Title: Bad Days

Author: Forged Obsidian

Rating: Teen and up

Category: General, Hurt/ Comfort

Characters: Toshinori Yagi, Recovery Girl, Nedzu, Izuku Midoriya, Mic, Aizawa, Midnight, Class 1-A

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Setting: Post the current arc, mentions previous events

Summary: Sometimes Toshinori has bad days. The chronic pain from his scar would take a steep climb, and he had learned years ago that the only way to handle the bad days was to get through them.

Bad Days

Sometimes Toshinori has bad days.

He doesn't know for sure what triggers them - maybe twisting strangely, maybe moving too much, maybe just breathing. But eventually, one way or another, worse pain than usual would flare in the gnarled scar tissue in his side and he would be completely out of commission for at least a day.

While he did have chronic pain from his injury, it was fairly manageable as long as he remembered to take his medication. There was little to be done about his habit of coughing up blood, but most days all that did was give him a bit of a sore throat, maybe make him a little light-headed. Those were everyday things he could live with.

The worse attacks, though, left him wheezing for breath around decimated lungs and a swollen throat, irritated by blood. The painkillers didn't work, and any movement at all just seemed to make the icyhot pain radiating from his injury worse. He couldn't keep any food down and his vision blurred when he tried to do anything more demanding than lying on his bed and breathing. Thankfully, they only lasted for a day, two at the most. He had been through enough of them to know what to do. The first few times the attacks had come - the months after being finally discharged from the hospital - Naomasa had actually supported his rail-thin friend to his car and taken him to the closest emergency room to spend the night. It was understandable, actually. The complications from Toshinori's various surgeries had put his life on the line more than once. Fortunately, these types of attacks weren't that regular.

That did give than an unfortunate element of surprise, though.

Toshinori figures that he should be thankful, this time; the attack hadn't hit him until he was home from working at the school. He had just closed and locked his door, turning to hang up his coat. The sudden flare in his side hit him like a bus and left him crouching on the floor, holding his breath. He hoped, for a moment or two, that it was nothing to worry about. The blood pushing itself up his throat squashed any optimism he had. It was the quick, painful dash to the nearby kitchen sink that convinced him that no, this wasn't the usual.

It was going to be a long night.

The first thing he did after coughing blood into the sink was get his hands on his phone. There was no way he was going to be able to teach tomorrow. Thankfully, the principal usually stayed long after the final classes ended for the day.

It took a few rings for the other line to be picked up. "UA, this is Principal Nedzu speaking."

Toshinori gave a brief sigh. "It's All Might."

"Ah! Hello. What can I do for you?"

". . . I don't think I'll be able to come in tomorrow."

There was a brief silence on the other line. "Is everything alright?"

Before Toshinori could reply he broke into another coughing fit. It wasn't as large as the first, but it still hurt. He gagged over the sink and his eyes watered.

"Yagi?" The principal sounded concerned.

Toshinori spat into the sink, trying to clear up his throat enough to speak. "My side had a bit of a flare up. Won't be able to do much-"

Nedzu interrupted him.

"I understand. Don't tax yourself overmuch - you told me this happens occasionally. And don't worry about tomorrow - it was going to be a joint class anyways, if I remember correctly. Mic will be able to handle the students. And if you need the day after that, just contact me."

Toshinori listened, trying to quash the voice in his head that whispered useless and pathetic. "Sorry about the late notice."

Nedzu's tone lightened. "There's nothing to apologize for! Just take care of yourself. Do you need me to contact Recovery Girl?"

"No. I'll be fine."

"Alright. Feel free to keep me updated."

"Thank you."

The conversation ended soon after. Toshinori hit 'End' on his phone with a shaking finger. He briefly considered calling Naomasa, but his friend was out of the city visiting family with some of his hard-earned off time.

The pain flared again, dropping him onto the cold kitchen tiles. There was no blood to cough up this time, but it felt like the scar was twisting and tearing, like his skin had the first time he was injured. Toshinori let out a groan and pressed his head to the floor, his hands hovering over his left side. He didn't want to touch it and risk irritating it further.

He didn't know how much time passed before the pain ebbed enough for him to risk standing up. The first thing he did was grab an ice pack from his freezer and hold it to his side. He also grabbed a water bottle, though he doubted he would be able to keep anything down for much longer. He shuffled into his bedroom, hunched over against the pain and trying to keep his movements minimal.

Almost as soon as he settled under the blankets the headache started. Toshinori let out a ragged sigh and pressed the ice pack directly against the center of his scar, trying to numb the pain.

". . . . dammit."


He woke up a few hours later, the ice pack melted and slushy in his slack hands. A lurch in his gut woke him up completely and sent him stumbling for the bathroom. Thankfully, he hadn't eaten much that day. It still hurt, though.

After he was done vomiting the shaking started. He was exhausted, and couldn't seem to get warm. He tried to stand, to get back to bed, but his vision crossed before he could rock his weight onto his feet. Toshinori ended up resting his forearms and head on the edge of the bathtub, curling the rest of him into a ball in an attempt to relieve the ache from his side.

