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Five times Toshinori Cooked for Izuku… and One time Izuku Cooked for Toshinori
1.
Izuku had passed out during Foundational Hero Studies. It hadn’t even been a hard lesson or anything. He’d just been pushing himself a little too hard… it had been a little too hot. And maybe, just maybe , Izuku had forgotten to eat much that day. He’d skipped lunch before—generally not on purpose—certainly not since coming to UA. But he used to get bullied a lot at school, and his lunches had mysteriously gone missing all the time. It had been a regular occurrence, so Izuku had known he’d be fine missing food this one time.
What he hadn’t accounted for was the fact that when he’d been in middle school, he’d been a quirkless string bean who didn’t need carbs or protein as badly. Now he was burning through calories at an incredible speed, and skipped meals came with a price.
Izuku remembered sparring with Ojiro. He remembered feeling a bit lightheaded when they’d started, and just chugging a little more water to counterbalance what he was certain was a touch of dehydration. Then, just as Izuku was about to move in for the win—things had gotten… blurry. The last thing he remembered was a large tail closing in as he blacked out and dropped to the pavement below.
He woke up in one of the slightly uncomfortable, extremely familiar beds in Recovery Girl’s ward. Groaning, he opened his eyes, surprised to see that the sun was already starting to set. He’d been out for hours. Then again, I haven’t really been sleeping very well since USJ either… He struggled to sit up, only to have Recovery Girl forcefully push him back down, while scolding him for not taking better care of himself.
Apparently Iida had explained to All Might that Izuku hadn’t eaten at lunch, instead choosing to speak with Present Mic about some confusion he’d had over an English essay he’d been working on. All Might had carried him to the hospital ward with strict instructions that the boy not be allowed to leave until he ate. Recovery Girl had huffed and puffed at Izuku throughout the entire explanation, smacking him a few times for good measure, and shoving a thermometer in his mouth the one time he’d dared to interrupt in his own defense.
Inwardly Izuku groaned. If only All Might hadn’t required him to eat before he left. Recovery Girl’s hospital food was nutrient-dense and excellent for rebuilding stamina… but it tasted like cardboard… if he was lucky and she pulled out the good stuff.
Finally, she yanked the thermometer out of his mouth, muttered to herself about fools raising bigger fools, and told him to eat up, motioning to the tray at his bedside, and promising to return in fifteen minutes after she’d finished logging his report. With those words she had stomped angrily out of the room.
He sighed and turned, expecting the usual packaged meal.
What he found was a bento box, wrapped in a dark blue, patterned fabric. That’s new…
He scooted the wheeled tray table over his bed and sat up, untying the fabric and opening the box. It was a simple dish of rice, fish, and daikon radish. Nothing extravagant. There wasn’t even much of it, really, but Izuku found he was famished, and so he quickly grabbed some chopsticks and devoured it.
It wasn’t the best food—simple and bland. The rice was too dry, the radish a bit limp. and the fish improperly deboned.There was no seasoning, and it had the odd texture of a meal that had once been hot, but had changed consistency as it had cooled over time. Even so, it was significantly better tasting than anything he’d ever gotten from Recovery Girl before.
He was halfway through the food, and deep into theorizing about why this time her food was so different when his drifting eyes noticed a small label printed on the outside of the bento box that he somehow hadn’t noticed before: AM.
Izuku almost choked when he realized that All Might had left Izuku the rest of his own lunch.
2.
Izuku couldn’t believe that they had gotten Children’s Day off from school, but somehow Aizawa-sensei, Present Mic, and All Might had managed it. Although all three men had planned this trip, All Might had been called away at the last minute, and hadn’t been able to join them, much to Izuku’s disappointment. Then again, he’d been wondering how the man had planned on staying with them all day when his ability to keep up his hero form had been reduced to only ninety minutes at best.
Although disappointed that his mentor wasn’t able to join them for as frustrating a reason as a time limit, Izuku still had managed to have a good time with his friends as they took a bus to a beach where they had enjoyed a morning filled with swimming, games, and general fun.
