Mr Yagi

by SassySovereign

It just didn't make sense for All Might to become a teacher at U.A. But perhaps it would work alright for Toshinori Yagi, a secretary-manager with years worth of experience of working at a hero agency who can teach the kids how to navigate working at an agency as a Pro. Hopefully no one at U.A. figures out that he and All Might are one and the same.

23. Chapter 23: From the Ground Up

Chapter Summary: With the Sports Festival coming up, Izuku tries to take what his mentor told him to heart. Meanwhile, Toshinori tries to confront his own capabilities.

A/N: In the section with Yagi, there is an allusion to Season 4, so there is spoilers on that front.

With everything that his class' return to campus threw at them, most would assume that the entirety of Class 1-A felt as though they had a fire lit underneath them. Between the threats and the supposed declaration of war thrown their way, it seemed that everyone was going to be gunning for 1-A, regardless of whether or not they truly thought them to be the powerful first years the media kept harping on about.

However, Izuku did not feel motivated by the pressure; if anything, he felt suffocated by it. He tried not to let his thoughts get the better of him as he ran lap after lap on the beach he spent ten months cleaning up, but even the roar of the waves couldn't drown out his anxieties.

"Just 'doing well' isn't enough ," Kacchan had spat out back in the classroom. He had been the only one brave enough (or perhaps, in his case, uncaring of what others thought of him) to stand up to the crowd that had blocked the exit to the classroom. "Some people are willing to settle… But I'm going to be fighting to get to the top. And I won't have my victory undercut by someone who isn't trying to do the same."

Even though days had passed since then, Izuku could still feel that sense of eeriness that permeated through his entire body at just how calm Kacchan had been when he spoke. Just the other day, he had been subject to shouts and threats that landed him in a conference with his mentor and principal during their first battle simulation. Now, the fire and vitriol that Kacchan spewed with the same ease and practice as his Quirk seemed to simmer down a bit, although not his pridefulness.

'It's not like him,' Izuku pondered as his feet pounded into the sand. He had lost count of the number of times he had run laps across the sandy beach of Takoba. 'The Kacchan I knew in middle school would have laughed while he said that… But he was so serious.' He furrowed his brows. 'What changed?'

Ever since their battle during the Heroes vs. Villains simulation, there had been an undeniable shift with Kacchan. Was it because he lost the simulation? Or was it because he lost to Izuku in particular? Was that why he was so much more reserved in comparison to before? It would be too presumptuous (and dare, Izuku thought, too hopeful) to think that it had humbled him, especially when Katsuki had made the declaration that he was going to win the Sports Festival. It was spoken with virtually the same determination and certainty that Uraraka expressed when she spoke to Izuku and the rest of the committee in the hallway.

"I'm gonna sign with a good agency and make good money," Uraraka stated simply, "once I do, I can make sure that my parents have an easy life."

Izuku pursed his lips and his feet hit the sand harder. Everyone in his class seemed to have something to push them forward, to keep them marching ahead despite the odds stacked against them.

"He's the eldest son in the family," Iida had said. Izuku could still recall the way his chest puffed out with pride as he spoke about his older brother, the Turbo Hero. "And as the second-eldest son, I strive to be just like him."

Ingenium was yet another hero in the line-up of alumni who came from U.A., just like many of his family members before him. There was footage of his performance in the Sports Festival when he had been a teenager like Iida was, and even as a first year, he ran literal laps around some of his peers. If Iida was anything like him, then Izuku could expect the same from him, as well.

'Am I just kidding myself?' he found himself thinking. 'I've always wanted to be a hero, but what if that's not enough?' Izuku clenched his fists tightly and he screwed his eyes shut. 'What if after everything, I still lose and I let everyone down anyway? What if–'

He didn't get to finish his thought, however, because his foot dipped into a divet in the sand and he went tumbling head first onto the beach. Once he registered what just happened, he sprang up onto his hands and knees, coughing out the sand that slipped into his mouth. Izuku kneeled back and shook his head free of the grit, though he could still feel it in his hair. He spared a glance down at his green tracksuit and frowned before picking off a piece of seaweed that had drifted onto the beach from the waves.

'Focus, Izuku,' he told himself as he stood back up. Izuku knocked the sand off his sleeves and chest, then his thighs and knees. 'Stay on task.'

