Toshinori had learned to live with regret. He carried the weight of those regrets on his shoulders — every life he couldn't save, every villain who got away, all the collateral damage sustained to the world he loved. Had someone told him, as he watched Makoto step out of her apartment and offer him a wave, that one day he would regret this night for the rest of his life, he wouldn't have believed them.
Years from now though, in the quietness of the Alone, he would wish he'd done something differently. He would imagine what his life might have been like if he had stopped the evening here and gone anywhere else but their destination: a quiet, humble life as a teacher, coming home to Makoto kissing him each day as he came through the door. Pressing his lips to her hair as she fell asleep in his arms every night. He would imagine a world where Makoto didn't die.
But when Makoto stepped out of her apartment, closing and locking it, before turning to look at him and offering an eager wave, Toshinori foresaw none of that. He only saw how damn beautiful she was. The wide boatneck collar of her navy dress was just loose enough to see a hint of her collarbones. Both short sleeves and knee length hem that fluttered softly as the wind came through. The silk runched softly on her waist. It emphasized the gentle way her body curved into her narrow hips. Long, shapely legs. Gold shoes on her feet, gold clutch in her hand. The only jewelry she wore were polite, understated gold stud earrings and an elaborate gold hair comb. He got a good look at it as she turned back once more to double check the lock. It was a tree with wide branches and sprawling roots that curled into her dark hair, a single diamond at the center of the tree's trunk. The hair comb was tucked into her dark hair, which coiled into a smooth, loose updo, with a few loose waves hanging over her shoulder.
"I was afraid you'd have second thoughts," she said as she dropped her keys into her clutch and pinched it shut again.
Her eyes went up and down him twice. He saw Makoto's chest rise as she inhaled — she liked what she saw. It was the other suit from the tailor's, fitted to his measurements. Even he had admired who looked back at him in the mirror before he left his UA quarters tonight. The design of the suit emphasized the width of his shoulders. He looked lean and sinewy. She'd told him to leave his hair down, and it lended an inauspicious air to his presence. From the way her gaze lingered on him, it seemed she liked what she saw.
Then she spoke, tone taunting as she said, "You could tell me I look nice."
"You look more than nice," Toshinori admitted, taking a step back to get a good, long look at her. Makoto answered by taking a pose, hands on the smallest part of her waist, tucking her clutch into her palm, and angling her head. Damn.
"The suit is perfect," she said at last as she dropped her arms and stepped toward him.
She didn't show so much as a flicker of self doubt. Every ounce of her worth radiated outward from inside her, fearless and intrepid. She relied on no one for it, and he envied her for that. Her worth didn't come from Hero Billboard Charts or a lifetime of service. Her confidence was unaffected by the media and their reports.
The interview had aired two days ago, and he hadn't been ready for the spectrum of react to it. He'd tortured himself earlier in his office, scrolling through his phone and watching clips of reactions.
Makoto said polls showed a significant increase in sympathy toward his plight — and it was exactly what they'd wanted. Approval surrounding his decision to teach had more than doubled, and UA also experienced a slight uptick in how the public viewed the institution. There was large a spike in criticism toward the Hero Commission. He saw the headlines and read the articles; how could the Commission have allowed such tremendous weight and responsibility fall on just one Hero? Makoto had released part of his financial records to back up his claim of contributing to repairing villain destruction, and the public was split between being glad he did so, and being infuriated that the government wasn't doing more to help people affected by villains.
Internet sleuths had been combing through his history, trying to uncover the identity of his mentor. Makoto had shown him the threads online where people threw around their conspiracy theories over who had raised him up. The closest anyone had guessed was Gran Torino, but at one degree away from the truth, it was too close.
From the dark web, however, All For One's reach was broadening in response to the light directed onto him and his activities. Snippets and video clips of the villain before and after their encounter six years ago prompted discussion about whether All Might had disregarded Hero ordinances by seriously injuring All For One during their fight. People sympathized with the villain. There had been protests held outside the Hero Commission offices in twelve countries, demanding that Heroes take responsibility for the injuries they imposed on villains. Villains' Rights.
