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1.
The first time Naomasa meets Toshi’s kid is after the attack on the USJ.
After being debriefed by his officers on-site, he takes a car to the hospital where All Might is being held. His mind is swirling with all the information he’s taken in over the past few hours as his feet carry him through the hospital. Villains haven’t been this organized in years—and to gather in a group of low-level thugs just to kill All Might? Shots have been taken on the Number One Hero’s life before, but why use such small guns for this kind of attack? And why aim at a high school? What were their motives? And where the hell did that monster come from?
Just thinking about the number of incident reports he’d have to file gave him a headache.
He reaches the private room at the end of the ward and slips inside. A powered-down Toshinori sits up on his bed, covered in scrapes and bandages. It’s a sight Naomasa has unfortunately gotten used to over the years.
The thing that’s surprising, though, is that there’s someone else in the room—a scrawny teenager named Midoriya Izuku who looks as though he’s never used a hairbrush before in his life. Naomasa tenses for a moment, wondering why the nurses put this child in the same room with All Might knowing the hero’s secret, but his anxiety dissipates when Toshinori introduces him.
It’s alright, he says to Midoriya. Tsukauchi is my trusted friend. He knows about One for All.
Well, that’s bizarre.
Toshinori was a pretty private person. He didn't let a lot of people into his personal life, and he certainly didn’t take discussing One for All lightly. It was years before he actually even told Naomasa, even during his All for One investigation. Why would All Might trust some random teenager with his Quirk’s secret? Unless Midoriya already knew? Or—unless Midoriya wasn’t just some random kid.
After he’s done debriefing the hero about what information his officers dug up, he gestures for Toshinori to follow him outside into the hall.
Naomasa doesn’t like beating around the bush—years of police work have trained that out of him. “Why does the kid know about you know what? Did you know him before U.A.? Is he your son?”
It’s not the worst conclusion—lots of pro heroes had private lives and families they kept hidden from the public. Maybe this kid was one of them.
But being blunt probably wasn’t the best way to go here. Toshinori leans back against the door frame and coughs so violently his body bends in half. Naomasa pulls out his handkerchief from his coat pocket and offers it to his friend. A woman sitting at the nurse’s station shoots a glare at Naomasa for upsetting their patient.
“You—you think he’s my—” The blond wheezes, trying to catch his breath. He wipes his mouth and waves a hand in front of him to dismiss the very thought. “No, no! You’ve got it all wrong. The boy isn’t mine in any capacity. I met him just last year during that sludge villain attack and decided to take him on as my successor. But trust me, it’s strictly professional.”
Naomasa’s eyebrows shoot up, and he lowers his voice to a whisper. “You’re giving him One for All?”
“Gave,” Toshinori corrects just as quietly. “I don’t have it inside me anymore.”
Naomasa tilts his head. He still struggled to understand exactly how One for All worked, but apparently, it meant All Might could still exist without it. Perhaps it was like turning off an electric stove—the fire was gone, but the residual heat from it was still there, lasting just long enough to continue to cook food if you kept a pan there.
“Huh.” Then, his mind turns with a new idea for the attack today. “It’s possible that the villains might have picked up on this information somehow. If that’s true, the attack today could have been focused on both you and Midoriya.”
All Might’s face is sullen and serious, “I made him swear that he wouldn’t tell anyone. The only other person who knows is Nezu. If the villains somehow know about this, then that means the information got leaked somehow.”
Naomasa really didn’t like the sound of that. It could mean the entirety of U.A. was compromised. By the grim look on the hero’s face, Toshinori was thinking along the same lines.
“Well, there’s no sense in us just standing around thinking of worst-case scenarios.” Naomasa smiles a little, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve clearly got a lot of investigation to do, and you’ve got to rest. Tell your kid I hope he heals up soon!”
“He’s not my kid,” Toshinori splutters, but Naomasa is already halfway down the hall.
2.