Still feeling the grit on his face, he let out a defeated sigh and trudged back to the stairs where he set his water bottle and bag down. Once he made it to the bottom step, he plopped down onto it and grabbed his Silver Age All Might themed bottle, his face sweaty and embarrassed. Fighting against the negative thoughts in his head was a battle he had known since he was little and with the changes that had come into his life within the past year, Izuku would have hoped that he would be better equipped to take them on. However, it seemed that with every positive, his mind always found a way to find a hidden negative within them, leaving him only able to cling to his hopes and shield them as best he could.

'I should be feeling so good right now,' he thought. A shiver ran down his spine when he splashed the water onto his face to clear it of the sand. 'And yet…'

After his talk with Yagi (it still felt strange to call him that) during their lunch break, Izuku had come out of it feeling better than when he had stepped in. He could still recall the way his mentor had set a hand on his shoulder and peered down at him with those piercing blue eyes that held a warmth that felt too good to be true as he assured him of his place as his successor. Izuku placed a hand on his wet nose and the corners of his lips almost tugged upwards into a smile when he remembered how Yagi tapped it– almost .

Then, with the end of the day came the crowd of students looking to size up their class and amongst them was Shinsou, the tired-eyed boy who made a public declaration against everyone in 1-A.

'Will they really move people out of the class if they don't perform well enough?' Izuku pondered. He grabbed a washcloth from his bag and rubbed his cheeks absentmindedly. 'What if I don't make the cut?'

Had Aizawa's bluff to expel whoever placed last in the Quirk Assessment been anything but that, it would have been the end of the line for Izuku. His ten months of training on the beach and all his broken bones during the entrance exam would have amounted to nothing, and he would have had no one to blame but himself for it. He knew that he had gained better control of One For All in the time since then and had proven as much in both the Heroes vs. Villains simulation and the attack on the U.S.J., but control simply wasn't enough . Just because he knew how to keep from pressing too hard on the gas didn't mean that he knew how to operate the entire vehicle, let alone enter the streets with other people who had been driving for years before he could even get behind the wheel.

He shook his head. 'I just need to try harder… I just have to keep going.'

Five percent. That was what he had to work with. It didn't seem like much in comparison to what All Might could do, but considering he didn't have a Quirk to begin with, he was grateful to work with what he had. The issue was, he wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to maximize his use of it– he had been doing just fine with delivering punches, but that may not be enough to get him through the Sports Festival. The tournament was always different from year to year to keep newcomers on their toes and to test the ingenuity of students; brute force alone wouldn't guarantee him anything, much less a victory.

"By focusing on how you can be like me, you're limiting yourself," his mentor told him during their lunch discussion. Still, what should have been an encouraging statement only left Izuku feeling more confused than ever. All Might was his North Star, his guide for days when he didn't know what to do with himself; how was he to surpass him when he could hardly hold a candle to the torch he had been carrying for so many years? Emulating his idol had at least given him a road map, but now, he felt as though he was starting with a blank sheet of paper and was left to chart his own way.

With a sigh, Izuku cracked his eyes open and peered into the sun as it began to make its descent over the horizon. If Yagi were there with him, he would have felt inclined to stay longer, but he wasn't sure he could bring himself to keep training on the beach when the imprint of his fall was still fresh on the sand. He screwed the top back onto his water bottle and gathered his things into his bag, his thoughts weighing heavy on his body and mind as he trudged up the weathered stone steps.

There were still weeks left between the present and the Sports Festival, Izuku knew. However, time could move quickly when the pressure was on, and with each fleeting moment, there was less time to prepare. His mentor assured him that they would be training together in the coming weeks both in and out of class, but his teacher couldn't always be around to help him when he felt lost. He was the Number One Hero and Symbol of Peace first and foremost; it wasn't right for Izuku to rob him of time that he could be using to save others in need.

"At this point, I can barely look like All Might for an hour and a half."

Izuku clutched his strap just a bit tighter. How long would it be before his teacher ran out of time entirely? A year? A few months? Weeks , even? Would he even make it through to the end of Izuku's first year before he ran out of his power and everything he spent the past couple of decades building would come down with him? What would Izuku do, then? He was nowhere close to being able to shoulder the responsibility that came with his mentor's title– would he ever come close with the rate he was going at?

