The first time Izuku saw Hero Shouto wander along the hall of the hospital, he promptly blacked out and was kindly dragged by the feet back to the employee room by his mentor.
He had his reasons for fainting of course. It wasn't everyday that he got to see one of the top heroes in the world in person. And certainly not Hero Shouto: the second strongest in the world of the next generation and everyone's heartthrob. He played a pivotal role in the downfall of the League of Villains. Hero Shouto was also Izuku's age and already, he had accomplished so many admirable feats. A hero seemingly unfailable, strong and capable; and yet here he was, padding along the deserted hospital hallway with slow careful steps and jumping at the slightest of sounds, white gauze wounding tightly around his eyes. Izuku knew the reason for Hero Shouto's visual injury. He had followed the news of the Battle of Fushimi Inari — raid of the Villain Syndicate — very closely. With over 300 Pro-Heroes mobilized and all civilians evacuated, this raid had been even bigger than the raid of the League of Villains six years ago.
This raid lasted for two days and nearly grazed Kyoto to the ground. But the heroes emerged victorious with no casualties. Izuku had burst into tears when he'd read the news that day. This was the generation of heroes he grew up with, he didn't want to hear in the news that one of them had died in battle. All Might would forever be his idol but the heroes from his generation were the ones that he paid a lot attention to right now.
There were numerous injuries, both grievous and life threatening. The out of town hospital Izuku was employed at had deployed nearly all its personnel in aid. Izuku, only in his first month of employment, was asked to stay at the hospital. His mentor feared that he couldn't handle the rush and stress of on field healing. He didn't disagree but that didn't mean he hid his disappointment when he was told to stay put. He knew he could do more. He knew he was capable. If only he was given a chance.
Everything boiled down to the fact that all the heroes were in highly-facilitated hospitals, with the best and most capable medical teams aiding their recovery. Yet, here Hero Shouto was, in Izuku's rural hospital, all while he was among the grievously injured heroes; his sight damaged due to a villain with a dust manipulating quirk. Hence, Izuku had every reason to believe that Hero Shouto was located in one of the fancy hospitals with newest equipments and top-tiered doctors, which Izuku's small town hospital was in no possession of. Then again, Izuku had full trust in his eyesight and brain capacity to process images. Because that was definitely Hero Shouto. Half white half red hair, the burn over his left eyes peeking beyond the bandage. That was definitely Hero Shouto.
But he wasn't informed of Hero Shouto being here. At all... Did his mentor somehow forget this one bit of important information?
This was unlike her, but Izuku sent the message on his phone anyway. He needed to know the extent of Hero Shouto's injuries and where his medical records were.
The second time he met Hero Shouto, it was for a check up. His mentor had explained that she did indeed forget to inform him. Hero Shouto had requested to be moved to a quieter hospital, without letting the press and nosy paparazzi know, so he was moved in during the night. His mentor had been too tired to think about informing him. Not that Izuku blamed her, she had been on the field for a full three days with hardly any sleep.
Izuku quickly flipped through Hero Shouto's medical report. Just like what the news had said, Hero Shouto was temporarily blinded and was waiting for a corneal transplant. His hearing was reduced and injured due to blastwave, luckily not too severe to require a cochlear implant, but he needed quietude for the middle ear fluid to settle down. Besides the injuries from the battle, he didn't have any chronic conditions. There were notes about his burn and the condition of his left eye, but Izuku didn't read through them. Somehow it seemed private, even though he had the right to go through the medical history. But something in him told him no, that that really was not for him and he could do just fine with the information he had now.
Izuku flew up the stairs to the top floor, greeting in-patients and colleagues he encountered on the way with a polite nod. He had forgone the chirpy greetings. His voice wasn't working properly at the moment. If he opened his mouth, the chance of him screeching and squealing in anticipation was high. Room 453 was located at the very end of the hallway, overlooking the dense woods and glistening sea beyond. Izuku sprinted the last few steps, heart hammering wildly in his chest, until he stood in front of the door, breathless and suddenly questioning himself.
He couldn't believe this. He was actually meeting one of the best heroes of this age. Did he really have the skill to treat heroes with top priority as Hero Shouto? Had he learnt enough to treat a human? Unbiddenly, doubt flooded his mind. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, and his vision swayed, a mini panic attack. Izuku forced himself to lift his lips up. A smile, even fake and unreal, was enough to trick his brain into thinking everything was fine. All Might smiled through everything, even in the direst of situations. If All Might could do that, then Izuku definitely could too. Behind this door, there was a human needing his help and assistance. He would damn well smile his worry away and help him to the best of his ability. He raised his hand and knocked his knuckles on the door. In the empty corridor, the sound carried.
"This is—" Izuku swallowed hard, cursing himself, and tried again. "Midoriya Izuku. May I come in for the morning check-up?"
He did it, he managed to say it! In second try but he did it. He gave himself a pat on his back. Being proud of all the little accomplishments was how he got to this point today.
From inside the room, a voice floated out, rusty and gravel like leaves running across pebbles, unlike the smooth tonal Izuku heard on the off chance Hero Shouto spoke in an interview.
"Come in."
With one final intake, Izuku pulled the door to the side.
"Please excuse my intru —"
Only to see Hero Shouto sitting on the ledge of the window, with his back to the door and his legs dangling over the edge, eyes still bandaged. The file in his arms clattered to the ground as Izuku raced over, hugging the midsection of Hero Shouto and bodily pulled him inside with ease. Izuku didn't know if Hero Shouto was really weakened or he was just humoring Izuku. Hero Shouto obediently sat on the sofa, turning his head in Izuku's direction, head tilting to the side in an apparent question.
"What," Izuku wheezed, "do you think," he took another breath, swallowed and punched his chest repeatedly to calm his heart, "you are doing? You could have fallen to your death!"