The next time he runs into Midoriya is months later, after Hosu, after Kamino. Naomasa has been kept busy, running like a chicken with its head cut off trying to manage the sheer amount of villain investigations piling up on his desk. There is one case that takes priority--one that demands be delivered in person.
He has only been to U.A. high twice before, but that didn’t make navigating it any easier. The school’s campus was huge, budget fat off years of government funding and graduate donation. He gets turned around four times while searching for Training Gym 2C, probably irritating the bots because he keeps asking directions.
He finally reaches the correct gym and wrenches the door open—only to nearly get blasted back onto the concrete by a powerful shockwave of air. The force makes him stumble, and it takes him a moment to remember that he’s in a high school gym and not in the middle of a battlefield.
Around him, children are sparring—the movements are fast and powerful, all locked in their own intricate dance. Quirks explode every which way with brilliant lights and sounds. He just stands in the doorway and watches for a moment, completely mesmerized, knowing he’s witnessing the birth of Japan’s next best and brightest.
All Might and the man Naomasa recognizes as Eraser Head are standing over in one corner of the room, observing their students.
“…must not have eat enough today, Creation looks sluggish,” Eraser is muttering, eyeing a girl generating little bombs from her skin. “Maybe we should change her diet plan.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Naomasa slides up next to Toshinori, shooting both heroes a friendly smile and wave.
Toshinori looks pleasantly caught off guard. “Tsukauchi? What are you doing here?”
“You told me to find you the instant I had more information regarding Shimura Tenko’s adoption history.” Naomasa pulls a small flash drive from his pocket with a triumphant grin, reveling at Toshinori’s wide-eyed expression. “His birth records were really tricky to find. Most legal documents surrounding his identity have been tampered with—”
An iceberg tall enough to reach the ceiling materializes into existence seconds before there’s a flash of green electricity. The echoing BOOM is so loud it rattles Naomasa’s teeth inside his skull. An instant later, chunks of ice rain down across the gym, momentarily pausing the rest of the student’s sparring as they duck for cover. Knowingly, Toshinori pulls Naomasa to the left seconds before one the size of a tire slams into the spot where he’d been standing.
Easer Head lets out a little growl. “MIDORIYA.” The green-haired teen freeze from across the room. “What did I say about your precision?”
As Eraser stalks over to the two sparring kids, Toshinori shoots him a sheepish apologetic smile. “You kind of have to have seven sets of eyes when they’re sparring with their powers.”
Naomasa shakes his head, willing his heart back into a normal beat. He slips the drive back into his pocket for safekeeping. “You heavy-hitter types are crazy. It’s still hard to picture that kid having All Might’s power. How he doesn’t level a building every time he throws a punch is insane. His control must be really good.”
Toshinori beams like a proud parent. “That was actually a big improvement for him. Two weeks ago, his roundhouse kicks took three times as long and yielded only half that strength.”
Naomasa fixes him with a Look, distinctly remembering the now-retired pro's spluttering just a few months ago regarding his strictly mentor-mentee relationship with Midoriya. By the pride shimmering in his eyes, it’s obvious that what Toshinori feels is more than just professional.
“You know how hypocritical you sound, right?”
The blond’s grin drops in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You talking about his obvious parental favoritism toward Midoriya?” Eraser slides back over with the silent feline stealth only known to underground heroes.
“Aizawa,” Toshinori hisses, gaunt cheeks flushing. “It isn’t like that.”
Naomasa ignores him, addressing the dark-haired hero. “You see it too?”
Eraser snorts. There’s a glint of amusement in his bloodshot eyes. “We actually have a betting pool among the faculty to see how long it takes before one of them slips up and calls each other Dad or Son. You want in?”
Naomasa grins, “Absolutely.”
At the same time, Toshinori sputters up blood, “You have a what?!”
“Hey, Detective!” The three adults turn to see a certain freckled teen bounding over to them. Toshinori quickly wipes at his mouth and Naomasa smothers his grin. Despite Midoriya being a sweaty mess, his smile is still blinding. “I’m really, really sorry about sending a giant ice boulder your way.”
