Author's Note: This is cross-posted from my AO3 account the other day, written in the last few weeks for a BNHA Gen Contest.
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, Chronic Pain, Depression.
'When sunflowers are young they exhibit heliotropism. This means their flowering heads track the sun as it moves across the sky. As the stem matures and becomes woody, the tracking usually becomes less noticeable. The leaves may still follow the sun, but the flower will not. In many varieties, maturity causes the sunflower to face the ground, which reduces the risk of bird damage.'
i.
Fields of purple lavender do not decay. They do not know how.
The stalks bend with the wind and the floral scent fills the car as it rushes down the road. Naomasa drives with the windows open, all of them rolled down to let the air in, and Toshinori breathes in the sweetness. The wind stirs up his stiff, corn-coloured hair and it reminds him faintly of flying, leaping from roof to roof with immense power pushing him onward, making him surge and jump and soar.
When they park near a flat, nondescript little house in the country, Naomasa lets the car idle for a moment. He turns to Toshinori with that familiar frown on his face, the lightness in his eyes accompanied by tight little wrinkles near the corners. Age has thoroughly whittled away Toshinori's expressions, made him world-weary and haggard, but Naomasa's face only grows kinder over the years. Tired, perhaps, but still so kind. He's concerned. Someone is always concerned about Toshinori, it seems. Whether it's because he's bleeding out after a battle or too weak to go into battle anymore, there's always someone looking at him with worry.
It rankles. He wants to hate it, but all he can summon up is a little bit of wry exhaustion.
"You're sure you want to do this?" Naomasa says. "It's pretty far from anything central."
"Are you worried that something's going to happen to little old me out here?"
Naomasa doesn't let him have the light-hearted moment.
"I'm worried that you'll isolate yourself." Naomasa turns to peer out of the front window, taking in the house as he finally shuts off the engine. "You did that even when I was only a precinct away. You did that when you were teaching, surrounded by teachers and students who cared about you. This is…" He waves a hand, and then unbuckles his seat-belt harshly. "I may be further away this time, but I'll still drive out here and beat some sense into your ass if you don't pick up the phone."
Toshinori chuckles.
"I wouldn't have it any other way, old friend."
ii.
On Toshinori's first morning in his new home, he looks out of the grubby window upstairs and spends a moment looking at all the lilac flowers swaying outside. Uncharitably, he thinks it looks like a bruise. A fresh bruise still in the process of purpling. He puts his hands to his stomach, where he can always feel the gaping hole torn through skin and muscle no matter how heavily he covers it, and sighs. He's not so old that he can keep acting like a wizened, withered man. Not without consequences.
Izuku has never taken kindly to Toshinori feeling sorry for himself.
As if summoned, Izuku calls him a few minutes later. Toshinori comes away from the window, listening to Izuku's high-speed questions about the house and the trip and if he's met anyone yet. Bakugou screeches at him in the background about paying attention to patrol. The chatter of busy streets bleeds through the phone, and the uncharitable feeling bleeds out of Toshinori. He listens to Izuku talk until he has to go and stop a mugger, and when he puts the phone down, he feels a little more settled.
iii.
"I'll have to call you back," Toshinori says, three minutes into his conversation, an hour or so into the morning, a week into his new life.
Naomasa sighs heavily. "Is that a lie? Do I need to drive up already?"
"There's a chicken jumping over my garden wall," Toshinori says. "I'll call you back."
Naomasa is too dignified to squawk down the phone, but the noise is vaguely chicken-orientated. It cuts off when Toshinori puts the phone down aimlessly, somewhere near the chopping board, in all likelihood amongst the diced spring onions.
There isn't a chicken jumping over his garden wall, but it seems to be doing its best to do so. Toshinori peers out the window overlooking the rough lawn of ragged weeds and a few stray lilac flowers. There's an apple tree leaning up against the wall, using it as a cane for its warped and craggy body. The chicken's head appears in roughly six-second intervals, popping up over the top of the low wall and vanishing again.
The door unlocks easily. The back step is a little wobbly, a loose stone somewhere in the works that Toshinori will have to fix one day. He plans to spend as much time as possible outside. The sunlight helps him feel at peace. The fresh air helps him think. Sitting inside and rotting away with his thoughts has never done him any good.
He will need a nice garden to sit in for when he's feeling particularly old and crabby.
Over the wall, the chicken makes faint clucking noises. Her head appears again, a blur of smooth russet feathers that vanishes in the next breath. Toshinori peers at the low-hanging apples on the bottom branches of the tree, making the connection easily enough.
"I used to be a Hero, you know," Toshinori tells the chicken. "My entire purpose in life was arresting criminals such as yourself."
Light, breathy laughter catches him off guard. Toshinori usually has a handle on his surroundings, but he completely missed the willowy woman standing in the garden, a mere few steps away from the wall. He ducks his head to look through the branches, offering the woman a short, apologetic nod.
