Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For as long as Toshinori Yagi existed, a raging inferno occupied his soul.

It ate away at him, commanded his whole being until there was nothing left of himself to give.

Sometimes when he was a boy, Toshinori would stare at himself in the mirror and peer into his own eyes, and he could feel it. A heat radiating from the depths of his being begging to be freed and unleashed onto the world.

What did he want? What was keeping his thoughts racing at night, why did he feel like his blood was boiling and his skin was being cooked alive every time he heard on the news that the crime rate went up however much it did?

Irrelevant. What was Toshinori going to do about it?

Toshinori doesn't remember exactly when he decided he wanted to be the symbol of peace, he remembers hearing his classmates and colleagues talk about the moment they realized they wanted to pursue their dreams of becoming a hero. Even his students including young Midoriya have told him about a crucial memory that they hold dear to their soul that solidified their passion for heroism.

The uneasiness Toshinori would feel when eyes would eventually direct their way into his in question, waiting for the grand tale of All Might and the moment in which he realized he wanted to be a hero, no not just a hero, the hero, would always lead to an awkward silence where both counterparts would just look at one another.

It should be easy, it's a fair question, a normal one at that, but he just never could pinpoint a moment because for him becoming a hero wasn't a decision he made, the fire in his soul commanded him to run and he had been running ever since.

It was that fire that made him chase after Nana Shimura that day.

He watched her descend and proceed to take down a dozen villains without breaking a sweat. Was that the day Toshinori realized he wanted to be a hero?

He remembers the feeling of holding the rustic pole in his hand, the slight dip it had from being dented where he had previously hit one of the already unconscious villains. The smell of the metal coming off in waves from the heat of his hands. Fire, he was boiling, he was burning.

Floating a few feet ahead and above him, she turned to look back and he knew, and he knew he had to be taught by her, she had the same kind of fire Toshinori saw every time he looked in the mirror.

“Stop following me.” Nana floated down an empty jagged road, the snow had picked up a little.

“Allow me to help, please, I’m begging you!” Toshinori firmly spoke, ‘This is important’ his soul sang ‘Don't let her go.’

The older woman quickened her pace a bit more “No chance, you're quirkless, go take that pipe and protect your loved ones.”

“I don't have any loved ones” Toshinori replied “My family was killed a long time ago” trying to keep his voice at the same level, but she just kept on walking (floating?) away from him. ‘Don't let her go, don't let her go’ He knew that, but she wasn't listening, she wasn't hearing him.

“So was mine, but I don't have time to help you seek revenge-” he didn't care about that, it was never about revenge, he just- he couldn't.

“I just can't take it anymore” Frustration started to creep into his voice, and Toshinori stopped walking entirely, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

“In this world, criminals get rewarded for their actions and a victim’s sorrow grows into a blind rage. It's a spiral of everlasting tragedies.”

Sharply she turned her head annoyed replying with a quick “Ok, so? What's your-”

Without hesitation, Toshinori spoke with more deliverance than ever.

“I want to make the world a place where everyone can live with a smile…’ Shyness began to find its way into his throat, it was embarrassing to speak about his dreams so vulnerably and so passionately to a person he didn’t know. ‘This is important, don't let her go.’

“And for that…the world needs a symbol.” He whispered the last part, his head still bowed to the floor not knowing if the mysterious woman had already floated away or not. The cold air pricked at his cheeks and the wind blew in his ears and he could have sworn it sounded faintly of taunting laughs. What felt like minutes passed without a sound from either of the two, and the snow started to fall harder with only the slight sounds of people's screams heard from a distance.

‘Look up, did she leave? If she did go after her! Don't let her go' Slowly raising his head he looked up to see the woman still there, floating ever so slightly, her toes almost reaching the floor with an expression Toshinori at the time could not read. She looked into his eyes, her mouth in a tight line.

“A symbol?” She said, not as a question but rather as a leverage, as if to say, ‘Go on, I want to hear more.’

He raised his head higher, making his posture straighter and summoning every bit of that fire that had been burning in Toshinori Yagi since the day he was born.

‘This is important, don't let her go’

he spoke.

“A symbol of peace”

After his injury, Toshinori picked up the strange habit of visiting cemeteries.

It was weird but the first time he did it he remembered feeling self-conscious, like the eyes of those who had already passed years ago were glaring at him, waiting to emerge from their graves just to stare at him oddly like ‘Dude, you're a creep for this, ya know this is creepy right?’

And yes, Toshinori was well aware of how odd it was for an injured man, still bandaged up looking like he was one of the occupants of said cemetery standing amongst a field of the deceased looking around with a peaceful look on his face, but it was strangely nice.

When he was younger, before he had been injured and, God didn’t that feel like a lifetime ago, he feared the cemetery. Toshinori had visited too many graves too young, so the very sight of a tombstone made his stomach queasy, and then he vomited at Nana’s funeral which was a lot.

After his injury, however, it felt like he was trying to solidify what was to come, as a way to cope with his mortality. He visited a specific cemetery right next to the hospital whenever they allowed him to go outside and “smell the fresh air! You know, nature is the best medicine” or some crap like that.

So, there he stood in the cemetery standing and looking at each grave like how one would scope out the area of a place before they moved into a home.

He’d just stand there, in the dirt pathway, reading the inscriptions on the rocks that represented every person there who was once alive and calculating how long some of them had been under the dirt.