Hero Shouto had the gale to smile lightly, filled of interest, along with humor and something else Izuku could not decipher. But right this moment, he just wanted to shake some sense into this crazy hero.
"I just can't see. My quirk still works. I can catch myself if I fall. I'm not helpless."
"I do not are my patient. And I put my patient's safety first even if they don't put their own first." Izuku balled his fists by his sides. This was just typical Hero's thinking, believing they could help themselves without ever thinking about others who cared about them. Izuku shook his head outwardly. He was the biggest hypocrite. Had life turned out differently, had he had a quirk, he wouldn't give two cents about his own safety and health. But that wasn't his life at the moment, his life now was to make sure everyone was up to their health. "So please don't put your life in danger. You worry me." He tacked on when Hero Shouto still donned that unreadable half smirk. He didn't notice that smile falling into one of confusion, already busying himself with reading the vitals and measuring Hero Shouto's blood pressure.
Izuku quickly fell into the spectrum of focus. This was what he was trained to do and he would do his job well. He was in the middle of taking out new role of gauze to redress the wound when Hero Shouto spoke.
"I just wanted to watch the sunrise."
"I see," was what Izuku replied, not really paying attention to what Hero Shouto said. He was busy applying antibiotic ointment on the gauze. An unnecessary step since they were medical class gauzes, but he was nothing if not double careful.
"I can't."
"Hmm?"
"I can't see."
Izuku finally looked at Hero Shouto, who wore a blank face. It took him a moment to run the conversation through his head. Once it made sense, he snorted and dropped the gauze on the tray.
"Your sense of humor needs to be admitted to the hospital for being too bone dry."
"But you laughed." Hero Shouto smiled crookedly, as if he wasn't used to smiling. "Todoroki Shouto." He extended his arm toward Izuku.
He didn't introduce himself as a Hero, Izuku noted and took the offered hand, blisters littering it. "Midoriya Izuku, nurse in training."
"Happy to be under your supervision."
"You can make me happy by not putting your life in danger and save my heart from early constriction," Izuku smoothly snapped back, stern and full of disapproval. In the back of his mind, he noticed how snarky he was being and shook his head. Kacchan was rubbing off on him.
"Duly noted," Hero Shouto — or maybe just Shouto for now since he'd introduced himself that way — agreed with ease and leant back against the armchair.
Izuku huffed but got to work untying the old gauze around his eyes. "I hope I don't need to have you sign an actual written agreement."
Shouto chuckled but didn't say anything else. They lapsed into silence, filled with comfort and ease. Izuku unwound the last layer of gauze and removed the cotton padding, wincing at the sight before him. Shouto's eyes were swollen red. It must have been painful, and yet he hadn't heard Shouto making any noise of discomfort. The corneas were braised with dust into permanent damage. A transplant needed to be carried out as soon as also begged the question as to why there hadn't been a corneal transplant carried out already at the moment of injury. Shouto was of enough importance to warrant first priority on the waitlist for a transplant the moment a donor for a cornea appeared. Izuku filed that question away to hound his mentor with later; he also was nothing if not nosy and refocused. He took out the anti bacterial solution and cotton balls, and hesitated. He hated that he had to hurt people so they could get better.
"Please bear with me. I need to clean the wounds." He bit down on his lips. He knew Shouto wouldn't care, but he felt the need to warn him anyway. It was always a part of his procedure.
"Don't worry. I'm used to pain," Shouto replied airily.
That really didn't ease Izuku's nerves, but he took what he could get. Then, as gently as possible, he pressed the cotton ball around Shouto's inflamed eyelids. Shouto twitched but didn't jerk away. He sat perfectly still. Izuku cleaned the right eye quickly and moved onto the left, extra careful with his scar..
"What color is the sunrise?" Shouto suddenly asked, completely out of the blue.
Izuku understood this as a distraction from pain and willingly went along with. He glanced out of the window.
"Peach color. With smokey clouds. It is very blue too. Blue like the color of your ice, Shouto. You can actually hear the blue riding along the waves crashing against shore." Izuku gently tucked stray strands of hair behind Shouto's ears so he could clean the wound. "And lots of yellow, the yellow of a slice of lemon when you put it in honey tea."
Shouto made an appreciative noise in his throat. "What about the trees?"
"Very fresh. And green. Green like cucumber floating in sparkling water."
"I hate sparking water, Izuku."
"Me too." Izuku laughed, carefully placing two new pads over Shouto's eyes. "There's a gingko right next to your window. It looks ancient and supernatural."
"You have horrible description skills," Shouto remarked, sitting straighter so Izuku could wound the gauze around the back of his head.
Izuku barked out a laugh. Shouto was very straightforward. "Literature was never my strong suit. Should I continue or leave your imagination to do the rest?"
"You're doing better than I ever could. Please continue." Shouto made a vague 'go-ahead' gesture. "Tell me more about the gingko."
"Tall, regal, beautiful and absolutely ancient." Izuku racked his brain for all the adjectives but there was only so many he could find that fit the description he was going for. "There's a small shrine at the base of it. Painted red. You can feel the oldness coming from this tree. We have a tale here. That every moonless night, the spirit of Inari appears and runs around the temple four times before disappearing. And in the morning after, a sprig of wheat, golden and blessed can always be seen from afar. But when someone comes closer to pick it up, it disappears. My mentor says that means that this land is protected."
Izuku ended his story by clipping off the excess gauze and securing the end to another part of the wrap with a strip of tape. Shouto's breathing had slowed down, rhythmic. He was fast asleep. As quietly as possible, Izuku gathered his equipment and walked over to the door. He should have woken Shouto up so that he moved to the bed and could have a better sleep position, but he didn't want to disturb him. However, apparently Shouto wasn't as fast asleep as Izuku thought he was, for he suddenly spoke when Izuku was sliding the door open, badly startled him.