He did make it back to his bed, eventually. He took note of the slight blood stains on his pillow. Well, it's not like he hasn't bled in his sleep before. He took a small drink of water, hoping it stayed down. The possibility of pain killers didn't even cross his mind - he had tried that route before and had just spat the medicine back up soon after.

A quick glance at his bedside clock blinked out 3:47 in the morning. Toshinori shook and tried to find a position that didn't put any pressure on his scar.

He never managed to fall back asleep that night, instead spending it awake, curled in his bed. The blankets, which usually helped to keep his slight form warm, were tangled and wrapped around his feet. There was a deep bowl at his bedside holding the blood he spat up, resting on an old bloodstained towel. His pillow was a warped mess.

Toshinori shifted endlessly, sweating and twitching. His hands hadn't stopped shaking. Sometimes he simply lost the energy to move, lying limply in bed and breathing. The air rattled in what little scraps of lung he had left. And, always, was the pain from his old injury. It hissed in his mind until there was little else, beyond the necessary breathe in, breathe out.


The students noticed when it was just Present Mic, their conversations coming to a questioning halt as the hero walked through the doorway of the classroom alone.

The hero sighed. He had been looking forward to teaching with All Might today - even now as a retiree Mic had unending respect for the man. He might even go so far as to call him a friend. The reaction of the students was more than understandable.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to try to make the best of the situation. He threw up peace signs with both hands and said "Let's get this show on the road!"

The silence afterwards was nearly insulting. Mic put his hands on his hips. "One of these days you kids just gotta answer, I swear."

It was Tsuyu who raised her hand first. Mic wasn't surprised. The entire class had shown multiple times before today that they were concerned about their sickly teacher. He made a 'just a moment' sign with his hands, walking the rest of the way to the front of the room and leaning against the desk.

"I know what you all are probably wondering. All Might had to take the day off."

"But-" Kirishima nearly jumped out of his seat. "Is he alright? Like he's not in the hospital or anything?"

Mic raised his hands. "He's not in the hospital. He's just a little sick. He'll be back tomorrow or the day after."

The relief in the room was palpable. Mic smiled.

"Now - on with the English lesson!"

The following chorus of groans still wasn't quite enough to erase the worry in the room, though.


When Izuku walked into the nurse's office Recovery Girl nearly had a heart attack. "And just what have you done to yourself this time?!"

Izuku blushed and stammered. "N-nothing! Just - well - All Might didn't show up for class today and Present Mic s-said that he was just sick, but I was just wondering if it was something worse and he just wasn't telling us because he didn't want us to worry and -"

Chiyo held up her hands. "Alright, alright! So you're concerned that Mic didn't give you the whole story?"

"Well, yeah! And it's not just me. A-and I know you probably can't tell me what exactly is going on, but we just want to know that he'll be alright. "

While Izuku was the only student asking, she could hear some other students lingering out in the hallway. Chiyo smiled. Ever since All Might's last fight against All For One, when his true form had been revealed to the world, the students had almost become protective of their sickly teacher. They noticed that he tired easily, and that he didn't eat much, and the brace he wore on his right arm was enough of a reminder that he wasn't physically sound. It warmed her heart to know that there were others looking out for Toshinori.

"All Might really will be just fine. He just needs to rest."

The relief in Izuku's face brightened the entire room. "Thank goodness!"

"Now," Chiyo quipped, spinning in her chair back to her desk. "You and your friends better get back to class."

Izuku practically sprinted out of the room, smile on his face as he told the assortment of students outside the door that "No, he's gonna be okay!"

Chiyo smiled for a moment before it fell from her face. She had been one of the doctors to help Toshinori through those first few major attacks, when Naomasa had pulled into the emergency room entryway and essentially carried his friend in through the front doors. There had been little any of the attending doctors could do - not even a morphine drip had helped. Toshinori had learned years ago that the only way to handle the bad days was to get through them.

The fact that he kept going was something Chiyo was constantly grateful for.


Toshinori is pretty sure that he fell into a fitful sleep around mid-morning.

When he finally woke up his mouth was dry. The flaring pain in his side had faded to a dull roar, promising to return if he did anything too strenuous. He was curled on his right side, arm pillowed under his head. His eyes felt itchy. His back ached.

He blinked once or twice, dragging in air through his mouth. He gingerly pushed his torso up off the bed, sliding his legs around to the edge. He sat for a moment or two, waiting to see if movement triggered another attack. When the scar didn't complain he stood, gently walking to the bathroom.

He felt a little more human after a shower.

Toshinori spent the rest of the day sleeping, sometimes moving to fetch a fresh ice pack from his freezer or to have a glass of water. He did have a little to eat just before the sun went down, but he wasn't feeling sturdy enough to have much food. The pain in his side had faded close to normal, though the scar still felt tender.

He contacted Nedzu and told him that he would be coming in tomorrow.


Dragging himself out of bed in the morning almost made him regret that decision. The attack had mostly died down, though he felt stiff and worn out. His head also felt a little fuzzy, but he blamed that on not really eating for the past day or so.