“It’s okay, kid,” Naomasa tells him not unkindly. “Good thing I had your da—OW!” A bony elbow digs in a spot in between his ribs, hard. Naomasa jumps back, meeting the furious glare of the Symbol of Peace.
“Keep talking and I’ll Texas Smash your face in,” Toshinori snaps.
Naomasa sticks out his tongue. “Bite me, old man.”
“Is everything okay?” Midoriya, helplessly oblivious, glances between the two of them in confusion.
“They’re fine,” Eraser waves him off. “Now stop bothering the adults and get back over to Todoroki.”
Midoriya clearly isn’t satisfied by being kept out of the loop. “But—”
Aizawa's voice is stern and offers no zero for protest. “Now.”
The kid cringes at the harsh tone from his teacher, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yes, Sensei.” He shoots Naomasa a little smile. “It was good to see you again, Detective.”
“Likewise, kid.”
Eraser fixes Midoriya with a hard stare. “Now means now, Midoriya, not in ten minutes. Don’t make me break out those weighted braces again.”
The kid’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “I’m going, I’m going!” He scurries away so fast he practically leaves a trail of smoke behind him.
“Teenagers,” Naomasa chuckles, nudging Toshinori with his shoulder. “Am I right, Toshi?”
The blond groans and buries his flushed face in his hands. “Both of you are dead to me.”
Eraser rolls his eyes. “I don’t get paid enough for this."
3.
Naomasa looks up from his laptop when he hears Toshinori stir in his hospital bed. Now that the hero was retired, his visits to the ER weren’t caused by any villains, but by his very own body wreaking havoc on itself. As All Might’s only emergency contact, Naomasa has gotten used to bringing his work to whatever hospital the blond wound up inside. This time it was an internal infection that apparently went unchecked for so long, it made the blond collapse during one of his class lectures.
“Naomasa?” His friend’s eyes blink open as he slowly returns to the world. “Wh-what happened?”
“Your body tried to kill you. Again.”
Toshinori groans and his eyes slip close again. Naomasa finishes typing his response to an email, keeping one eye on the blond as he shifts in the bed. “Do you need anything? I can call the nurse to bring you some jello, or—”
“How long has Midoriya been here?”
Naomasa pauses and glances over at the kid. Midoriya was slumped in a bedside chair, head pillowed on his forearms propped upright by Toshinori’s hip, absolutely dead to the world. He doesn’t remember the kid falling asleep, too focused on reading over the reports Tamakawa emailed him.
“What time is it…seven-thirty? So probably about three hours.”
Toshinori balks, “I’ve been unconscious for three hours?”
“Nah, you’ve been out for longer. Kid tried to get in here as soon as they brought you in, but the nurses kept insisting he wait downstairs because he’s not related to you or on your emergency contact list. Flash forward an hour later and he shows up in here, muttering about how he snuck in using the fire escape. Pretty reckless, if you ask me, but he seemed determined.”
Toshinori stares down at the sleeping teenager in front of him and a small smile crosses his face. “Stubborn is more like it.”
“Hmm, now why does that sound familiar?”
It’s a cheap shot, and Naomasa doesn’t expect his friend to rise to the bait. No, for all it mattered he could have been invisible. Toshinori is completely focused on the kid, running his fingers through messy green curls and gently swooping his bangs away from his eyes. The blond’s voice is kept to a low and soft murmur, “I know he worries. I should probably add him to my emergency contacts list to keep him from going through all this trouble again.”
“Should I draft up the adoption papers too? Might as well go all the way while we’re at it.”
“Shut up.” The bite is completely gone from Toshinori’s voice as he smoothes a thumb across Midoriya’s freckled cheek. A barely audible sigh whooshes past Midoriya's lips in his sleep, and Toshinori absolutely melts. Naomasa smiles a little at the display and goes back to his laptop, turning his focus elsewhere to give his friend a moment of privacy.
