Chapter Text
It was hard to keep count. Which coffee of the day was it? Third? Maybe the fifth?
No matter how many times he drank it, black coffee still tasted the same way it did back when he first tried it. Bitter and acidic, it was always disgusting. No matter how pricey the beans were, the coffee would always end up tasting the exact same.
But he still drank it. It was something every one of his position did, it gave him something to talk about. He could complain about the poor quality of the beans the office provided, and compare it to the supposedly ‘smooth’ taste of coffee he enjoyed at home.
As far as he could tell, there was basically no difference. Both were disgusting.
But he still drank it.
A sudden ping! made him jump up in his seat. He had been staring into his mug for a while now, and didn’t even notice it.
Japanese companies at least made it somehow clear they exploited you. You knew, your colleagues knew, your boss certainly knew. They smiled and bowed around it, but they were all aware of it and knew the others realized it, too. They slept at their desks and they all knew why. All of their eyes had bags under them, faces were devoid of any color, and they all knew why. No one pretended like they didn’t.
American companies, though, were a different story. Here, you were a family. You were in an environment that allowed you to bloom, be creative and make connections. You called your boss by their name, no honorifics necessary! He exploited you the same way the Japanese boss did, but while smiling very widely and pretending to be your friend.
You were sitting in a meeting that precisely no one wanted to have, but on Fridays, you could do it at home! Much better than in a Japanese company, where you would probably be expected to come into the office and stare at your coworkers' tired faces. Here, in the land of the free, on Fridays, you could just stare at a screen. You could be exploited sitting on a couch, instead of being exploited while sitting on a chair.
That was what made escaping Japan worth it.
“Excellent work on that contract, Hisashi, you really helped push it forward! Your input was priceless.” He missed the days when such words from his boss made him feel something. He smiled anyway, opting to ignore his almost comically botched pronunciation. His name really wasn’t that hard. Certainly easier to pronounce than ‘chauffeur’. After all these years, you could really expect him to learn it…
“It was my pleasure, Mark, we had been looking forward to it. I’m glad it went our way.”
“It would not have, were it not for your Japanese meticulousness!” he gave another tight-lipped smile. “Now, what we are really looking forward to is the trip! I understand you checked all our reservations?” You have a secretary. Let him do it, as far as I know he did not finish business school in the top twenty of his class. Or does he not have the time, too busy being pounded by you?
“Yes, I have. All of them are in order.”
“Fantastic. We do have a very solid strategy, but in order to secure that deal, everything has to go according to plan. It would be a fruition of all of our-“ our? “hard work. You are one of the leads, it also is your country and area. We depend on you. If we manage to achieve the goals we have set, maybe we could try to renegotiate the terms of your promotion?” That did make his heart go a little bit faster. For the first time in what felt like years, his boss mentioned the topic himself, which gave him the smallest bit of hope. Enough to widen his smile, enough so it almost looked like he meant it.
“Thank you, Mark. I will not fail you.”
“You haven’t yet! I have no reason to believe that you will, especially with your special connections! Now, if you will excuse me, I have the last call of the day to make.”
“Certainly, Mark. Have a great weekend.” The pop-up window disappeared. It gave him a view of his very colorful calendar – he would be lucky if he finished work before seven.
These issues had to wait, though. He also had a call to make.
“Jessica! Where is my old phone?” Now, when he wasn’t zoned out or in a meeting, he could hear her getting ready, the click-clack of her heels banging around in his skull. Of course she would wear shoes inside.
“Why the hell would I know where your old phone is? Look for it yourself!” he sighed, getting up and meeting her in the hallway, where she was making sure her dress fit her correctly. “You were going through the drawers lately. I thought you were cleaning.”
“No, I wasn’t cleaning- never mind, I have to leave. I’m taking your car.”
“Why- why are you taking my car? You have a very nice car!” she looked at him with her big, purple eyes, and pouted. “Aww, but I like yours better!” she said in a very high-pitched voice, as though she was still a baby.
