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Shoes scraping on brick and a gasp were the only warnings Toshinori got before a loud crash assaulted his ears.
"Wha–?!"
Spinning around, the sight of his protégé sprawled facedown on the walking path greeted him—arm pinned under the microwave he'd been hefting around the park.
"Young Midoriya!"
Jogging over (dammit–the kid was further behind than he realized), Toshinori knelt beside him and shoved the appliance aside. Red split the skin on Midoriya's forearm where the edge had landed, but after a brief check, Toshinori confirmed nothing was broken.
Fuck—I should have been paying more attention!
"Midoriya, what happened?"
The kid didn't answer. He just panted and wheezed into the ground, and his lightly spasming limbs made the answer surface in his mind. Anger followed suit.
"You haven't been keeping to the schedule."
His successor flinched where he lay.
"Midoriya!" Toshinori gasped. "Those instructions were not a suggestion. Overworking yourself is just as harmful as not working enough!"
Even prostrated on the ground, Midoriya still tried to curl into himself, muttering something almost inaudible.
"What?" snapped Toshinori.
With great effort, the boy managed to post himself on one elbow and lean back to look at his mentor. He could barely crane his neck up. Toshinori couldn't help but wince at the blood smeared under Midoriya's nose where he'd landed, as well as the crushed look on his face.
Shit… Probably should have saved the scolding for later.
"I–I have! I promise," Midoriya whimpered. "I've been d–doing the best I can, even when you're not here—but I promise it's not because I'm slacking! I'll do better. I'm trying—I…"
More tears dripped onto the path as his words dissolved into hiccups. Toshinori pinched his brow, guilt joining his frustration.
"This isn't about trying, Midoriya—this is about your health. I love your spirit, and I'll never doubt your commitment, but I draw the line at putting your wellbeing at risk."
Midoriya hung his head, sniffling harder, and Toshinori took a deep breath.
Yelling isn't going to fix anything.
"We can discuss this later," he sighed. "I think that's enough training for today."
Glancing around, Toshinori tensed into muscle form and carefully hefted his apprentice over one shoulder. Midoriya whimpered at being jostled, despite his efforts. Toshinori hoped the boy didn't sprain anything.
Tucking the dented microwave under his other arm, he glanced around the park one more time before setting off. In three bounds, they were back at Dagobah—where Midoriya's run had started.
Folding the tailgate down on his truck, Toshinori deposited his successor and grabbed the first aid kit under the passenger seat.
The cut on Midoriya's forearm wasn't bleeding anymore, but a cottony red bruise was already forming around it. Toshinori clicked his tongue, shaking the antiseptic.
"Well, that's going to be a nasty one…" he muttered. "I'd be hitting the ibuprofen tonight, if I were you."
Midoriya nodded absently, staring into space somewhere over the seawall. He barely flinched when Toshinori sprayed his arm, but his eyes had a suspicious glimmer to them.
While Toshinori wrapped the wound, a slight splash on the back of his hand made him pause. He looked up at Midoriya, who wiped his cheek with the heel of his palm.
"Sorry," he sniffled—looking anywhere but Toshinori's eyes. "'M'sorry..."
"Don't be."
Chilly wind blustered over the seawall from the north, and Toshinori caught sight of seabirds wheeling over the bay.
Midoriya took a deep breath.
"It's the school," he blurted. "They ch–changed the cafeteria food last month—said they couldn't aff–ford meat anymore. I thought it wouldn't make that much of a difference, but…"
Midoriya covered his eyes, trying desperately to stifle sobs that didn't waver. Toshinori was still trying to wrap his head around the information.
So it really wasn't overwork…
"The school?" he echoed. "Midoriya, why on earth wouldn't you tell me about this? These are the kinds of things I need to know about!"
"Because I didn't know what to do! I was scared you were going to w–want me to stop training, or change your mind, and I—" he hiccupped, "I c–couldn't lose this! I can't!"
Midoriya looked at him again with that reverent, awful desperation. He almost looked scared.