He’s known Toshinori has always had a soft spot for kids, but this was different. This ran deeper. In only a few months, little Midoriya had somehow managed to wrap the Symbol of Peace around his pinky finger and he didn’t even know it.
If only the two idiots would figure it out themselves.
4.
Naomasa is pouring over a cold case when he hears someone knock at the conference room door. Before he can tell whoever’s on the other side to leave him alone, the door opens a crack and a familiar skeletal face pops in.
“Psst! Tsukauchi,” All Might stage-whispers. “Tanuma said you were busy, but we were walking by and I really wanted to talk to you about something.”
Naomasa sighs heavily, collapsing into one of the conference room chairs. He’s been staring at the papers fanned out in front of him for hours now. Maybe chatting with a friend would provide a much-needed break from rereading these old reports. “I can give you five minutes. Come in.”
Toshinori opens the door wider and slips inside—quickly followed by Midoriya Izuku. Naomasa sighs internally. At this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised that Toshinori’s shadow now manifests in the form of a green-haired teenager. The kid gives offers a tiny smile and wave in greeting, his fingers barely coming past the sleeve of the old, oversized hoodie he was wearing.
Toshinori’s eyes go wide at the sight of him and he lets out a little dry laugh. “Wow, you look…awful.”
Naomasa doesn't doubt it. His eyes are dry from staring at pages of evidence, his tie is hanging loose around his neck, and his shirt is half untucked and stained from where he spilled coffee on himself earlier.
“We can’t all wear star-spangled costumes covered in glitter, now can we?” He didn’t mean for his voice to be so sharp, and he cringes when Toshinori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just exhausted. There’s a lot here.” He gestures helplessly to the mess in front of him. “This case hasn’t had fresh leads in five years, and the commissioner is really pushing for us to wrap up some of our old cases.”
Midoriya’s eyebrows raise in interest. He peers around Toshinori’s side at the reports spread out on the table. The kid tugs at his bottom lip, muttering something under his breath.
Toshinori ignores him, pulling Naomasa up by the shoulder and crowding him into the corner of the room so as not to be overheard. “So I’ve been thinking more on Shimura Kotaro’s death.”
“No, Yagi, not this again.” Naomasa can already feel a headache blooming behind his eyes. If there wasn’t a minor in the room, he’d be snapping some very choice words to his friend right now. “We’ve been over this. All records indicate he was killed by Tenko when he lost control of his quirk.”
“But what if it wasn’t Young Tenko?” There’s a specific crazed gleam in his eye, the kind reserved only for desperate parents and desperate villains. “What if All for One—”
“—killed Kotaro and manipulated Tenko into thinking he did it himself?” Toshinori has the decency to look a little guilty. “The statistical chances of an SS-class villain getting anywhere near a suburb without altering anyone is astronomically small. I don’t think he’d risk that much exposure just to get back at you personally.”
“You don’t know him like I do.” Toshinori’s eyes blaze bright and fierce, an echoing reminder of the hero that still lived within him. “You don’t know the types of mind games he plays.”
Naomasa pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales sharply. “Listen. I know you care about preserving your master’s legacy and that extends to Tenko, but you have to remember what Torino said. You’re not treating him like a villain when you think like that. If you keep this up, I’ll be forced to take you off this case, and I don’t want you to—wait.”
Naomasa cuts himself off, leaning around his friend’s lanky form to face Midoriya. “What did you just say?”
The kid reacts almost violently, eyes bugging wide as he slaps a hand over his mouth. His face flushes so red his freckles disappear. “S-sorry! I didn’t even realize—I swear I wasn’t trying to pry into anything—”
Naomasa steps around Toshinori to get back over to the table. “Kid, I’m not angry. I just want you to repeat what you said.”