Villains' Rights. The words left a sour aftertaste across his thoughts, even as Makoto slid her fingers down his tie, pausing to adjust the clip, before tracking back up to his throat. The taste faded, though, as her fingers dipped beneath his starched collar as she pinched it sharp and upright.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, her head tilting back to look up at him.
"How great you look."
"Oh, that's cold. Especially for All Might," Makoto said, dropping her hands, unamused. "Don't lie to a woman about something like that."
She headed in the direction of his car without waiting for him, and Toshinori hurried after her, lips pursed. He maneuvered around her to open the door, and she touched his hand as she lowered herself into the passenger seat.
"So you share the same quirk as your brother," Toshinori said when he was behind the steering wheel, as he turned the key. He felt foolish for not considering the possibility sooner that Makoto would have a similar lie detection quirk.
"So what were you thinking about?" she asked rather than answering.
"The interview. The news. Headlines." His tone turned sour as he began to drive. "Villains rights."
"To a degree, they're right. Heroes aren't entitled to be judge, jury, and executioner. Excessive force is a much more volatile issue in America than here, for now. But I think it's an issue that you can stand to weather if we remain transparent."
"How so?"
"I think that if anyone is an example of a Hero restraining from using excessive force, it's you." She laid her hand on his forearm, and he glanced down at the contact before putting his eyes back on the road. "Let's be honest. You probably could've killed All For One years ago…But I know you. You weren't trying to kill him. You want to keep people safe. How big was that fight, Toshinori? How could a Hero of your caliber, in your prime, have suffered injuries like that and yet not a single newspaper reported it?"
He didn't speak. He didn't know if this was a discussion he should encourage. But Makoto didn't need two sides to carry on her conversation.
"You were more focused on protecting people and preventing destruction than you were on committing murder," she said at point blank range. "And that's also how he escaped, isn't it?"
Her hand was on his arm. Toshinori exhaled. "Yeah."
"You don't like to talk about it."
"No, I don't."
"Because you feel like you failed."
"You have no qualms making painful statements," he said, and she laughed before letting her hand drop away at last.
It was on the tip of his tongue to bring up what happened between them — twice — while they were alone. He remembered all the silent promises he'd made before this began, about how he would do right by her, and do right by Naomasa, and he had failed spectacularly. If things continued the way they were, he would fail again. But he wondered if he would sour the evening or worse if he broached the issue now.
The venue was ahead, and Toshinori didn't realize how tight he was holding his breath in until he unbuckled his seatbelt and exhaled. There was a valet outside his door. Makoto began to say something, but was cut off as the valet on her side opened her door for her before she could get it out. His door opened a moment later.
Toshinori climbed out and handed his keys over, before crossing behind the car to join Makoto on the sidewalk. He ignored the urge to offer her his arm. She was fidgeting with her dress, rearranging it and smoothing it with her palms, before nodding and letting him lead the way inside. Music played, a gentle ambiance that set up the expectation of the energy for the evening nicely: sophisticated, amiable. The hall was filled with Heroes and socialites, and he and Makoto stopped near a table to find their place cards. His eyes scanned the table to see who else would be at their table, and pressed his lips together tight. A server led them over, and Toshinori sucked down his annoyance as he saw who was already seated.
Mt Lady and Captain Celebrity — Takeyama Yu and Christopher Skyline — were beside each other, leaning in and chatting happily. She'd worn a backless violet gown, the V in the front cut deep and a high slit in the gown left one leg exposed. Skyline had come high fashion, too. Blue checked suit jacket and cream pants, his blonde hair slicked back and a wide smile that showed his teeth.
Toshinori was struck by the deep, primal annoyance that dripped into his veins as he saw Skyline. They'd met a few times before, but it was different seeing him now. Knowing that Makoto had felt that the only way to keep Skyline from making advances on her was to lie and claim she was dating someone angered him. That she felt like she still had to keep up the lie, even after leaving his employment, made Toshinori want to break his jaw.
