Foresight

Chapter 2: Teacher

"Time only teaches us to conceal our pain from others and we learn to grieve all by ourselves."
—Narin Grewal

It was still raining. Fat, heavy drops were driving against the windows of Yagi Toshinori's small apartment in the UA dorms. His room, like Aizawa's, was on the top floor of the building. Because of this, the wind was fiercer here and the lightning more alarming. It had been pouring for half the night already. Wind lashed rain at his windows, sounding like pellets driving harshly at the glass. Toshinori had been tempted to pull the shade shut and attempt to sleep, but these days he was a very light sleeper, and even with most of the lightning blocked out, the deep rumble and violent crash of thunder would keep dragging him from sleep anyway.

So instead of sleeping at one o'clock in the morning on a school night, Toshinori was sitting in his dark apartment next to the open blinds, watching the lightning dance across the sky, and counting the seconds between each rumble and flash. The storm seemed to be right overhead. He sipped calmly at his tea as another flash tore through the clouds.

Another crash and bright flash. Another. And another. It was mesmerizing. One thing Toshi had learned in his long life was that most events could have both a positive and negative side to them.

Sure the storm kept him awake. But it was beautiful. And Toshinori loved beautiful things.

He shifted in his seat, wincing a bit at a twinge in his shoulder and side, massaging the muscles aching from lack of use during the past couple of weeks. His lips formed a tight line. Maybe he just liked beautiful things in contrast to the twisted mess he'd become.

Another flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by a slightly more distant boom. The storm seemed to finally be heading out.

He sighed. At least he'd be able to sleep a bit. But he really had been enjoying the light show. He brought his tea to his lips again.

Then… something strange happened, stopping Toshinori mid-sip. Another flash of lighting blazed in the sky, this time shooting straight from the clouds and to the ground, likely blasting one of the trees.

Toshinori narrowed his eyes, setting the cup down on a nearby coaster. But that didn't make any sense. UA was covered in tall buildings. Why would the lightning be drawn to a lower object? And why was that flash green?

His brow furrowed as he paused, listening. And where was the thunder?

The sky lit up once more just then—the usual bright white—followed by a softening rumble as the storm slowly faded.

Did I imagine it? He shook his head to clear it. No, there was no way he could have imagined something like that, could he? His eyes drifted to the silhouette of a pill bottle resting next to his mug on the bookshelf. He remembered having read the warning label carefully when Recovery Girl had given them to him. May cause drowsiness. Upset stomach. Focus may be diminished: do not operate heavy equipment.

He sighed. Probably this pain medication. I really should stop taking these. Physical pain like this is generally pretty manageable—I've certainly felt worse than this with no treatment and been fine in the end. And I really can't afford to lose my edge over a little pain. Especially now that my mind is really all I have going for me…

Making a sour face, he firmly tugged down this last shade and stood, stretching as thunder rumbled ever quieter. Even with the rain still lashing at the windows, Toshinori thought that maybe he was tired enough and it was now quiet enough that he could get a little sleep.

As he padded of to his bedroom, though, he couldn't help but think of that strange green bolt of lightning again.

Something about it felt so familiar.

The next day was difficult. Toshinori wasn't sure if he had underestimated the amount of pain he would be in without medication or if his lack of sleep had made him more sensitive to the discomfort. I'm probably just getting too old for this, he found himself thinking with an uncharacteristic edge of bitterness to his frustration. Maybe it is for the best that I was forced to retire. The thought made him feel slightly ill.

Whatever the reason, the pain in Toshinori's arm and side were enough to drive him to distraction all day. It was almost enough for him to decide to retreat to Recovery Girl with his tail between his legs and admit defeat, requesting a dose of the medication to get him through the day until he could get home. Almost enough for him to decide that perhaps the pills ruined his focus less than the agony. Almost, but not quite.

Just need to get used to it until it becomes background noise. You've pushed through worse than this before, old man. Just stop thinking about it so much.