Midoriya still looks like a skittish cat, gaze darting quickly between the two adults in the room. After a beat, he obeys. “I…I was just reading over this sentence here that says the murder weapon was never found? But that’s—that’s because it’s in the victim’s mouth.”
Naomasa stares at him. “What?”
“You profiled the dentist—your main suspect, right?” Midoriya slides the page across the table toward Naomasa, who grabs it with hungry hands. “His quirk is registered as a resin creator which he used for shaping tooth liners and crowns. If I had that quirk and wanted to hurt someone, all I’d have to do is create a filling that’s sharp enough to piece through to the brain, but small enough to stab in between the spaces of a removed tooth. Then I could reshape the material using my quirk into a filling. The police would spend their time looking for a physical weapon or a surgical tool when they should be looking for—”
“Organic material,” Naomasa finishes for him, feeling like he got hit by a truck. “Holy shit.”
Toshinori looks perplexed. “Why do you know so much about dentistry?”
Midoriya rubs the back of his neck and shies under his gaze. “I, uh…lost a lot of teeth in middle school.”
The blond raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t you mean elementary school?”
“That one, too.”
Naomasa tunes out the rest of their conversation, hardly believing what he was seeing. Toshinori’s kid was a quirk analyst.
A good quirk analyst.
He stares at this child, this gift that has somehow fallen into his lap with absolute awe. The kid notices him staring and steadily turns more red. “De-detective Tsukauchi? Did I say something wrong?”
Naomasa whirls around to face Toshinori. “I want him for five hours.”
“What?” Blood bubbles past his friend’s lips in surprise. “Naomasa, you can’t be serious—it’s a Sunday. He’s supposed to be studying.”
“Fine,” Naomasa relents. “Three and a half hours.”
“He’s fifteen, he’s not a police consultant!”
“Technically, he could be considered a freelance researcher. Two hours.” Toshinori’s glare doesn’t budge, and Naomasa throws up his hands. “Oh come on! Your kid is a pro-level quirk analyst and you didn’t tell me? That’s not fair.”
The tips of Toshinori’s ears turn pink from the words but his scowl remains unchanged. “He’s not my—The very reason I didn’t tell you is because I knew you’d try to sucker him into something like this. He’s a minor, Tsukauchi! He’s involved in enough crap, he doesn’t need to get buried in police files—”
“But think of the people he’d be helping—”
“—pretty sure what you’re suggesting is illegal, you’d be leaking information—”
“—wouldn’t be technically illegal if I got the sarge’s clearance, and we could keep it vague enough he wouldn’t know any sensitive details—”
There’s a soft but deliberate cough from behind Naomasa. Both men stop arguing and turn their gazes toward Midoriya.
“Are you—you’re asking for my help? On a police investigation?” The kid’s fingers play with the ratty sleeve of his hoodie. “Are you sure you want my help? I-I mean, All Might’s right. I’m just a kid. I’m sure you have way smarter detectives.”
The change in Midoriya is subtle, almost unnoticeable to the untrained eye. Gone is the growing powerhouse of a hero and in his place is a meek child who looks like he desperately wants to disappear into his hoodie. He doesn’t quite meet Naomasa’s eyes, gaze darting quickly around the room. With every second his shoulders are climbing a little higher toward his ears and his hands haven’t stopped fidgeting.
Naomasa shuffles around the table and kneels so he’s eye-level with the kid, gently laying a hand on his narrow shoulder. “I’ve only known you for a few months, Midoriya, but I can confidently say you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. Even just by glancing over the pages of a case for a few minutes, you were able to catch a new angle that our officers hadn’t seen before, which could potentially bring us one step closer to closing in this case and getting these victims justice. From one analyst to another, I’d welcome your help if you feel up for it.”
Midoriya chews on his bottom lip, considering. “I guess I’ve really never thought my analysis skills as anything more than just an annoying habit. But…if it’ll help bring justice and closure to innocent people, I can’t say no.”
