Time in a Tree (All Might x Reader)

Special I Part II: Loves Me Not

"Father? Papa, are you awake?" You poked your head in through your father's door. "Yes, my dear, come in." He sat in his bed, book resting in his lap and specs resting on the brim of his nose. "Don't you look alive and well today." He gave a soft smile. "I should say the same for you. How are you feeling?" You closed the massive door behind you. The handle swinging hard and clanging against the wood. "I'm feeling better than I did a fortnight ago. Are you sure those teas you brought home weren't medicinal?"

"The merchant didn't say they were." You raised your brows, still reading over what had been just gifted to you, your feet taking you to his bedside. "What is that you have there?" A little strength he had, but it bent him in your direction, curious of what was in your possession.

"These," You took a moment to look up at the man. "These are texts and diagrams for irrigation from a land much more barren than ours."

"Pray tell, how did you come across those?" Pinching them between his thumb and forefinger, he brought his specs closer to his eyes, peering over the edges of the papers.

"Ah," You said. "A kind soul I met while abroad. However, we don't have the manpower to form such things." Done with teasing the old man, you set the stack of information in his hands. "No, my dear, we have the manpower, not the money to pay them." He replied, looking over them as fast as you first did, knitted forehead just the same. You could see where you got it from.

"I feel that we should settle on both," You nodded. "That is why I came to you."

He took his reading glasses off, now looking up at you. "Would you be so kind, father, in letting me use some of your books?"

"Which books, child?" There was concern in his voice. Rightfully so, he was much more skilled than you and some of his texts could kill the user if mishandled.

"Well, I was thinking, if I could improve my abilities with water; I wouldn't be as good as you, obviously; but if I could get well enough I could build these canals on my own." Eyes now on your hands as they fiddled with each other, you managed to get it out what you wanted, but hadn't found the courage to your father in the eyes while doing so.

"So you would like my spellbooks?" He sighed.

"Yes, but only for the easier spells, nothing I can't handle. I promise." You nodded. "No," His head turned from you, looking on to the corner of his chamber that was likened to a library. Shelved books, stacks that sat on the floor that towered over your head, loose parchment shoved between pages and strewn about his desk.

"But, papa-!" Your shoulders dropped, you finally looked up at him, his hand directing you to a specific stack of books on his desk. "Take my old study notes. Those are much simpler to understand, you're less likely to hurt yourself or someone else."

"Really?!"

"Yes. They should be somewhere in there."

"Alright." Hours you sat at the work desk he once spent days at. You recalled pulling yourself into his lap as a small child. Looking over the runes and dead languages you couldn't read, watching has he annotated and experimented. You reminisced over how you begged him to teach you, even if it was just the smallest, insignificant of things. The answer was always to wait until you were older, and now that you were, and now that he was mostly confined to his bed, the best you could muster was a full well and the occasional isolated storm.

"Have you figured it out, child? Whatever it is you're flustered over?" He chuckled from his bed. Half of your gifted notes you left with him to read and make helping annotations on, and the other half spread out upon the desk along with his that you thought would most help.