Skyline looked up then and saw him approaching with Makoto at his side, and he quickly abandoned his conversation with Mt Lady. The American Hero got to his feet and came forward toward her. Toshinori saw his arms begin to open to embrace Makoto — saw the slightest fall of the smile she'd put on her face — and Toshinori stepped into Makoto's space, close to her side, leaving no graceful way for Skyline to execute what he'd been about to do. Skyline swiftly offered his hand to Makoto to shake instead, but his eyes went to Toshinori.
"Makoto! I'm so glad you're here, I hoped to see you. And damn, I didn't even recognize you for a minute there," Skyline said when he'd taken his hand back, craning his head back.
Even at Skyline's impressive six-foot-six, Toshinori had almost a foot over him in height, and Toshinori used every inch between them to look down at the Playboy Hero. The embers of his confidence were back, spurred on by this call to duty — to be Makoto's wall. Retired or not, he was still All Might, and he'd be damned if he let her down. The expression on Skyline's face betrayed his thoughts. Toshinori could see the slight retreat in Skyline's posture, backing down.
Damn right.
I am here.
"It's been awhile," Toshinori agreed, and shook Skyline's hand after Makoto, then drew out a chair for her to sit before seating himself.
"All Might!" Takeyama said, beginning to incline her head before deciding to follow everyone's lead and offering her hand to shake. Her amethyst eyes were bright upon him. "I haven't seen you since Kamino. You've recovered so well."
"Hasn't he?" Makoto said, laying her hand on his shoulder.
Both Takeyama and Skyline's eyes went to the contact, and Toshinori saw a flicker of what he thought was disappointment on both their faces. Takeyama raised her glass of champagne to her lips, turning her gaze away, but Skyline leaned in.
"So it's true? You burned through your quirk?"
"I've suffered too many injuries to continue to use it," Toshinori side stepped.
"It was a helluva fight. I don't think I've replayed a fight so many times," Skyline continued. "The way you didn't even try to dodge that one blow. Goddamn."
"There were people trapped behind me."
"It was a cinematic moment, that's what I'm saying," Skyline continued. "I don't think any one of my fights had gotten a fraction of the coverage that did."
"To be fair, Chris," Makoto said, and Toshinori reached to put a hand on her arm to derail her from what she was about to say, but at the contact she just smiled before continuing, "you'd been more interested in what magazine covers I could get you on versus fights like that."
"The covers were great though," Takeyama said, giving Skyline her attention, eyes shining. "Your GQ cover was a real show stopper."
Makoto turned to Toshinori, leaning in to speak in his ear. "Did you notice who else is supposed to be at our table?"
"Eraserhead and Present Mic. Eraser won't show up, guaranteed — and if he doesn't come then Mic probably won't. Endeavor is supposed to sit here, too. He'll come."
"Appropriate," she murmured. "Putting Number One and his successor at the same table."
Makoto smoothed her hand down the front of his suit jacket, pausing to pluck away a strand of hair, before slowly drawing away. He didn't miss the expression in her eyes — the heat she raked over him with. The subtle bite of her lip. Toshinori quietly cleared his throat and put his hands on his pockets, and from the corner of his eye he saw why she'd done it. Saw how Skyline was watching them still even as he talked with Takeyama.
"All Might." It was a man's voice behind him, and Toshinori turned in his seat before rising and offering a bow.
It was Yaoyorozu Asao. The man bowed low in return.
"How is your daughter?" Toshinori immediately asked.
"She's recovering. It was obviously traumatic for her, but she has been getting through one day at a time." Toshinori nodded in sympathy, but Yaoyorozu had already moved past it. "I'm sorry — how rude of me. Let me introduce you."
Yaoyorozu took a single side step and gestured to the man behind him. The man came forward, and the first thing Toshinori noticed were his tattoos. Fine lines emerged above the collar of his throat, and his knuckles were tattooed as he offered his hand to shake. His hair was pale blonde, and everything about him seemed sharp. The lines of his jaw and cheekbones were sharp. The glint in his pale blue-gray eyes was sharp. His black suit was sharp. Toshinori accepted the stranger's handshake as Yaoyorozu introduced them.
"All Might, this is Saito Ren."