There’s an unsaid question hanging in the air, like a child agreeing to something preliminary without their parent’s permission. Naomasa can hear it loud and clear: As long as All Might says it’s okay.
He glances up to a point behind Naomasa’s shoulder, eyes hopeful and pleading.
Toshinori lets out a sigh with the air of a man who has already grieved and accepted his loss. “Fine. But there are conditions. This can’t interfere with his training or school schedule. You can’t have him longer than two hours at a time, don’t share any liable details, and you get his mother’s approval. Under no circumstances will he have any involvement in the Shimura investigation.”
“Done.” Naomasa grins like a maniac, squeezing Midoriya’s shoulder before bouncing to his feet. “We’re gonna do great things, kid.” He dashes out of the room to send an officer to the suspect’s apartment, mind whirling with new energy.
5.
It isn’t often that Toshinori cancels their biweekly coffee plans, but when he does, it’s usually something serious.
“Sorry,” he says when he calls, “I’m stuck in the hospital again.”
That makes Naomasa sit up a little straighter at his desk, already reaching for his keys. “What? What happened? Why wasn’t I notified?”
“Oh, no.” In his mind's eye, he can see the way the retired hero is waving his hands around in misunderstanding. “I’m fine. I’m just at the hospital. Izuku snapped his knee during training and is in surgery right now. It’s probably going to be a long night.”
Naomasa doesn’t miss the casual use of the boy’s given name, but can’t get past the other detail in that sentence. “Snapped his knee? What does that even mean?”
“You know how your leg bends one way?”
“…Yeah?”
Naomasa can hear the cringe through the phone. “Well…his bent the other way.”
“Jesus.” He lets out a breath as a shudder races down his spine. “Why is your kid so danger-prone, Toshi? Who did you piss off in this cosmic universe for him to get such bad karma?”
Toshinori sounds absolutely haunted when he responds, “I really wish I knew.” Then, after another beat, “Wait, he’s not my—”
Naomasa hangs up the phone with a click. He drafts a quick text to Midoriya wishing him a speedy recovery.
+1
As a police officer, Naomasa has learned how to lock away his feelings when faced with impossible days. Days when things happen that are too horrible to immediately wrap his mind around. During these kinds of missions, there was always a high of adrenaline to smother the horrors they face. But after, it takes weeks to stomach the gravity of everything that happened.
The fight with Shie Hassaiki was one of those impossible days. There were so many injuries, so many casualties, so much property destruction, and paperwork—he hasn’t slept since the raid ended and probably wouldn’t sleep for the next week. It was okay, though. Naomasa was used to working off nothing but fumes. Came with the job of working so closely with heroes.
He’s spent the past few hours going room from room, gathering report details while everything is still fresh in everyone’s minds. The nurses keep shooting him glares for harassing the injured, but he thinks it’s a small price to pay to get accurate data. Trigger was a kind of drug that could literally change the world. He wanted to gather every minuscule detail about it in their investigation so they could prevent it from ever resurfacing with any other kind of gang.
And besides—he wasn’t the only one haunting this hospital’s halls.
Toshinori has been here long before Naomasa, before any of their rescue team arrived. Naomasa suspects it was because he was nervously anticipating the arrival of the injured. He can’t exactly blame his friend, knowing how the final moments of the fight went down—with one Midoriya Izuku in the center of it all.
But miraculously, the kid hadn’t been that hurt, all things considered. Thanks to that little girl’s quirk, he’s only got some minor bruises and sprains. Nothing like what it could have been.
Still, each victory comes at a price. With the saving of Midoriya, they lost Sasaki.
Toshinori couldn’t be taking that well, either.
It’s well past midnight now, and Naomasa finds his friend slouching in a chair in the corner of a patient hall, tucked in next to a few vending machines. The closest nurses station sits empty, abandoned by the graveyard shift. Naomasa slips his notebook into his pocket and steps over, punching in keys for two black coffees into a vending machine. The steaming liquid that dribbles into two cheap paper cups can’t possibly taste good, but at least it’s something.