In that instant, he understood why people hit their girlfriends.
He would never do it. The thought of hitting a woman disgusted him. He would never do it, he was a gentleman, and a good person.
He understood, though.
“Okay, fine, but think, woman, think – where is my old phone?” the barest hint of flames warmed his breath. Now, she actually stopped to think for a minute. “I think I saw it next to that red folder on the top shelf? In your study? I am not sure though. I would start there.” He was already heading in that direction.
“Why do you need your old phone, anyway?” she called after him.
“I have a number saved on it.”
“Whose number?”
“My son’s.”
Everyone had something about themselves that they didn’t like, or did something that they weren’t proud of.
It could be many things. Some disliked the way they looked, or how their voice sounded. Some weren’t proud of the way in which they behaved towards their parents when they were younger.
If Toshinori were to create such a list, it would surely be a mile long. Some of the entries would be decades old, some of them would be younger than a year.
The one he struggled with right now was a relatively new one; it wasn’t even three years old.
It was the way in which he thought; the way in which he thought about Izuku.
He would look at him and think - adorable. And sure, his eyes maybe were big and childlike and full of wonder, his cheeks maybe freckled and stubbornly holding on to baby fat, his curls maybe bouncy, messy, and soft – but he was almost an adult. In some places, he was old enough to drive, and soon was going to be able to buy liquor in most of the world. Toshinori had caught punks his age, hell, even younger, and calling them ‘adorable’ would have never crossed his mind. For God’s sake, it had never crossed his mind while standing before the other teenagers of UA. This presumably ‘adorable’ teen could total buildings in a single punch.
Small also came to mind. Short, maybe, but he certainly was not small. He had made sure of that, his training made sure of that. Izuku now had thick, scarred arms and strong legs that were able to support his fighting style. He was not small, by no means. He was small once, though it was when Toshinori was not there. It made his chest feel empty for reasons that had nothing to do with his missing organs.
Whenever he looked at him, even in passing, for however brief of a moment, he thought mine, and this one probably hurt most of all. He was lying to himself, plain and simple. Sure, they were bonded. He said so himself – One for All tied them more closely than blood. Sure, the boy was a fan for the longest time. Yes, he had spent countless hours training him (there weren’t many things he treasured as much as those). Yes, he worried every day, he had frequent nightmares about villains, accidents, injuries too serious to ever fully heal. But what sort of claim over the boy did that give him? None, not at all. This was already someone else’s boy, after all, he was just randomly lucky one day almost three years ago and was lucky every day since.
He felt bad about it. About thinking this way. Izuku had spent enough time not being taken seriously. No matter how kind-hearted and gentle he was, no teenager would want to be babied like that. And now, for his mentor to feel that way? To call him those things describing a person much younger than him? He looked down in shame.
And Izuku noticed. Because of course he did.
“All Might? Is there something wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
“Ah, nothing important, my boy, truly. By all means, continue.” The ‘my boy’ was out of his mouth on reflex, before he could stop it. He tightened his grip on the mug before he could do something even stupider, like hug Izuku tightly and never let go.
Physical affection wasn’t something Izuku refused, just seemed to calmly accept, never once initiating. At least he didn’t seem to openly scorn it. He was just humoring an old man, out of sense of duty, because he was All Might, because he felt like he owed him that, or maybe because it was simply the kind of person that Izuku was. He kept the contact to a minimum, not wanting to take advantage, not wanting to cross a single, unspoken boundary… but how could he possibly completely refrain, with both how proud and how worried Izuku made him?
There was a voice, in the back of his head, that didn’t agree. That voice – either logic or wishful thinking – told him that while Izuku didn’t initiate physical affection, he surely did lean into it, and seemed to crave receiving it as much as Toshinori craved giving it. That Izuku probably didn’t initiate it himself because he was afraid of crossing boundaries too, because he was embarrassed, as teenagers were so often wont to be. This voice, the voice that Toshinori enjoyed listening to when he was feeling especially self-indulgent, told him that this ‘someone’ who supposedly had a claim over Izuku’s heart had been absent for a very long time, likely long before he came into the picture.