"If you can't believe in yourself, then believe in me," his teacher's voice echoed in his head, causing him to nearly stop dead in his tracks. "You can do that, can't you?"

With a single breath, Izuku suddenly became aware of the tension in his shoulders and slowly, he allowed them to relax. His grip on his bag loosened, but did not disappear completely, and he felt the imprint of the woven strap pressed into his palm. Despite all the months that had passed since his fateful meeting with his mentor, it was still taking some getting used to for him to have someone believe in him wholeheartedly. For his entire life, teacher after teacher had sided with his peers who would mock him for his dreams of becoming a hero, with some going so far as to join in and put him down without a single care. While some part of him acknowledged that was simply the reality of being Quirkless, that only contributed to why he had yet to fully grasp everything that came with the new path that One For All brought into his life.

'Yagi believes in me,' he told himself. Izuku took a deep breath through his nostrils and let it out through his mouth slowly, allowing the rest of the tension to melt off of him. He opened his eyes and straightened up. 'That should be enough.'

Then, with a blink, he realized that he hadn't taken his usual path home. Had he taken a wrong turn when he was lost in thought? Izuku rolled his eyes and turned around to go back the way he came to trace his steps, then stopped suddenly when he caught something from the corner of his eye. An old, chain-link fence aged with rust cordoned off a wide lot that was filled to the brim with a wide variety of things that he could only presume to be trash from the state they were all in. Old refrigerators, busted up furniture, and countless trash bags were piled onto the dirt lot, making it hard to imagine what it used to look like before then. And yet, for some reason, Izuku felt a flicker of… something upon looking at it. With his curiosity getting the better of him, he pushed the half-open gate aside and stepped past the threshold.

Candy wrappers and discarded glass bottles shifted as he walked through the lot, though it didn't deter him. He couldn't quite place it, but there was something oddly familiar about where he was stepping, like a smell from a memory he was too young to fully remember. Had he been here before?

His hand slapped over his nose when a foul stench hit him full force and he gagged open-mouthed, his stomach churning. With watering eyes, he stepped back and nearly jolted when his heel bumped into something hard on the ground. He whipped around to see what he bumped into in order to keep himself from tripping and stopped dead in his tracks. A small slate of white peeked through the dirt, marked with the imprint of what appeared to be a tennis shoe. Despite the part of him that desperately wanted to turn around and leave the dump that surrounded him, that same curiosity that drew him inside was calling for him to crouch down and investigate the buried object closer. With his hand still covering his mouth, he did just that and swiped his free hand across it to remove the dirt.

'Wait a minute…' he thought, his brows slowly unfurling with realization. 'Is that…'

As soon as the dirt was cleared away, a perfect, white square stared back at Izuku, marked with the soles of shoes both big and small. Recollection struck him like lightning down his spine and he stood upright, his eyes widening to the size of saucers when it hit him that he had, in fact, been here before, albeit many years ago. Izuku cast a look off into the far corner of the area and could picture Kacchan standing there, the trash gone from view. He couldn't have been older than five or six, but even then, his smile had been big and cocky, and it seemed even fiercer with the bat in his hand. Then, as clear as day, he pictured Kacchan swinging his bat and landing a home run that left his peers absolutely gobsmacked.

Izuku's eyes trailed across where he would have run to first base, whooping and hollering all the way while his teammates and Izuku cheered as loudly as possible. When Kacchan made his way towards second base, Izuku peered down at the square he unburied from the dirt and a scoff of disbelief escaped him.

"The sandlot," he murmured softly, the corner of his lip quirking up, "I forgot we used to come down here…"

His smile very quickly faded when he turned to where Kacchan would have run to third base and his reverie was interrupted, his eyes brought back to harsh reality when a stack of broken furniture was taking up its residence instead. Since when did the sandlot become a dumping ground for people's trash? Hadn't the city or even the community tried to counteract it?

'It looks just like Takoba did…' he thought, his brows furrowing a bit.