‘This will be me soon, I have to accept that.’

“Why do you just stand here” a voice spoke in the quiet cold air. Startled, Toshinori turned to find Gran Torino standing behind him wearing his hero costume and a grim expression. Toshinori wouldn't say the man sounded or even looked concerned for him, he had never been the type to coddle or support him emotionally, physically, or in any other -way. He did, however, sound curious.

“No reason,” he lied casually, bandaged hands sinking into his now very baggy pants.

He was losing weight rapidly these past few days, but he needed to accept it, the doctor said it was only going to get worse. “I just really like that tree!” Cringing at his voice on how stupid of an excuse that was. He was lying of course. He didn’t like that tree; he hated that tree it was very ugly. It was barren of any leaves, the brown color seemed to be washed away leaving an ugly grey. The trunk was so long and thin that a simple gust of wind could easily knock it down. It was dying, it was useless, it was ugly.

“Uh huh…” was all that was said in reply. They stood there for a bit while Toshinori kept his eyes wandering around, still casually looking at the graves littering the cemetery.

It was getting cold, Toshinori hated the cold, even before his injury. Fall with all its bright colors and beautiful trees, could never hide the ominous presence of death approaching. His master was murdered in the fall, he became an orphan in the fall, and parts of himself were ripped out of his body in the fall. The leaves would grow old and shrivel and then die, and then the snow of winter would cover those leaves, completely erasing them from the world.

He looked down at Gran Torino, he was old now. Very old, the years shrank him to a laughable height and his face was covered in wrinkles, his head full of grey (although that was normal given, he had always had gray hair.) He’ll fall soon, he’ll be forgotten as well. Just like his master, just like he will.

Chuckling Toshinori smiled slightly without any of the warmth reaching his eyes. “I’m dying Gran, or well I suppose I’m going to die.”

He raised his head slightly, looking at the greying sky, ‘Can you see me down here master? Are you disappointed?’

“I’m going to die, and I’m not upset about it” and that was true, he wasn't upset, he didn’t want to say this at the time but, when Nighteye told him of his prophecy, the outcome and fate he was to be met with, Toshinori didn’t feel put off by it. His world didn’t shatter, his heart didn’t drop, and the world didn’t halt in its motion in fear of the great All Mights’ death. In reality, the sky was still blue, the birds were still singing, and the world was still moving, and Toshinori felt relieved hearing that.

“If you continue like this, you’ll face off against a terrible villain and die a gruesome death!” Peace. That's what he felt.

He was scared, sure, but not for himself. Toshinori was always the kind of person to feel so strongly for others. He would get mad on behalf of people, he would cry on behalf of people, and he would fight for them too. This, however, this promise of death, was it so wrong that he felt relieved to know there was an end?

He didn’t die, however.

The fire that burned inside of him wasn't one for all, that fire existed in Toshinori long before he held the quirk, long before he knew he wanted to be a hero, long before he lost half of his vital organs.

It was withering away- he no longer felt on fire whenever he saw a villain or a civilian in need, now all he felt was an aching sadness. He still protected the people and still felt so powerful whenever civilian lives were involved, he just didn’t have that same fire anymore.

Did that fire start fade when he obtained his injury?

Or was it during those earlier days in America when he’d drink himself half to death because he could slightly hear his Master’s voice reprimanding him? Earlier perhaps?

When All for One appeared before him and Gran Torino, his Master across the field looking at him with desperation in her eyes, like she knew it was the end?

Whenever the time the fire in his soul stopped roaring is unimportant, he just knew at this very moment, that it was but a flickering flame. When the time came, and All for One’s fist stockpiled with hundreds if not thousands of quirks pierced through the sky towards him, he didn’t feel that same peace he experienced all those years ago.

He could hear the people, however far they were, screaming and hollering for their hero, the man who solely protected them for decades, to fight, to win. To live.

He couldn’t hear those cries, or at least, he didn’t truly care for them. He’d never admit it out loud, for how cruel it sounded but, the people’s cheers weren't what pushed him to win. Green eyes entered his mind when he was faced with death.

He smelled the salty ocean air and could feel sand tingling in his injured hands. The blood dripped from his head into his mouth didn’t taste metallic, no, it tasted eerily similar to the strawberry milk the boy had offered him on Dagobah Beach once because ‘you really should be taking care of yourself All Might and I’m not that thirsty anyways!’

How could he be so selfish? For so long he waited for this end, to die as a martyr for the world, that he forgot about the only family he had left in this world.

Was he going to leave him behind, especially after that stunt he and his classmates pulled? He would have to spend the rest of his life as a quirkless shell of a once great man if he lived through this. People would pity him, feel the need to protect him, coddle him like he was still that quirkless delusional little boy whose head was swimming in the clouds.

What would he do then? What would he do if his son in every way but blood whose eyes used to be filled with stars for his idol shifted into condolence?

Irrelevant. Toshinori had to live through this first.

Chapter Text

Toshinori hated hospitals.

It wasn’t always this way, there was a time when he enjoyed going to the hospital. It was embarrassing to admit it but when he was younger, as a young boy, Toshinori kind of liked the attention he got from the nurses and doctors. They would always ask how he was doing and, “Oh let me get that for you! No worries!” So, sue him if he was a bit starved for some attention and not the kind of attention he attracted as All Might, not a softer kind of attention. The kind where warm smiles and sympathetic nods replaced starstruck eyes and shrieks of delight. He supposes it has something to do with him being an orphan. He didn’t have the privilege of growing up with a mother or father or any family; so, receiving caring and genuine attention from people in the hospitals made him feel wanted.