He hands one of the coffees to Toshinori and offers the best smile he can. His friend takes it, his long fingers wrapping around the cheap paper cup. He doesn’t make a move to drink it, instead slouching lower into the chair that’s far too small for his gangly body.
Wordlessly, Naomasa sinks down into the chair next to him. He blows once on his coffee, but it’s still hot enough to burn his tongue when he takes a sip.
Minutes tick by, and they both sit in silence, letting the quiet and occasional beep beep beep of distant machinery fill up space between them. Eventually, Toshinori speaks, his voice low and raw. “This is all my fault.”
“Toshi.” Naomasa shoots him a sharp look. He knows his friend well enough to know that the blond’s hero complex must be running rampant through his head right now. It was dangerous in their line of work to reflect back on missions with twenty-twenty vision—to think about the people you could have saved if you were only a little faster, a little stronger. Heroes were awe-inspiring, but at the end of the day, they were still just humans, full of flaws and mistakes. “You know that isn’t true.”
“But it is, isn’t it?” The retired hero clutches the paper cup so tightly that the liquid sloshes out of the rim, dripping burning liquid down his fingers. Toshinori doesn’t flinch, his jaw set. “I was the one who ignored Sasaki’s warning. I was the one who gave Midoriya my power. Now Sasaki is dead and Izuku is—”
“Perfectly fine,” Naomasa cuts him off. “He’s fine. A little banged up, sure, but isn’t he scheduled to go back to U.A. tomorrow—or, uh, today?”
“Yeah.” Toshinori leans his head back and shuts his eyes, sighing out of his nose. “I thought I was doing the right thing, choosing a successor the way I did. I never felt comfortable with Sasaki screening a kid for me, but logically, it made sense. I was prepared to pass on the quirk and then die, like I was supposed to.” A soft smile ghosted across the edges of the blond’s lips. “But then that little twerp clung to my leg and hasn’t let go since.”
Naomasa snorted into his coffee. He’s long since wheedled the story of how his friend first met Midoriya. Though as the words sunk in, his brow furrowed. “Wait…are you saying you regret giving Midoriya One for All?”
“No!” Toshinori jerked up so fast his coffee spilled all over his trousers. He let out a string of curses in English as Naomasa hurriedly grabbed a wad of tissues from the abandoned nearby nurse’s station. “I—I don’t regret it. But sometimes I wonder if giving him my power was the best choice for him.”
“Okay…” There was always a lot going through Toshinori’s head, that much was obvious. As a detective, Naomasa could usually uncover what his friend truly meant, but right now, he was at a loss.
Toshinori clutched a little wad of tissues in his hand, his knuckles turning white. “I watched the footage from the raid. Seeing him go up against Chisaki like that—using One for All with that much strength—” A shudder visibly races down his spine. “Young Izuku could have died. Hell, according to Nighteye, he was supposed to die. The kid consistently ends up in dangerous situations that even Pros shouldn’t handle on their own. And it’s because of me, because of what I gave him.” He laughs bitterly once. “I can’t stop thinking of his mother and the promise I made to her to keep him alive. Would he have been better off if I hadn’t given him One for All? He’d still be quirkless, but at least he wouldn’t be breaking his bones every damn week. At least he’d be able to stay alive.”
Naomasa frowned. It wasn’t hard to miss the panic laced in his friend’s tone, but it was still difficult to place where it was coming from. “You must have known about the risks of passing off One for All before you did it.”
“At the beginning, I knew, but—it’s different now.”
“Different how?” Ever the detective, Naomasa still prods, even though Toshinori’s posture is stiff and his eyes are blazing. He wants answers. “What changed?”
The blond hesitates, clearly grappling with something within himself. “It changed because…”
“Because what?”
