Toshinori was avoiding Class 1-A. Shame burned white hot in his stomach because of it, but it was the truth. How could he enter that room knowing what he did? How could he face that poor child?
He had failed Midoriya Izuku, and it was tearing him apart.
As much as Toshinori wanted to avoid the situation all together, there was a lingering hope, that maybe, just maybe , it hadn't been his soul crushing words that pushed Midoriya, and he desperately - perhaps selfishly - clung to that hope. Maybe Toshinori was just overthinking things, as he tended to do, right? Maybe Midoriya had a poor heart, or a car crash had taken the boy's life.
Anything. Anything else .
In the end he asked the police to pull up Midoriya Izuku's file, and being All Might he wasn't questioned on his sudden interest. Toshinori excused himself, shielded from prying eyes in a secluded room no one was using. He regretted many, many things as soon as he opened the vanilla folder.
Izuku Midoriya, young and bright eyed, freckles peppering his cheeks with a smile full of hope stared up at him, and Toshinori stared at the picture until it left an after image in his vision. The date of his death was familiar, ringing bells in a way Toshinori knew was substantial, and thinking on it at all dredged up clearer memories than before now that he had a proper face to the name.
It was a fan gathering. It was towards the end, he was trying to slip away from the bustling crowds, he managed to flee into an empty alley and then - and then Midoriya showed up. Clutching a notebook tight, the starry eyes and tense posture of a loyal fan. He had asked for an autograph, awestruck. Toshinori was exhausted, his time running out quickly, but he signed it. He couldn't say no to the young boy.
That had been a mistake.
Midoriya talked. He rambled and raved, stuttering over his words and fiddling with his hands as his gaze darted about the alley, like he didn't think he was worthy enough to look at Toshinori for long. Even when he got his notebook back - hero notes for the future Vol. 11, Toshinori noted with amusement and intrigue - Midoriya just kept talking , as if he would physically explode if he made himself stop. There was a brief warning, Toshinori's body seizing, then he lost his form with a burst of smoke and steam. When the air cleared, Midoriya's confusion had turned into shock which turned into a mixture of horror and heavy concern.
Toshinori knew this young child didn't need the burden of knowing the Symbol of Peace was gravely injured. He reassured the boy he was fine, insisted it was part of his Quirk - which wasn't a lie, per se, it was now it just wasn't meant to be - and went to send him on his way.
Midoriya paused, then his gaze dropped to the floor and he - and he spilled his heart out. Begged his idol to affirm that everything he strived for wasn't for naught, that everyone else was wrong for thinking his dreams were unachievable.
Toshinori stared at the picture on the file, the only thing left of Midoriya as he was meant to be, and swallowed hard.
He had ripped that dream from Midoriya's shaking hands and stomped on it.
But - but he had just wanted the boy safe. He just wanted him safe . He had been so young he - the hero world was a cruel place - Quirkless on top of it? Midoriya would've never survived out there.
A harsh voice in his head, quiet but cruel, chimed in. Well what a great job you did, speeding the process up.
Toshinori could taste blood on his tongue, and he braced himself for the coughing fit that washed over him, barely able to avoid making a mess on the rug underneath his feet.
He couldn't just leave this be. It was his fault, his wrongdoing, whether he liked it or not. He couldn't let Midoriya go on thinking that Toshinori was just being a jackass, he couldn't . He had to talk to the boy, and he made a promise to himself that he would.
Well, he never said when he'd do so, right?
Guilt and shame ate away at what was left of his insides as he sped past Class 1-A's door.
He couldn't face Midoriya yet. There was something he needed to do first.
With a bouquet of lilies and white roses clutched in his sweating, tight grip, Toshinori walked through the gates of Musutafu's graveyard. The sky was a clear blue, the grass flourishing under his feet, and the scenery clashed with the worn grey of the tombstones littered about the lot.
Honestly, Toshinori didn't even know where to start looking for the boy's grave, but having no plan never stopped him before and it wasn't about to stop him now.
A lot of time was spent dawdling about the graveyard, staring at tombstones and attempting to decipher any pattern in the layout of names to make his search easier. He never found one, and his hopes were sinking lower and lower as time dragged on. He was determined, however, and vowed to himself he wouldn't go home until he paid his respects to Midoriya - properly.
If it hadn't been for a dark green spec out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori would've searched all day long. He noticed a figure standing by themselves, dressed in all black with green hair, and he froze, knowing exactly who it must be.
