Chapter Text
Toshinori can't help but feel that this is where it ends.
One For All is fading. He feels it now more than ever. A part of him - some part that's tired and aching and hopeless - welcomes it. Midoriya is more than passionate enough to take up the mantle. Toshinori only regrets that he couldn’t have been a better teacher to him. That he can’t be around to watch him grow; to watch any of the students reach their full potential. The courage in each of them is impossible to miss. Toshinori knows that they’ll go on to do great things.
Two years ago, he would’ve run headfirst into this fight without much thought of the outcome. Back then there was nothing to miss. But now, even as that small part of him reaches out for the chance to finally rest , in whatever form it may come… he finds himself hoping, foolishly, that he might live. Not just for Midoriya’s sake - for that of every person that’s unwittingly clawed their way into his life despite his efforts to the contrary.
For Tsukauchi, who’s been nothing but committed to keeping his secret and helping him prepare for the future. For the students, who retain their spark despite all the hardships they’ve had to face in their first year alone. For his fellow teachers, who had adapted to the truth behind the Symbol so quickly. All those who had made existing in his true form that slightest bit more bearable.
“All Might.”
If he’s honest, for one of those people in particular.
Toshinori smiles. It doesn’t hold the confidence of the one he usually wears. “You know, you don’t have to keep calling me that when I look like this.” Despite All Might’s success - despite everything he’s built - sometimes the difference between them feels so vast. Toshinori can’t fathom how anyone could look upon him in his true form and still see the Symbol. Sometimes he wishes they couldn’t. Wishes it was enough to just be Toshinori.
“No,” Shouta replies in his usual, pragmatic tone. “But it’s better to keep in the habit. Especially in times like this.”
Toshinori sighs. That bone-deep exhaustion sinks a little deeper. “I know. The last thing anyone needs right now is more uncertainty. And with what the school is already facing, a revelation like that would make the media even more unforgiving. U.A.’s image is already precarious enough as it is.”
Shouta grunts wordlessly in reply, letting his annoyance be known without inciting further discussion. Toshinori wonders what did it this time - the mention of the media, or the reminder of the criticisms U.A. has been facing ever since the training camp.
Not for the first time, he asks himself if it would have been better for everyone if he’d never come to teach at U.A. Many of Class 1-A's hardships had taken place due to his presence. With the added re-emergence of All For One, the choice to burden a successor with this age-old fight feels even more crushing. Toshinori still believes with all his heart that Midoriya is the right person to take up the mantle of One For All. But asking him to finish Toshinori’s failed fight was never what he’d intended.
Nighteye had described Toshinori’s demise at the hands of a terrible villain. Who fits that description more aptly than All For One? Toshinori has an opportunity to make things right, for all those All For One has hurt and for the brilliant young man whose future hangs in the balance. All because Toshinori failed to finish this ancient fight when he was supposed to.
Fate be damned. If he’s going to die then he’s going to take All For One down with him this time.
“What’s on your mind?” Shouta’s voice interrupts his musings. “You’re acting stranger than usual. Is it about Bakugou? The mission?”
Toshinori sighs. “Of sorts,” he admits. “Young Bakugou is strong, both in spirit and in power. But… I can’t help but worry for him.”
“Worrying won’t get results.” Shouta’s voice is curt. “There’s nothing you or any of us can do from here. You’re better off focusing on being prepared for the real fight. You know that.”
Toshinori remains silent. Undeterred, Shouta presses further. “What’s really bothering you? You’ve done this for too long to be so unnerved by something as simple as a rescue mission.”
Toshinori bristles on instinct. “Don’t act like you’re not upset too.”
“Of course I am.” The stark admittance surprises him. Apparently, Shouta plans to keep on surprising him. “I’m not just upset. I’m furious. One of my students was taken when he was supposed to be under my supervision. My failings as their teacher are what allowed this to happen in the first place.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Toshinori insists. Shouta glares. It’s that familiar look of contempt for the platitudes Toshinori usually offers. “I mean it. The training camp’s location was supposed to be a secret. You couldn’t have stopped whatever it was that allowed the League to find it. The attack was as much of a shock to you as it was to anyone else that night. The way you responded gave the students courage. More of them might have been hurt if it wasn’t for you.”
“And yet here we are.” Shouta’s voice is impassive, but his expression has softened. “But that’s not the point. There isn’t time to dwell on the past. It doesn’t change anything. Right now, we have a plan we need to be ready to carry out. Failure isn’t an option.”
Toshinori sighs. So that’s what it comes down to. “You’re right that there’s more on my mind, but I can assure you I’m not so distracted that I’m incapable of doing my job.” Toshinori himself may be a failure, but the Symbol is not. Is Shouta’s faith in him really so lacking that he thinks Toshinori would allow himself any other outcome?