"You will come — " the tray and scissors clattered to the ground with resounding clang, " — back later?" There was a note of something there, a tinge of hopefulness shrouded under a curtain of nonchalance.
Izuku bent over to gather his stuff. "Yes, of course I will." His cheeks felt incredibly hot the moment he said that and Shouto's happy smile didn't help cooling them down.
Lunch was a slow and careful business for Shouto, but he managed without making a huge mess.
They were outside in the courtyard, under the shade of clustered bamboos
"I like this sound." Shouto lifted his head to the sky, placing his chopsticks down on the table. Izuku guided his hand to where the chopsticks rest was. "Easy to fall asleep to."
"That, it is," Izuku agreed, closing his eyes.
The wind picked up, carrying with it a briny smell from the sea and running through the tightly packed leaves. High and low notes echoed against the rumbling background of waves crashing onto the shore, a natural orchestra.
"How are things up in the sky?" Shouto murmured.
Izuku peeked open one eye, leaning to the left to avoid the sun in his eyes.
"Blue. The truest of blue. And fluffy large clouds like cotton candy."
"Clouds can be pink?"
Izuku shook his head and realized Shouto couldn't see him. "No," he said. "White. Like rice."
"There are white cotton candies," Shouto breathed softly. And if Izuku allowed himself to be truthful, the statement was one of wonder too.
Izuku made an affirmative voice at the back of his throat. And there was silence between them. But only for a minute before Shouto broke it tentatively.
"What does cotton candy taste like?" The hesitation in his question was as clear as day.
It was a strange question to ask. Izuku glanced at Shouto from the corner of his eye. He was biting his lips and circling his thumb on the table. A nervous move. Even though Shouto couldn't see, Izuku turned away, thinking hard to the last time he had cotton candy.
"Sweeter than sugar and very sticky." The last time he had cotton candy was at a festival, years and years ago. "It melts in your mouth. If you could eat cloud, the texture would be just like cotton candy."
"Fascinating," Shouto said appreciatively, then sighed. "I would love to try cotton candy one day."
The feather of strangeness tickled the back of his mind at Shouto's simple wish. As far as Izuku knew, cotton candy was a part of everyone's childhood. Shouto's statement strummed his curiosity fibers. He filed it away for later study and focused back on the conversation. He could potentially help Shouto fulfill that wish if the festival he was thinking about was happening tonight. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the calendar. Strike!
"The midsummer festival is happening tonight downtown." He smiled to himself, scrolling through the event agenda. The stalls would be open until late at night. They would have plenty of time to stroll around looking for cotton candy. "I guess it's high time you tried cotton candy."
The happy grin Shouto shot in his direction set Izuku's brain on fire. "Sounds like the date."
Izuku should have thought twice about taking Shouto, a public figure loved and admired by everyone, out onto the street. Then again, the past few hours he'd spent with Shouto just somehow made him more human, more real than the figure Izuku read and admired through press and interview. And somehow Izuku forgot that the rest of the world didn't get to know Shouto the way that he did.
The moment they set foot inside the premise of the festival filled with bustling people and noise, Izuku realized his mistake. Shouto stood out in the self assured way he hold himself, the air he surrounded himself with, and the most important thing, his glaring telltale half-white-half-red hair. Before anyone could look twice at them and make the connection between Shouto and the Hero Shouto, Izuku thrown his jacket over Shouto's head and led them away.
"Izuku?" Shouto questioned, startled, but didn't fight against Izuku's pull. "What's going on? Where are we going?"
"Just some minor issues." Izuku made a sharp left into a darkened alleyway when he spotted a group of girls heading their way from afar. He managed a smile when Shouto looked at him with lips turning downward in a frown. "Don't worry, we will get the cotton candies in no time. I just need to figure out a, uhm, disguise."
Shouto's mouth parted opened. "Is it my hair?" He removed Izuku's jacket from his head and subconsciously smoothed a hand over his hair.
"Sorry," Izuku apologized immediately. He hated seeing uncertainty on Shouto. "I forgot to think up disguises before."
"Don't be. The fault is mine," Shouto said, draping Izuku's jacket over his forearm. "I should have thought about this too."
A part of Izuku wanted to take all the fault onto himself, but he knew if he did just that, Shouto would get the fault back and they would end up in a never-ending tennis match of taking blame.
"We're both at fault." Izuku compromised, tapping a finger on his chin.
This didn't start off as well as Izuku had imagined, but he couldn't let that ruin the night. He was on a mission here. Shouto would need a something to cover his hair, the most distinct feature on him. A hat, maybe? Izuku couldn't remember if he had a cap somewhere in the employee room in the hospital. And the hospital was close enough that he could make a round trip in 20 minutes if he ran.
"You still there, Izuku?" Shouto's inquiry interrupted his train of thought, a note of uncertainty and fragility. He sounded... afraid.
Izuku cursed himself in his head. Shouto couldn't very well see right now.
"Yes, I'm still here." He took Shouto's hand in his and intertwined their fingers together. "I'm right here."
Shouto nodded tersely, but didn't say anything. He merely tightened his hold on Izuku's fingers. Izuku looked out into the street. A merchant was pushing her cart of handcrafted masks nearby. Then suddenly, an idea sparked itself into existence. A traditional mask would do the trick better than a hat could. Masks would blend right in with the festive crowd.
"Shouto," Izuku said, wrapping his other hand around Shouto's, "I'll go get a disguise. Count backwards from 25 to 1, I'll be back before you know it. I'll never abandon you."
