Learning to Trust

"You can't heal what you don't acknowledge."
—Jack Canfield

Chapter 4: One for All...

Toshinori sat quietly on the uncomfortable orange chair just outside the nurse's office. He'd been waiting awhile-mostly because he'd allowed two injured students to go in before him. They'd seemed more distressed about their pain than he honestly was about his own injury. Plus they were missing class the longer they'd sat waiting.

It had been about half an hour now, though. His arm was actually starting to bother him, and he was beginning to hope that no more students would show up. He really just wanted to get patched up and get out of here. He needed some food. Due to his lost stomach, he needed to eat at least six times per day on a fairly strict schedule. When he'd first been injured, he'd mostly ignored the doctor's advice and usually had been fine. However, now that he was getting older and his injury was impacting more and more of his life, he was starting to find that skipping meals drastically reduced the time he could remain powered up. Not to mention what his last doctor had pointed out to him: the fact that his body was deteriorating at twice the speed it should because he'd been unintentionally starving himself. Without a stomach, he could only absorb so much into his system at a time. Big meals weren't an option anymore. If he missed a meal, he lost nutrients. It was as simple as that.

Toshinori rubbed his tired eyes. Would have been nice to know that detail up front. Not that I'd have listened. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, grunting a little at the burn in his arm. Might as well clean myself up a bit while I wait. Make Recovery Girl's job a bit easier. And if anyone else shows up, I really could probably skip the nurse anyway...

He wandered to the bathroom and cleaned himself up as best he could, wrapping up his wounded arm with the extra handkerchiefs he carried in his pocket. That support item had sliced through his shirt and given him a shallow cut across his chest, too. He cleaned that up as well and left it, unable to properly wrap it. Really it wasn't bleeding much anymore. His motions were automatic, none of it a great concern to him until he noticed that his pocket had been sliced open and the pill container and inhaler he'd been carrying were now missing.

"Shit," he hissed through clenched teeth. Most of his afternoon medicines could be skipped as long as he made sure to take them before bed. He'd be uncomfortable for the day, sure, but he'd done it a number of times in the past. Ever since his last surgery, though, he'd had heart irregularities as well, and that medication was on a tight schedule. He'd been in a hurry that morning and hadn't actually taken his medication, arguing to himself that he could just do it at lunch. He could skip maybe one dose and be okay. He'd be in rough shape if he missed two.

He hit the bathroom wall lightly in his frustration. "Shit," he repeated emphatically. Now he actually needed to get patched up, since he'd be walking home to grab some more medicine. His wallet had been in the same pocket, so he had no way to pay for a taxi.

His intestines made a little gurgle, reminding him of his need for food as well. "Shut up," he grumbled at his remaining internal organs.

Sighing, shoulders slumped in resignation, he slunk out of the bathroom and slouched back in the hard plastic chair, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. First and second lessons of teaching learned: Keep spare meds in your desk. Don't skip doses. "Your own damn fault, Toshi," he murmured. "Those are common sense life lessons that you should have learned by now…"

He sat up and took a slow breath. The calmer he stayed, the more time he'd have. One breath. Two. He loosened his shoulders and stretched, wincing as his wound reminded him of its presence.

Just then the office door opened, and an awkwardly blushing teenager walked out with a handful of gummy bears and an expression that fell somewhere between mild disgust and complete exhaustion.

An aged woman's voice shouted from inside the room. "Now remember to go straight to bed. If you move around too much, you'll reopen the stitches, and you don't have enough stamina for my quirk a second time." She sounded irritated.

"Yes, ma'am," the boy replied quickly, before scurrying off.

Toshinori flinched sympathetically. Recovery Girl was a kind woman, but she'd never been one to put up with foolishness. It sounded like she hadn't changed at all.

"Whoever's next out there, come on in and let me have a look at you. And you'd better not have been involved in that ridiculous training session at the arena. When I get my hands on Yamada…"

Toshinori stood cautiously and poked his head around the corner. "I guess that would be me," he responded in a falsely cheerful voice that he hoped would put her in a better mood. He smiled weakly at her. "But if this is a bad time…"

Recovery Girl sat on her wheeled chair at a desk, typing away at a computer. She looked up in surprise at the deep, resonant, but tired voice, clearly having expected another young student. She studied him for a moment with her dark, inscrutable eyes. For a moment, something flickered across her expression before she motioned him into the room and turned back to the computer.

