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You'd think that, after having so many hospital stays under his belt, Toshinori would handle them better. You would be incorrect. He could barely move, his entire body sore and aching and bandaged tightly, but his body still yearned to fidget and shuffle around. He hadn't thought he'd be around to feel the aches and pains his reckless bid for time would bring, but he supposed that Chiyo was right, as usual. The human body could take a real beating, and he was living, breathing proof of that.
But, he also knew that he'd hit his wall. Before rushing out in that suit, a suit that cost just about every yen he owned, Toshinori could at least pretend he was active and contributing as a hero. He could go on television and give a rousing speech, or pull out his muscle form for a split second, just long enough to inspire those that looked up to him. But now? He tried to pull out his muscle form, but it only served to make his body tense in pain and his head swim. That final spark that had refused to leave him had at last gone out.
It was a miracle he'd made it far enough to learn that in the first place. The doctors kept telling him that they'd been sure he wasn't going to pull through, his body shutting down rapidly. But he managed to bounce back, and they stabilized him. Even without a stomach, even in this thin, emaciated form, he persevered. The doctors years ago had said much the same when he'd regained consciousness after his internal organs became a lot more... external. Maybe it was his stubbornness shining through, but Toshinori knew he'd reached his limit this time.
He looked over at the bed next to his. He could barely move his head, but he did anyway, ignoring how his neck protested to gaze at his young protege. Izuku was in rough shape as well, though the damage to his body wasn't on the same level as Toshinori's. A jagged scar ran down one side of his face, only visible from that angle because of how it puffed up. The bandage over it had been removed a few days ago - it'd healed enough.
When Toshinori looked at Izuku, he felt a conflicting mix of pride and guilt. He was proud, so proud of Izuku for finishing what he couldn't, for putting an end to All for One after years of him pulling the strings from the shadows. But the guilt there couldn't be denied, either. That scar on his face was only there because of Toshinori, because he'd tasked this young man with a burden too heavy for even a grown adult to carry. He'd briefly gone without arms on the battlefield, he learned, the appendages completely disintegrated before Eri's horn had rewound them back into existence.
Izuku's success was undeniable, and he had every right to be celebrated as the hero the public finally recognized him as. But that victory came at a cost. It was a cost Toshinori paid, when he looked at Izuku and saw him laying in a hospital bed, his limbs wrapped in casts. It was a cost Izuku would pay now that he, too, would soon have to return to a life of quirklessness in a world where having a power meant everything. Izuku's dream of being a hero... would have to end.
"Hey, All Might?" Izuku murmured quietly. Toshinori jumped, regretting it instantly as a wave of cramps swept through his body. How long had Izuku been awake for? Why didn't he open his eyes or say anything? As if reading his thoughts, the young boy's eyes slowly opened, revealing straightforward green irises. There was still kindness in those eyes, a desire to reach out, to connect with those who were in pain. They didn't look toward him.
"What is it, my boy?" Toshinori replied. He didn't bother trying to correct Izuku. The boy knew to call him by his actual name, but this wasn't exactly the moment to nitpick a force of habit. When Izuku made no move to look at him, Toshinori shifted carefully until he, too, was staring up at the ceiling. "Do I need to call a nurse for another dose of pain meds?" He'd woken up fitfully those first few days in their shared hospital room, plagued by flaring pain, Toshinori knew.
"No, I'm not in pain," Izuku said. That was a blatant lie, but Toshinori didn't call him out on it. He said much the same all the time, it'd hardly be fair. "I just wanted to know... if you remember that promise we made." Toshinori sucked in a harsh breath, sending a white-hot knife of pain straight to his lungs. He coughed and wheezed, no doubt hacking up more blood than was healthy, but he couldn't stop. Tears stung in his eyes, unshed but threatening to fall.