Then, as if someone parted the clouds for him to let the sun in, an idea dawned on Izuku. He cast a look out to the heaps of trash piled before him and then at his own hands. When he cleared out the beach, it had been without the use of One For All in order to push himself. But now…

He turned towards an old refrigerator with patches of rust across its stainless steel finish and his hands clenched into fists with an unspoken determination.

"Heroes these days are all about showing off and capturing flashy villains," his mentor's brassy voice echoed in his mind, "things were different before Quirks. Service is what mattered." Even though a year had passed since then, the memory of All Might crushing the giant refrigerator with just one hand felt so fresh in his mind. "Back then, heroes were who helped the community– even if it was kinda boring."

Dropping his bag down to the ground, Izuku pushed it aside with his foot and stepped towards the fridge. He planted his hands onto either side of the giant appliance and readied his grip as best as he could.

'I need to utilize my Quirk in new ways,' he thought as the familiar warmth of One For All spread down his arms, 'I have to be able to use it for whatever comes my way no matter what.'

One of the key troubles in getting 5% to work with him was the speed of which he had to apply it to other areas of his body. If he had One For All housed in one of his fists, he would have to shift it to the other if he were to attempt to deliver another blow with the other. However, in the precious seconds it took for the switch to occur, that left him wide open for an attack from his opponent, which could be the very thing that sent him into a loss in the fast-paced environment of the Sports Festival.

'First, I need to use my hands to get a good grip,' Izuku mapped out. Then, he pressed his fingers deep into the surface, the metal warping beneath his fingers. 'And then I need to shift that to my legs to lift upwards.'

One For All snaked its way down his thighs, then his calves, and finally rested in the soles of his feet. He dug his heels in to gain purchase and attempted to lift the refrigerator up from the ground. To his delight, he found that One For All made it easier for him to lift from the knees; to his despair, however, he just as quickly found that without One For All in his arms, his grip alone was not enough to hold it steady. When his body threatened to tip backwards due to his miscalculation, Izuku let out a sharp yelp of surprise and dropped the fridge back down, which hit the dirt in an unceremonious clang! that made his ears hurt. He took a step back and the fridge came toppling onto its back with a vicious slam that he just knew that people in the neighborhood had to have heard.

"Sorry," he murmured softly to the residents with a wince, afraid to raise his voice in fear of making it worse. Izuku stared down at the fridge and wrinkled his nose with displeasure. "Maybe I should start a bit smaller…"

Back on Takoba, he had carried far heavier items without his Quirk to aid him. But that had been to strengthen his body for him to be able to use the Quirk at all, not to train or hone it. There was only so much that power alone could get him– he had to be able to be technical, to be accurate . Iida's engines granted him the ability to go at breakneck speeds, but it was his ability to direct and control that speed that made him effective. Yaoyorozu's creations could only come about if she knew what their makeup was and even then, they had to serve a purpose to actually be of use. Uraraka's zero gravity had been an absolute game-changer in the Heroes vs. Villains simulation and had she not been able to direct her own body to the ceiling, she and Izuku might not have guaranteed their victory. And Tsuyu, with her long tongue and amazing leaps, had been a saving grace for Izuku due to her dexterity and quick-thinking.

'They've had years to learn and understand what did and didn't work for them,' he thought. Then, he furrowed his brows. 'Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time to be running trial and error…'

His eyes trailed across the copious amounts of trash in hopes of finding something, anything to work with, and he paused upon spotting a stack of tires. A tentative smile graced his lips as he recalled the running drills his mentor would have him go through with tires on his shoulders in the early months of training and he exhaled. He could work with that, couldn't he?

"Wanting to help others is a fine reason for becoming a hero," Yagi had said, "but it has to come from somewhere to truly push you forward. After all, if you don't know where you started, then you won't know where you need to go."

Izuku nodded in affirmation as he slipped one of the tires over his shoulder. 'Hero work started in community work… I'll let that be the thing that guides me.' He grunted when he piled another tire onto the opposite shoulder. 'If I can find ways to apply my Quirk in different, mundane scenarios, then I should be able to apply it to anything.'

He braced his feet on the ground and readied his stance. One For All was powerful, but in order to be useful during the Sports Festival, he would have to make sure he was quick with it. He had to be able to shift it between body parts with ease for combat if he wanted to be versatile for whatever the tournament threw his way.