He entered the room the rest of the way and shut the door behind him, cautiously watching the elderly hero.

Youthful Heroine: Recovery Girl, pro hero and famous UA nurse, was a tiny old lady with grey hair pulled into a tight bun. Most of the time her face wore a smile and kind expression, but Toshinori knew her well enough to recognize that she was still tough despite her grandmotherly appearance. She was looking particularly annoyed today. He hoped she would save that frustration for Yamada.

"Have a seat, boy," she said without looking up.

He smiled. "I'm hardly a-"

But she shot him a sharp look that quieted his contradiction, and he sat abruptly on the marginally more comfortable stool in her office. He fidgeted awkwardly while he waited for her to finish typing up her file.

Finally she turned to face him. "So, tell me… what can I do for you?" Her expression was bland and disinterested, but she scanned his torn jacket and blood splattered coat, clearly assessing the damage already.

He couldn't tell if she recognized him or not. He guessed she didn't, based on her impersonal response, but with Recovery Girl, it really was hard to tell sometimes. She had been one of only three-along with Nighteye and Nezu-whom he'd trusted enough to know about his near-fatal injury at the hands of All for One. She'd even visited him in the hospital, even though her quirk hadn't any real hope of saving him. That had been nearly five years ago when his body mass had been more than triple that of his current form, though. He was a shadow of the man he'd been back then. Still, he wasn't sure how he felt about keeping secrets from her.

He smiled tiredly. Then again, maybe it's better if she doesn't know. "I work for Might Tower. I'm just here to get some information for All Might. Got myself caught up in a snafu with a support item, and Cementoss insisted I come see you. That's all."

Again that unreadable look. She snorted. "So you work for All Might," she replied blandly. "At least you seem to be a bit smarter than he is when it comes to seeking medical help." She shook her head. "That boy's going to kill himself one day, and you can tell him that I said so."

"Do you really think he'll listen to me?" he asked, a bit taken aback by her rancor.

"Probably not. He certainly doesn't listen to anyone else." She hopped off her seat and approached him, taking a closer look at his makeshift bandage. "So you're the gentleman who saved Fuyuko. Let me see your wound."

Toshinori extended his left arm. The sleeve was already unbuttoned and rolled up, so she only had to remove his makeshift bandage.

"Hmmm…" she murmured after a moment of studying the wound. "I don't think it needs stitches. I'm just going to clean, glue, and wrap it for now. You don't look like you've got the strength for my quirk." She walked over to the counter and began gathering various bandages, salves, medical tapes, and glues into her arms. "How well do you think you can follow directions? This glue can't be messed with or you'll wind up needing stitches anyway."

He chuckled. "I'm fine. Cementoss told me to come, and I'm here, aren't I?"

The old woman suddenly stiffened at those words. "What did you say?" she asked, slowly turning.

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "I'm here. I can follow directions," he repeated, baffled by her tone.

She approached him and dropped the odds and ends from her arms onto the bed beside him. Then she looked him straight in the eye. "Yes," she replied. "I guess you are here."

"I-"

"And it's about time, too," she snapped, suddenly, smacking him on his uninjured arm. "I should just give you the stitches. You're going to tear the glue apart. You're the type to ignore perfectly good, reasonable advice from the people who care about you and know better, just so you can say you're here, aren't you, Toshinori?" He could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.

His shadowed eyes widened. "Wait… how did you...?"

"Your voice doesn't change as much as you think. And your eyes have barely changed at all." She grabbed his arm with more gentleness than he'd expected with the anger flashing in her own eyes. "I should have known it was you when Mirio wouldn't shut up some seven-foot-tall visitor who'd moved like a pro to save his friend." She began cleaning his wound a bit more aggressively than was probably strictly necessary. "But the principal should have warned me you'd be here already," she huffed. "I know your medical history. You'd have wound up here eventually." She finished wrapping his arm, and then smacked him again. "And you should have told me."