So it was that Izuku didn’t even notice how much time had passed, until Aizawa-sensei and Present Mic had called them to come back to the umbrellas and koinobori—the carp-shaped windsocks fluttering on their long stakes currently stuck in the sand. Students began digging into their bags for the lunches they’d packed.
That was when Izuku realized that he’d forgotten about the picnic. All Might had mentioned something to him about it briefly during a couple of their conversations, but Izuku had always been too busy discussing some thing or another to pay a trivial thing like lunch much mind. Even just before they’d left when he’d said goodbye to All Might at the school, Izuku hadn’t fully been paying attention. Not until All Might’d had to physically stop him by grabbing him by the backpack, adjusting it for him and zipping it up, chuckling that the kid was going to lose his lunch if he walked around with it unzipped like that.
Izuku had just chuckled weakly at the joke, before trying to convince All Might one more time to join them… somehow.
Why didn’t I listen to him? Izuku sighed. Oh well… I had a big breakfast. And we’re going to get kashiwa mochi later anyway. It isn’t like I’m going to go hungry…
He unzipped his backpack to pull out his notebook, planning on scribbling down a few notes from his recent observations of Aizawa’s use of his capture weapon, when he spotted a red and gold patterned fabric tucked into his backpack under the notebook. Izuku blinked at it a couple of times in surprise before pulling it out carefully.
There was a small note tucked under the tied fabric, and Izuku slid it out and unfolded it, eyes scanning over the short message.
“Young Midoriya, I had a feeling you might forget this, given how little interest you’ve had in the meal aspect of this trip. Here’s a little something to tide you over.—AM”
Izuku just stared at the note, rereading it two or three times. All Might made a lunch? For me? Sure… he’d given Izuku some of his own food once before. But this was different somehow. This had been specifically made for him.
He untied the fabric, and pulled open the box. Soba, fish cake, and kale were tucked into the box. It smelled delicious.
Izuku tugged out his chopsticks and immediately dug into to soba, eating ate some of it, carefully. All Might’s lunch had been less than stellar in the hospital, although Izuku had been overwhelmed by the man’s kindness. This, however, to Izuku’s surprise, was significantly better. There was seasoning, for one. It was still warm. And it just seemed as though he’d put far more care into making this small meal for Izuku than he’d put into his own food.
Uraraka glanced over at his lunch. “That looks good!” she said with a smile, after swallowing a bit of her mochi. “Did your family make that for you?”
Before he even realized what he was doing, Izuku replied quietly, “Yeah…”
3.
Izuku shyly slipped into the break room where All Might was waiting. His hero and mentor had requested that Izuku join him for lunch, so they could discuss some details of his training. Although they had done this many times before, Izuku couldn’t help but be a bit flustered each time All Might invited him to tea or lunch between classes.
Izuku slid the door shut behind him and turned to see All Might already pouring the tea, looking a bit frailer and more worn down than usual.
“Hey, All Might!” Izuku said brightly, trying to ignore the worry he’d been feeling in his gut for the past few weeks. It seemed as though All Might had been growing more and more stressed and tired lately, and Izuku was worried that the man was pushing himself too hard. He honestly had no idea what state All Might’s actual health was in—the few times Izuku had tried to discuss it, the man had neatly sidestepped the question, insisting that he was fine and Izuku had more important things to worry about. But the thought was always in the back of Izuku’s mind. His hero time limit wasn’t the only thing impacted by his injury. There was the blood of course. The man’s breathlessness. The way he always sounded like he was in some pain.
“Young Midoriya! Are you going to sit or just stare at me?”
Izuku’s eyes snapped up to meet All Might’s piercing blue eyes. “Oh, yeah! Right! Sorry, All Might!” He could feel his cheeks turning red.
His teacher just chuckled and folded his long body onto the low sofa, holding his tea, but waiting patiently for his student to sit as well. It wasn’t until then that Izuku noticed the food also open on the table.