'I'll start with my right arm,' he thought, allowing One For All to slip into the appendage. Then, with a grunt, he tossed it straight up into the air, where it soared high into the air. 'And then switch to my left.' One For All slipped into his left arm and he tossed the tire up next. 'Now I just have to make sure that I put One For All back in my arm in time to catch it–'

A yelp startled out of him when he saw the right tire come down far quicker than anticipated and he just barely managed to loop it around his arm. The left tire came down swiftly after, where it bounced and fell down on its side. He stared at the tire as it settled into the dirt and, with a ragged sigh, reached down to pick it up.

He was going to have his work cut out for him before the Sports Festival began.

It seemed that with each passing day, Toshinori found himself in more and more meetings. In between the prep for his first year as a teacher at U.A. and the attack on the U.S.J., it sometimes felt as though he couldn't go a single day without meeting Nedzu for talk and tea. However, he knew this meeting couldn't be helped– waiting would only do him and everyone else a disservice.

With the weekend in full swing, the halls at U.A. were extremely quiet. Occasionally, he heard the sounds of what he assumed to be faculty at work behind closed doors, but aside from that, the only sound he could hear was the echoes of his own footsteps. It felt so eerie to hear when he knew just how loud the halls could become once classes were let out.

As soon as Nedzu's door came into view, he clutched his briefcase just a bit tighter. Despite having gone over the points of what he wanted to discuss multiple times, he still felt a level of trepidation at bringing it up to Nedzu– was it because he was worried he'd be shot down? Or was it because some part of him thought it was a stupid idea to begin with? Just as he was contemplating turning around and leaving, however, the door to the office opened.

"Ah, there you are!" Nedzu greeted. He smiled warmly and stepped aside to let Toshinori enter. "I thought I heard your footsteps– come in!"

Seeing no sense in backing out now, Toshinori held back the urge to sigh and stepped into the office. Once he was past the threshold, the door closed behind him and Nedzu walked ahead of him– even though he was so short, he was still so fast. He slipped into his seat and gestured to the chair that Toshinori had sat in multiple times before, his smile never leaving his face.

"What was it you wanted to talk about, Yagi?" Nedzu questioned. He picked up his tea cup and blew off some of the steam. "You sounded quite serious on the phone, so I doubt it was about the syllabus we talked about."

Toshinori nodded in affirmation. "You're right… It's about something else."

The corners of Nedzu's lips dropped, though not quite down to a frown. "Is everything alright?"

"Things are fine," he answered instantaneously, spoken with the ease of practice and repetition, "I just… wanted to discuss something with you."

Nedzu's gaze grew guarded. "Is it about the Sports Festival?"

"No," Toshinori replied, though he had to keep his tone in check. He had already brought up his concerns and knew better than to bring them up again when Nedzu already made up his mind. "Though… I have been thinking."

"About what?"

Toshinori took a breath. "I know the attack on the U.S.J. was unexpected and that we're taking measures to prevent any further attacks from taking place. I know we've already increased security for the campus and stadium." Again, he tried not to sound bothered– it would do him no good. "But after the attack, I just keep thinking… What could I have done better? How could I have been able to do more?"

"'More'?" Nedzu repeated, a bit surprised. "Yagi, you managed to hold back the ringleader of the attack and his associate while you were running low on time and even spoke with him to buy time for the teachers to arrive. I'd say you've done more than you think."

The memory of holding Midoriya in his arms came to the forefront of his mind, the boy's freckled cheeks streaked with tears as he clutched his injured arm. He could still recall how he watched the boy grit his teeth and screw his eyes shut while Recovery Girl went to work on treating it, unable to do anything but watch from his own hospital bed and hold his own twisted wound like he had done countless times for the past few years. When Mrs. Midoriya came running into the infirmary, had he not been so struck by shock, he might have ducked his head down in shame upon seeing her tearful gaze.

"I suppose I did," Toshinori conceded. Then, his jaw tightened a bit and he clutched his cane. "But it cost me time – a good chunk of it, too. And with how much I was able to do with three hours, I worry what having only an hour will do now."