Right now, he didn’t feel wanted at all.

He started hating hospitals somewhere around the time he lost a good chunk of his vital organs. The repeated surgeries and the multiple blood transfusions, the number of times he woke up in a daze, his head in a fog from being pumped with three times the number of painkillers in his system because, seriously, how was he still alive? He remembers vividly thinking after the eleventh time he threw up blood and couldn't stop writhing in pain, when he saw recovery’s girls’ eyes sheen with unshed tears, that he would never lay in another hospital bed ever again.

Yet here he was.

The room itself wasn’t too bad. The lights were painfully bright, and the room was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet where you could hear your heartbeat and that odd buzzing sound that constantly existed in the air.

He wasn’t too badly injured from his fight with All for One, just a broken arm and a minor concussion. It was nothing compared to the last fight he had with the sadistic psychopath. Still, he felt like he was going to suffocate for some reason. Tsukauchi asked him what was wrong before he headed out after speaking with both him and Gran Torino regarding Tomura Shigaraki who is Tenko Shimura, you know, the grandson of his Master, a woman he viewed to be like his own mother-

‘Don't think about it don't think about it.’

He told him it was nothing, that he was fine and honestly, he should’ve been applauded by the universe itself for how good his acting was. He even managed to convince himself for a moment there!

Although his mind did continue to wander to the poor boy All for One took and groomed to dutifully hate him, the feeling of rocks sinking on his skin and water washing over himself in waves again and again until he couldn't breathe because of the child All for One took and ruined just to get back at him, the suffocated feeling wasn't there because of Tenko. It was another boy who was occupying his mind and made him feel breathless.

Toshinori wasn’t stupid, he knew how highly Midoriya thought of him, heck the first time they met the boy almost broke his spine by how fiercely he bowed after receiving something as minute as an autograph from his favorite hero ever. And don't get him wrong, he knows that's just how the kid is around heroes, and in general, even young Bakugou isn't a stranger to the praises the kid sings whenever he’s gifted the chance; but those are people he admires. He worships All Might. Admiration could not be compared to idolization. He was always intimidated by his students' unearthly love for All Might, it made him, as Toshinori, feel small. Midoriya's hero is All Might.

He didn’t feel like All Might right now.

God, what was he going to do when he eventually saw the boy? Young Midoriya is such a kindhearted soul, he knows he’d never admonish Toshinori, no matter how weak and pathetic he looked. He knew this, and yet, every time he’d close his eyes his successor's face would appear in the forefront of his mind looking up to him with a look that could only be described as indifference.

Toshinori could handle the hate, he could even handle it if the boy loathed him entirely, but indifference?

He felt like he could throw up.

How pathetic, here he sat in a hospital room after defeating the vilest villain in the history of the world, and all he could think about was the slight chance that his successor (son) could perhaps not cherish him in the way that he used to, which would be understandable. He was fifty-five years of age and was chewing on his bandaged nails because he was scared, scared his successor wouldn’t like him as Toshinori Yagi in the same manner as he would All Might.

‘Weak.’

He lay his head down hoping to chase away the insulting voice in his head which oddly sounded like Gran Torino and prayed he could at least get a few minutes of rest.

He couldn’t sleep.

He was spiraling down an abyss of his own mistakes, it started with him thinking about his Master which wasn't odd, he thought of her almost always, but that led to him thinking about how she was killed (because of him) and about Tenko, her grandson who was taken and molded into the criminal he was today (because of him). He started to compare the two if you could imagine. They had the same hair texture (Tenko’s was extremely unkempt, he must have never been taught how to correctly take care of it.)

They had the same eye shape, round and curved like an almond with a slight dip at the ends; Tenko’s eyes were filled with such hatred and anger as he looked at him compared to his masters' which only held love and pride every time, she'd look his way.

They had the same nose, straight and slim with a little bump at the end of it.

They had the same mole under their smile, on the side of their chin.

...

They had the same smile.

He couldn’t sleep.

Standing from his bed, Toshinori went searching for his doctor to tell him he felt fine enough to leave, and with how long he’d been wearing a fake smile, he was confident the doctor would discharge him before the sun rose.

While leaving the hospital, Toshinori felt a little better, he didn’t feel like the waves were crashing onto him again and again so that was an improvement. He had been walking for a while, but he didn’t realize how long exactly until he felt his feet dip from underneath him.

“What on Earth?” Looking down he saw that he was standing on sand. He somehow while walking with his mind in the clouds ended up at Dagobah Beach. He looked across the landscape and couldn’t help the little bit of pride that entered his chest seeing how clean and pristine it looked. Before he could continue walking down to get closer to the shoreline, he heard his phone in his back pocket momentarily buzz.

“Hm?” Who on Earth could that be? Probably Gran Torino or Tsukauchi who are just finding out he was discharged from the hospital. It was a message from young Midoriya reading, ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes All Might!!’

Huh? Be where in a few minutes? Why was he texting him so late in the night? Raising his fingers to type a quick message scolding the young man for being awake so late and asking what he was even talking about, he saw a message he sent a few minutes prior.