“I know.” The words are firm. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
Toshinori looks up with a start. Shouta’s unreadable expression provides no clarity for the confusion he’s left with. He grasps for a reply. “Didn’t you just tell me it was pointless to worry?”
“It’s pointless to worry about things you can’t change.” Shouta has a way of making simple sentiments feel earth-shattering. As if it’s a revelation capable of shaking the very fabric of existence. “I can’t change what happened at the training camp. But I can do something about you sitting out here alone looking like you’re expecting someone to die tomorrow. It’s weird, and it makes me think there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Toshinori has to remind himself that - for all Shouta knows about the inevitable end of All Might - the details of Nighteye’s vision remain a secret only he is privy to. No wonder Shouta is suspicious. None of Toshinori’s usual tactics to project a confident, unshakeable facade work on him. He’s been scarily observant from the day they met. In hindsight, it isn’t a surprise he’d figured out something was up. His conspicuous escape from the meeting room would’ve been obvious to anyone.
As much as Toshinori thought he’d made peace with his death, contemplating it unnerves him all the same. Maybe once - a year ago? A lifetime ago? - it would have been as simple as throwing himself into the hands of whatever fate had in store for him. One last fight. One last stand to truly carve in stone what the Symbol was always meant to be. One more trial for the crumbling man beneath who welcomed the conclusion.
It’s all been leading up to this. Toshinori can’t be certain that this fight will pit him against his old enemy for a final time. But the pieces of the puzzle so far make it seem likely. He hadn’t wanted to believe Tsukauchi’s insistence that All For One had survived their initial encounter, but as more evidence came to light it became impossible to deny.
The connection between All For One and the League isn’t much clearer than it was at the beginning, but it’s there. Kidnapping a U.A. student feels like too final a hand to play for him to remain safely in the shadows. This is more than just a warning to U.A. This is personal.
Whatever it takes, Bakugou will return home safely. He will not suffer further for Toshinori’s mistakes. Shouta’s right. Allowing himself room for uncertainty - for hope - will only make it harder to do what’s necessary when the time comes.
Nevertheless, he allows himself a brief moment to take hold of those frivolous hopes. To bask in the warmth they emit before he lets them slip through his fingers.
“ Hey . Toshinori.” Shouta’s emphatic voice breaks his trance. He turns. Shouta’s expression is uncertain. Despite that, his concern is evident.
Toshinori’s heart twinges with something mournful. As much as he’s found himself longing to be on the receiving end of Shouta’s unorthodox kindness, it’s clearer now than ever how unfair a thing it is to ask. Shouta deserves better than to be misled. And now isn’t the time to tell him the truth. Not when so much is at stake.
Shouta tilts his head, the movement almost unnoticeable. His gaze makes something inside Toshinori feel like it’s unravelling. “Everything alright?”
It’s deliberately casual. Toshinori could take it at face value: concern prompted by his momentary lapse of focus, nothing more. But some part of him knows that, regardless of his hesitation to believe it, Shouta’s asking about more than that. He’s too perceptive not to.
He breathes out, slow and controlled. There is a choice. But there is only one answer that would be fair.
“Thank you.” He’s careful to keep his voice even. “I... appreciate the concern. But there are more important things to focus on right now.”
Shouta frowns. “Maybe,” he says finally, the word quiet and a confirmation of what Toshinori knows to be true. “But... after this is over...” He takes a deep breath. As if to steady himself for what he says next. “I want you to know that... I’ll listen. If that’s what you want.”
Toshinori closes his eyes. That aching feeling is back, crushing his chest with its unrelenting grip. For some unfathomable reason, Shouta feels compelled to care . It’s all at once everything Toshinori could want and everything he so deeply fears.
If the signs he’s contemplating are to be believed, then the ‘after’ Shouta speaks of will never come. But he’s making the offer with the idea that it will. Shouta knows his strength is fading, but there’s no way for him to know just how close that ending is. Not unless Toshinori tells him.
Exhaustion is a distant, unyielding companion. Toshinori can’t remember a time when he didn’t feel it clinging to his heels. A gaping abyss waiting to swallow him whole. Even now the tendrils snake up his body, eager to snuff out the small flame of resilience that remains within him. Toshinori is so tired of fighting to keep it lit for the sake of the world. It burned out for himself a long time ago.
Shouta feels like a flame in his own right. Something brilliant and so painfully fragile, as any life is. A light of hope that nonetheless threatens to burn Toshinori if he stands too close. But Shouta would be blameless for such a thing. The fault would lie with Toshinori, for reaching his hand into the flame in the first place.