He didn't think Shouto would agree, with how hard he was biting down on his lips. Having a sense robbed was not a pleasant experience. Izuku was all for Shouto to disagree and they would walk back to the hospital and have tea under the starry sky while Izuku practiced his poetic skills and wax heartfelt lines about the beauty of the moon. But Shouto nodded, hesitantly and fearfully, and started counting down.
"25, 24—"
"I'll be back before you know it."
Izuku unlatched his hand from Shouto's loosened hold and took off. He had never run so fast in his life. He caught up to the merchant, picked the two closest masks, and paid. He didn't even bother counting his change before he was sprinting back into the dark alleyway where Shouto was waiting, counting.
"7, 6, 5—"
"Back." Izuku bent down, hands on his knees, and breathed harshly. His heart was beating to the point his chest hurt. He looked up at Shouto, who was already smiling softly. In a corner of his mind, he noted that Shouto had smiled more during his short hours with Izuku than all the time he saw Shouto appear on interviews. "Told you I would be back in no time."
"I had full trust in you." Shouto whispered, completely at ease and peacefully.
It was ironic that both the masks Izuku picked were fox masks with a red and white color scheme. But as long as they did the job of concealing Shouto's presence to the crowd, Izuku was not going to complain. With at most care, he slid one mask over Shouto's face and tied the bow at the back of his head to secure it. While Shouto was busy adjusting his to his preference, Izuku slid the other one on the side of his head. He rationed that if they went as a pair, less people would think of Shouto as Hero Shouto. He silently took hold of Shouto's hanging hand, again locking their fingers together.
"Are we good for cotton candy now?" Shouto's voice, muffled through the mask, was filled with child-like excitement.
Izuku laughed, leading them out of the dark alleyway and into the bubbly crowd heading towards the night festival.
"Yes, we are very ready for cotton candy."
Izuku pinched a small bit from his cotton candy and stuffed it in his mouth. The taste never changed after all this year. He glanced at Shouto and snickered. Shouto had the mask behind his head now and was sniffing his cotton candy experimentally. The Hero Shouto being so hesitant and wary of something as cute and harmless as a white cotton candy was not something Izuku expected to see in this or any other lifetimes.
"Take the first bite, Shouto." Izuku steered them closer to the side, away from the pouring crowd. "It's not going to bite you."
"I know that." Shouto snapped back, almost moodily, and finally licked it.
"You've gotta bite it, Shouto." Izuku laughed harder. The great Pro Hero Shouto getting cold feet on tasting cotton candy? This was so endearing. "Bite into it. I have water if you don't like it."
At the mention of water, all worry and hesitation cleared away from Shouto's face. The agitation also slipped from his shoulders. Izuku made a note to himself to write in his hero note that Hero Shouto hated trying new food.
"You should have said so sooner."
And then Shouto took a large bite out of the candy. And chewed, as if cotton candy required chewing. He tilted his head to the side, apparently perplexed, and took a second, larger bite. Izuku waited patiently for a verdict. But none came because Shouto was already devouring the rest of the candy.
"So it is good?" Izuku couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice. Why was everything suddenly so funny tonight? There must be something in the air because never before had he wanted to laugh so much like tonight.
Shouto twirled the bamboo around his fingers, apparently looking for the words. Izuku kept his ears to the ground but got his eyes on the road and the throngs of people streaming around stalls at the festival. There were many people here tonight, all deck out in festive clothes. The food was tempting, too. Takoyakis sizzled in the mold, briny smell of seaweed mixing in with mayonnaise. Too bad Izuku had already had dinner, and he was certain Shouto would be tired after this cotton candy food tour for any other food.
It had been a while since Izuku had gone to a festival with someone keeping him company. His occupation required him to be on alert at any given moments, and on the off chance that his free hours coincided with a festival and he got some invitation to join, Izuku would courteously decline in favor of sleep and rest. Sacrifices had to be made to ensure his patients were up to their health. It wasn't that the festivals changed drastically, still the same stands with cheerful decorations selling food and crafts. Izuku had mildly forgotten the excitement and cheer a festival could bring into him. He didn't remember the last time he had enjoyed himself this much at a festival, thoughts not laden with work but free of everything.
And having Shouto here, their arms linked together . . .
It didn't mean much but Izuku felt at ease that he was with someone here in this happy chaos.
Funny, Izuku thought, tightening his hold on Shouto's arm. He was supposed to be the one Shouto relied on, not the other way around.
"Strange." Shouto's deep voice cut off Izuku's thoughts.
It took Izuku a few seconds to rewind the current conversation in his head. Once he remembered he was waiting for Shouto's verdict on cotton candy, he laughed, shifting the mask so it didn't slide further down his neck.
"I need something more than 'strange', Shouto." Izuku slightly edged Shouto nearer to the side, so their slow pace didn't bother people. "Give me something to work on here, will you?"
The corner of Shouto's mouth shifted downwards. "I ate it too fast." He moved the mask back so it covered his face entirely. "So I don't really know what I think of it."
Izuku balked, faltering for half a step before sighing thunderously, more in exasperation than anything else. "You really are something else, Shouto." Izuku shook his head fondly.
"Should I have said something else?" Shouto turned towards Izuku, cutely tilting his head to the side, the dark eye holes bored into Izuku's soul.
Izuku had always hated masks, their empty eyes, their permanent angry expressions. They were like the deities from above, passing unfair judgements to the subjects below, and somehow they deemed it okay give Izuku nil quirks, the rarest scenario in a quirk-filled society today. Unfairness, something Izuku had no control over. And he hated the reality. He had made peace with his quirklessness now but that didn't mean he didn't experience desultory bouts of anger at life, though those had become far and few in between with how taxing his work was.
But there wasn't unfair judgement or blank eyes behind this solemn fox mask now. Because Shouto was behind the mask, awkward but doing his best, and Izuku was starting to think that every mask would look cute on Shouto.