Toshinori's heart started pounding, sweat collecting under his arms and down his back. He steeled himself, swallowed the blood in the back of his throat, took a deep, fortifying breath, and marched forward.
He stopped a respectable distance away and hovered for a moment. A plump, kind woman was stooped low, busy arranging what looked to be her own bouquet of flowers in a terra-cotta pot to her liking. The grave in front of her, brand new and shining, read "Izuku Midoriya, a hero in our hearts", and Toshinori felt like crying.
Hello ma'am, he said instead, and the woman looked over her shoulder at him. She had a far away look in her eye, like she wasn't all there.
Oh, yes, hello, was her response. She shifted one more flower, then stood up to face him properly. A sad, floaty smile rested on her face, and Toshinori got a stronger feeling that there was something wrong with her, like her head was in the clouds and floating to a place where no one could reach her. Can I help you?
Toshinori weakly held up his bouquet, hoping she approved. I knew your son in passing and I came to pay respects. Are you...his mother?
He approached the grave at the woman's satisfied nod, and he bent down to rest the flowers right in front of the tombstone.
I am, she said. Midoriya Inko. Who are you?
Toshinori stood and took a good look at her. Deep green eyes and similar hair, he could easily see the resemblance. He briefly wondered if her son's freckles were from his father.
Would you like to get some coffee with me? Toshinori asked instead of answering. I...want to speak with you, if that's alright.
Midoriya Inko nodded with no hesitation or wariness, instantly trusting. Toshinori's heart clenched as she began following his lead, and he had to wonder if the loss of her son had broken her or if she had naturally been like this. Either way, it was unsettling, and Toshinori kept a careful eye on her all the way to a cafe a couple blocks from the cemetery.
Their talk was enlightening and disheartening, wrapped in a flurry of emotions that Toshinori had no way of sorting through without tearing himself apart to do it.
Thankfully, the longer the woman was away from her son's grave the more conscious she became of her surroundings, and the wariness Toshinori had initially anticipated crept across her face. She pressed for more information, but he insisted they should get settled first.
Toshinori paid for both of their orders. It was the least he could do.
Once they were settled at a table, drinks steaming hot, Toshinori did his best to introduce himself in a way that wouldn't put her on edge even more so. He stuck to his given name and avoided 'All Might' like the alias was poison on his tongue.
Midoriya Inko asked him how he knew her son, and Toshinori paused. He couldn't say too much - he wasn't ready for it - but he couldn't lie to the woman either.
I met him at a fan gathering, Toshinori ventured carefully. He showed me one of his notebooks. Your son was incredibly observant.
From what Toshinori remembered of the boy's rambling, that wasn't a lie. He had been talking about All Might's attacks and the pros and cons of fighting up close like he did, and regardless of how tired Toshinori had been, he couldn't help but be impressed.
Inko teared up at that, and Toshinori's heart shuddered with her inhale.They got to talking, a careful, delicate dance of words to avoid the heavy dread and tension the topic threatened to impose on them. Toshinori mostly let her talk, content to sit back and listen about the personality of a boy long passed.
Inko took a breath, and Toshinori jumped in. How have you been doing, with all of this? I can't imagine how hard this must be for you.
Inko wiped a stray tear from her cheek, a wobbly smile very reminiscent of her son on her lips. It hasn't been easy, but I have friends that have helped me so much. The house is so...empty now. Quiet. My Izuku was such a chatterbox, it livened things up so much. She laughed, melancholy thick on her tongue. Sometimes I think I can still hear him up in his room, muttering away to himself, but I know it's only my heart longing for something that won't ever be, not anymore.
Toshinori's stomach rolled, the coffee he'd been sipping on bubbling sickeningly as his palms started to sweat.
She didn't know. She didn't know.
His mind raced, quickly trying to weigh pros and cons of a decision he couldn't back out of. Would she even believe him if he claimed her son was haunting his classroom? Was it a good idea to risk an outburst in such an open place if she called him a liar? How could he tell her? How would he lead up to it?
What should he do ?
She continued on with the conversation, ignorant to his wild, scattered thoughts. He clutched onto his mug in a nervous grip, smile shaky and crumbling every passing minute. He would hardly remember a single word she spoke to him after that, all of it spinning and fading into one massive blur until they were in front of the cafe and saying their goodbyes.
At the last minute, as Midoriya Inko began to walk away, Toshinori called out to her and asked her for her number. She gave it to him, insisting they go out for coffee again sometime.
Toshinori gripped the piece of scrap paper in his hand and stared at it, feeling numb.
This would not end well. He could feel it.