Shouta’s not the only one. The other people he’s accepted into his life; Midoriya, the teachers, the rest of Class 1-A... They all shine so brightly. No matter how his flame finally burns out, there are countless others to take his place. Others who won’t repeat his mistakes. All Might will live on as a gleaming symbol of hope, while Yagi Toshinori will burn up and take the truth of his failings with him.
That is how it should be.
Still, Shouta stands at his side. Waiting for an answer. Toshinori wants, selfishly, to give in. But he knows better than that. Shouta’s kindness is genuine, as much as his disapproval of All Might’s showy grandeur. Or his concern when Toshinori brushes off questions about his well-being. Despite his initial disdain, for some inexplicable reason he’s decided Toshinori is worth his time.
It would be easy to let that kindness be. To accept it while he can, to let Shouta believe that it might make a difference. It would be harder to return his kindness with one of his own: to admit the truth. To make Shouta see how hopeless his future is. Part of him yearns to try anyway. Not just for Shouta’s sake; for his own, as well. Of the few people who know the truth about Nighteye’s vision, none of them are people Toshinori wants to discuss it with. No matter how close it is to coming true.
Shouta would be able to look at things logically. Where all too often Toshinori’s fears and hopes get the better of him, Shouta has an uncanny ability to bring him back down to reality. Trusting him is easy.
But Toshinori can’t burden him with this. He won’t. A hero’s job is to save others, and Shouta has better people to focus his energy on. People who deserve to be saved.
“That’s kind of you,” he says quietly. He wants to say more. That he’s left feeling awe at the simplest of things that Shouta says or does: the compassion he shows the students that Toshinori could never have imagined when they first met; how fluidly he moves in battle, whether the danger is real or simulated. That just being by his side is enough to soothe the incessant ache that settled in his body so long ago. That Toshinori has worn a thousand smiles, but all of them pale in comparison to the one Shouta wears when he thinks no one is looking.
But he stays silent. Shouta is kind, whether he’ll admit it or not. And for that he deserves peace. That is a kindness Toshinori can’t give him. Not until everything is over.
“You’re a good man, Shouta,” he whispers and hopes that all he’s afraid to say carries over anyway. Shouta turns to look at him properly, expression sharp with shock. Toshinori lets himself believe it might have. “I’m glad to have met you.”
He can feel Shouta’s gaze on him, piercing and uneasy. The silence stretches on.
Shouta breaks it. “Toshinori-”
“All Might!”
Tsukauchi’s voice is accompanied by the sound of the door opening. Shouta falls silent, as quickly as he’d spoken.
“There you are.” Tsukauchi’s relief is palpable. “I should’ve known you’d be off somewhere on your own. We need you. The plan’s mostly finalised, but I’d like your input before we finish up. Oh, Eraser Head,” he adds with a polite nod in Shouta’s direction. “Since you’re here, Nezu would like to go over the press release one more time before everyone heads out.”
Shouta’s face twists with disdain. It’s notably different from the look he’d aimed at Toshinori minutes earlier. Toshinori offers him a sympathetic smile. Shouta’s dislike of the media is no secret, but he hadn’t hesitated to step up for the press conference to draw the League’s attention away from their plans. One of the many reasons Toshinori admires him.
“Thanks,” he says to Tsukauchi. “Sorry for the trouble. I just needed a few moments to myself. I’ll join you inside in a moment.”
Tsukauchi nods. “Don’t be too long,” he warns before he disappears back inside. The door shuts with a click.
Toshinori takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. The atmosphere feels different after Tsukauchi’s interruption. For a moment, despite the distance between them, he’d felt closer to Shouta than ever.
Now, Shouta is stepping back, burying his face into his capture weapon. “I’m sorry.” His voice is clipped. “I didn’t realise you wanted to be alone. It wasn’t my intention to disturb you.”
Toshinori offers him a smile. There’s no need to dig for something that’s fading within him to make it worthwhile. It’s easy to find the strength when it’s Shouta he’s facing. “You didn’t disturb me at all,” he assures. “To be completely honest, speaking with you helped me feel more at ease. I appreciate it.”
Shouta looks up. The light from the windows illuminates his features, wide-eyed and uncertain. "Oh."
Toshinori waits a moment more. But apparently that's all Shouta has to say. He turns to head inside. "Thank you for your time." The thought occurs to him: will this be the last moment alone he shares with Shouta? For that, he almost stops. Thanks for your time? Are those going to be the parting words he leaves Shouta with? There’s so much more he deserves to know. How much those small gestures of kindness meant to Toshinori. That, as much as he tries to hide it, he cares so fiercely that Toshinori thinks he could save anyone.
But not him. His stride doesn’t falter.
"Wait." He stops in his tracks. Shouta's voice is tinged with something he hasn't heard before. Something desperate.
He turns, facing Shouta once more. Shouta continues, his eyes fixed on the concrete. "Thank you. For what you said before. It's more complicated than that. But… I appreciate it regardless."