Still, after a small breakfast and putting on some clean clothes he felt a little more prepared to face the day. An ache in his right hand reminded him to strap on his brace, which he had needed since getting his cast removed after the battle with All-For-One. An alarm on his phone reminded him to pack some painkillers in his bag.

He yawned, carefully stretched, and walked out the door.


Toshinori walked stiffly out onto the massive field, making his way towards the suited form of Thirteen. He gave a small wave and a ghost of a smile.

Thirteen waved back, saying "Welcome back! How're you feeling?"

"Better. I'm sorry, but you'll have to refresh me on what we're doing today."

As Thirteen explained, the doors on the other side of the field opened and Class 1-A filed out. When the students saw Thirteen and All Might on the field they walked faster. As they came to a stop a few waved at their teachers. Toshinori gave a small thumbs when he saw the concern on their faces, flashing a bright smile.

Thirteen launched into the plans for the lesson, making sure that the students understood the rules of the game. It was, as usual, Iida who had a question about the purpose of the exercise.

"Excuse me, but I fail to understand the purpose of the game in our development as heroes."

All Might answered. "Control, my boy. Before, you were prohibited from using your quirks because it would be unfair to fellow students. Now that you've been given free reign to use your quirks, controlling them and getting creative is even more important."

He bent over and picked up a kickball that had been resting by his feet. "The true objective of this is to make sure you can play the game without destroying the ball-" He tossed the ball to Thirteen.

"- and to make sure that you're thinking outside of the box!" Thirteen finished, catching the ball and turning to walk to the first base. As the rest of them turned to follow, Iida declaring that he understood the reason for the game, Izuku fell into step with Toshinori. It was almost hard to hear his quiet question over the yells and whoops of his classmates.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Toshinori thought a moment before answering. "I'm alright, my boy." Nothing I haven't dealt with before. No true reason to worry.

Izuku nodded. "I'm glad you're okay." He gave Toshinori a bright smile and ran ahead to his classmates before Toshinori could reply.


Overall, the exercise was successful. The kickball survived, through several stretches of scorched and cut grass couldn't say the same. There were improvements that could be made, but overall Toshinori and Thirteen were impressed with the ingenuity their students had displayed. As the group walked away from the field and through the hallways of the school the quiet chatter of the students echoed slightly through the large building. When the group was walking past the door to the nurse's office, Toshinori stopped and gave an apologetic glance at Thirteen. "I'm afraid I need to leave you momentarily, Thirteen. I should check in with Recovery Girl."

Thirteen gave him a thumbs up. "It's alright! We're just going to go over the tapes and discuss what could be improved. Meet you back at the classroom!"

A few of the students gave him questioning looks as he left the group. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The moment he walked through the door Recovery Girl was at his side gesturing him to one of the beds, saying "The principal told me what happened. How are you feeling?"

As he sat he allowed his shoulders to slump down, giving a bone-deep sigh. "Right now? Not great."

Recovery Girl gave him a close look. The circles under his eyes were deeper and darker than usual, and his skin seemed more sickly pale and drawn than was normal for him. Her heart ached. "When was the last time you ate?"

Toshinori thought for a moment. "This morning, not much yesterday or the day before."

"You know what I'm going to say."

He held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Yes, yes, I know."

She put her hand on her hips. "Don't you 'yes, yes' me, Toshinori. Just remember to eat. Now take your shirt off - let me see the damage. And listen to your lungs."

As soon as she could see his scar she gently moved his arm out of the way. "What was it this time?"

"It might have been twisting to get my coat off. I don't know for certain, though."

"Well," Chiyo whispered, almost to herself. "It's certainly irritated - see all the red? But it looks like it'll be fine before too long. Just be sure to take things slow." She jumped onto the bed behind him, pulling a stethoscope from around her neck and putting the earbuds in place. Toshinori's back didn't twitch when it felt the cold metal.

"I plan to. I feel like I got hit by a truck."

She gave a sympathetic look to the back of his head. "Was it bad this time around?"

Toshinori shrugged. "It could have been a lot worse, honestly."

"Did you have anyone with you? Deep breath, please."

"No." Toshinori tried to inhale, but something caught in his chest and he had to bend over in a dry cough.

Chiyo gently patted the man's bare back, gentle around the scar tissue. "You know, it might have helped to have someone around."

Toshinori sputtered, trying to talk around the breath wheezing in his chest. "I didn't want to bother anyone!"

The doctor sighed in exasperation. "You know that doesn't matter! It's best to have someone there. You don't have to be alone. Contact someone next time."

The man gave a cough, lean shoulders bobbing. "You're probably right. I should. It's just . . . hard, sometimes."

Chiyo paused, a small idea growing in her mind. "You know, it might be good for you to move into one of the single rooms in the dorms. I know Mic and Aizawa have their hands full with the boy's side and would appreciate your help."

Toshinori thought a moment before replying. "That . . . actually sounds like a good idea. I'll have to think about it." Chiyo could hear the smile in his voice. She was pretty sure that she knew what his answer would be.