"My apologies," he says. "I didn't mean to intrude on your morning."
"Hardly an intrusion." The woman inclines her own head, her long hair sweeping forward in a silver wave. "I feel as though we should apologise to you for the theft."
"Ah, yes," Toshinori says. "The criminal."
"Her name is Bertha."
Bertha. Toshinori looks at the chicken closely, but there are no distinguishable Bertha-characteristics. Bertha feels like a very English name for a chicken that was clearly taught in secret by his old class to cause all sorts of mischief.
The woman laughs again. It is a very wispy sound, almost as though she doesn't want anybody to hear her. The ringing of a phone startles them both, and she retreats from the garden and his company with another bow, apologising in a murmur as she heads back inside her house. Toshinori hadn't even noticed the house. He knew he would have neighbours, but he didn't expect to meet them so soon.
Bertha clucks once. She struts off into the long grass, her robbery foiled, but there's no doubt she will return with a better, stronger plan. Toshinori snorts at his own thoughts. He reaches out with one wiry hand and shakes the lowest branch of the old tree. He listens to the soft thump of apples hitting the ground, and goes back inside his house to find tools for the back step.
iv.
Sometimes the kids in Class 1-A would have movie nights. All of them would bundle up on the couches and snack on chips and nuts and slices of fruit, gossiping and elbowing each other, arguing over film genres. Sometimes, they would invite Toshinori along, and he would sit in the oversized chair that seemed to have been acquired just for him, feeling guilty for reasons he couldn't pinpoint but delighted to be included. He never had much hope of understanding the films they liked to watch. Sharknado was an experience that he never wants to repeat. But he enjoyed some of them. Some of them stick with him even now.
There was one, in particular, of a girl trapped in the Spirit World. He remembers it well. That's what this place reminds him of, although the people in the market are infinitely more friendly and less inclined to turn him into a pig.
Rice to go with the shrimp he has at home, three bottles of sweet raspberry lemonade, and an abundance of vegetables; Toshinori ticks things off his list as he makes his way around the market, making polite conversation with the vendors. They look busy and warm behind their wooden stalls, plucking dumplings from the steamers to parcel them up. Toshinori takes up as little of their time as necessary, but still smiles often.
It is a different smile than the one he wore as All Might. Izuku insists that the core is the same, and perhaps it is, but Toshinori would never wear something this dark and tired and wry in his Hero form.
If the people here recognise him, they don't call him out on it; which means they probably don't recognise him. His retirement was hardly subtle. People like to ask questions, and he cannot begrudge them for it. It's still nice, though, to walk unknown through the wooden stalls, laden down with bags. People look his way because he towers over them all, but they look away just as quickly, concerned with their own lists and chores.
When his list is ticked off (and it is such a long list, for someone with so very little stomach to fill), Toshinori sets off up the hill, sweating under the sunlight. Technically it is still edging out of winter, and there is frost in the fields, but the sun pays the seasons no mind. By the time he makes it to the lane that diverges towards his house, there are marks on his wrists from where the bags dig into his skin, and his jacket feels as though it's made of soup, swarming him.
When the bike hits him, Toshinori almost considers it an act of mercy.
He sees a startled face flying towards him, and barely registers the crash they must make as the bike collides with him. One of his lemonade bottles breaks on impact; the glass cracks with a chime-like splinter, and cold liquid immediately dampens the bag.
He finds himself sprawled in the cool grass that flanks the path, plastered half across the low stone wall, blinking up at the painfully bright sun. The woman on the bike managed to catch herself as she fell. She brushes off her hands, dirt sinking into the grazes marring her palms, and rearranges her skirts as she kneels at Toshinori's side. It is the same woman from the garden, he realises. His neighbour.
"Are you alright?" she asks, lacing a hand over his elbow. "You're not hurt?"
Toshinori stumbles to his feet with her help.
"A little winded, but nothing appears to be broken." The lemonade bottle clinks inside the bag where he nudges it with his foot. "No bones, I mean. Your hands, are they…?"
He reaches out unthinkingly. She flinches away.
Without another word, Toshinori withdraws his hands. He wants to tuck them in his pockets, but she might think he's reaching for something, so he lets them hang limp at his side instead. His shopping is sprawled all over the grass; some of the vegetables have spilled out of various bags, but most of it seems intact, in one little lump in the road.
"I apologise," she says, soft and discomposed. "I never meant to cause any trouble."
"The trouble was all mine, ma'am."
"Please," she says. "Call me Rei."
Toshinori introduces himself, taking a step back before he walks around her to collect his shopping. Her bike seems entirely unharmed, lying sideways in the road where she left it in a hurry. They stand it upright and Toshinori inspects the spokes, the brakes, the handles, pretending as though he knows anything about bikes.