"No, I appreciate the honesty." Izuku shook his head, smiling lightly. "Let's give cotton candy a second try, shall we? Then we can know for sure if you like it or not."
Shouto nodded slowly. "Yes, I would like that."
Finding their way back to the cotton candy stand proved to be a more challenging than Izuku had anticipated. The later it was, the more people rushed to the festival place in wait for the fireworks ceremony. The stand that sold cotton candy strategically located near the entrance of the festival, right underneath the torii gate. Izuku couldn't very well shove against the current of people flooding in, especially with Shouto depending on him. So he pulled Shouto into the fork through the garden that led back outside. He turned to look at Shouto, apologies on the tip of his tongue but Shouto spoke.
"There are a lot of people now, aren't there?" Shouto tipped his head skywards, turning sideway so his ears were towards the crowd.
"Yeah," Izuku nodded, "They come for the fireworks. Careful, there are a few steps here."
There was a break of silence when Izuku held both Shouto's hands and carefully instructed him where to put his feet before they were on even ground again. Izuku consciously slowed down his steps to match Shouto.
"We could stay for the fireworks if you want. I'll be fine." Shouto spoke suddenly, out of the blue.
"And leaving you alone somewhere in the midst of festival with no way of getting back to the hospital?" Izuku deadpanned, holding Shouto's hand tighter. "You're delusional."
"But you're here to enjoy yourself." There was definitely a quizzical frown in Shouto's voice right now, as if he couldn't understand why Izuku didn't want to leave him alone. "I am just holding you back from enjoying yourself."
That was when Izuku stopped and planted his feet on the ground, forcing Shouto to stop with him, and slapped both hands on Shouto's shoulders, hard. Shouto jumped on the spot.
"Shouto, would you be sad if I left you alone?"
There was a beat of silence before Shouto lied.
"No."
Izuku kept his hands on Shouto's shoulders, giving the pressure to get the truth out of Shouto's mouth. Why was it so hard for people to accept their weakness and feelings? Right, he had his answers. Most people were not him, free to admit feelings and weaknesses. Quirkless Deku, weak Deku, useless Deku. All the names he had come to embrace; he would be weak so people could show their weakness to him. That was when he could start doing his job as a nurse well.
Shouto finally answered.
"Perhaps."
That was a good enough answer for Izuku, so he lifted his hands off Shouto's shoulders and hugged Shouto's arm, and started walking again.
"Then I'm not leaving you alone." Why was it so hard for people — Heroes — to think about themselves first from time to time? "I'm not taking any chances of you being sad, Shouto. I want to be happy always. So say 'cheese', Shouto. Smile! Smile like you mean it because that will make me very happy."
The thing about hanging around Shouto was that, Shouto either thought a lot and didn't speak or he spoke the first thing that came to mind. Izuku was quite accustomed to quiet, thinking Shouto. The no-filter Shouto was still new to him.
"You sound like All Might."
"Do I?" Izuku spurted out a surprised laugh. He couldn't help the heat rising up to his cheeks at the blunt comparison Shouto made.
Shouto nodded decisively. "A lot. All Might smiles all the time. Even in the direst situation. To smile in the face of danger is heroic in and of itself."
Izuku remembered that interview word by word. He replayed it dozens of time. A pick-me up after long days at work, when the weather pulled his mood down, when he watched a life inevitably slip away from his fingers. He treasured the video with his life. He had it right here with him on his phone, in a file he opened everyday without fail. Izuku wondered if Shouto had had All Might as his mentor or teacher at UA.
"Do you smile in the face of danger then, Shouto?" Izuku asked quietly. He didn't know what brought this on. Maybe because his dream of becoming a hero, saving lives and protecting lives never truly went away with time, and he was now living it viscerally through Shouto's answers.
"I don't." Shouto was quick in answering. "I cannot."
It honestly didn't surprise Izuku to hear that. Shouto wasn't All Might. All Might was All Might, an extraordinaire of Hero. A Symbol, a Hope.
"What about you, Izuku?" Shouto asked suddenly, and it put Izuku on the spot because this was the first time Shouto asked him something personal. "Do you smile in the face of danger?"
Izuku didn't share the same kind of danger that Shouto experienced daily. But it was the danger of nerves, a battle of faux trust and calm, of him bullshitting his way into tricking patients to calm down. So in a sense, he did smile. Not at the face of danger, but to ward off danger. He wore his smile like a shield, an umbrella hiding patients from the rain of worry and anxiety.
"In a sense." Izuku scratched his cheek.
"Then you are more like All Might than I am."
Izuku physically stopped at Shouto's words, forcing Shouto to stop with him for the second time in the span of five minutes. He never expected to be told that. Anyone else but him was more like All Might than his quirkless self could ever be. But Shouto, lovably blunt, said so with such conviction, Izuku couldn't help but believe it, even though the small part of him was laughing hysterically in disbelief. His eyes suddenly got very hot at the corners.
"Come on," Izuku tugged on Shouto's sleeves and started walking again. His hand came up to wipe away some tears. Doggone it, and he had thought he had done with being so quick to tears. He cleared his throat. It suddenly was hard to speak clearly. "We have a long walk back."
If Shouto heard the change in his voice or the occasional sniffling, Izuku was glad and grateful that he didn't make any comments. They walked in silence, with the moonlight and lantern lamps shining their way. The hubris of the crowd faded when they got back to the main street. Wind swept by, blowing dust into Izuku's eyes. He clicked his tongue and blinked furiously.
"That sounds like you." Shouto mumbled.
Izuku had no idea what brought that statement on. "What sounds like me?"