"Hey, that hurts!" Toshi yelped, scooting back a bit. "I'm sorry. I was trying to get as few people involved as possible. There's a lot at stake. It isn't personal, Recovery Girl. It seemed prudent to get a feel for the UA staff before I made any final decisions. You're the first person I planned to tell if I officially decided to stay."

She glowered at him and just snapped, "That's a terrible idea, not that I'm surprised." She dropped the extra wrappings on the bed. "Now, take off your shirt."

"What?"

She let out another exasperated sound. "Don't get so touchy. I can see that the blades cut through your clothing. I need to dress the wound on your chest. And you might as well let me check on your old injury, too. I want to see what I'm going to be dealing with."

"This really isn't necessary," he stammered, flushing. The last thing he wanted was to sit shirtless in front of Recovery Girl.

"Since when is All Might shy?" the old woman scolded. Then she studied her patient's face and sighed, her expression softening. "But I'm not dealing with All Might right now, am I? I'm dealing with young Toshinori." His blue eyes shot up to meet her dark ones, and he was surprised to see the nurse smiling at him. "You play the role of heroic oaf so well, I forget sometimes that it's just a show that you put on for the public."

He puffed up indignantly, and Recovery Girl just laughed at his offended blustering. "Calm down, Toshinori. That's not an insult. Far from it, in fact. I prefer you like this. You're smarter than you let on" She snorted. "When you're All Might, you're just a loud idiot."

"Hey!"

"Take the shirt off. I need to check that wound."

"Recovery Girl… I'd honestly rather not if you don't mind. The wound to my chest is a scratch." He glanced away. "Anyway, this is what's left of me. What you can see isn't pretty." He held up skeletal arms to clearly show his point. "I promise you that what I'm covering is worse."

Recovery Girl smiled and gently took one of his thin, bony hands in hers, patting his hand as though the old hero were still one of her students who needed mothering. "Trust me, Toshinori, no scar is going to be worse than seeing you hooked up to every life support machine in the ICU. I'm more interested in your being alive than looking like a standard hero-a point I distinctly remember voicing at the hospital."

Toshinori's mouth hung open in surprise at the normally tough-as-nails nurse's gentle tone, and, unable to find words to contradict her this time, he sighed and released his hand from hers to take off his torn suit coat and to begin unbuttoning his white dress shirt, now spotted with blood. He slipped the shirt off and let it drop onto the suit coat and jacket on the hospital bed beside him. Then he tugged off the torn white undershirt, wincing at the movement of his left arm. After finally dropping that onto the growing pile of clothes on the bed, he looked back up at the school nurse's face.

To her credit, she barely flinched. He was impressed with her control, though he supposed she'd seen enough fatal injuries to prepare her better than most. Still, he knew how he looked: at best like a prisoner of war who'd been tortured and then starved. His ribs and spinal bumps were clearly visible through skin pulled tight over his remaining muscle and bone-skin marred by deep grooves and angry red scars from years of battle. Then there was the scar, covering half of his chest, leaving a clear indentation where the organs and ribs that had been pulverized had been removed. A thin, mottled patchwork of skin stretched tight over the crater in his left side. He couldn't quite sit up straight due to the weakened muscle and bone that multiple surgeries and reduced nutrients had left him with, and this only accentuated the damage. The only thing he really had going for him was the tone he'd managed to retain in what little muscle he had left. His injuries hadn't left him with much, but lately he'd been trying to keep what was left in working order.

The old woman walked around him, shaking her head and tsk-tsking. "Well, that scar is a lot worse than I expected. How many surgeries?"

"I lost count after the tenth."

She snorted. "How many were because you tore it open again instead of letting it heal, All Might?"

He raised a brow at her, dodging the question. "I thought you're calling me Toshinori."

"I'm calling you All Might when you've been an idiot," she snapped, all business again. "You should have rested your body. There are only so many times doctors can fix you before there's nothing left to fix. Honestly, I'm surprised that the rest of you is in this good of shape. Why couldn't you just listen to us? If you'd have listened and retired five years ago, you'd still have your body and most of your health."