Of course that was easier said than done. To his credit, Toshinori had been in the media and faced villains with a false smile and improvised bravado for so many years by now that even with the deep ache in his bones, the electric dancing of cramps across his weakened muscle, the touch sensitivity to his freshly healed scars, and the sharp knives of pain caused by newly damaged nerves, he was able to smile through it and act as though nothing was wrong.

He was able to convince nearly everyone.

The class was thrilled to see that his arm was finally unwrapped and out of its sling. He was touched by their concern, but they were frustratingly gentle with him, taking extra care not to bump him or crowd him too much. It was kind—and honestly a bit of a relief, as he wasn't sure how well he would have been able to grin through someone inadvertently bumping into his arm—but it was also frustrating. He didn't want them to treat him differently. He'd known they would, of course. He'd just hoped that somehow they would all just continue to see him as he once was and be able to look past the sorry shape of the frail body he was now trapped in.

He sighed. No one directly said anything to him. But he could tell they all saw him differently—all treated him differently—except perhaps for Young Midoriya. But even his boy was watching him with concern, chewing nervously on his lip as he often did when he was worrying about something, but for once he was staying alarmingly quiet about it.

Meanwhile, the staff had been far less subtle. Ever since the incident in the Ultimate Moves class, Aizawa had made it a point to scold him every time he even looked like he was going to get actively involved in a physical class. ("I know for a fact that Recovery Girl told you to stay out of that room until your arm is healed.") Meanwhile Midnight just kept nagging at him to take it easy and just enjoy his retirement. He snorted in frustration. What's there to enjoy? It's like I lost another piece of myself.

His body and stamina had been fading away for years. One for All had been sputtering out these past few months. How much longer could he go on like this?

If I'm not careful, soon there isn't going to be anything left!

"Good-bye, sensei!"

Toshinori flashed an extra wide grin at the students, waving as they filed out of the classroom at the end of the day, ignoring the pain that this simple motion caused now. It had been over a week now since he'd seen Recovery Girl. The pain should be fading. What's wrong with me? I really am getting old if I can't bounce back even a little bit after an entire week…

He lowered his hand carefully, expression fixed in its false smile to mask his concern as the last few students left the room.

Young Uraraka waved cheerfully at him, flashing him a quick, bright smile of her own, and even young Bakugo grunted something as he passed the teacher's desk that Toshinori could only assume was meant to be his version of a farewell.

Young Midoriya had appeared ready to stay behind, but then he'd been collected at the door by an irritated Aizawa, who had a bone to pick with the poor boy about the sorry state of his survival skills—namely, the boy's apparent inability to feed himself. From the snatches of conversation, Toshi had heard from inside the classroom, the boy would now be taking classes to learn how to make food, so he wouldn't accidentally kill himself with all of the sodium and sugar he usually consumed.

Toshi couldn't help the small, genuine smile that twitched his lips. The boy was more like him than he'd initially thought. Toshinori himself had been unable to cook much of anything until Nighteye had forcibly taught him a few basic recipes.

The thought of his old sidekick sobered Toshi quickly, and the frail hero stood stiffly, absently scooping up a stack of tests, folders, and books from his desk. Unthinkingly, he picked the load up with his bad arm. The aching joints and tight muscles protested sharply, and, before even realizing it, his grip faltered. The entire load crashed to the floor with a loud bang, papers, books, and folders scattering loosely every which way in a blanket of white.

He gritted his teeth in frustration. Seriously? I can't even pick up a few books anymore? This is pathetic!

He stood amidst the pile of papers for a moment, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and trying to ignore the sounds through the open door behind him. He hoped no one had seen that. If Aizawa was still around, he'd mention it to Nezu, and Toshinori would never hear the end of it. He probably wouldn't be allowed to do anything by himself.

Sighing, he forced his melancholic, and—he was fully aware—his frankly unrealistic thoughts to the back of his mind. Don't be stupid, All Might. Aizawa was practically in a body cast after USJ and no one questioned anything he did. You're overreacting.

Slowly, he moved to bend and pick up the papers, trying to ignore the pops and cracks from his back, when he heard a tired voice from behind him speak up. "Hey, let me get that for you!"