Nedzu furrowed his brows. "You'll just have to be more careful in how you handle it–"

"But what if I can't? " he blurted out. "The only reason I didn't step in sooner was because I was in view of the students and I knew that by blowing my cover when the warp villain was still out, it would only cause more trouble." He pursed his lips as he recalled how shallow Aizawa's breath had been when he managed to get him away from the Nomu. "And Aizawa and Thirteen had to fight alone –"

"Yagi," his associate interjected, his tone gentle, yet firm. He set his cup down on his saucer and leaned forward. "You are one of the main reasons why your associates and students are still alive . Don't get down on yourself for all the things you did or didn't do. You'll drive yourself mad ."

Toshinori wished he could take that to heart. He wished that he wasn't so old and worn down so that he could take Nedzu's words into his hands and hold them close to him when his doubts became powerful. He wished that his negative thoughts hadn't turned into a stronghold within his mind and heart, and that he had the tools to dismantle it so that anything positive could penetrate its walls and take its stead. But the very fact that he wished for those things was enough for him to know that they were not the reality, so instead, he looked down at the floor. The base of his cane planted into the carpet beside his foot, and for a moment, Toshinori wondered if it would remain at his side for the foreseeable future.

"What is this meeting about, Yagi?" Nedzu asked. Toshinori peered up at him through his brows to see his associate leaned forward thoughtfully. "I know you can be hard on yourself, but I doubt you called me in here to vent about your own limitations. You came here to discuss something, didn't you?"

His fingers flexed around the polished wood of his cane and then gripped it firmly once again. Recovery Girl had insisted that he carry it with him for the harder days and while it was still taking some getting used to, he had been able to adapt to it. He felt a bit of a sting at times when he was reminded of how he couldn't even walk like how he used to some days, but at the same time, he knew it couldn't be helped. Life after his accident had changed quite a bit and it would do him no good to pretend it hadn't.

"My powers are fading," Toshinori said quietly, his voice low enough that had Nedzu's ears not twitched, he would have assumed that he didn't hear him. He stroked a grain of wood with his thumb and inhaled deeply through his nose. "I don't know how long I can cling to this final hour of mine… So I need to prepare for the inevitable."

"Meaning?" Nedzu prodded. "Are you worried about young Midoriya being unprepared?"

"No," Toshinori replied. He had already spoken with the boy and knew their talk had invigorated him. Even if his powers were to leave him, he trusted his protege's abilities. "But I realize that in the past few years, I had been so focused on utilizing One For All to the best of my ability, I haven't considered what I would do in the event I couldn't use it. The U.S.J. was a grim reminder of that fact…" He pursed his lips. "I need to become less of a liability somehow … I just don't know how that's possible."

Silence permeated through the room and with it, the weight of Toshinori's thoughts seemed to seep down onto his shoulders. How long would it take for the final embers of his flame to go out? A year? Months? Weeks , he dared to think? Would he even make it to the end of his protege's first year before his body gave out?

"If you continue like this," Sasaki's voice echoed in his head, and the pain in his side seemed to throb with the memory of when he stood in that hospital hallway so many years ago, "you'll face off against a villain and die an unspeakably gruesome death!"

In all the years he had known his former sidekick, he had never been wrong. His Quirk Foresight had been the very thing to guarantee Toshinori some of his many victories within their five-year partnership and not once had it failed him. He knew that the future only grew more faded the further that Sasaki looked ahead, but even a blind man could not ignore the finality of death. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Toshinori knew that his gravestone had all but been engraved.

"Hm," Nedzu hummed aloud, causing him to snap out of his thoughts, "interesting."

Despite himself, Toshinori's head snapped up with confusion and surprise. "'Interesting'? What do you mean?"

His associate peered at him with consideration. "You say you want to become less of a liability, but you don't know how… However, it seems to me that the answer is clear."

"It is?" he replied. Toshinori leaned forward in his seat with anticipation. "How?"

Nedzu smiled. "Why, you become more of an asset, of course."

Toshinori couldn't help but blink. "What?"

Then, that little spark that always seemed to appear when Nedzu was scheming appeared within his gaze and Toshinori clutched his cane with trepidation. It had been that very same look that prefaced his proposition to work at U.A. all those months ago, when his biggest worries had been training Midoriya on the beach in preparation for the entrance exam.