“Because he’s my kid!” Toshinori nearly shouts, finally voicing a truth Naomasa knows must have been rattling around in his head for a while. “I didn’t think of him like that at first—he was such an overemotional little fanboy—but somewhere along the lines, things changed. I started viewing him as more than just a successor. I don’t know how or when it happened, but somehow he weaseled his way into being more like…more like…”
“Family?” Naomasa prompts gently. He watches as Toshinori’s stiff posture deflates. The blond slumps forward and rests his elbows on his knees, staring off down the hall with a distant expression.
“Ever since Kamino happened, I’ve been feeling so helpless. You and I both know Chisaki’s destructive power is nothing compared to him, and even just thinking of putting Izuku in front of All for One makes me feel sick. I have nightmares about it, Naomasa. It’s killing me, knowing that All Might can’t—that I can’t—” Toshinori cuts himself off with a choaked noise, turning to face him with a desperate gaze. “I can’t lose him. He’s my son.”
And there it was; the emotional breakthrough Naomasa had been waiting literal months for. He only wishes it came under better circumstances. “I know.” He lays a hand on his friend’s shoulder, feeling the slight tremor that wracks his emaciated frame. “But Midoriya doesn’t need All Might’s protection. The kid’s proven that he can handle himself with villains multiple times. He needs Toshinori, to be there to catch him when he falls and give him the courage to get back up again.”
Toshinori drops his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. “I hate it when you’re right.”
Naomasa bumps their shoulders together. “I’m always right. And hey, I watched the footage too. You should be proud of the kid. He did a pretty good job of minimizing property damage, all things considered.”
“I am proud. So, so proud. But I’m also terrified. My god,” Toshinori lifts his head with an expression of horrified realization. “Is this what my master felt like? I must have put her through hell.”
“You mean your tendency to punch first, ask questions later didn’t start when you were a pro?” Naomasa gasps in mock surprise. “No way.” Toshinori rolls his eyes so far back in his head that for once, the whites were visible. “Okay, but I’m still not hearing a denial.”
The retired hero opens his mouth, but stops when the door closest to them cracked opened.
Speak of the devil.
“Detective?” Midoriya, dressed in hospital scrubs and limbs still half-wrapped in bandages, pops his head out of the door. Of course Toshinori would plant himself nearest his kid’s room. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”
Toshinori lets out an exasperated sigh before Naomasa can respond. “Kid, why are you awake? It’s after midnight.”
“I heard voices outside my door. Why are you awake?”
“I never sleep.”
The kid’s nose wrinkles. “That’s not true. I’ve seen you passed out on the teacher’s lounge couch before.” Toshinori coughs wetly into his fist, but Midoriya turns his attention to him. “Did you find out anything more about Trigger’s effects? Is there a way to reverse it yet?”
Naomasa feels a little twinge of sympathy in his chest. Of course, the kid would be worried about his friend. Having your quirk suddenly stolen from you sounded like the stuff of fiction—horrible, impossible. “Not yet, I’m afraid.” Midoriya’s shoulders sag. “But it’s barely been forty-eight hours. We’re still gathering intel. If there is a way to reverse this drug’s effects, we’ll find it, but it might take some time.”
The kid nods but still looks disappointed. “Right.”
“Speaking of, I should probably get back to the station. All that paperwork isn’t going to file itself.” Naomasa gulps down the rest of his coffee and stands. He feels more than sees Toshinori’s disapproving gaze.
“You should really get some rest,” his friend insists.
Naomasa waves him off. “I could say the same thing to you. And you.” He ruffles Midoriya’s messy curls when he passes by. “Try to stay out of the hospital for at least another week, okay?”
Midoriya grins shyly at him. “No promises.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He turns and gives them both a final wave before striding down the hall. “Goodnight.”
He’s just at the edge of the corridor when his ears catching the last glimpses of a conversation.
“—bed, now.”
“But I’m not even tired! And I feel fine—!”
Naomasa heads down the stairs with a little grin.
In the parking lot, he texts Eraser Head to inform him he won the bet.