"I know, Recovery Girl. And I do follow the doctor's orders. Give me some credit."

She levelled him with a steady gaze. "Since when?" she asked, suspiciously.

A guilty smile twitched his lips. "Since the cardiac arrhythmia began a few months after my last surgery," he admitted sheepishly. As if on cue, his heart seemed to do an uncomfortable dance in his chest, throwing off his breathing, and causing him to cough. With no handkerchief at his disposal, he was forced to cough into his arm, spraying blood onto his skin.

The old woman silently handed him some paper towels.

As he cleaned up, she gently patted his shoulder. "I can't even stay angry with you, idiot though you are. You're going to kill yourself. But you already know that."

His shadowed eyes met hers. "It doesn't matter. I'm going to die in a year or two anyway. Think of all the lives that would have been lost-all of the people living in fear just so I could feel okay until my death. I remember being so angry with Nighteye for using his Foresight on me, but honestly, I'm glad he did. Now I know what's coming. I don't have to waste lives trying to save my own. I just need to keep fighting a little while longer, and when my death comes, I won't have any regrets."

"Won't you though?"

He sat in thoughtful silence until Recovery Girl's voice snapped him back to reality. "Toshinori… I'll take that silence as a no, not that I'm surprised. She shook her head, back to business. "The cut on your chest isn't bleeding anymore, so I'm going to clean it and just cover it with some gauze. I'm more concerned about that cough."

"The blood's normal," he replied, wincing a bit as she quickly cleaned and bandaged him. "I know how much I can lose in a day before I need to go to the ER. Honestly, it looks worse than it is."

For a dying man.

The words hung silent in the air between them. He coughed again, wincing and holding his side as she stepped away.

"Do you need a painkiller?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, slipping his undershirt back on and dressing. "I'm fine. I have some at home. I need to go pick up my afternoon medications anyway." He paused, firmly holding the footboard of the bed when a wave of lightheadedness washed over him at another flutter of the heart. Absently, he rubbed at his chest with his other hand. He took a deep breath as it passed before continuing as though nothing had happened. "I lost what I had with me in the fight. I'll take some painkillers while I'm there. It's a quick walk. I don't live far."

She threw her hands up in the air and stomped off to her desk to grab her cell phone. "Absolutely not, All Might. I'm getting you a ride."

"I'm fine. Really. I live half a mile away. I don't need to put anyone out for-"

Her glare silenced him. He'd forgotten how terrifying this little old nurse could be. "I'll just text a teacher to drive you home. His class ends in fifteen minutes. You can take a painkiller here and eat some food with it, so you don't have an upset stomach."

"I don't have a stomach," he reminded her, but she ignored him, not at all in the mood.

"Anyway," she continued, "I'm sure you're due for food. I have some nutrient packs here. I'll monitor your heart until Aizawa can get here."

He coughed sharply. "Not Aizawa."

She sent the message and bustled off to her cabinet, tucking the phone into her pocket and unlocking a door. She stood, arms crossed, studying her bottles of medication. Her phone suddenly dinged, and she dug it back out of her pocket to read the message. "He says he's happy to drive you home."

"I highly doubt he said that."

"He's the only one coming up on a break, All Might. Beggars can't be choosers. Which painkillers can't you have?"

"I didn't even ask for a ride," he sputtered. "How am I-"

"Of course you didn't, All Might. You're impossible! You'd rather have a heart attack walking home than ask for help. And even if you are fine, if someone gets hurt or some villain shows up, I know you. You'll save the day at the expense of your own life. You've already risked your life to save thousands, All Might. Isn't your life worth just as much? Now… I don't know if you need anything as strong as Tramadol..."

But Toshinori wasn't listening, stunned into silence.

Principal Nezu's words rang in his ears. "A famous statesman, centuries ago, was credited with stating that it was worth sacrificing one life to save a million others…"

"You've already risked your own life to save thousands… Isn't your life worth just as much?"

For the first time Toshinori found himself wondering.

Is it?

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And a big thank you to lolo popoki for betaing!

Sincerely,
Sirius