‘I’m at Dagobah beach.’

…

What?

What??

He didn’t remember texting him that. But there it was, the evidence was clear as day, he did send that message and the boy did read that message which meant that young Midoriya was making his way from his home toward the beach to see him. This. Very. Second.

“Shit!!” He hadn’t even prepared what he was going to tell the boy, how could he face him like this? He still had bandages covering his head and wrapping his arm with said arm lying limply in a sling.

He looked weak and pathetic, nothing like the great hero Midoriya loved so passionately. Indifferent eyes popped into his mind, and he felt like throwing up again.

“All Might!” A voice suddenly cried in the cool quiet air, it had to be Midoriya. The worry in the kids’ voice didn’t go unnoticed and Toshinori felt selfish.

‘He was probably worried sick after what happened. That poor kid…witnessing something like he did and at such a young age.’

Turning towards the boy he couldn't help the slight smile growing on his face, the first time he smiled since seeing All for One again.

Whispering to himself a quiet “Oh, there you are.” Toshinori started to slightly run towards the kid, it was beautifully cinematic. They were running towards one another, Midoriya screaming his name and Toshinori waving his arm at him, the moon glistening over the water across the shoreline.

“It sure took you long enough!” He yelled, a bubbling laughter threatening to rise from his throat.

“All Might!” The boy was always such a crier, he didn’t think he’d ever quite lose the habit of always falling into sobs whenever the opportunity presented itself. Usually, Toshinori would chuckle at the sight of them, or his heart would twinge a little if the tears seemed warranted, now however, he was angry at seeing them.

This kid had some nerve, some nerve showing up here, crying with relief with his arms spread sprinting his way. Was he expecting them to hug? As if! After the stunt he pulled at Kamino, showing up out of the blue to rescue young Bakugou. Albeit it, his arms were also spread out, like he wanted to hug the kid but, whatever. He was still loopy from all the drugs they gave him at the hospital (he was given no drugs).

‘Although he did save young Bakugou and was a huge help, and he also managed to not get hurt, he even used his quirk and didn’t injure himself! Wow, he’s grown so much I’m so proud of- wait, no! I’m supposed to be mad! Even All for One insulted my teaching skills with how disobedient the kid was to have appeared in the middle of their battle knowing full well how dangerous it was or how badly it could have turned. I have to reprimand him, I mustn't coddle successor, must scold successor.’

Midoriya was still galloping across the beach, and with all that anger festering within Toshinori, all that pride he held because the boy managed to involve himself in a fight and escape unscathed, all the fear he felt when he heard All for One mention his successors' name; all that energy came together in one single punch.

Midoriya kept glancing at him, his eyes wide and staring into his soul, it was creeping the hell out of him. He probably just wanted to ask him some questions, about his retirement, about what the next steps are after the great All Might steps down as the number one hero: life without the symbol of peace. But the insecure stupid part of his mind kept thinking the boy was looking at him with disdain.

‘He’s probably disappointed that the reign of All Might is effectively over, and now all he’s stuck with is a quirkless old man as his mentor.’

“Are you okay?” In a hesitant voice, the kid finally spoke.

Toshinori looked to his side where the two of them were sitting after Midoriya (both of them) cried his (their) eyes out. His knees were held to his chest by his still bandaged arms as he looked up towards his mentor, eyes narrowing, and his lip pressed thinly. They both had sand completely covering their pants and Toshinori wanted so badly to wipe the sand off his nose and put his hands on his cheeks- wait, what?

“I’m fine! Just a bit banged up honestly, you look worse than me…”

“I know that I meant emotionally All Might. I mean, that was ‘him’ that you fought, right? That's terrifying! If I were in your position and I saw the villain who injured me as badly as he did all those years ago again, I don’t know what I’d do. You looked afraid for a moment, which is like totally valid but, it made me feel scared and worried for you. Like, yeah, you're All Might, duh, but seeing you standing there paralyzed with fear, I felt frozen and that made me wonder if I feel that way imagine how you were feeling in that moment, and even now, are you okay? That's a dumb question, what I mean is do you think you’ll be okay? Do you need space? Should I leave, I’ll leave-”

“Enough!” At the sound of his voice, the boy froze from his attempt to quietly get up and leave his mentor alone.

“God kid, you overthink worse than me, of course, I’m okay, emotionally I mean.” He chuckled; this kid could be too much sometimes.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, sitting back down but leaning towards Toshinori, his eyes peering into his. He didn’t see any indifference, pity, or any of the other hundred things Toshinori truly thought he’d see in his students’ eyes. All he saw was concern.

Toshinori patted his head, ruffling his curly hair, and lowered his face until he was at eye level with him. “I’m sure, sorry for worrying you, my boy.” And he meant it, he didn’t mean to leave the boy worried over him, but he wouldn’t be lying if he admitted that it felt relieving to see the boy’s eyes still looked at him as if he hung the stars and the moon.

They sat there for a little longer, his hand in the boys’ hair, ruffling it and smiling widely trying his best to reassure him with it. Midoriya's eyes again but not surprisingly welling up with tears and falling down his face, Toshinori couldn’t help the booming laugh from escaping his chest, chasing away indifferent eyes from his thoughts.