"You're sure you aren't injured?"
"I'm glad you caught yourself, Rei-san, but please don't worry about me. I've taken worse hits than a bike."
The scars that decorate his skin and brain tissue are enough proof of that. He doesn't say it in a way that implies bragging, or even strength, but Rei takes her bike back with careful hands and lifts her smile a fraction higher.
"I shall try not to put that to the test."
v.
In truth, there isn't much to it after that.
Rei brings him eggs, though only four of the dips in the carton are full.
"I haven't quite gotten the hang of it yet," Rei explains, when he stares bemusedly at the carton. "It might also be that Bertha is a little too busy to bother with eggs."
"Such is the life of a criminal," Toshinori intones gravely. "Thank you, Rei-san. My boy is always telling me to put more eggs into my diet."
Eggs are fairly easy on the stomach, when you don't have a stomach to go easy on.
Rei brings him eggs, and he accompanies her to the market a few times. Occasionally they will chat over the garden wall, and Toshinori will make sure there are plenty of apples to go around. Quietly, the meetings pile up in the corner, until they stop bumping into each other and start making hesitant plans to walk together, to be purposeful in their steps.
It is undoubtedly strange, this tentative, careful growing of acquaintances. Toshinori used to place such heavy weight on relationships; it's a price that comes with having such heavy secrets. You have to know who you can trust to carry them with you.
Izuku is the first and only person that Toshinori trusted so simply, so implicitly. He barely even hesitated before he spilled the truth all over that boy's life. Even on the rooftop, with Izuku watching him with hopeful eyes hope, a plea on his lips, Toshinori had been inches away from telling him everything. Telling a stranger everything.
There is no telling which words will do the most damage. And there is never a reliable way to measure how easily a person might break. What will bounce off one person's skin will crack another person's skull. Their rain could be your hailstorm, your hurricane, your natural disaster that becomes a funny little anecdote in the eyes of people that can afford the means to survive it.
Yagi Toshinori left a young boy on a rooftop after gently dismantling his hope, and it is one of his deepest regrets, even though the young boy did not break.
Despite the damage his secrets have wreaked on Izuku's life, he never regrets telling him the truth. He never regrets trusting him with that burden, no matter how heavy it weighs. And Izuku is different. He does not choose to be alone, the way Toshinori always did, the way he still sometimes does.
Unfortunately, having Izuku in his life means that Toshinori doesn't particularly know what to do with Rei. Their relationship isn't heavy or packed with secrets. He feels at a bit of a loss.
"I think that means you've made a friend," Izuku muses. "Have you made a friend, Toshi-san?"
Toshinori has just finished relaying the recent events over the phone, and he doesn't appreciate the vaguely judging, amused note to his boy's tone. He finishes smoothing the dirt over the seeds and hums, stepping away to survey his work.
The pot is long enough to house an entire street of sunflowers, should they grow under his tentative care. He'll be content with just one. He puts the pot on the white iron side-table that sits pressed up against the conservatory window, where the sun can reach it. His hand feels gritty with soil, but he brushes it off on his shirt without a care.
"Wasn't the whole point to get away and… and feel better? Maybe a friend can help with that." Izuku rushes on before Toshinori can address the faint tremor in his voice. "I know you've got Aizawa-Sensei and Detective Tsukauchi, and you've always got me and Mum too, and there's all the other teachers and Heroes, but it isn't the same as having just a friend. You know? You should meet as many people as you can! Go for drinks or something."
It's hard to wrap his head around the concept of his successor, his young Midoriya with his bright grin and wide, adoring gaze, telling him to go for drinks. Alcoholic drinks, presumably. Which he should have no experience with, being a young boy.
"I'm twenty-two, Toshi-san," Izuku says dryly, when Toshinori presents him with these facts. "I know what alcohol tastes like."
"You know how to make a man feel old, that's what you know," Toshinori grumbles.
"You're not old, All Might, and you never will be. Go for drinks!"
vi.
They do not go for drinks. Not the alcoholic kind that Izuku is apparently so familiar with. They sit in Rei's conservatory instead, and sip tea. The teapot is a delicate clay piece, and the spout steams gamely as they sit cross-legged opposite each other.
The first time is a little awkward, and Toshinori leaves quickly, giving Rei her space back. But it becomes easier as they days shuffle along. By the fourth cup of tea, Toshinori feels a little less like an intruder, and Rei stops looking as though she is prepared to run. She talks a little more, and invites him to ask questions. She even reveals that she has a cat, pointing out the tower covered in felt that leans against the window, much like Toshinori's iron table.
"Strays come and go here, but he is the most frequent visitor," Rei says fondly. "It feels wrong to put a name to a stray, but if I were to name him, it would have to be something very… indulgent. He does like to snooze."