So caught up in his musings he was he didn’t even catch Izuku’s question.
“What was it, my boy?”
“I don’t know if I got this one right – I wouldn’t have said anything if you had not asked.”
“Yes, that’s correct. A bit weird, but correct.”
There was a bit of silence.
“I uh- I can leave if you’re busy. I would hate to impose on you. It’s just an English test.” The very idea was laughable – Izuku couldn’t impose on him even if he really tried.
“My prince of nonsense, this is no problem at all. I am happy to help. English often comes in handy in hero work, especially when someone already has international fame.” Toshinori winked teasingly at Izuku, who groaned and went back to the task.
Of course it was no problem. Toshinori split his days into two categories: days when he spent time with Izuku and days when he didn’t get to do that. He jumped at every possible chance to do something together. Scanned their conversations for them, really. Izuku made an offhand, easy-to-miss comment about not feeling sure about an English test they were supposed to have next week and he didn’t think twice before inviting him to come over to study.
He sure was glad for his years in America now, found himself reading up on grammar to be able to explain it better, too. English gave him the perfect excuse to spend more time with Izuku – one-on-one time, at that, because he was still a little insecure while speaking it in front of others and he did need some help with his pronunciation.
English was the best opportunity, because it was clear One for All no longer was one.
Toshinori would always want to be involved with his training, would always want to help in any way he could. But life forced Izuku, as it always seemed to do, to adapt quickly. It demanded him to master One for All basically overnight, and he did, because he was the best successor Toshinori could have ever chosen.
There wasn’t much left for him to teach him. Izuku didn’t look back anymore, because why would he? He had already far surpassed him.
“If I had needed your help, I would have asked for it.” He startled, coughed, and looked at Izuku with wide eyes.
“What?” meeting his expectant gaze, he realized. “Oh, yes, correct. I don’t know what had you so worried, you’re doing great!” The boy just gave him a small, tight-lipped smile and wrote down the answer.
That was also true. Due to the fact that they met up quite often Izuku had been slowly improving in English, as well, which would leave him with basically no opportunities to meet one on one. Toshinori would come to the dorms, which he did love to do, they would maybe meet privately once in a while, and that would be it. That would be the extent of their time together because he no longer had anything of value to offer.
Izuku left not too long after that. No wonder. Toshinori didn’t have much to give and yet still failed to deliver what he did have, his spiraling thoughts making it difficult to focus.
His spiraling thoughts made a lot of things difficult.
Izuku left not too long after that. No wonder. It was clear that All Might was busy. He didn’t take out his phone or his laptop, but his mind was clearly elsewhere, dealing with something far more important than his silly English homework. All Might’s last comment only certified that belief – Izuku maybe sometimes struggled to read social cues, but he could tell that this one was most definitely a subtle prompt to get him to leave.
He wanted to believe he just said it to make Izuku feel good about himself, because All Might knew he still struggled with being confident, that it was just harmless praise.
You would think that after all that happened and all that he had done his confidence would have improved vastly and he would never struggle with it again. Sure, there was truth to it; he was aware of the power he possessed, but confidence as a whole wasn’t something that was magically fixed by a single feat. On the battlefield, dizzy with adrenaline, emotions running high, it was a little bit different, a little easier. Confidence could be shouted out with all the strength One For All gave him.
Confidence was harder in those quiet moments, in day-to-day life. It required continuous effort, constant upkeep. It was a habit that some people just seemed to have, while some had to painstakingly learn it, bit by bit.
For Izuku, it was still new. It was still fragile. Two years didn’t erase a whole lifetime, no matter how much he would like to pretend otherwise.
All Might realized that and acted accordingly, giving out praise and encouragement freely. Seeing how often he received them during their English sessions he probably still had a lot to improve on.