Toshinori stiffened at the unfamiliar voice, old instincts causing him to ball his fists instinctively. The voice was not a student, nor even one of the teachers. It was older for one thing, and reminded him a bit of Torino's honestly, but with more warmth. There was a rough, worn quality to it.

"That won't be necessary," he replied quietly—evenly. "I'm capable of picking up my mess. But thank you."

"It's no trouble. Really. Let me help. Please."

He hesitated at that, "please." He was certain he'd never heard the voice before, but there was something naggingly familiar about it. He turned to see a broad-shouldered man with shaggy silver hair already crouching to pick the papers up, scooping them into neat piles on top of two of the fallen textbooks. He wore a simple black dress shirt that seemed a bit too snug with baggy grey cargo slacks and a scuffed pair of black work boots.

Toshinori's eyes narrowed. The man's head and right hand were bandaged up. The left hand was covered in scars and what appeared to be a few healing cuts and bruises. The man reached out to pick up a textbook that had slid closer to the desk. As he stretched, he suddenly flinched as though hurt, and hissed sharply through clenched teeth, rotating his shoulder stiffly. "Forgot about that shoulder," he muttered quietly. "Recovery Girl's going to kill me…"

Toshinori bent to pick up the book as well as the last few papers scattered about his feet. Slowly he stood, masking his own pain, and set them on the desk. "Here. Hand them here," he said, bending forward and motioning for the stranger to pick up and hand him the rest of the stack to place on top of his meager pile.

He then reached out a hand to help the older gentleman up, but the man flinched out of the way in a suspiciously reflexive motion.

Toshinori froze, hand still reaching down to help. Again, a needling of uncomfortable suspicion settled in the pit of his stomach. He pushed it down, instead asking in a voice steady with long-practiced calm, "Are you all right…Mr. …?"

The stranger did not supply a name, but did finally look up, making reluctant eye contact with the former Number One Hero. The man's lined face looked as tired as his voice sounded. One of his eyes had a fading bruise around it, and there were a few scars across his cheek and another peeking out from under the bandage near his eye.

It was his eyes that stopped Toshinori from speaking for a moment. They were open wide in a shocked sort of way and were vibrantly green. Startlingly green in contrast to the black and grey and silver that made up the rest of the man and his clothing. Like the lightning that had crashed down in silence a week ago. They were almost as green as—

Toshinori didn't get to finish that thought, because that powerfully open emotion in the other man's eyes abruptly faded, masked in a way that Toshinori knew all too well. The man glanced away and flashed a grin at Toshi. It was a warm and friendly smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and deepened the laugh lines in his cheeks. It was the sort of disarming smile that made people drop their guard and trust you immediately.

Toshi could tell it was fake. He'd smiled that way for most of his life. One fake could always recognize another. He provided a polite smile of his own, but said nothing as the other man slowly straightened, standing stiffly with a grunt and stretching his shoulder and back again when upright.

The man glanced down at the papers, letting the grin fade to a bit of a sheepish smile. "I'm fine," he said, palming the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. I'm a bit jumpy about people just reaching out and touching me. Nothing personal." He didn't make eye contact again, instead glancing at the clock. "I'm sorry. I'm late for an appointment. Almost lost track of the time."

Toshinori's eyes narrowed slightly, but he smiled politely. "Of course. I wouldn't want to keep you. Thank you for your help."

The man's eyes danced over to meet Toshinori's for one brief moment. They shined and a softer, more genuine smile graced his face for a moment, as he replied softly, "Of course. Any time. It was good seeing you again, All Might." He moved as though he wanted to say something more, but instead shook his head and waved awkwardly for a moment before turning and heading abruptly out of the room.

The man had already turned a corner down the hall before Toshinori realized what he'd said.

"It was good seeing you again, All Might…"

The older man carefully picked up his stack of tests and books again, more carefully with his good arm this time. And he walked out of the room, lost in thought.

Again?

Author's Note: Thanks for lolo popoki and granny_griffin's beta work. Thanks fencer29 for your lovely comments on my Bnha fics. Finally, thank you all for reading this fic!

Sincerely,

Sirius:)