The cat doesn't grace Toshinori with its presence until a few visits later. He has a book at his side, one that Rei leant to him; it isn't his preferred genre, but he is determined to finish it, if only to be able to properly articulate his distaste for the main character. The cat slinks in as he slots a bookmark into place, Rei at its heels.
"We have been blessed," Rei says, as the cat prowls smartly around Toshinori, and then leaps up onto the tower. Its grey tail taunts him, resting over the edge and whipping him on the nose.
"He certainly has character."
"All cats do." She smiles. "I always wanted pets, if only because my son used to go so still and awed whenever he saw a stray. My husband always said no." Her smile does not shrink or falter, but there is something introspective and distant about the curve of her mouth. "In the end I stopped picturing it, but things have changed over the years. The cats here come and go as they please, and so does my son, and I'm content with that."
Rei's past is something of a mystery. At times she seems very familiar, as though Toshinori might have met her when she was younger, when they were both younger, but for the most part she is a closed curtain. She has let slip that she has older children, and that they visit her as much as they can. She mentions her husband infrequently, but every tidbit makes the cold dislike grow stronger inside Toshinori.
As far as he can tell, the two are not together anymore, and likely never will be, which is the only silver lining he can find when it comes to the man.
Rei interrupts his musings with a box of mochi.
"Strawberry flavoured," she says, opening the lid. "They were a gift from my son's friend. Help yourself."
Toshinori takes a piece, nodding his thanks. The cat idles in the sun. He sometimes thinks about getting a pet of his own, but it seems unfair when he could conceivably not come home to it one day. When he was a Pro Hero, his argument was that a fight could take him out at any moment, or that he would have to take a lot of assignments that required being away from home for long stretches of time. It would be unfair to let an animal grow attached to him, only to leave it alone so often. Now that he's retired, and officially out of the Hero scene, the argument doesn't have weight anymore.
But Toshinori isn't getting any younger, and his body might never really have the chance to get properly old. Not like this, not like it is. The problem hasn't really changed; merely shifted its face, gathered a mask.
Here, in the warmth of Rei's conservatory, he feels much like a cat himself. Mochi tastes sweet on his tongue, and the cat sinks further into the felt tower, like a soufflé collapsing under the heat. It is indulgent, this peace. Too indulgent, in all likelihood, but for once Toshinori doesn't allow himself to feel guilty for it. Still, he voices his thoughts as he strokes a hand down the cats back, closing his eyes to properly bask.
"Is it bad that I could stay like this for a good, long while and be perfectly happy?"
The cat gives a little mrrp of disapproval.
"You have no room to talk," Toshinori tells it, curling the cat's tail around his thumb while Rei laughs softly around her tea. "Get a job."
vii.
Bad days are almost like an old friend at this point. Toshinori's flare-ups are more frequent than his flare downs, these days. A lifetime of fighting and physical damage will put a strain on anybody, let alone someone with a few less organs than most doctors deem appropriate. When he wakes with more pain than he knows he can stand, he grits his teeth and doesn't bother to pretend that he's happy or fine. Sometimes he remains in bed, and sometimes he forces himself upright, taking calls a little more snappishly, puttering around when he can and sinking into a seat when he cannot keep up the pretence. He is intimately used to chronic pain, and he knows that it can happen to anybody.
Somehow, it catches him by surprise when Rei has her own bad days.
One morning he stands on her doorstep, which no longer rocks after a healthy application of nails, and knocks. They're supposed to go for a hike, but the lights are off inside and the screen door remains firmly shut to him.
He doesn't see Rei for a few days. When he does, she is exhausted and pale, and she flinches when he moves to pat her shoulder.
"Ah," she says, smoothing away some of her hair. "That was… I have had some changes in medication, and it's made me…"
"Please, you don't have to explain." Toshinori retreats politely. "I shall keep my tree-man hands in my pockets."
She doesn't laugh, but her thin smile is sincere despite the tired undertone. Toshinori walks with her to the market and back again, dutifully quiet, and leaves her at the garden path. These things, painful and brittle as they are, take time.
viii.
Between calls with Naomasa and Izuku, and market days, Toshinori decides to find something to do. Something that doesn't involve his overgrown garden or looking out at the miserably bruised lavender fields. Rei takes one look at his dark countenance when he hands back her book and laughs, citing that she has just the thing.
It takes a day or two, but eventually Rei introduces him to the art of hiking.
"It isn't really hiking for me, I suppose," she says, sitting astride her bike. "But we can do the other trails another day. We have plenty of time."
What a notion, Toshinori cannot help but think, as he follows her along the path. To have time enough to do indulgent things.
There is a lake a few miles out, hidden behind low hills. Rei rides her bike along the thin paths, streaming through the countryside with her hair tied up in a bun. Toshinori walks. It takes him a long time to catch up to her, but she's always waiting at the next turn, sipping from her water and forming sprigs of lavender with ice in the palm of her hand, almost absently.