Izuku’s mouth watered at the mere sight of it. There were onigiri rice balls that were shaped and seasoned to seem to have little faces and fruit cut into stars and stripes. Overall, the artistic quality wasn’t the best, but Izuku didn’t care. It was possibly the most adorable thing he’d seen, and the food smelled amazing. A sharp tang of vinegar and ginger bit his nose, accompanied by some softer, sweeter scent almost hidden behind the bolder ones.
His eyes shot back up to meet All Might’s. “What’s this for, All Might?” The older man just smiled, finally taking a sip of his tea and setting the cup back down. “It’s nothing,” he said in that roughly gentle voice of his. “I just noticed that you’ve seemed even more stressed than usual.” He palmed the back of his neck, sighing tiredly. “I’m not surprised, with everything that’s happened lately… but even for future heroes, this has been… a lot. Children your age shouldn’t have to deal with all of this already. So I thought maybe you could use a day to just… be a kid.”
All Might turned away and coughed.
Izuku looked back down at the little rice balls. One had little lopsided bunny ears. He noticed some sweet mochi as well. It was very much like the bento boxes that his mother had made him in primary school.
All Might seemed to notice that Izuku was just staring at the food and not eating. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of experience with children… in this capacity. Perhaps this was a bit too young?”
Izuku met his concerned eyes, and finally allowed the smile that had been growing in his heart to spread to his face. “It’s perfect, All Might,” he replied quietly, picking up a rice ball. “Thanks.”
4.
Everything feels so different.
Ever since Kamino—since this weak, pathetic body had been exposed to the world—everything had become different. Toshinori no longer felt like a hero. He no longer felt like he even had much of a purpose here at this school. Sure, he was still technically a teacher. And he was grateful that Nezu had chosen to keep him on the staff. Because if he’d had to fully retire, Toshinori knew he’d have gone completely insane.
Still… it didn’t change the fact that, teacher or no, he no longer felt like All Might. He was just back to being that worthless bystander watching from the sidelines. Meanwhile his kids kept getting stronger while he could do nothing to help them but spout out some advice here or there and chaperone them when other, more capable teachers, weren’t available.
Toshinori wasn’t sure if it was the way the teachers and even the students seemed to think he needed protection now, or if it was simply that if he was honest with himself, Toshinori also was starting to feel like maybe he did need help. The longer he existed like this, the less use he found for himself. The less use he found, the less he wanted to exist. It was an ugly cycle. And nothing seemed to break it.
Except when he was around young Midoriya.
Somehow that boy still looked at him as though he were the same hulking hero grinning from his posters. Even though Toshinori’s body was a frail wreck, and he was seemingly unable to assist the boy with any of the new developments in their shared quirk, young Midoriya still stared at him with stars in his eyes, asked for his advice and help, and generally treated him like he was still a hero worth respecting.
It was almost enough for Toshinori to feel like a human again.
Because of this, Toshi found himself doing whatever he needed to actually be useful to the boy. And the only thing that Toshinori had found he could consistently do that actually helped was make sure the kid was fed. Because somehow a kid as brilliant as Midoriya Izuku was entirely unable to cook for himself, a discovery Toshinori had quickly made when the kids had moved into the dorms. Everyone else made themselves delicious food on the weekend in the dorm kitchens. Izuku just depended on Lunch Rush and rice crackers as much as possible.
And so Toshinori had taken to making himself large meals on the weekend. It didn’t matter that he could hardly eat any of it, even with his strict schedule that required him to eat whatever he could force down six times a day. He always just happened to make enough that he had to share with Midoriya or the food would spoil. And over the past few weeks, Toshinori had found that he actually was getting to be passably good at this. His last effort had been katsudon, and even young Bakugo had come by to snatch up a little bit from their bento boxes.
The teary look of joy on young Midoriya’s face when he’d seen that pork cutlet had made it worth all of the time and effort Toshinori had put into figuring out how to make the dish.
