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There’s a commonly used film technique where they use the weather to emulate the mood that the movie makes the audience feel. In some cases, it’s usually sunny and bright out as the main character frolics through the shopping mall or has their first kiss in the confetti-like snow. There are other instances used with rain, where the rain trails down the car window shield as the main character just broke up with his long-time partner.
Midoriya never thought it was something that happens in real life, especially with his.
He would’ve never thought he was worthy of being the main character, even as he accepted One For All. He has been told repeatedly that he’s plain and not outstanding-looking. Which is fine for him. He doesn’t need the extra attention in his life. Rather, what’s left of it?
Izuku knows the statistics of heroes dying on duty, and of those who retire due to an impactful injury, like his mentor and teacher, All Might. So it’s even more surprising when he arrives at his doctor’s appointment without a fear in the world about his health. It was supposed to be a normal appointment and check-up on his health.
It, like any other appointment Izuku’s had, starts with a smiley greeting and sitting down on the crinkly paper of the bed, swinging his desk off the ledge. As childish as it may seem, nothing has ever stopped him from doing so. Further, he does this when he finds a few spare moments of heroing atop a roof of a building, surveying the streets. It’s a beautiful sense of freedom and weightlessness he feels up there, dangling his legs above. Why not feel that ever-so-relaxing thing within a doctor’s office?
The actual appointment goes fine. They check his vitals and do whatever standard stuff they need from Izuku. The final thing they did was take his blood. They were just making sure that Iuzku was as healthy as he could be, and he’d be getting a call about his results later.
He waves goodbye to his doctor, thanking her for her hard work and for keeping civilians healthy and safe.
He leaves thinking he’s fine.
It’s a bright day, and even though Izuku isn’t scheduled for a patrol, he thinks that there would be no hurt in patrolling a bit. He has the free-time after all.
Two days later, he gets a call from the doctor’s office while Izuku is filling out menial paperwork from his latest set of villain fights. Willingly, wanting a break from his straining eyes, he picks up the phone with a chirpy greeting.
“Hello! Midoriya Izuku speaking!”
“Ah, Midoriya, sir, your blood results came back. Do you have the time to schedule another appointment sometime soon to fully explain what we’ve found?”
Izuku thinks about his schedule and if he has any later patrols, meaning his mornings would be open. Nodding, Izuku verbalizes his answer.
He sets the appointment not knowing why he didn’t hear the nurse say that his results were completely normal.
The day his next appointment comes, the sky is gray and the birds aren’t chirping in the trees. In fact, Izuku hasn’t seen any animals scurrying around the city streets at all this morning. That must mean there’s a nasty front moving in at the moment. He’ll have to remember to bring his non-slip gear when he shows up for patrol today.
Thinking of doing a patrol with an umbrella in his head brings a chuckle to his throat. It’d be interesting to see himself take down a villain with a hand held out for the umbrella. If he had more sass, he’d ask the villain if they’d like to fight under the umbrella. He’d have to ask Hatsume if there was such a thing for heroes: a useable umbrella for patrols, that is.
He gets called into the room, and Izuku hops up on the table, already swinging his legs off the ledge. It’s not long until the doctor walks in with a somber, concerned look on her face, fingers grasped tightly around her clipboard.
This gets Izuku to freeze still where he sits, legs falling limply against the wooden frame of the bed.
“Good morning,” he says, still trying to find out why his doctor looks so sullen. He wants to ask, but if it was about another patient, then there was nothing she could say. But, here he was for a follow-up appointment. What if that face was being worn because of his results.
She replies with her own greeting, smiling weakly at the hero.
“Is there something wrong with my results?” Izuku musters without his voice wavering. He’s worried as his hands grip tightly on the fabric of his pants, clamping them within his sweaty palms.
“Midoriya, when we took your results, we found something concerning…”
Everything fades together in a blur of colors and tears.
It’s ironic for the rain to suddenly begin to pound on the streets of Japan. So much for film techniques to heighten the tone of the movie.
Izuku drags his feet, utterly soaked to the bone, to his car. As he climbs in, he knows of only one destination.