"You ordered a bike, didn't you?"
"I did." Toshinori received an email earlier that morning that promised to deliver his new bike in five days. "I don't mind this, though."
Rei smiles at him. "Fresh air is good for you. Don't tire yourself out, though."
It would be easy to push himself to the point of pain, but Toshinori holds back. He walks sedately, hands in his pockets, while she points out birds and plants and herbs. When they reach the lake, where less lavender grows, he feels a little more settled.
The water is clear and smooth. Rei leans her bike against an old crumbling bit of stone and spreads her coat along the ground to sit on.
"We should have brought blankets," she says.
Toshinori sits in the grass beside her, not bothering with a coat, and watches a bird land on the water, leaving behind streaks of disturbances. He breathes in and out. "There's always next time," he says, and he means it.
ix.
The pieces fall together very slowly. Toshinori is at Rei's house on an ordinary Sunday, detailing the lack of growth in his sunflower pot, when an old student throws things into soft relief.
"It's almost twelve," Rei says, glancing at Toshinori's watch. It is an old-fashioned model with a leather strap, but the face is new. Toshinori had it altered. The minute hand is bright green, and spells out DEKU, and there is a triumphant chibi face in the background. Toshinori looks at it fondly, and rises at the reminder.
They take their medication at the same time. Toshinori doesn't pry into what she takes, but Rei doesn't seem that concerned about letting him see. She has a little box with the pills organised into individual sections. Toshinori keeps a bottle in his coat pocket with everything he needs mixed up inside. It doesn't matter much when Toshinori takes his, so he switched things around a bit, and now they take their medication at the same time. He joins her at the Kotatsu with a glass of water each.
"Bottoms up," Toshinori says, lifting the glass.
Rei pops the first pill onto her tongue, and murmurs a soft cheer.
If Naomasa were here, he would be horrified by their blasé nature, but perhaps not overly surprised. He's known Toshinori long enough to appreciate his wry humour, even if he doesn't quite find it as funny.
He makes a small note to introduce Rei and Naomasa. He isn't sure if they will get along, but he knows Naomasa will be proud to know he's making friends. Proud, and faintly mocking. A little chime on Rei's phone alerts her to something, drawing him from his thoughts. She pulls it out, her eyes warming with love and affection, and places it face-down on the surface.
"My son just arrived," Rei says.
"Ah," Toshinori says, putting his water down clumsily. "I wasn't aware—I'll take my leave then, Rei-san. Thank you for the company."
They rise at the same time, but Rei puts her hand out, chuckling.
"There's no need for all that," she says. "I should like for us all to spend time together, if you're not busy." There is something faintly mischievous in her eyes. "Besides, I'm fairly certain you know each other already."
When Todoroki Shouto walks through the door only a minute later, the pieces click together. It isn't very dramatic. It feels like he already knew. It is the same feeling as searching fruitlessly for an elusive set of keys, only to find them wedged down the side of an armchair, fingertips brushing against metal triumphantly. It is a simple, ah, there you are, followed by the carrying on of things.
Todoroki bows first to his old Sensei and then crosses the room to kiss his mother on the forehead. The last time Toshinori saw him, he was surrounded by friends at a Hero Gala, keeping Uraraka's drink cool while Izuku grinned and sobbed on a stage. Now he stands very comfortably in loose clothes, carrying a string bag full of vegetables, sparkling water, and dried seaweed.
"You mentioned you ran out of your fruit tea, so I brought some of that too," Todoroki murmurs. "Hello, All Might. I wasn't sure if you'd be here."
"I bullied him into it, I'm afraid."
"I never require bullying to see an old student," Toshinori says. "I can put those away, if you like?"
He doesn't give them a chance to respond, taking the groceries into the kitchen to give them time to talk. And to give himself time to recover. It's not as if it's a huge revelation, but he takes his time putting things away. He does remember seeing Rei when she was younger, on the arm of Endeavour. He thought she was quiet and sweet, and admittedly didn't think anything more of the arrangement. There were more important things to worry about at the time than Endeavour's new partner.
But now, as he recalls every mention of Rei's husband since their first meeting, he wishes that he had worried a little more.
Toshinori tries to make a quick and respectful escape, but Rei won't allow it. She makes them all take tea in the garden, and they talk of books and current Hero cases. Nothing too strenuous. She is very keen to know about Todoroki's friends, and he seems happy enough to share. He tells them that Iida passed his driving test, despite being faster than most cars, and that young Kaminari pierced his tongue and regretted it fiercely the first time he used his Quirk.
"He had a headache for two days," Todoroki says, and Toshinori chuckles over the top of the book, not even bothering to read the blurb anymore.
"And Izuku?" Toshinori cannot help but ask.
"He and Bakugou had a rooftop battle the other day," Todoroki says.