And that was when Toshinori had realized that maybe—just maybe he wasn’t as useless as he’d started to think. Maybe sometimes a hero didn’t need muscles and a cape.
Maybe sometimes he just needed a bento box.
5.
It was raining.
Toshinori watched as his boy, covered in grime and blood and soot from explosions, took out another villain. He’d lost count of how many the exhausted hero-turned-vigilante had taken down since they’d been on the run.
And now they explode. Wonderful.
His boy had taken only a few minutes to drop this one, Toshinori watching helplessly from behind, knowing full well that there was nothing he could do beyond support the poor boy. His fierce blue eyes narrowed. And he was going to have to force some support soon. Midoriya was still fast and skilled, but Toshinori had once been faster, if not as powerful as the boy had grown. And he could see what others couldn’t.
There was a slight slump to the boy’s shoulders. A stagger sometimes in his steps. If he didn’t rest soon, he would be destroyed. Midoriya would be the cause of his own death. Toshinori had seen it happen too many times.
Had nearly experienced it once himself.
The tattered boy leapt away from his capture, splashing through puddles in the drizzling rain. He shouted a warning back to watch out in case there was another explosion.
Toshinori didn’t care about explosions. He only cared that his boy had almost misstepped for a moment.
He’s too tired. He needs to rest. To eat.
The boy brushed past him, focused on something else. Probably another agonizing jab of pain from Danger Sense.
Toshinori gritted his teeth, planting his feet and shouted, “Wait! You haven’t been eating!”
Young Midorya stopped, just as Toshi knew he would. I might not be able to help with much. But I can feed you. I can give you warm food and remind you that there is a home somewhere. A family waiting for you. People that love you… I can do that much at least… He held out the wrapped bento box of katsudon.
The boy paused for only a moment, and then, without turning back, replied in a quiet, dead voice, “You don’t have to follow me anymore. I’m fine.”
Those words. The same words Toshinori had said to him so, so many times. The same lie he told everyone. I’m fine.
He knew better than anyone what they really meant. I’m tired. I hurt. I just want it all to end.
I’ll die to end it.
What little air Toshinori’s battered chest could hold seemed to be forced out of his remaining lung, and he could hardly breathe.
“You don’t need to worry about me… really…”
It only took a moment, and the boy was gone. Katsudon lay scattered in the mud around the remains of a crumpled hero, brought to his knees.
No! Stay! The words in his heart somehow refused to leave his lips. You’ll die!
Toshinori pressed his forehead to the dirt, his own tears mixing with the driving rain.
Or worse… you’ll wind up like me…
The rain continued pounding onto Toshinori’s useless body, unconcerned that Izuku had left him to follow Toshi’s own foolish path.
I can’t even save one boy. I’m no hero after all…
6.
Izuku knocked quietly on the door.
No answer.
He knocked again, a bit more insistently.
Still nothing.
Sighing, he shifted his precious cargo, so he could free a hand to punch in the code he’d been given to All Might’s room. Quietly he pushed the heavy door open, his mind replaying their conversation. The first words they’d spoken since Izuku had left his mentor in the rain.
You didn’t have to apologize, All Might. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me, not you… I hurt you…
“All Might?” he called softly. The room was dark. At first he heard nothing but the steady wheeze of the older man’s breathing. Maybe he’s asleep. He’s probably exhausted. I should leave. I’m probably the last person he wants to see right now...
Then he heard a quiet cough, followed by, “Come in, my boy. You can turn on the light.” All Might’s voice was as gentle as always, and Izuku felt tears form in his eyes. It was as though he somehow had forgotten the terrible unkindness Izuku had done to him.
The boy took a deep breath and flicked on the switch.
All Might hadn’t been in bed. He’d been sitting at his table in the dark.
Izuku almost dropped everything, so startled was he by the man sitting so much closer than he’d expected. “All Might!” Izuku exclaimed, his voice cracking. “Why were you sitting in the dark?