Midoriya was laughing with him now, a meeker smaller laugh, his eyes filled with mirth as he shyly leaned into the hand resting atop his head. Izuku would never admit it out loud, but he would always remember that particular laugh. All Might was always laughing, any person could tell you that, but Toshinori didn’t laugh as much. Izuku noticed every time his mentor was as he was now, in his true form, he avoided laughing significantly more than he did as All Might. He chuckled, sure, he even guffawed here and there. But never like this, never the booming laugh that All Might always let out as he leaped from one building to another. He liked this laugh, his teachers’ eyes shut tightly and his body slightly shaking from delight, he felt blessed to witness it. What Izuku didn’t know, however, was that this was the loudest and most genuine laugh Toshinori let out in the fifty-five years he’d been alive.

Calming down a little bit, Toshinori grabbed the boy by his arm with his good hand and hoisted him up to his feet.

“Alright kid, let's get you home, hm? It's already super late, we don't want to worry your mother now do we?” Toshinori’s voice still had a hint of laughter in it as the boy looked down at his feet and shook his head.

“Yeah, I guess.” He muttered with his chin tucked to his chest, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“What’s wrong kiddo? Wanna stay here with me on this beach forever or something?” He teased lightly, poking the middle of his forehead, chuckling a little.

“Yes,” Midoriya whispered to himself, making sure his idol didn’t hear. All Might started coughing loudly, hand banging on his chest when Izuku looked up and started frantically waving his hands in the air.

“Are you okay, what happened? Are you hurt?” Voice frazzled as he looked in his empty pockets for a handkerchief he could give to his teacher.

“I’m- I’m fine, don't worry, ha-ha…” He awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding his successor's gaze.

Clearing his throat Toshinori continued “Anyways, you should get going, all right? I’ll see you soon, my boy, I promise.” He put his hand on the boys’ back and gave him a slight shove towards the steps leading out of the beach.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon. Bye, All Might, feel better!” He shouted a bit too loudly, Toshinori cringed but still kept the smile on his face.

“Don't say my name out loud like that, and again, I already feel better don't worry!” He shouted back as the kid waved his hand behind him, grinning from ear to ear.

Toshinori smiled while watching the retreating of his student, with the sand under his feet, his hand still feeling the phantom touch of the boys' curls, and something warm blooming in his chest ever since he heard Midoriya mutter a quiet yes under his breath thinking his predecessor couldn’t hear him; Toshinori for the first time in a long time felt relieved.

Chapter Text

Every night, Toshinori's dreams were filled with Nana Shimura.

Sometimes, they were just ordinary moments, where they enjoyed each other's company, sitting in landscapes that seemed oddly familiar but warped by the dream's strangeness. On other nights, in the depths of his subconscious, Toshinori often found himself entangled in the haunting memory of the day his master was mercilessly killed. They were vivid, etched with the raw emotions of fear as he would stand there, his body that of when he was younger, unable to move while witnessing her final moments, frozen in time, her outstretched hand, fingers pointing accusingly, symbolized not only her plea for him to carry the weight of their shared power but also the burden of protecting a world teetering on the edge of darkness.

However it turned out, it always consisted of two parts and habitually started the same. He would dream of how they first met, standing as a boy in his middle school uniform, after he poured his heart and soul and told her his goal and dream.

Nana's piercing eyes bore into Toshinori's soul at the moment, weighing his words with a gravity that made his heart race. The wind howled around them, carrying the echoes of distant chaos, but in that moment, everything seemed oddly still, frozen in time. Toshinori swallowed, feeling the weight of his declaration settle on his shoulders like a hero's cape.

"A symbol of peace," he repeated, his voice stronger this time, resolute. "A beacon of hope that shines even in the darkest of times. A figure that stands tall, unyielding against the tide of villainy. Someone who can inspire others to stand up, to fight back, to believe in a better world."

Nana regarded him silently, her expression unreadable. Toshinori's hands trembled, but he clenched them into fists, channeling his fear into determination. He had laid bare his deepest aspiration, the very core of his being, and he refused to back down.

"I may be quirkless, but I refuse to let that define me," Toshinori continued, his voice unwavering. "I will find a way to become the symbol this world needs. I will train harder, push myself beyond my limits, and prove that anyone, quirkless or not, can make a difference. I want to be a hero, not for revenge, but to end this cycle of suffering and despair."

Nana's gaze softened, a hint of understanding flickering in her eyes. For a moment, Toshinori dared to hope, dared to believe that she might see the fire burning within him and recognize it as the same flame that drove her.

"You're naïve," she said, her voice cutting through the biting wind. "But there's a sincerity in your words that I can't ignore. The path you've chosen is fraught with danger and sacrifice; are you prepared to face the challenges that await you?"

Toshinori nodded, his determination unwavering.

A ghost of a smile played on Nana's lips, a glimmer of approval in her eyes. "We'll see about that," she said cryptically, her form beginning to fade as if merging with the falling snow. "But remember, young hero, true strength comes not just from power, but from the indomitable spirit that refuses to yield, no matter the odds.

He knew the road ahead would be arduous, filled with challenges and trials, but he was no longer alone. He had found his mentor, his guide in the form of a mysterious woman with a heart as fiery as his own.

That's where the beginning of his dream would end, Nana’s eyes imprinted on his soul, the relief he felt having someone to believe in his optimistic dream. Nothing, not one feeling, could top how good in that moment Toshinori felt standing there replaying the memories of the day his entire world shifted.