"I'm not sure that's news," Rei points out gently, looking thoughtful. "They seem to have a rooftop battle every other week."
"This one was over a sponsorship. They want to make a video game with Deku as one of the main characters, but they didn't ask if Bakugou wanted to be involved."
"Ah," Toshinori says.
"Ah," Rei says.
Todoroki nods gravely. "Izuku didn't take kindly to them not including his Hero partner, and they had a fight over it because Bakugou can take care of himself, apparently. Although I haven't seen any evidence of that."
It is blunt and a little unkind, but Toshinori still ends up coughing into a napkin from how hard he laughs.
When Todoroki leaves, he looks at him thoughtfully, and nods. "Take care of each other," he says. Then he strides down the path, looking every bit the Hero he made himself to be, and Toshinori feels pride well up inside of him.
"He is a good boy," Rei murmurs, joining him at the door. "I still worry about him, but it is much better to be out here worrying absently than in the city, where every battle is broadcast across the sky."
"It does feel very removed out here, doesn't it?"
"Sometimes I'm not sure whether you like that or not," Rei says. She pats him on the arm when he remains silent, and picks up their glasses to take indoors. Toshinori is distracted from his thoughts by the presence of his favourite criminal; Bertha pecks at the hem of his trousers and struts away before he can stroke her.
"That is not as helpful as you seem to think it is," Toshinori mutters. "Perhaps the wisdom of chickens is beyond me."
Gran would hit him with a stick for talking nonsense like this. Toshinori feels a little pleased at the thought, and resolves to talk to chickens more often. He heads back inside to clean up the last of the dishes, and as the afternoon melts into evening, he stands with Rei at the counter-top, surrounded by the faint aroma of earl grey dregs.
"If you're going to ask me why I didn't tell you my last name," Rei begins, but Toshinori shakes his head.
"Of course not. Everyone is entitled to their secrets." He hesitates, a little, and then presses on. "On the off chance that it is something I did, or that my history with Endeavour influenced you in some way, I can only apologise."
Rei sighs, leaning against the counter. "It isn't that. I trust you, Yagi-san. I simply didn't want to talk about him. I didn't want our friendship to be about him. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but it had absolutely nothing to do with you."
"Even though my position in Hero society drove him—"
"No," Rei says. Firm, unmoveable. "Everything he did, he did himself. And it wasn't…" She sighs then, her shoulders dipping, the nape of her neck visible as she bows her head forward. "The terrible part is that it was not all bad, all the time. Not in the beginning. Not even in the middle. I think if I had not loved him at least a little, I wouldn't have stayed. Love is very tricky, isn't it? It's hard to know what I felt. But I know how I feel now, and that is enough, even if I never piece it together."
Love isn't tricky, Toshinori thinks. What Endeavour did to her was not love. If there ever was love there, is spawned instead of bloomed. It turned grey and sickly. Love is the easiest thing in the world, even when it is very painful.
"And what do you know now?" Toshinori murmurs, his voice so low that it could easily be ignored, if desired.
"I did not do enough," Rei says, her eyes turning dark. "I never did. And I let him take all the fall for it instead of owning up to my own mistakes. Shouto never… he should never have had to come to me, but I didn't want to reach out before he wanted to see me. It's complicated. But I know I never did enough. I'm trying to make up for it now."
Toshinori isn't sure that he believes any of that. He has heard of people internalising such things, and twisting them inside to fit what they have been told about themselves. But it isn't his place to tell Rei what she should feel or do, or what she is at fault for. He didn't live it. He cannot know. So he doesn't pretend to, even if all he wants to do is be kind to this woman, this person, this friend.
"What I know now is that only we are responsible for our own choices, our own actions," Rei says, meeting his eyes. "Do not take it on your shoulders, Yagi-san. There is quite enough there already, and I will not take tea with a martyr."
Toshinori coughs, and laughs, and they end up cleaning the counter again.
x.
A revelation comes on one of Toshinori's bad days. He hangs up on Naomasa, and sends an apologetic text afterwards, despite not feeling very apologetic. When the knock comes, he recalls his promise to hike with Rei, and suppresses a groan. He opens the door wearily, and her smile fades as she scans him.
"I don't think I'm in the mood to look at bruised fields all day," Toshinori admits.
"We should go somewhere else then," Rei says. "Come on."
Their regular hiking trails are ignored. Rei leads the way in her sensible shoes, but it never feels like she's leaving him behind. When they reach the path that leads down to the lake, Rei takes a sudden turn into one of the lavender fields. It spreads out all around them, and Toshinori tries to keep his uncharitable thoughts all to himself. But Rei catches his expression and laughs softly.
"I promise it is worth it," she says. "I found it a week ago. I kept meaning to bring you along, but we both got a little busy."
