Flashpoint: 5 years prior to canon
"Please, you have to rest! It hasn't even been a day!" The frantic pleading of a man following a friend, mentor, and personal hero out of the hospital room. "You can't go back out there! All Might, please! If you've ever trusted me or my quirk, stop! You can't keep doing this right now!"
Deep, exhausted breathing, occasionally interrupted by equally deep wet and wracking coughs was the only reply he got. Until it got to be too much. A heaving fit of bloody coughs stopped him cold in the hall. Sir Nighteye stepped before him. His face was uncharacteristically expressive, an aurora of fear, disappointment, anger, exasperation, and most of all desperation. "Toshinori. Please." His eyes watered as sadness threatened to overwhelm him. "You know I'm right. We both hate that I'm right. But I am right. You have to rest. Otherwise you die. All Might dies. The Symbol of Peace dies. I can't let that happen. The world needs you." He looked away. His fists tightened, his entire lanky frame tensing. "I need you." His voice finally broke, tears falling gently down his cheeks. Wiping his eyes with a pocket square, he idly noticed his usually pristine suit was still covered in dust and ashes days later. He spread his arms open, and one of his hyper-density seals appeared in each hand.
Every inch the battered warrior, he stood before the man he worshiped, an idol of over a decade. "I will stop you whatever way I have to. Please don't make me."
This finally got acknowledgement from the titan that had been brought low before him. Eyes of sky blue, so intense that they were hard to look at (he would not back down, dammit) bore into his own. "You think you can, Sasaki? We both know how it would go."
A bitter smirk crossed Nighteye's face at that. "We both know, yes. Especially me." Foresight was of no use against One For All. The sheer power and speed granted bypassed any amount of precognition. It didn't do any good to know what happened next if you weren't fast enough to capitalize. Even half-dead as he was, All Might still stood on an entirely different level from the rest of the world. Another pair of seals appeared in Nighteye's hands. "But I'm certainly willing to test my quirk again on this."
The tension rose as All Might stopped slouching on the wall, supporting himself on one extended arm. He was still drawing breath irregularly, trying to avoid inhaling too deeply. Even reduced as he was he still seemed to fill the entire hallway, towering over his sidekick. A tower of rippling musculature. The number one hero longer than many of the current crop of heroes had been alive. The very archetype of a hero. A demigod.
The Symbol of Peace.
Just a man. A brutalized and deeply wounded man, on every level. 'A bullheaded, terminally selfless moron who is going to get himself killed unless he's stopped right now.' Sir Nighteye prepared. He had already used his one vision today. This was going to be a fight of skill only.
The only warning they had was the tapping of a cane followed by a rapid series of puffs. "ZYGOTES!" A pair of impacts. One knocked Mirai on his ass, the other pushing All Might (relatively gently) against the wall. And then Gran Torino stood directly between them. Even at fraction of both their sizes ("I'm the right size, you meatheads are just too damn tall!"), the man's mere presence was enough to cow All Might into a quivering mess. A sight that never failed to create an…interesting…mix of feelings in anyone who witnessed it. Stepping quickly, he whacked Mirai on the head with the cane he was still carrying. "You've been his sidekick for years, beanpole, you should know better than to appeal to his sense of self-preservation. He doesn't have any to begin with."
He whirled on his student, the pillar jumping and then coughing up some more blood. "Right, no sudden movements. Oh God. Ow."
Torino spared a glance to the sidekick over his shoulder. "What'd I tell you? Can't talk sense to him the way you were doing." Turning back. "Brat! You get your ass back in that bed before I see whether I can shove my cane all the way through that hole in your gut and out the other end!" The enormous blonde stood meekly and started the arduous walk back to his bed. Leaning against his cane, Gran sighed and started following. He kept pace easily, standing between the other two as they walked back to the hospital room.
Once he was put back in bed, Gran Torino directed Nighteye to sit on a chair facing the door, while he took a perch on the rolling table upon which sat an untouched tray of food. Putting the tray on his lap as he sat cross-legged on the table's surface, he started to sample what his student was so thoughtlessly about to waste. Brandishing a plastic spoon like a scepter, he proceeded to lay into both younger men for a solid 15 minutes. After several rounds of "if your head was any further up your ass you'd be able to give yourself a dental exam!" and "Get any more bullheaded and I'll take you to the butcher and make a fine set of steaks!", he finally ran out of steam.
Sighing deeply, the man suddenly looked every inch his age. A warrior from a more dangerous time, now (supposed to be) retired. "Here I am having to lambast 2 grown men like kindergarteners fighting over a gameboy. Goddammit, Toshi, Mirai is right. If you don't let yourself heal, and trust the thousands of other heroes to do their damn jobs for once, you are going to break. And then when the next major problem happens, you're gonna be here attempting to figure out which of your organs you want to lose the least while you should be fighting. And as for you!"
The glint in his eyes remained as dangerous as ever, and being the sole focus of that glare was nerve-wracking. "Stop being so sure that you always have the only answer. That fatalist bullshit gets old, and other people are allowed to make choices. No matter how right your quirk has been so far, there's no such thing as a predetermined outcome." He spun the spoon in his hand and took a scoop of the bland…potatoes? for a bite. "Now, you two are going to stay exactly where you are and hash this out like adults. I will not have Nana's sacrifice be in vain, Toshi. But neither will I have the next bearer of the torch be chosen in a panic." The glare that had been so powerful now changed into a stare with the weight of a moon. "Discuss this. We will figure this out and so help me god Toshinori if you set one toe out of bed before the doctor says you can, I will finally give your empty skull a skylight."
Thoroughly humbled, the 2 men spoke quietly under the eyes of the elder hero.
It lasted days.
2 months later
"Hajime!"
Nighteye leapt at his opponent, leading with rapid kicks. On the back foot, the other man bobbed and dodged, trying to make some distance. He wasn't always successful. Two quick ones to the right side, followed by a spartan kick to the chest. Stumbling back, he was hit with a side thrust kick before the momentum had even fully dissipated. Thankfully(?), he had gotten proficient at recovering from having his ribs meet his spine for a cuppa.
Nighteye's long legs propelled the man absurdly fast. He was already back in striking range. Which, for a standard build human would probably actually count as short or even mid-range. It was time for a change in strategy. This time, he stepped in. It was enough to actually startle the lanky man for a critical step.
Quickly, he spun his hand, and the next kick bounced off a patch of rubberized air. Whatever triumph he may have felt was rapidly knocked out of him as Nighteye used the momentum to reverse the roundhouse, hitting Tobita Danjuro with the same leg he just blocked. The white-haired man actually went fully parallel to the earth for a split second, before hitting the ground on his left side. "Ouch." This stunning status report was met with a sigh.
"You're not good enough, but you are getting better. It seems that that half-assed attempt at vigilantism wouldn't have been an entirely doomed venture after all." Despite the incredibly backhanded nature of the feedback, Tobita couldn't help but smile. Him. All Might had chosen him.
The disgrace.
The failure.
The screw-up.
Tobita Danjuro.
The next number one hero.
A/N: Th-the-the-a-that's all, folks!
Been a bit, but there's been a bit going on. Haven't really done much processing on next steps anywhere, but I'm sure I'll come up with somewhere fun to insert a responsible adult. Or move plot in the other one. Until next time friends, fans, and fam, this is Jester signing off, reminding you
Always drink your Ovaltine!