"You say you don't know how to be less of a liability with your current condition," Nedzu stated simply, "but you seem to be more focused on lessening your 'weaknesses' rather than increasing your strengths." He leaned back in his chair and brought his hands together. "Now, how do you suppose we do that?"

"I…" Toshinori tried to say, "I don't understand. What are you implying?"

His associate tapped his index fingers together. "Your Quirk is a powerful one– but it is not the only thing that makes you a strong hero. A Quirk can only be so powerful when left untrained, which is why Pros work so hard to find the best ways to apply them to different situations and be versatile. That is why wits and planning are key in everything that heroes do."

"But wits alone won't save someone," Toshinori pressed, "knowing how to solve a problem and being able to follow through are two completely different things."

"You're correct," Nedzu told him, "which is why you need to be thinking of ways to be of help without your Quirk."

A frown tugged at Toshinori's lips. "What are you suggesting?"

A simple raise of the brows from Nedzu was enough to make Toshinori clutch his cane. He had been thinking long and hard about this discussion, but now that he was here, he couldn't help but feel an inkling of absurdity. There he was, sitting in a chair across from his associate with a cane in hand and his mouth still lingering with the aftertaste of iron, and yet Nedzu suggested he try to become more of a security measure without his Quirk? Didn't he realize how ridiculous that sounded? How could Toshinori possibly measure up to the power of villains like Shigaraki and his Nomu without the fire of One For All pushing his fists forward?

Then, his associate leaned forward and he slid his teacup closer to himself. "What's the best way to stir a teacup, Yagi?"

"I beg your pardon?" Toshinori blurted out.

Nedzu peered down at his glass thoughtfully. "I could stir it with my finger… But that would make a mess. I'd get it in my fur and while my fingers are clean, it wouldn't be sanitary to stick my uncovered finger in, would it?"

"I… suppose it wouldn't," he replied, not sure what to say. "Where are you going with this?"

"Ah, you recognize I'm making a point," his associate admired. Then, he picked up the silver spoon on the tray he had set aside and lifted it up. "Now, while I could use my finger, it makes more sense to use a spoon, doesn't it?"

Toshinori did his best not to sigh out loud. "Principal–"

"Less mess," Nedzu went on, placing his spoon into his cup and giving it a stir, "and it achieves the same purpose. Perhaps even better than my own finger could do it." He lifted his spoon out of his tea and inspected the shiny metal. "It's stronger and a better agitator… Plus, I can use it over and over again, because of its composition."

"Principal," Toshinori stressed, "what are you trying to say? "

Nedzu chuckled. "Patience, Yagi, I'm getting there…" He held up the spoon. "It seems so silly to point it out, doesn't it? We use utensils every day and we don't think about it until we don't have any to use, and thus, have to find new ways to eat or prepare our food. They just make life easier."

A furrow worked its way between Toshinori's brows. "How does this apply to me? What can I use to–"

Then, like lightning down his spine, it struck him all at once. He stared at Nedzu with wide eyes and his associate smiled back at him, spoon still in hand.

"You're suggesting I learn to use a weapon?" Toshinori breathed. His lips drew into a thin line and he flexed his fingers around his cane. "But… I don't… Wouldn't that be dangerous?"

"And your fists aren't? " Nedzu responded. When Toshinori's expression didn't change, he chuckled. "If you want to be technical, anything can be a weapon if you use it right, Yagi. Why, even this spoon–" He gave it a twirl in his fingers. "Can be quite dangerous in the wrong hands."

The tension didn't leave Toshinori's shoulders. "It can take ages to learn how to use a weapon, Nedzu. Even if I pick it up quickly, it won't guarantee I'll be of help."

"Which is why," his associate offered, "you'll need a level of support to aid you. Take Snipe, for example: he wears guards and defenders on his mask to shield his ears from the gunfire."

"But aren't support items a bit…" Toshinori began, trying to find the right word to say. "Clunky? I've tried to use them in the past, but they were more of a hindrance than help."

Nedzu wagged his finger. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that. Support items have changed quite a bit in recent years– they're a lot more compact, but effective nonetheless. I'm sure we could find a set that suits you just fine."

"'We'?"