He shoves down the misery, and keeps walking. When eventually the purple indigo black blue bruise evens out, they come across a green field, with more beyond it. Rei climbs nimbly over a gate, the strap of her dungarees catching on the hook of a fence, and leads the way through dry mud and crisp grass. At another turn, she points at a wall, and he sits on command, following her other finger to where a cluster of bright, vibrant yellow awaits.
"I don't know who planted them," Rei says. "It apparently used to be a popular picnic spot, but it's fallen into disrepair lately. Perhaps this is somebody's way of fixing things up."
There are six fully-grown sunflowers in total, out of a crop of twelve. Toshinori relaxes on the wall. Their heads are full and pointed upward, where the sun follows its invisible wire home across the sky. Rei sits beside him, one ankle propped on her other knee, and withdraws a flask from her bag.
The tea is still warm. They pass the flask back and forth, listening to distant birdsong.
"Cut sunflowers can last anywhere from five to twelve days," Rei murmurs, as though she's reciting something from memory. "If you take proper care of them, they can live a much longer life. In most cases, a sunflower cut from your own garden will last longer than a sunflower from a store." She looks at him with unfathomable gentleness out of the corner of her eye. "I have been wondering if you came out here to take care of yourself, but that doesn't seem to be the case."
Toshinori is not so dramatic as to say that he came all the way out into the countryside to die. That would be ridiculous. Nobody would let him get away with it even if that was his intention. But he cannot say that he came out here to live, and perhaps that is the point Rei is making.
"Do you ever feel as though you're much worse inside than people think you are?" Toshinori muses. If Rei is surprised by his sudden question, she doesn't show it. She seems to think about it instead, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"More often than I'd like. The way that people see me… I am either a victim or a villain. I think perhaps it is both. Or neither of those things, really. Plenty happened to me, and rarely any of it was kind, and yet some bits of it were." Rei frowns delicately. "I don't know how or why I clung on, sometimes. And I remember thinking… just let him do what he wants. Just be quiet. Even though they were only children, only small, and they couldn't possibly understand what was happening. I wanted to protect them with everything I had, but sometimes I was so tired that all I wanted was for them to be quiet."
Quiet is another word for safe, in some languages. Toshinori holds the flask as though it is made of smoke, as though it will wisp away without his careful attention.
"So yes," she says, after a thoughtful pause. "I do feel like I'm much worse inside than people think."
"Mm. I know the feeling. Not the same way, and not…"
"It isn't a competition."
"I can't imagine many people would be interested in the winning prize," Toshinori points out, grinning widely when Rei laughs, shaking her head. "But that isn't…"
He sighs. She waits for him.
"I'm not sure why I came out here. Every time I would see a news report, or a new case solved on the news, a new villain apprehended, I would feel so proud of my old students, and my Izuku. But at the same time, I could feel something dark and bitter inside me." He huffs a laugh. "It's selfish, but I miss being a Hero. I miss being strong, and able to fight. I miss the days when people used to look at me with … with something. Like I could save them, rather than …"
"Like you needed saving," Rei finishes softly.
"Exactly," Toshinori exhales the word; it blows away, carried by a sudden brisk wind. "I thought I had gotten used to it. I thought I could focus on the success and growth of my successor, and be proud instead of upset, but I still feel that loss."
"You can't be happy all the time. I imagine it must be exhausting to try."
Toshinori passes the flask back.
"Maybe that's why I came out here then," Toshinori says. "To be away from it all, and be exhausted with myself in peace."
"Perhaps. Or maybe you really did want to make a life out here, and you just didn't know it."
"Perhaps there isn't one out here."
"How morbid." Rei lifts the flask to her lips, smiling quietly. "Would you like there to be one?"
"Well it isn't like I have much choice." For all his morbidity, Toshinori does want to live. He just sometimes gets stuck wanting to live in a way that isn't possible anymore. "What about you? What were you hoping to find?"
"To find?"
"Or do. What was the plan? If you had a plan." Toshinori shrugged. "I suppose I'm asking what you want out of life, since apparently this is a day for deep conversations and intrusive questions."
"What do I want? More time with my children," Rei says. "Plenty of raspberry tea. To raise better-behaved chickens. Bike-rides, and closure. Oh, I'd like to learn how to fix things myself, too. You did a good job with the doorstep, but the window upstairs is so rickety and I'm no good with nails or hammers. But I should like to be, I think."
"And that's enough?"
"I think for even the most heroic people, the small things in life are quite enough to be going on with."
The brisk wind stirs up the sunflowers, no doubt scattering fat seeds on the ground. Toshinori takes back the flask when it is offered to him, and says no more, content to sit with his friend.
Perhaps that's the point of it all, in the end.
xi.
Dagobah Municipal Beach is no longer the quiet haven it once was. Without the trash and stink littering the shore, the sands are clean and golden, and the waves are welcoming once more. And with that welcoming aura come droves of families, and teenagers with their volleyballs and rackets, and children chasing gulls across the sand, fingers sticky with ice cream.