Or maybe the subtle comments were actually to be interpreted differently – maybe he was tired of him coming over to his apartment all the time, wherever the opportunity presented itself. He was the one that invited him, of course, but he could be just humoring him, seeing as Izuku liked to study there the most. Maybe he felt guilty and wanted to indulge Izuku in something he knew he would enjoy. Maybe it was because he was that type of person. Maybe he offered because it was the polite thing to do, and he silently cursed himself whenever Izuku enthusiastically accepted his offer.
Maybe the comments were his subtle way of saying “You’re a good kid, but would you mind giving me some peace? Have I not done enough for you?”
Izuku wouldn’t blame him for thinking so. He was aware that All Might had come to care about him after all these years – why else would they twist the fate together? – but that was a little different. First, he trained him as a successor, then stood by him as a war unfolded. Those were important, life or death circumstances, of course he had to be present. Now, however, for the first time in his life All Might had the chance to taste tranquility, tranquility so many others took for granted. He could spend his days, for the first time in many, many years, focusing on himself.
And All Might has done a lot for him. More than he asked for, maybe more than he deserved, too.
And yet, there was Izuku, seemingly constantly injecting himself into All Might’s routine. Didn’t he take enough already?
One part of him felt immense guilt over taking even more of All Might’s time, felt like he was taking advantage of his kindness… another part of him let that small comment about the test slip. One part hoped it would go unnoticed, the other hoped (and knew) that it wouldn’t.
Because Izuku… Izuku loved coming over. He loved it for all the reasons you would expect, and also for a bunch of other ones.
He loved the silence. While he adored how lively the dormitories were, after all the chaos of the past few months he craved the peace. And that’s exactly what he found in All Might’s quiet apartment, that’s what he found in the carefully brewed tea blends. That’s what he found in All Might’s presence itself.
He loved the cooking. During those lonely weeks he didn’t particularly like to think about All Might’s bentos were more or less his only source of nutrition, so as much of a burden they must have been on All Might, they made him into an excellent cook. Izuku never told him outright what was his favorite dish, what spices he preferred, and yet All Might seemed to know.
He loved the tea. Similar to food, All Might had made it so many times over the years that he was practically an expert. He knew how he liked his tea, he knew his favorite brands and blends. He must have had some special way in which he made the tea, too, because even when others made it for him using the same blends it didn’t taste quite the same.
He loved the physical touch. It was embarrassing and he would never admit it out loud, but there wasn’t much in this world he loved more than receiving physical affection from his idol. Every single time it happened he would save the memory to replay it over and over again whenever he felt sad, or almost every night before he went to bed. He was glad no one in the dorms had a mind-reading quirk. And All Might always gave it more freely when he visited his apartment, so of course he went there. They were still small things, but to Izuku, they meant the world. It was head pats, sometimes he would put his arm around his shoulder, on his back, and once or twice, to Izuku’s utter delight, it was a hug.
He loved the fact that while visiting All Might’s apartment, he didn’t have to… share him. It made him feel like the most selfish person out there, but that was the truth. Over the course of the past few years he had gotten used to basically having him all to himself, and he found himself not really willing to share. Sure, he was glad he made his friends happy whenever he came to the dorms to spend time with everyone – of course he made them happy, he was All Might – but a part of him felt jealous. What made it worse was the fact that it seemed they met up less and less.
Which was why he found his classmate’s teasing particularly painful. He was sure they didn’t mean to be cruel, but their words still stung. They kept joking that All Might was like a dad to him, wouldn’t let him up after he accidentally called him just that during class, and even encouraged Todoroki to work on his old theory.
It stung, it stung so privately, it stung so deeply. Because what else had he wished for for most of his life? What were the fantasies he used to fall asleep to after bad days?
How he longed for them to be more than mentor and mentee. How he would love to fall asleep to the sound of his soft voice and the touch of his rough hands, telling him he was proud of him, caressing his hair. He was so mortified over having this need, for all kinds of reasons, but it became clear a long time ago that fighting it wouldn’t work, so he let himself dream.