Suddenly, his dream would change, and the second part started, both memories, but this one; this one Toshinori detested.

As the guests continued to arrive, their solemn faces and fine attire created a sombre atmosphere. Toshinori didn’t recognize a single one of them, he felt out of place, a stranger in this moment.

He remembers the visitors approaching him, one by one, offering repeated condolences, the hundredth "I'm so sorry for your loss," and “She was a kind woman” were given off-handed to both he and Torino-sensei, all of them seemingly unaware of Toshinori's identity, paying him no mind.

He wanted to run.

He longed to escape, to flee the suffocating atmosphere that hung heavy in the air, clinging to him like a shroud. The entire event was a blur of well-meaning words, each one a reminder of his role as an imposter in this grieving crowd. No matter how hard he tried, the memories of that day eluded his attempts to banish them, haunting him in the dark recesses of his mind.

Throughout the entire thing, all the terrible moments in that funeral that Toshinori wishes he could push out of his mind entirely yet they still seem to find him every once in a while; whether it be when he finally feels like he’s grieved every grievance there is for his master or in the middle of the night, much like this one, when he thinks after the hell the day gives him, maybe just maybe he could finally find some semblance of peace at night; there was one moment on that day which never fails to make him feel wholly nauseous.

He doesn't remember when it happened, before or after the reception he isn't sure, but he knows he was standing on the left of Torino-sensei, more people approaching them, their repeated words becoming a monotonous echo that blurred together; one woman approached the two, looking at him oddly. He remembers she was wearing a black dress like every woman present but there were fleece lacings on the cuff of her sleeves. Her stature matched that of his late master and her brown hair was in a tight greased bun. Her hands trembled, betraying her composure as she extended a strained smile toward him, uttering words that hit both him and his teacher like bullets, words that haunt him to this day,

“I thought I recognized you; I remember Nana having a son and I think I may have seen you a couple of times but, my, how you’ve grown!”

…

Son? She thought he was her son.

The realization hit him like a sledgehammer – she believed he was Nana's son, Kotaro.

A strange mix of emotions engulfed him: sorrow for the son that Nana had lost, guilt for standing in his place, and a profound sense of loneliness that pierced his heart. He looked at Torino-sensei, seeking solace, but his teacher's eyes mirrored his own turmoil.

The funeral continued around him; the mourners oblivious to the internal storm raging within Toshinori. He felt like an imposter, a ghost haunting a life that wasn't truly his. Every condolence people gave him afterward felt like a reminder of the chasm between who he was and who he was mistaken to be.

Toshinori woke up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as if he had just narrowly escaped a life-threatening situation. The weight of the woman's words hung heavily in the air, suffocating him. His breaths came in shallow gasps, and his palms were clammy with sweat. The room felt alien, the familiar surroundings distorted by the remnants of his haunting dream.

He sat up, his mind in disarray, trying to shake off the residual fear and insecurity that clung to him like a vengeful ghost. The room was silent, save for the soft hum outside his window.

Toshinori's thoughts swirled, mixing with the memories of the funeral and the weight of his unspoken promise to Nana. Doubts that had always lingered at the edges of his consciousness now consumed him, casting a shadow over his once unwavering resolve.

His hands trembled as he reached for the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a warm, soft glow. The light chased away the shadows, but it couldn't dispel the darkness within him. He rubbed his temples, attempting to soothe the ache that throbbed in his head, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within his mind.

Toshinori glanced at the clock – its red digits displayed the early hours of the morning. He knew sleep would elude him, the memory of the funeral and the woman mistaking his identity haunting his thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

As he moved through his apartment, Toshinori's steps were hesitant, as if he were navigating an unfamiliar terrain. He found himself in front of a mirror, his own reflection a stranger staring back at him. His eyes once filled with determination, now sunken and hollow held a glimmer of uncertainty, a flicker of self-doubt that he had never allowed himself to acknowledge before.

"What am I doing?" he whispered to his reflection, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. The weight of his responsibilities bore down on him, threatening to crush him under their immense pressure. He felt like an imposter, a false beacon of hope in a world that needed genuine heroes.

A surge of frustration coursed through him, and he struck the mirror with his open palm, the impact jarring his bones. The mirror trembled, its surface distorting his reflection for a moment before settling back into place. Toshinori winced, both from the physical pain and the realization that he was losing himself in the face of his insecurities.

The memory of those words always clung to him like a persistent shadow, resurfacing in his thoughts when he least expected it. Nights were the worst – the silence of the night amplified the echoes of that painful encounter, replaying the scene in his mind with cruel clarity.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, Toshinori's mind betrayed him, flooding his thoughts with a tidal wave of self-doubt. He couldn't escape the nagging voice that whispered in his ear, reminding him of his perceived weaknesses, his lack of power, and his inability to protect those he cared about. The weight of his failure as a successor let alone a son bore down on him.

As he stared at his reflection, he saw not the symbol of peace he once embodied, but a hollow shell of the hero he used to be. The absence of one for all left a void within him, a void that seemed impossible to fill. The scars on his body, once badges of honor, now felt like reminders of his inadequacy, especially the injury that left him to become the useless man he is now. He traced his fingers over the fading marks, a bitter reminder of battles he could no longer fight, he didn’t dare lift his shirt and look at his injury.