"Please don't take it back," he blubbered. "I'm nothing without this! Without you."
Toshinori cringed. Hard. For what felt like hours, he couldn't say anything. He just stared, agape, as Midoriya gulped several shaking breaths and . He started when Toshinori grabbed his shoulders.
"First of all," he said, "I have never considered replacing you."
Toshinori let silence bookend his words, watching as they sank in. Midoriya relaxed a little, blinking like an owl.
"And second of all," Toshinori continued. "I don't ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again. You are not nothing, and you never have been."
Toshinori let go of an utterly shell-shocked Midoriya, sinking onto the tailgate beside him with a dull clunk. A pelican was swooping in and out of the choppy water, barely a speck against the gray sky.
Beside him, Midoriya quietly broke down again.
"Why?" he croaked between hiccups. "Why are you so nice to me?"
Toshinori's heart sank.
"Why not?"
Midoriya fell silent. After several more dives from the seabirds, he responded—no longer crying, but hoarse.
"Things like this... They just… Don't happen," he breathed, far away. "They don't happen to me."
Waves crashed. The tide was coming in.
Sighing, Toshinori reached into his trenchcoat and drew a bento from the inside pocket. It was the cheap plastic kind—barely larger than his hand, but it was better than nothing.
"Here," he said, handing it to his successor.
Midoriya looked from Toshinori to the bento in his hands, expression crumbling all the more. Biting his lip, his eyes glimmered as he shook his head.
"I can't take this..." he squeaked, looking at Toshinori like a parishioner to a god. It was unsettling.
For someone so explosive in their emotions, this quiet, raw despondence touched something in Toshinori's chest.
"Kid," he sighed. "Honestly. It's not going to kill me if I miss one meal."
This was stretching the truth slightly, but Midoriya didn't need to know that. Besides, Toshinori had nutrition bars locked in his glove compartment for emergencies. At least—he might. Holding his hero form wasn't the only thing Toshinori stretched to the barest possible limit. He hoped there was something buried in there, under the papers and towelettes.
Either way, it was fine. He would work something out. He always worked something out. And even when he didn't—well, he wasn't dead yet.
"But you—"
"Midoriya."
The kid clammed up, biting his lip. He knew Toshinori's 'that's an order' voice well enough by now.
"Midoriya," he said a little gentler, "I promise it's okay. Take it."
The pelican vanished beneath the waves again.
Watching Toshinori like a hawk for any reaction, Midoriya slowly took the tupperware and popped the lid off. The food itself was nothing special—tofu cubes and imitation rice, but Midoriya's eyes lit up at the first bite.
Toshinori fought the urge to snort at the carnage following. His apprentice scarfed it down like he'd never seen food before, all restraint gone.
And Toshinori's food alarm—God damn the thing—chose that very moment to go off.
He jolted, swearing colorfully as he scrambled for his phone. What happened next was inevitable.
Midoriya paused his wolfing, watching Toshinori shut it off. Of course the boy knew what it was for; he'd been watching Toshinori answer to it for months.
Staring at the bento in his hands again, Midoriya handed it back to Toshinori.
"I'm full."
Goddamn it.
"No, no you're not," Toshinori huffed, pushing the box away. "I have more in the car, Midoriya. That's all yours."
"No you don't." Midoriya pushed it back. "You never bring more than one. Not on short days."
Toshinori flinched.
Damn this kid's perception.
His next words bordered on a warning: "Midoriya, as your trainer—as the one responsible for your wellbeing, I am ordering you to eat the rest of that food." He shoved it into Midoriya's hands with finality. "You need it."
Midoriya wavered, eyes widening a fraction as he quailed, but it was short-lived. He took a deep breath.
"W–With respect, All Might," he said, straightening his spine and meeting Toshinori's gaze, "No sir. You need it, too. And I can share." His voice caught on the last word—not quite breaking, but close.
Toshinori's brows rose. Midoriya had never been so much as lukewarm at orders before—let alone outright defiant. That being said, it cohered with his stubbornness.