It’s still pouring rain, so Izuku is unable to tell if his poor visibility is due to the cascading tears from his face or the weather. Either way, nothing stops him from arriving at his destination. With four heavy knocks at a wide red door, Izuku faintly hears soft footsteps approach the door. He’s surprised he can hear anything over pelting water surrounding him. It’s deafening to his ears, yet leaves the eerie, damp air encasing him as if he were underwater.
The door creaks open to reveal a lanky man with messy blonde hair and sunken cheeks that rival a skeleton one finds in Halloween stores.
“Izuku?” The voice questions.
With his pointer fingers and wrists, Izuku does his best to clear his vision to meet the eyes of the man in front of him, the man who had given him anything he could’ve ever wanted. He’s rubbing the tears the best he can, but they keep falling as if they are as heavy as hundreds of pounds.
Feeling the soft cloth of a freshly washed handkerchief on his face, Izuku sniffled.
“My boy, what’s wrong?” Toshinori asks.
Sniffling more, Izuku is instantly ushered inside by Toshinori’s tall form. Izuku never did get to be as tall as the man, nor did he ever get as bulky. Flopping on the couch, Toshinori disappears from Izuku’s eyesight only to reappear with dry towels. With a wet laugh, Izuku accepts the towels and starts drying off his curls.
“I’m so sorry,” Izuku manages. His voice is breaking with every syllable and hopes it was comprehensible enough to the old hero.
Izuku didn’t know what else to do. How is he supposed to handle this new information?
Toshinori shakes his head with a reassuring smile, “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Would you like me to get you some tea? Water?”
Sniffling once more, Izuku keeps his head down even as he nods at the old hero’s offers. How is he supposed to explain to his predecessor that he has failed? How is he supposed to tell the man Izuku thought of within his heart as a father that he’s going to die?
How is he supposed to tell the world?
How will his friends do?
How is he supposed to say goodbye?
Toshinori returns minutes after, rushing over to the oversized couch with overspilling tea cups.
Izuku had barely calmed down within the last few minutes, but with Toshinori, he knew he didn’t have to speak up any time soon.
Sipping tea with a nostalgic silence, Izuku finally whispers, “I’m dying.”
With a startled stare, his predecessor gazes at him with fear filling his eyes.
“What?” His teacup tumbles to the tabletop. “What are you saying, Izuku?”
“I had a doctor’s appointment. It was- it was supposed to be an ordinary check-up.” Izuku thought he scrapped the stutter in his Yuuei days. It fears him that it’s returning now in the moments he needs to have clear words and conversations. “My blood cells are, they just, they’re deconstructing. There’s nothing they can do for me.”
“Oh,” his mentor’s voice cracks. Izuku can’t bear to gaze into the eyes of a man who had believed in him so tremendously only to have that hope die, quite literally.
“I’m so sorry I won’t live, I won’t be able to live up to-to what you wanted me to be.”
Two arms clutch his body in a hug. They’re long and much stronger than they look. “No. Don’t think like that. You’ve done everything and more, my boy.” Izuku now sees the man’s face, eyes brimming with tears that threaten to spill over at a moment’s notice. “You’ve inspired so many, don’t think for a moment that you haven’t surmounted to everything you wanted. It’s okay.”
With another wail, Izuku cries into the arms of his idol, his mentor, and his father.
When they begin to calm down, they make a plan to tell his mother and friends. They make a plan so Izuku weans his hours off of heroing and into retirement.
They cry and sob with over-snotty shirts and tissues surrounding the two men.
Izuku doesn’t want to say goodbye.
He wants to remain safe within Toshinori’s arms.
He wants to continue to save others.
He can’t say goodbye without truly expressing his thankfulness to the people who have earnestly supported him.
He can’t say goodbye knowing his death is imminent. His life will be snatched away from him.
As a hero, he knows a life of danger and a constant risk that death will meet him at any time of day.
But now, he has an expiration date and a plan.
In a house with a man who brought him up as a hero, Izuku must find a way to say goodbye.
Goodbye, Toshinori.
Izuku will always cherish him and his strength.
Goodbye, friends.
Izuku will never forget their kindness.
Goodbye world. May the raindrops and tears that made up Izuku’s final weeks finally blossom into something magnificent.