"What have I become?" he murmured, his voice a mere whisper, laced with desperation. He recalled the countless lives he had saved as All Might, the hope he had inspired in others, and the unwavering determination that had defined him. Now, he felt like a mere shadow of that greatness, a relic of the past that had lost its shine.

The forged thought of Nana's disappointed expression haunted him. He could almost see her eyes, once filled with pride, now clouded with disappointment. He had promised to carry on her legacy, to be the symbol of peace the world needed, but he felt like he had failed her in every possible way. He felt he had let down his master, the person who had believed in him when no one else did.

‘I thought I recognized you; I remember Nana having a son and I think I may have seen you a couple of times but, my, how you’ve grown!’

The word "son" hung in the air, heavy with misplaced expectations. Even years after that moment, Toshinori still felt a sharp pang of guilt and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. His master, if she were still alive, would be disgusted by the comparison between her son and him, now a mere shadow of the hero she had raised.

His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as if trying to ground himself into reality. The pain served as a fleeting distraction from the emotional torment that gnawed at his soul. He wanted to scream, to release the pent-up frustration and anguish that threatened to consume him whole.

Instead, he decided to put a nice big smile on and start preparing for class, knowing he wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight.

Taking a deep breath, Toshinori tried to gather his resolve. He needed to fulfill his duties as a teacher at U.A., guiding the next generation of heroes.

The morning air felt heavy with the weight of Toshinori's thoughts as he made his way to the staff room. His steps were slower than usual, laden with the burden of the lingering nightmare, each footfall echoed in his ears.

His hand instinctively went to his chest, feeling a subtle pang beneath his shirt. Unease washed over him, was it just his imagination, or was there something more to this discomfort? Toshinori tried to dismiss the thought, attributing it to stress and fatigue, but the worry gnawed at the edges of his mind.

With each step, his stomach churned with a mix of anxiety and nausea. The staff room loomed ahead, its familiar door a portal to his responsibilities as a teacher. As he entered, the hum of conversation and the scent of coffee filled the air. Toshinori forced himself to put on a smile, a mask to conceal the turmoil within.

Taking a seat at his desk, he tried to focus on the lesson plans spread out before him. The words on the paper seemed to blur, his concentration slipping away like sand through his fingers. His mind kept drifting to the unsettling sensation in his chest.

"Are you alright?" A concerned voice pulled him back to the present. It was Aizawa, peering at him with a furrowed brow.

Toshinori managed a weak smile, attempting to brush off his concerns. "I'm fine, just a bit tired. Probably didn't sleep well last night."

Aizawa's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, as if sensing there was more to the story. "Take care of yourself, All Might. We can handle things here if you need a break."

Toshinori gave him his best fake smile and nodded in understanding, turning back to his desk.

A few minutes passed with him sitting there, trying and failing to focus on grading the papers in front of him while Aizawa, the always vigilant and perceptive colleague, kept glancing in his direction, his gaze filled with concern. Toshinori could feel Aizawa's eyes on him, a weighty scrutiny that made him increasingly uneasy. Aizawa's concern was genuine, born out of camaraderie and care, but it only served to intensify Toshinori's discomfort.

"You don't look well. Are you sure you're, okay?" Aizawa's voice was dry and forward but still laced with subtle genuine worry as he approached Toshinori's desk.

Toshinori forced a smile, his attempt at reassurance faltering under Aizawa's eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Aizawa-kun, but I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired. Long night, you know."

Aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze searching Toshinori's face as if trying to read the truth behind his words. "You've been off lately, All Might, you also look like death." "I appreciate your concern, Aizawa-kun, but really, I'm fine," Toshinori repeated, his voice firmer this time "I just need to get through today's classes, and I'll be back to my usual self. Besides, I always look like death."

Aizawa regarded him silently for a moment longer, processing his degrading joke before finally nodding. "Alright, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. We're here for you."

With those words, Aizawa left, his concern hanging in the air like a lingering echo. Toshinori forced himself to focus on his lesson plan, trying to push aside the doubts and insecurities that threatened to consume him. He had a class to teach, students to inspire, and a legacy to uphold.

Midoriya couldn't help but steal glances at All Might, his life-long idol and now his teacher. Something seemed different about the symbol of peace. There was a weight in All Might's eyes, a heaviness that hadn't been there before as he tried to settle the class down from their always persistent excitement.

Toshinori shifted uncomfortably under Midoriya's gaze. The young hero-in-training's eyes seemed to pierce through him, as if he could read the innermost thoughts and insecurities that plagued Toshinori's mind. The thought of someone, especially Midoriya, being able to discern his internal struggles made him uneasy. It was as if Midoriya possessed a unique quirk that allowed him to peer into Toshinori's soul. He knew that wasn’t true, of course Midoriya couldn’t read his thoughts, how ridiculous…could he?

Toshinori tried to maintain his composure, focusing on the lesson at hand and attempting to gather the classroom of kids’ attention. He wondered if Midoriya, with his perceptive nature, could sense the internal battle Toshinori was having ever since his retirement. The struggle to come to terms with his lost power, the fear of inadequacy, and the deep-seated worry that he had let down everyone…

As the class continued, Toshinori found himself stealing glances back at Midoriya, trying to gauge the young hero's reaction. Was Midoriya truly reading his mind, or was it just a figment of Toshinori's overactive imagination? He couldn't be sure, but the unease settled in the pit of his stomach, gnawing at his confidence.