Luckily, things are much calmer in the evenings. Toshinori takes his time walking along the sand, and comes to a stop on the dock. He sits, taking off his shoes and socks to dip his toes in the frigid water. It isn't as cold as he expects, and his skin grows used to it as he sways his feet back and forth, making ripples.
By the time the sun has almost completely dipped down, his picture must have made it onto three separate social media platforms. But nobody comes close, and he waves when prompted, but something keeps them away.
Except for Izuku. Nothing keeps Izuku away, and Toshinori wouldn't have it any other way.
There is no green whoosh or the crackle of lightning to signal Izuku's arrival. Instead he hears a frantic 'All Might,' and turns his head to see a young man come scrabbling over the rocks. His heart swells. It always does, and one day it's going to get too big for him and fill the space that Hero work carved out, and he will have something else to thank Izuku for. But for now he just grins, watching the Nearly Number One Hero trip on the sand only to catch himself at the last minute, skidding along the dock with childlike excitement in his eyes.
"Mum told me you dropped by with mochi for her, and I knew you'd be here! You never said you were coming." He looks almost betrayed. "I would have met you at the train station if I'd known!"
"I'm not sure Dynamight would appreciate being abandoned on patrol for little old me."
"That's silly," Izuku says. "Kacchan would fight a whole train station for you."
Toshinori chuckles. He pats the space beside him, shifting his shoes aside. Izuku sits on the dock, crossing his legs over each other, and looks out at the waves. A deep sigh leaves him, relaxed and quiet.
"It's been ages since we were last here," Izuku says. "We should come more often."
They should. He looks out at the water too, and thinks about how it is so much different from looking at the lake, or the sunflowers, but really not that different at all.
"I think you were right about me finding a friend," Toshinori says. "I'll introduce you when you next visit. Although I think you might have already met."
The promise of such a mystery makes Izuku squawk and settle into his familiar muttering stance, ready to piece it all together. Toshinori snorts, and lets him be. He shakes himself out of it sooner or later, promising to demand more information later. Then he starts regaling Toshinori with tales of Hero work, and Kirishima's birthday party, and showing him pictures of a little girl with a falcon Quirk that Tokoyami is fostering.
"It seems like things are going well for you," Toshinori says.
"And you?" Izuku asks. "Are things going well for you? Because I've been wanting to ask, but you don't tell me things. You don't want me to worry! Which I'm not allowed to lecture anyone on, apparently." He grimaces, but it's somewhat sheepish and self-aware. "But I'm… I do worry about you, Toshi-san."
Toshinori sighs, making a circle in the water with his foot. "I know that. Everybody does. That's sort of why I left. And maybe that was foolish or selfish, but I think I… I think I don't regret it." He fixes Izuku with a very gentle look. "It isn't easy for adults to hand over the bad stuff to their kids. But I've done it before with you."
Izuku's eyes grow wide. "You have. I want to take the bad stuff, All Might."
Perhaps it is the use of his Hero name. Or perhaps it is the way Izuku looks at him, fierce and bright and worried, but not pitying. He looks at Toshinori openly, but never like he needs saving.
Whatever it is, it's enough for Toshinori to open his mouth. To talk bitterly for once without worrying about tarnishing his old golden, shining image. The plan was always to fade into the background, but it isn't as easy as he convinced himself it would be. And he tells Izuku as much as he can, as much as he thinks Izuku can bear, and when he is all done and his lost, miserable feelings are spilled out into the water for everyone to reflect on, he closes his mouth and sighs. It is a similar sigh to the one Izuku did, when he first sat on the dock.
"Thank you," Izuku says, leaning in to nudge him with his shoulder. "I'd be a hypocrite if I told you that it's bad to keep this stuff inside. So thank you for telling me about it, Toshi-san."
"You're not upset with me?"
"I think I'm the opposite of upset." Izuku looks at his hands, scarred and warped and strong. "You promised me a long time ago that you would take care of yourself, and you would live as much as you could, even if it didn't end up being very long. I think—no, I choose to believe that."
He takes a deep breath and looks back up, smiling in that bright way that first caught Toshinori's attention, all those years ago.
"Living isn't just being quiet and happy, and it isn't just being a Hero," Izuku says. "If you've taught me anything, it's that I've got to face all the bad stuff, and live through it too. Live with it. So I'm happy you shared it with me, Toshi-san. It means you're letting yourself be all of you, instead of just All Might."
Toshinori slings an arm around his kids' shoulders. He doesn't have the words, and he doesn't know if he believes it, but maybe that's part of living too. Maybe he should just feel it.
Everyone he loves is trusting him to live, and he has no intention of letting them down.
Thank you so much for reading!
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