He knew that would never happen. He knew he was far too old for that. He knew their relationship wasn’t meant to go any deeper than it already did. It was as much as he was ever going to get. He knew that he would forever keep calling him All Might, nothing more. He knew that, and he appreciated what he did have, because it was far more than his four, six, ten, twelve year old self had, but it still hurt. It was still painful – to be so close to your dream and yet, so far away.
But, like with any pain, he could learn to live with this one.
After all, just being close to All Might was one of the best things he could ever ask for.
Just being close to Izuku was one of the best things he could ever ask for – it was something Toshinori realized as they were heading to the bus to take them from the Ground Delta back to the main campus.
They were heading back from something he had to call quite a grueling exercise. A year ago, he would have never imagined conducting it, but it was fair to say that during this year, the circumstances have changed. His students could no longer follow the syllabus like the previous years did; they didn’t find the exercises to be challenging enough.
No wonder.
After the war, the syllabus was one of the many, many things that had to be changed. It proved difficult to come up with new and exciting, but not triggering, training simulations, but Toshinori thought that he and the other teachers at UA did a pretty solid job.
The exercise was hard, but there was no doubt in his mind that his students would do splendidly. And they did, with the highest score belonging to none other than Izuku, next to whom he was currently walking.
Izuku was in the middle of analyzing the exercise. He started with himself, noting at which points he could have saved a second or two, and now was in the middle of analyzing his classmate’s performances. Toshinori found himself agreeing with most of the points he made, shared some of his input, too.
And thought about just how much he enjoyed it. How much he loved talking with this brilliant, amazing boy. How much joy simply being near brought him. He looked at his sparkling eyes, at his hands, animatedly moving through the air as he explained a particular stunt, and felt his chest squeeze tightly with something he could only describe as affection.
His grin threatened to split his face in two as he brought his hand up and gave the boy a gentle head pat. Not too gentle and not for too long, because it wasn’t his place to do so, and he didn’t want to embarrass his boy, anyway. Still, he couldn’t help himself, he loved seeing Izuku be so passionate. Seeing him like that made his heart full, as he was all too aware of how hard the last year was on his boy. He knew how big of a toll it took.
He remembered looking into Izuku’s then almost dead eyes and wondering when it all went so wrong.
So taken he was by the sight of him talking so enthusiastically that he, like Izuku, almost didn’t notice his smartphone buzzing.
“Young Midoriya, it appears that someone is trying to reach you.” He said, trying to sound strict, but letting the warmth seep into his voice, anyway.
“Someone is- oh! Sorry!” he took it out of his pocket, clearly intending to answer, but something made him stop. It was something serious enough to make him halt entirely.
They were walking in the back of the group, but as though an order had been given, most of the class 2-A turned back to look at Izuku as he stared at his phone. It was as though the war had turned them into a single organism, able to function and respond to even the subtlest of signals effortlessly. They waited expectantly.
Izuku, aware of this, looked up and scanned his friends’ faces.
“Does anyone know if UA’s security system scans the callers? Because someone is calling me and I don’t have their number saved… it’s the second time they called…”
They all got closer, taking a peak at the screen. Sure enough, the number was visible, but it wasn’t known by any of them.
“I think you should pick up, so we at least know what their demands are.” Proposed Young Todoroki.
“Maybe they don’t mean you any harm? Maybe they simply called the wrong person… ” Suggested Young Uraraka.
Izuku raised his eyes and searched for Toshinori’s. The man gave him a subtle nod, putting an arm around his shoulders – just in case – as Izuku tapped the green icon and brought the phone up to his ear.
“Hello, who is this?” Izuku’s expression, upon hearing the caller’s voice, turned from caution to surprise. “Oh, hi, dad.”
Toshinori removed his arm as though he had been burned.
Izuku quickly waved everyone away and turned to put some distance between himself and the group, making listening in on the conversation impossible.