As the lesson continued, Toshinori tried his best to project an air of confidence, even as he grappled with his inner demons. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of his students, and certainly not in front of Midoriya.

After the bell rang and the last student filed out of the classroom in preparation for their next class, Midoriya hesitated for a moment before gathering his courage. With a determined expression on his face, he approached Toshinori, who was still seated at his desk, grading papers. There was a sense of concern in Midoriya's eyes, a worry that he couldn't quite conceal.

"All Might," Midoriya began tentatively, his voice soft yet determined. "Is everything alright? You seem... different lately, and I can't help but worry. I know it's not my place, but I wanted to ask if you're okay." Toshinori looked up from his papers, meeting Midoriya's gaze. He could see the genuine concern in the young hero's eyes, and it touched him deeply. A small, appreciative smile tugged at the corners of Toshinori's lips.

"Izuku," Toshinori said, using Midoriya's first name in a gesture of familiarity and warmth. "I appreciate your concern. I... I've been going through some challenges recently, but please don't worry about me. I'm doing my best to handle everything."

Midoriya nodded, his worry not dissipating. "I understand, All Might. But if there's anything I can do to help or if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. You've always been there for us, teaching and guiding us. It's only fair that we're here for you too."

Toshinori felt a swell of gratitude for Midoriya's kindness and understanding. He placed a hand on Midoriya's shoulder, appreciating the genuine empathy that radiated from his student.

"Thank you, Izuku," Toshinori said sincerely. "I might take you up on that offer sometime. For now, let's focus on our training and studies."

He pushed all those pitying and insecure feelings aside, plastering on a smile for Midoriya's benefit. The last thing he wanted was for his students to worry about him, to see him as anything less than the formidable teacher they needed.

As a now reassured Midoriya walked out of the empty classroom, a surge of annoyance and frustration welled up within him. He couldn't shake the feeling that everyone's concern was a reflection of his perceived weakness. Now that he was quirkless and no longer the mighty All Might, it seemed like people tiptoed around him, treating him like a fragile porcelain doll.

In his mind, he raged against their pity, their well-intentioned worry that only served to remind him of his current limitations. He didn't want their sympathy; he wanted to be seen as the hero he used to be, not a shadow of his former self.

Toshinori knew he couldn’t go back to the staff room, Aizawa and the rest of his colleagues, he didn’t know if he could handle another “Are you okay?” or “How are you holding up?” no matter how well-intentioned they may be.

Deciding to go back to his apartment knowing he had no other responsibilities to fulfill in the day, he sat alone in his apartment, the weight of everything pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. As he stared at his reflection on the screen of his phone while trying to check for the time, he couldn't help but imagine what his younger self would think if he saw him now – frail, weak, and plagued by self-doubt.

In his youth, Toshinori had been driven by an unyielding fire, a burning determination that had fueled his ambition to become a symbol of peace. That fire had pushed him to overcome obstacles, rise above challenges, and inspire others with his unwavering resolve. But now, that fire was gone, replaced by an icy void that seemed to consume his very essence.

He remembered the days when he had been unstoppable when he had faced every hurdle with courage and conviction. He had believed in himself, in his ability to make a difference, and in his capacity to protect others. But now, he felt like a mere shadow of his former self, a hollow shell haunted by the echoes of his past glory.

The world had changed, and so had he. The relentless battles, the injuries, and the passing of one for all had taken their toll, leaving him feeling vulnerable and uncertain. The admiration he had once inspired had turned into pity, and the looks of awe had transformed into worried glances, (he knew that was untrue, Midoriya still looked at him in awe, but sometimes; sometimes the boy would look at him the same way Gran did when that woman called him Nana’s son, in pity.)

Toshinori longed for the days when he had been a beacon of hope when his presence had instilled confidence and reassurance in others. But now, he was just a reminder of his own limitations, a symbol of what he had lost.

He knew that he needed to find a way to reignite that fire, to rediscover the strength and determination that had defined him in his youth. But as he looked at his reflection, all he saw was a reflection of his own weakness and fragility. The journey to reclaim his former self seemed daunting and insurmountable, but deep within, a glimmer of hope flickered – a small ember of the fire that had once burned within him, reminding him that even in the darkest moments, there was still a chance for redemption and renewal.

“Izuku lives for you, promise me to live”, in that solitary moment, as Toshinori gazed at his reflection, a surge of determination coursed through him. He remembered the words of Inko Midoriya, the strength in her voice when she had asked him to keep on living. Those words echoed in his mind, reminding him that even in his weakened state, he had a purpose, a reason to continue.

With newfound resolve, he stood up in his empty apartment. The air seemed to crackle with possibility, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope. Today would be the day he took charge of his life again, he was sick of feeling sorry for himself and having nightmares of things that already passed, he was All Might dammit! Quirk or no quirk.

He knew he couldn't bring back the past, but he could shape his future.

As he left his apartment, he carried with him the promise he had made to himself and to Inko Midoriya. He would honor her words by embracing life once more, by facing his insecurities and fears head-on. The path ahead was uncertain, but Toshinori walked it with newfound purpose, his heart filled with the determination to better his life, one day at a time.

Today looked like a great day to go out for a run.