"That." Shouto inclined his head towards the stand at the side of the street. Another sweep of wind dashed by, jangling the tiny glass bells in a crystalline autumnal tune. "The one to the left."
And then he pulled Izuku towards the stand. Izuku stumbled in surprise but followed obediently. Shouto ran his fingers along the glass bells, testing out the sound. Izuku watched him, mesmerized. Shouto seemed so elegant, and ethereal, like the deity from tales of the old. He sounded out the bell, shaking his head slightly when the sound wasn't what he was looking for. Not that Izuku knew which one sounded like him to help Shouto. It wasn't until rang out the second to last bell on the third row that Shouto's entire being perked up with glee.
"This one." He announced gleefully, ringing it out one more time. To Izuku, It didn't sound any different to the rest of the bells. "This really sounds like you, Izuku."
"Eh," Izuku was speechless. How was he supposed to respond to that? And just how good was Shouto's hearing to find that one specific by sound alone? "Why does it sound like me?"
"It makes me think of you. Cheerful, like a summer noon underneath the bamboos." Shouto shrugged, trying to untie the bell from the rack with no visual cues. "And I want to remember you when I go back to duty." Shouto tagged on, small and tiny, almost embarrassed.
No feelings were absolute for Shouto. They always hovered between the be and can be. But Izuku had gotten adept at reading Shouto's tone. That really was Shouto being embarrassed/ The glow and heat in Izuku's chest was unmistakable. His cheeks hurt from smiling far too wide.
"Well then, I guess I need to pick a fuurin that reminds me of you, too."
Izuku ran his eyes along the rows of shiny glass bells swinging in the breeze. Since he couldn't depend on his hearing like Shouto could, he looked for a bell that visually screamed ish to him. They were all pretty; polished glass shone like stars, reflecting light from the street lamps above, he colorful paper attached to the end, with good luck messages, good health, friendship, ... all the good wish. There was one that reminded Izuku of Shouto — a simple thing with little puffs of clouds and bamboo leaves — but it wasn't the one . Izuku kept it in mind, though, a backup option and kept on looking, reaching for Shouto's hand when he looked he was looking for Izuku. Then he saw it. The one at the end of the highest row. A cat-shaped furin with little specks of red and white.
"That one!" He pointed it to the pepper-haired seller, who smiled warmly at him and took the bell down from the rack and handed it to Izuku. "This is you as a fuurin.
Shouto listened intently as Izuku rang it out before frowning slightly. "That doesn't sound like me at all."
"But it looks like you!" Izuku pressed the bell into Shouto's hands. "The cat ears. See?"
Izuku had to bite his lips to stop the snigger from escaping at the look of absolute bafflement and the intense pout following right after on Shouto's lower half of his face. "I'm not a cat."
"This reminds me of you so I'm taking it." Izuku announced, fishing out the bills. He ignored Shouto's confused grumbles.
Then they started walking home, bells clinking along their every step. They were getting closer and closer to the hospital, that was when Izuku found it best to tell Shouto the news his mentor had just texted him.
"There's a donor ready." Izuku resolutely kept his eyes ahead. He didn't know why he felt a pang of disappointment. He should be happy, dammit. Shouto was going to see again. "The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon."
That left Izuku with only tonight and tomorrow morning with Shouto. Not enough, his mind whispered piteously. Izuku resolutely shut his thoughts out.
Shouto's only comment was a quiet "I see".
They fell into a loud silence, words and feelings left unsaid. Izuku desperately wanted to say something, encouragement, question for the near future, anything to break the silence.
"Don't be afraid, my mentors are all top-notched in their field. It's going to be al — "
"We will keep in touch," Shouto announced, firm and unwavering.
The statement shocked Izuku. This time, not at the conviction, but at the impossibility of it. Shouto was suggesting the impossible. The nature of a Hero and a nurse was constant work and round the clock schedule. Keeping in touch between them with erratic work schedules were not the best choice. But still, Izuku couldn't help but hope that they really could keep in touch. He didn't want to lose Shouto.
"We can definitely try," Izuku agreed lightly, tightening his hold on Shouto's hand, smiling slightly as Shouto squeezed back just as fiercely.
When he came to work the day after, Shouto had already been checked out of the hospital. Room 453 was already cleaned and rearranged to accommodate new patient.
"What do you mean he was called for duty?" Izuku nearly screamed into his phone the moment his mentor finished explaining. "His surgery is scheduled this afternoon, which is 3 hours from now! Why is he being sent out to the field when he can't see?"
From the other side of the line, his mentor coughed. "Izuku, calm down."
"I am calm!"
"Listen to me!" She snapped, and Izuku could tell she was kneading her eyes. He made an effort to stay calm and waited for her to continue. "The surgery was carried out early in the morning and Recovery Girl came in right after to speed up the healing. There was an emergency in Tokyo that requires Hero Shouto's expertise."
Izuku didn't say anything. So just like that, Shouto left? They didn't even manage to exchange number or any means of contact. Izuku had thought that he had a bit of time left, and he didn't want to rush whatever he had between him and Shouto. And now, Shouto was gone, disappeared from his life just as fast as he had slid himself in. An intersection before both him and Izuku went back to their respective lives. Chances of meeting again was nil. His heart ached.
"Do you confirm that he is in top shape?" Izuku asked quietly.
He needed to make sure that Shouto wasn't coming out to the field only for death to claim him. This was the only thing he could do to assure himself that Shouto was completely healed, a confirmation from his mentor was the only words of reassurance he could have.
"Affirmative." His mentor replied with certitude.
"That's good, then." Izuku whispered quietly, sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor. "That's good to hear."
He was smiling but there were tears tracking down his cheeks. Of regret or relief, he had no clue. Maybe a bit of both but at least Shouto would be alive, and that was all that mattered.