Toshinori wasn’t about to try doing that, he respected Izuku’s privacy, but it was a near thing, worry urging him on. Exchanging glances between Izuku’s closest circle he could tell they felt similarly.
It seemed that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t know anything about Izuku’s father – wasn’t the only one who had only his observations and suspicions.
Izuku, as far as Toshinori could remember, did not mention him once.
Granted, for someone who talked so much he was surprisingly tightlipped about his past. It took months for Toshinori to learn anything at all about him, other than the fact that he was quirkless and was one of the best people he ever knew.
He supposed it was just another way in which they were alike.
But still, the fact that after almost three years he had not heard anything about the man was concerning. At this point, it couldn’t have been an accident – it seemed to be a deliberate attempt on Izuku’s part.
Toshinori didn’t want to stick his nose into what wasn’t his business, but he couldn’t help wondering. He had various theories – anything ranging from his father dying a long time ago, to belonging to a villain organization.
Whatever the truth was, Toshinori was sure of two things: it appeared to be a subject Izuku would rather avoid, and that the man had been absent in some way for a long time. Toshinori, after all, visited their house – not a single picture of the man was to be seen. For however little they talked, Inko hadn’t mentioned him either.
As Izuku continued to talk, still trailing behind, Toshinori glanced toward the only person capable of giving any sort of insight – Young Bakugou.
He didn’t seem happy either – not that he ever did – and looked back at Izuku with a scowl much deeper than his usual one.
“The dude’s a bastard.” He said simply. Toshinori was torn between keeping Izuku’s privacy intact and probing for details. Luckily enough, the boy followed that with, “I think I maybe saw him twice growing up. Seems like it’s no accident he’s calling Izuku now.”
Toshinori didn’t want to make any assumptions, but yes, that sounded about right.
Finally, Izuku hung up and caught up with them.
“What did that asshole want?” the boy looked at him with furrowed brows. “Don’t call him that, Kacchan.”
“I call it like I see it. What did that asshole want?” Izuku rolled his eyes and with clearly faked nonchalance responded. “He called me to let me know he’s coming to Japan soon. He wants us to meet.”
For reasons he would rather not delve into Toshinori’s heart dropped into his shoes.
“He’s coming to Japan? For the first time in what, a decade? Doesn’t it seem off to you that he chose to come now?” Izuku shrugged.
“Maybe he was just busy before, maybe he didn’t have enough money and couldn’t come otherwise.” Young Bakugou scoffed. Toshinori felt similarly. “Or maybe yes, the timing is no accident.”
“I am guessing you already agreed to meet, so let me to ask you this: why.” Izuku looked at his shoes and shrugged again. A whole lot of shrugging today.
“Maybe he watched the footage and realized how close he was to losing me, maybe it made him reconsider what his priorities in life are. Maybe he wants us to reconnect… no matter what it was, he’s trying, and I have to meet him halfway.” Toshinori didn’t have nearly enough knowledge of the situation to know, but it seemed that he understood enough, as told him by the glance Young Bakugou exchanged with him.
“You don’t owe this dick shit. He’s- Izuku, you have to see it. Do you fucking know why he hasn’t divorced Auntie already? Because sending money costs less! He never-“
“Enough!” Izuku glanced at Toshinori and in this moment, he felt very unwelcome. “Everyone is allowed a chance. So is he. I’ll… meet him. Hear what he has to say. You never know.” He looked at Toshinori, and his gaze was sad, so sad, that he had to physically stop himself from running up to Izuku and hugging him.
He shrugged again.
“Maybe I will finally have a dad.” He said, getting into the bus.
Toshinori followed him inside. The chatter that greeted him there reminded him that he was, indeed, a teacher, and he started counting. Passing by where Izuku chose to sit – the seat furthest away from everyone else – he peered at his face.
He thought he could say he knew this face pretty well. Izuku’s was always rather easy to read – he blushed easily, smiled easily, and cried easily.
Now, however, as he stared outside the window, the expression on Izuku’s face was completely unreadable.