While Toshinori struggled to formulate a response, his successor set the half-eaten bento down on the seawall between them.
"I'll be fine if I don't eat," he said, looking at Toshinori with those damn eyes. "But—But you won't. Will you? That's why you have the alarms…"
Toshinori could feel himself being played like a fiddle, and even more infuriating was his inability to fight it. It wasn't like he could pry the kid's mouth open and force him to eat, and the idea of leveraging his status against him felt scummy. His leg bounced in frustration.
"Yes," he huffed. "It's true. I have to eat throughout the day, but how I choose to take care of myself is not up to you, young Midoriya. Nor is it your concern."
Midoriya, frustratingly, still didn't back down.
"Well, I'll always be concerned," he said. "But as for the other part, I'm not telling you how to take care of yourself. I'm just saying that I'm full."
Toshinori deflated with a sigh, massaging his temples.
I'm never going to win this, am I?
Spitting swears in English that would make even Gran cringe, he snatched the bento and grudgingly shoveled some of the rice into his mouth. Even if he couldn't feel hunger anymore, there was still some kind of relief that came from eating. Like an exhale spreading through his entire body.
He downed everything before he knew it.
"Happy?" Toshinori grumbled, snapping the lid back on and shoving it in his pocket. His words must not have contained much bite from the way Midoriya was smiling.
Toshinori rolled his eyes, mouth twitching traitorously into a crooked grin of his own. Figures he'd pick a kid just as stubborn and self-sacrificing as himself.
Nana would be laughing her ass off at me.
"Guess I'm going to have to start packing two lunches now," Toshinori remarked lightly. Midoriya flinched, and his smile vanished.
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
"But—"
"Didn't you just say you weren't telling me how to take care of myself?"
Midoriya stiffened, glowering at his mentor through the corner of his eye. Toshinori laughed until he tasted copper.
"If looks could kill!" he exclaimed, wiping the corner of his mouth. Midoriya just tensed even further, tucking his head under his clasped hands. His ears were red.
"This isn't funny!" he barked, popping up again. "All Might, what if I'm not ready for the entrance exam? What if I'm too weak to even take the quirk, let alone use it? What if—"
Toshinori flicked him between the eyebrows.
"Aht," he said. "Don't worry until there's something to worry about."
"But—the exam—!"
"Is just an exam."
"Just a–!" Midoriya balked. "But your job–!"
"Jobs can be quit, kid. Why do you think I took it in the first place?" He smiled. "I go where you go."
Midoriya balked, stunned into silence.
"And another thing," Toshinori sighed, laying a hand on his student's shoulder. With a squeeze, he murmured: "You're doing great."
Midoriya blinked, pink creeping up his neck. His mouth opened and closed, hung up on unsaid words.
"You're doing great," Toshinori reiterated, stronger than before. When Midoriya's lip began to quaver, Toshinori pulled him into his side.
"A–All Might?" Midoriya squeaked. "I—Um."
Toshinori sighed.
"You talk too much."
They sat like wooden dolls, rigid and awkward in their closeness, but Toshinori refused to let go until Midoriya leaned away. Even then, he was reluctant to remove his hand from the boy's shoulder.
"Anyway, ah–" Toshinori cleared his throat awkwardly. "Good talk."
"Yeah…"
"Wind's picking up."
"Yep."
"Do you have a ride home?"
Midoriya bit his lip, shaking his head.
"I can—I can drive you," Toshinori offered. "If you want. I'm going that way anyway."
Midoriya chewed on his words, worrying at the fresh bandages on his arm.
"… Only if you're going that way," he mumbled.
Toshinori grinned.
"Of course."
The tide was coming in. Plovers darted in and out of the gray surf below, and the first flurry of the year was well on its way.
Helping a very sore Midoriya to the passenger seat, Toshinori's smile never wavered. He hadn't been entirely truthful in his offer—in fact, he lived in the exact opposite direction of the boy's apartment.
But Midoriya didn't have to know that.