Izuku was definitely not moping for the rest of the day.
He certainly was not.
The table wasn't really comfortable to rest his face on for an extended period of time, Izuku noted, turning to the other side so now his left cheek was lying on the hard cold surface.
He was not moping or downtrodden or anything. He was merely containing his sadness and disappointment, savoring the few hours he had with Shouto and imprinted them permanently in his memory.
He didn't waste his time doing nothing in his office.
Today was relatively calm in the hospital. A rarity, happening before something bad inevitably happened —
Izuku slapped himself hard enough he could see stars. That was pessimistic thinking. Pessimism got him nowhere. He looked at the watch on his wrist. Office hour was nearly ending. He lifted himself up from the table and closed his eyes as a bout of vertigo hit. He took his bag from the floor and stuffed all the documents into it. He fixed the twisting strap over his shoulders, standing up. Wind wafted through the window at his back, playing with the cat-shaped fuurin he hang there. Izuku smiled softly, the sound lingered in the air, a note of sweetness like chocolate cookie, good and warm. Izuku knew he chose well. That fuurin was Shouto in his essence, someone that could bring a smile to Izuku's face. Izuku hoped Shouto brought the his fuurin with him.
Izuku was nearly at the door, even having his hand on the handle when yelling came from the outside. Familiar yelling. And it was getting closer and closer. He moved out of the way by reflex, just in time the door was blasted of the hinges and banged against the wall in an explosion.
"DEKUUUUUUUUU!" Kacchan scream-growled his name, as if saying his nickname somehow scraped the inside of his body raw
But Izuku was having none of that childish fury today. He was tired, emotionally drained and he did nothing productive today. Kacchan needed to shove his attitude somewhere out of the way. So he stepped over to the wall, where the fire extinguisher was, and unloaded the white powder all over the fuming Kacchan at the door.
"How many times have I told you to not use your explosion quirk on my door!" Izuku bit out, stopping the torrent of dry powder enough so he could be heard. "Will your hero insurance cover for this because I'm very certain my hospital is not going to pay for it."
Izuku breathed out raggedly, lowering the extinguisher. That was very heavy for his noodle limps. He should sign himself up for some martial arts class soon. Kacchan was still standing at the door, a layer of white covering his entire body. And he was deadly quiet. Izuku took a cautious step back, fear slowly thrumming itself known. He shouldn't have done that. The only time he did something, Kacchan had exploded his work table in two and chased him around the building to get back at him. But that time was just a spray bottle and he squirted water only at Kacchan's face when he was being rude and mean when asking Izuku for help. This time, he done it big. Izuku dropped the extinguisher and waited for his subsequent demise. Nothing was going to save him from this.
Kacchan was, apparently, too shocked to do anything. He just stood there at the door and stared heatedly at Izuku. Izuku turned his gaze ceiling-ward, looking for the escalator that would bring him to heaven. Neither of them felt like ending the one sided stare-down anytime soon. Izuku could have grown root on the floor if not for a new voice floating in.
"Bakugou!" The voice called and got louder and louder by each thumping steps on tiled floor, until it skidded to a halt right behind a powder-covered Kacchan. "Oh."
The newcomer spotted a violent mane of red. A mane of red Izuku had seen on TV way too many time.
Izuku nearly fainted on the spot. Both from fear of Kacchan and from exhilaration of seeing Pro Hero Red Riot in person. But Bakugou's intense gaze petrified him on the spot. Izuku thought he had stopped breathing all together, and was now watching everything unfold from the realm of souls.
Then the craziest thing happen. Something Izuku thought he would never be able to witness. Pro Hero Red Riot head chopped Bakugou. A head chop, delivered straight to the back of Bakugou's head. Bakugou, who was hot tempered, mean, peerless and arrogant.
"Stop that," Pro Hero Red Riot said, stepping around the stock still Kacchan to come into the room and took Izuku's still hand for an exuberant handshake. "Sorry about Bakugou, he is exceptionally explosive today. Nice to meet you. I'm Kirishima."
Izuku didn't have his full attention on Pro Hero Red Riot — Kirishima, his mind corrected — for his attention was solely on Kacchan, awaiting the imminent explosion and ear-shattering enraged scream. But none came. Not even a sign. Nothing. Bakugou just stood up straight, sneered, wiped some of the powder from his face before stalking into Izuku's office, violently yanked the cabinet door open, and growled when the stuff came pouring out onto his face.
"The pads," Izuku squeaked when Kacchan turned a derisive gaze in his direction, "are in the top right corner."
Instruction given, he made himself smaller, contacting himself so that Kirishima's broad form shadowed him. Pathetic , his mind sighed, After all this year and Kacchan still terrified him. Right after junior high, they had gone their separate ways, Kacchan into UA and continuing to become the Hero he wanted to be, while Izuku digressed and aimed for the top university in medical. If he couldn't be on the field, be the one who fought and protected people, then he could be the one who healed and helped Heroes and people both. Izuku had thought he would never see Kacchan in person again; after all, their lives were wildly differently.
And somehow, one way or another, Kacchan wound himself to the hospital Izuku was assigned too during his traineeship with dislocated shoulders. Izuku helped, of course he did, and devised a shoulder pad specific for Kacchan to alleviate pain and minimize damage to shoulder joints. All the knowledge and insight he gathered his Hero notebook was finally put into good use for once. Kacchan's explosive quirk was not without drawback.
"Oh, so you are the mysterious designer that give Bakugou these cool shoulder pads?" Kirishima whistled appreciatively, drawing Izuku's attention back to the Pro Hero he was in the presence of. "That is so cool, man!"
"Uhm, thank you?"
Kirishima was pretty similar to his persona Pro Hero Red Riot on TV in his exuberance, hyper-friendliness and oozing trustworthiness. And that made it hard for Izuku to know how to react.