"I-" he broke into another fit of coughing. It took more than a few steadying breaths and unsteady swallows for him to regain his composure and for his lungs to stop trying to do him in. "Of course I do, young Izuku. The promise we made that day... I've carried it close to my heart all this time." Even as he'd driven into All for One's path against all orders and common sense, that promise had lingered heavily in the back of his mind. He accepted his fate on that day, but a part of him wanted to keep living anyway. For Izuku.
"I realized, when I was laying here just now," Izuku continued, "but... we did it, didn't we?" Huh? Toshinori's breath caught in his chest, and his lungs ached in warning. "Sir Nighteye's prediction... it didn't come true. We beat his inescapable prediction, which means... we beat fate." There was a faint hiccup, and Toshinori realized all at once that he wouldn't be able to keep his building tears from falling. "You're still alive."
Izuku's voice broke down into crying that pierced through Toshinori's chest in a way that a mad man's fist never could. He forced himself to swallow back his emotions as they threatened to drown him, and he turned to look at his young protege. Seeing him there, it was as though he was transported over an entire year into the past. Suddenly, it was middle school-aged Izuku before him, crying on his hands and knees because he was finally acknowledged. One blink, and the present Izuku overtook that image of the past.
There was nothing that could've possibly held back Toshinori's tears at that point. They rolled down his gaunt cheeks like twin rivers, and yet a grin rose on his face, lopsided and goofy. He lived. He... actually lived! Toshinori knew that already, and had spent the past week or two somewhat regretting it, but... They did it. Nighteye's prediction, the one that caused him so much distress and pain, had been averted. And now, he could live.
Funny, he spent so many years of his life running headlong toward his own death, but now that Toshinori had a limitless future ahead of him, it hit him in full force how stupid he'd been since Nighteye looked into his future.
Compelled by joy and hope, Toshinori weakly raised his arm from his bed. Like Izuku's, it was heavily bandaged. All for One probably broke just about every bone in the poor thing, having thrown Toshinori around like a ragdoll. He didn't remember the specifics of what had been done to him, only that it'd hurt so bad he began drifting into unconsciousness. It was Bakugo's timely entrance and the shadowed sight of Sir Nighteye telling him to live that snapped him back awake, nothing more. Perhaps, in that way, Nighteye undermined his own foresight.
It took Izuku a moment to notice what Toshinori was doing, tears flowing from his eyes just as easily as they had back when the two of them had first met. But no longer was the boy before Toshinori a scrawny, withdrawn child. No, he had fought and grown, and more than earned Toshinori's old mantle. When Izuku saw Toshinori reaching out to him with all the strength he could muster, his eyes widened and he copied the motion, lifting his hand up and meeting Toshinori's halfway. Their bandaged hands softly tapped against each other.
"We did it, my boy!" Toshinori whispered, voice tempered by raw disbelief. "I'm sure it was the rewinding All for One that Nighteye saw in his vision all those years ago." There was no longer any fear when he said the name. The associated terror had gone, disappearing just as the owner of that moniker had from Bakugo's unforgiving explosions. "But here I am, alive and well." Calling himself 'well' was a bit of an overstatement, but nevertheless as true as it was ever going to be. "And it's all thanks to you, young Izuku. Thank you, for fighting by my side until the end."
Because it had been to the end. Toshinori hadn't been sure what the sensation was at first, but after speaking to Izuku about it, he learned that the boy had become aware of Toshinori's own battle against All for One as it was happening. He was aware of what was going on around Toshinori, and looking back, Toshinori had noticed the sudden link between them. It had felt like Izuku was watching him; he'd felt those big green eyes looking over his shoulder from the very first punch.
Izuku's tears returned in greater force, making the boy scrunch up his face, but his smile persisted. Relief hit them both, a great weight suddenly lifted. Toshinori's time in the limelight had ended after many, many long years, and Izuku's lifelong dream had been realized, all in one day. And they were both still alive. No matter the pain they endured, no matter the broken bones and lost body parts and disfigurement, they lived. The two who had finally escaped the shadow of All for One, and this was their reward.
To live.