“I was actually just about to go to bed, but I like enjoying the quiet of the dark sometimes before I go to sleep.” The older man smiled his tired, worn out smile, and motioned for Izuku to sit. He was in his pajamas, an oversized grey t-shirt that said “Plus Ultra” on top, and baggy blue pajama pants with bunnies printed all over them.
It was an adorable getup, but also kind of sad. Because dressed like this, ready for bed... for some reason the man looked so much older and frailer and more vulnerable to Izuku. And suddenly all those times that he’d meant to ask how his mentor was doing and all those times he’d just known the man was hiding pain and exhaustion and loneliness, but hadn’t wanted to admit that his hero could need help of his own—all those times came rushing back to him.
And after all he had gone through, this was what caused Izuku to begin to cry again. Quietly at first. Then big heaving sobs.
He expected All Might to sigh and tell him to cut out the waterworks.
He didn’t expect to hear the older man get out of his chair and kneel next to him, wrapping his surprisingly still-strong arms around his shaking shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug. Didn’t expect to hear him whisper softly, as Izuku tried to control his tears, “Just cry. Sometimes you just need to cry.”
With those words, Izuku threw his own arms around the emaciated man, burying his face in the man’s chest, feeling his cheek press firmly against prominent bone. The hug wasn’t comfortable at all. But it was comforting. It was what he needed.
They remained like that a good long while before Izuku’s tears finally subsided, and All Might finally, gently pulled away. Stiffly the man rose again, and seated himself back on the chair with a little groan. “Better?” he asked quietly, a small smile playing on his lips.
Izuku just sniffled and nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But I came in to make you feel better. You weren’t supposed to have to help me again.”
At that All Might just laughed. “Again?” he chuckled. “I’ve been almost no help to you for a long time, young Midoriya. It’s been one of my greatest frustrations.” His smile remained, but was now tinged with sadness. “I want to still be your hero, but I can’t anymore.”
Izuku just stared at him in absolute bafflement. “What are you talking about, All Might? You’ve never stopped being my hero.” His brows drew together. “You’ve been helping me constantly since the beginning.”
The older man opened his mouth as though to speak, but Izuku continued before he could offer a contradiction. “I’m serious. I do everything I can just because I know you’re there waiting for me. You and Mom. My friends. You’re all my heroes.” His voice dropped. “And it isn’t because of muscles or your quirk. It’s because you make me feel like I matter. Like when you brought me food. All those times you cooked for me… I—” He flushed, and pushed the small bundle he’d carried upstairs over to All Might, whispering. “Here... I thought you might be hungry.”
All Might’s eyes were suspiciously glassy as he looked down at the small box, poorly tied with an old Bronze Age kerchief. Gently he untied the knot with long, bony fingers, and pulled off the lid. Inside was bento. The rice had clearly been cooked too long and was sticking unpleasantly to the side of the container. The fish was burnt. One small, lumpy rice ball with a poorly created face of wasabi sat wedged in the corner. It barely looked palatable.
A tear slid down his hollow cheek. “It looks wonderful,” he replied.
“I wanted to repay you. Nothing seemed big enough. But this—” Izuku motioned to the food. “This always made me feel better when you made it for me. I thought maybe it would be a good start…” He glanced away. “Anyway,” he began stammering nervously, “Uraraka said that’s what she would do for her dad when she—” He abruptly stopped himself, realizing what he’d said all at once.
All Might stared, wide-eyed at the boy for a long moment.
“I—I’m sorry!” Izuku stammered as though he’d committed some horrible crime. “I shouldn’t have—“
But All Might quietly cut him off. “Don’t. You don’t need to change what you said...” He paused, adding in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice, “unless you didn’t mean—“
Izuku flushed. “I... did.”
All Might smiled warmly, and, reached out to take the boy’s scarred hand in his own strong, weathered grip. He squeezed Izuku’s hand gently. “Then... thank you, my boy.” His voice was barely audible. He cleared his throat, and picked up the chopsticks, brushing the tears from his cheek with the heel of his other hand.
“Thank you.”