"Nah, thank you for helping this dumbass over there." Kirishima pointed a thumb over his shoulders at Kacchan, pursing his lips exasperatedly. "He has been acting far more wilder than usual. His shoulders should have popped off long time ago without your support pads."
Kirishima said something more but all Izuku noticed and got hooked on was the word 'dumbass'. Kirishima called Kacchan a dumbass, without fear. Friendly nickname. This went way beyond Izuku's understanding of Kacchan's personality, and zoomed straight into next dimension.
"Shut up, Shitty Hair." Kacchan growled, pulling out the stack of pads Izuku bound together with a rubber band. He tore one open with his teeth — "Die!" — and angrily stomped out of the office.
Izuku blinked. Kacchan today was, for lack of better word, tame. Kirishima, however, heaved a huge sigh.
"Goddamn Bakugou," he mumbled under his breath, probably not meant for Izuku's ears but Izuku heard it anyway, before turning to look at him and smiled blindingly, "He is usually not this bad. I'll give him a harder head chop next time."
Izuku wasn't entirely sure how a head chop could change Kacchan's personality a 180 but that was reassuring, coming from a Pro Hero.
"Ah, sure," He mumbled, finally breathing normally again. Kirishima was still eyeing him with something akin to interest. Izuku's was suddenly self conscious. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Izuku glanced up at Kirishima. Damnit everyone was taller than him. Maybe he should get some platform shoes for extra height and a solid kick to defend himself against Kacchan's specialized steel soles.
"I'm on a delivery mission today." Kirishima slapped his chest, hard, and took out the parcel from the backpack he was wearing, beaming with pride. "Here."
Izuku took the parcel from Kirishima's hands, not forgetting to take note of the abnormal delivery made by a Pro Hero. It was something he couldn't even dream about. The box that Kirishima handed him was wrapped bento-style with frost printed cloth. A yellow sticky note curled at the corner. Izuku uncurled it out to read the letters. There was only a phone number there.
"Also please message this number so he knows I accomplish the mission! Nothing is more manly than helping my friends!" Kirishima pointed at the number, punching his fists together.
Kirishima really was enthusiastic.
"Ah, okay. Thank you." Izuku nodded, putting the package down on his desk. He rubbed his cheeks. He shouldn't be asking this, but he wanted too. This was a once in a blue moon chance, he needed to grasp it before it slithered away from his fingers. This was going to be very embarrassing. "Can I see your quirk and make some analysis in my notebook?"
The blank look Izuku received was worse than outright rejection. At the face of rejection, at least he didn't have to explain himself and could just run away, embarrassment be damned. But Kirishima was looking him, face completely devoid of any thoughts. By the time Izuku realized it, he was already babbling.
" — You don't have to agree if you don't want to. It's just a dumb thing I do in my free time, analysing quirks and drawbacks. Kind of like a hobby. I should have got rid of the habit a long time ago but I couldn't. Since I don't have a quirk, I want to hear and know about quirks that others have so I can imagine myself with a quirk — " Shut up Izuku, don't go telling stranger your life story. " — I have 9 notebooks filled with quirks analysis and I just thought with you here in person I can make more notes and details on the notes that I have already have on you — "
"You have notes about me and my quirk?" Kirishima clasped Izuku's hands in his, face lighting up with so genuine excitement that Izuku was taken aback. "That is so cool! Can I see?"
"Of course!" Izuku squeaked and dashed for the cabinet under the window, where he kept tally on the number of notebooks he had on quirks. He pulled out the fourth one and flipped to the page he had drawn a meticulous sketch on Pro Hero Red Riot's quirk.
Kirishima took it with both hands and made a lot of excited noise as his eyes ran along Izuku's notes. Izuku was suddenly self-conscious. He rarely showed his notes to anyone. Kirishima might be the first person he willingly showed his notes too.
"My quirk activation time can be improved with training." Kirishima pointed Izuku at a paragraph, Izuku leant in closer to look. "And here, on the scale of hardness, my quirk is a 6, not 7. I'm a man made of rock!"
"I see." Izuku quickly scribbling down along the side of the notes. "And over here, it should be 4 — "
Izuku forgot time while he sat on the floor of his office, with Kirishima pointing out all the small tidbits of information of his quirk and him writing down as fast as he could. This was what he liked to do. Assessing quirks with both the eyes of someone without a quirk and of a doctor; the physicality and mentality to use a quirk effectively, possible training regime to improve a certain aspect of a quirk, and defense against one. He was only yanked back into the reality when Bakugou exploded his way back in the office, pads securely attached to his shoulders, and pulled Kirishima away by the scruff of his neck piece.
"See you soon, Deku!" Kirishima called, his voice getting smaller and smaller the further he was dragged away.
Izuku blinked. The quiet and lack of Kirishima's presence was disheartening, but the information he had was worth a diamond mine. The tops and bottoms were littered with notes, characters written so closely together Izuku needed to get a magnifying glasses to view them. Happiness glowed in his chest. Izuku hugged the notes to his chest and danced on his tiptoes. Nothing beat having a real person to analyze their quirks.
He finally remembered the parcel sitting on his desk. A bento box? From whom? There was no name on it, except for the number.
"Message this number so he knows I delivered it to you." Kirishima had instructed.
Izuku pulled out his phone, put in the number and typed in a short message with one hand while his other hand was untangling the knot.
I receive the package. Your friend did great.
He sent the message and opened the box. Inside was his jacket, folded neatly into a square. The jacket he had worn to the festival last night. The same jacket Shouto had kept a hold of for the rest of the night. His phone buzzed in his hand. Izuku read the preview and couldn't help a smile splitting his face.
How are things up in the sky tonight, Izuku?