Toshinori smiles. “It’s only the truth.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.” Shouta turns away, the shadows concealing his expression once again.
Toshinori knows what he’s thinking. For all he said before about not ruminating on what’s already done, Shouta is still a hero. Just as he is. Failure is a part of the job, and the ache it entails never goes away. No matter how logical Shouta tries to be, even he can’t suppress those emotions entirely.
Maybe this is his chance. He still has a few moments to spare before he’s needed inside. It’s not nearly enough time to describe how much Shouta inspires him, or the range of unfamiliar emotions he feels when Shouta does reveal that rare, genuine smile. That would take more time than they have, and more skill than Toshinori has with words. But surely a few lacklustre words are better than none.
“It’s not a matter of what I believe,” he says, letting the usual shields that keep him silent fall away. “The rest of the students are safe because of what you and the others did. Things could have turned out better, I’ll admit. But they also could have turned out worse. You didn’t hesitate to jump in to protect them. You never have.”
The memory of the U.S.J. attack hangs like a thundering cloud above their heads. Shouta tenses. Toshinori blinks away memories of his body, surrounded by blood and so terrifyingly still. “Class 1-A couldn’t have a better teacher looking out for them. And it’s not just them who’ve learnt important lessons from you.” He shifts anxiously on his feet. He has one chance. He desperately wants to get it right. “Ever since I started at U.A., I’ve learnt so much from you. Not just about how to be a better teacher for the students - about things I didn’t even realise I needed to learn, too. You do things so differently to me, and at first it seemed like we’d never see eye-to-eye. But there’s a strength in the way you see the world that I could never begin to compare to.”
Shouta looks up, eyes wide. Toshinori resists the urge to step closer. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. “For all my physical strength, I’ve never been able to see things as clearly as you do. Sometimes you say things like they’re a simple fact of life and I wonder how I’ve missed it all these years. You’re well suited to teaching. If you can make an old fool like me see things differently, then any budding hero student is in good hands with you as their teacher.”
Shouta stares. There’s an unsteadiness in his posture that wasn’t there before. Toshinori casts his reservations aside. “We have our differences, and I know we didn’t start off on the best of notes, but I’d like you to know that it’s been-” invigorating - “an honour to work beside you. To get to know you. You’re a better man than you think. And... in a kinder future, I would’ve loved to know you better.”
He lets the words hang between them, echoing in the silence they carve. Tsukauchi will be expecting him soon. And yet Toshinori can’t find it in him to step away. Even with the anxiety carved into his face, Shouta looks beautiful.
"Toshinori." Shouta's voice is calm. But somewhere underneath is that tone that Toshinori's starting to recognise. The one that means he knows something is wrong - he just doesn't know what. "Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye to me?"
Toshinori smiles half-heartedly. It wouldn't have fooled a stranger, let alone Shouta with his penchant for seeing beyond his masks. "I suppose I just want to cover all my bases. We’re going to need everything we’ve got to take down the League."
“Usually I’m the pessimistic one between us. You’re making things weird. Quit it.”
His forced smile turns into something more genuine. “I thought you hated my excessive optimism?”
“It has its charm,” Shouta says begrudgingly. “Even if it can be incredibly aggravating.”
He looks away, clearly uncertain. Then he steps forward. Hesitantly, he reaches out. A hand rests on Toshinori’s arm, so lightly it’s almost unnoticeable. Then it’s gone, and Toshinori feels the ice freeze him over once again. "Make sure you come back in one piece." The words are accentuated by a half-smile. "I'll buy you a drink. To show my gratitude."
Toshinori decides to skim over the subject of drinks. If things play out as he expects, the fact that he can't drink won't be relevant. "Are you asking me out? That's not like you."
“And being so defeatist isn’t like you.” Shouta’s expression remains cool, though Toshinori manages to detect the slightest blush in his cheeks. “I figure it's time for a change.”
He looks down. When he lifts his gaze back up, it feels like he’s trying to memorise every detail of how Toshinori is in this moment. “This is the one time I’ll ask you to be what you aren’t. Be the Symbol. Be the guy who can’t be knocked down, no matter how hard he’s hit. Be All Might.”
Toshinori smiles with only a hint of bitterness. “Would you expect me to be anything else?”
Shouta’s eyes survey him, something deeply sombre resting within. “Good luck.” His voice is soft.
That bitterness fades away. Now Toshinori’s smile is something entirely open. “You too.”
He turns before he can tempt himself into saying more. He’s already left Tsukauchi waiting long enough. Shouta’s piercing gaze burns into his back as he opens the door and steps into the artificial light of the building.
He pretends that the sound of the door closing behind him - the sound of doing what’s best for both of them - feels like a triumph.