a little closer to them. Making a final few memories for himself, an imprint on the his generation.
Maybe they'll remember him when he's gone.
He hopes they do.
It'd be nice.
But truly, how close with them is he really?
He laughs their concerns away, and flits along. Glamorous even as he dies.
Graduation is hell.
He's out of breath by the time it's over, and he knows he looks awful. He hasn't missed his classmates' worried glances or worried whispers.
He's touched, really.
But it's as they gather one last time before they head home, after the ceremony, that his legs give out.
The last thing he sees that night is Aizawa-Sensei's worried face.
The last thing he hears that night is the shouts of worry from his former classmates, his friends.
His heroes .
How fitting that one so beautiful as himself has such beauty surrounding him, yet he still stood out.
How fitting he had so many heroes at his side that night.
The next two weeks are full of visits and sleeping in a hospital bed. There's a table full of flowers, and he knows it's almost time.
Strangely, it doesn't sadden him.
His entire class is there that day, chattering about their new jobs and all the work they've done already.
He smiles, eyes closed and breath shallow.
'How beautiful,' he thinks, breathing getting slower.
A small lazer bursts from his navel, short and sparkly. His back arches as he lets out a longer lived one. Nothing is destroyed, he can't manage that anymore, but he knows the colours and sparkles are beautiful. It trickles into nothingness after a moment and he collapses back onto the bed, breathless.
'One more glimpse of my twinkling ,' he thought while they rushed around, calling for a doctor . 'I shone like a star ,'
He lays still, thin and serene.
' If only for a lifetime,'