"Why, the support department here at U.A.," Nedzu explained, "we have a top of the line program and with Power Loader on the case, I'm sure that we could make some gear that suits you just fine." Then, Nedzu tilted his head. "We could even coordinate with your old friend Mr. Shield. He's the one who made all your costumes, isn't he? Surely he could offer some insight."

The mention of his old sidekick and longtime friend brought a sense of trepidation. He hadn't even seen David since before his injury and with how taxing travel could be on top of his busy schedule, he hadn't faced him after his injury dominated his life. What would his old friend say if he were to see him when the fire that used to burn so bright inside of him had grown so dim? And would he be willing to entertain the thought of aiding in the notion that Toshinori could fight in such a state?

After a moment of silence, Nedzu's expression grew softer. "Regardless of who we call in to work on this… Just know that you have plenty of people in your corner. This isn't something you have to navigate on your own. I meant it when I said I would be here to help you."

"But will it be worth it?" Toshinori found himself asking. "Even if I train and learn to use weapons or support items, it won't guarantee that it'll help." He sighed and his eyes drifted downwards. "It could wind up being a waste of time…"

"It could," Nedzu conceded, "or it could be a worthwhile investment. You won't know unless you try." Then, he smiled. "After all… Your master had faith in you all those years ago. Had you not tried then, where would that have landed you?"

Toshinori's head snapped up with wide eyes. The pessimist in him wanted to argue, to tell him that that had been different , that he couldn't possibly compare the two– and yet, he stopped himself. All those decades ago, when he stood before his master with bright eyes and a heart full of aspirations that he had yet to know the price of, he had been hopeful. Dare he thought, almost too hopeful. However, despite his hopes, there had been a fear lingering deep within him, one that had followed him through to adulthood:

"What if she made the wrong choice?"

Rationally, he could brush it off. His mentor wouldn't have put as much time into training and encouraging him if he had been the wrong choice. Gran Torino, for all his faults, wouldn't have grabbed him by the collar and told him to see reason when he was blinded by his own grief if he had been the wrong choice. And All For One, the behemoth he was, wouldn't be dead if he had been the wrong choice. But that didn't stop the doubts that plagued his mind whenever he looked in the mirror and saw his skeleton peeking through his skin, or when he could feel the burn in his chest whenever he pushed himself too far.

And yet, he had said yes to his master. He said yes and got into U.A., the school that shaped him into who he was. He said yes and rose to the top of his class when he had simply been passing through when he was in middle school. He said yes and went to America, where he made his heroic debut and met David, who would not only become an asset, but a lifeline when he had been alone in a country with no one to call family. He said yes and upon his return to Japan, where he would become the Symbol that he set out to become, and ultimately inspire the boy who would choose to be his protege.

None of those things would have been possible had he said no.

'Am I just being hopeful?' he mused as he gripped his cane. His thumb traced over the grain of the wood thoughtfully. 'Or maybe…'

"Well?" questioned Nedzu, breaking him out of his thoughts. "What do you think, Yagi?"

Despite his apprehension, Toshinori swallowed. "I… I just have a hard time visualizing where to begin with training, I suppose. How do you even start with something like this?"

"Typically?" Nedzu replied. A chuckle rumbled out of him. "You start from the ground and go up from there."

Once again, a frown almost settled across Toshinori's lips. He had been a student decades ago, when he had been younger and easy to train; to start from the beginning after everything felt like an incredible endeavor at his age. Would it be worth it to try? Would a weapon really prove to be an advantage for him?

Then, his mind went back to the U.S.J., and it flashed through the images of Aizawa stepping up to the hoard of villains. What he had thought to be a simple accessory had really been a holstered weapon that he wore around his neck that flowed like silk through the air, but was strong enough to bring dozens of foes down to their knees when his Quirk alone would have only been enough to stop one. He hadn't a clue as to how Aizawa had cultivated his fighting style or the trial and error that led to him being able to move so seamlessly, but…

Wait, was he seriously considering this?

'Then again…' he found himself thinking. 'One For All had started from the ground up, too, once upon a time…'

Toshinori's eyes trailed down to his hands, his skin stretched over his long fingers and large knuckles. His hands had weathered many storms throughout the years and they had grown so tired, and yet, he could still feel that itch, that urge to keep going, to keep fighting . He imagined what it would be like to hold a weapon and wield it with dexterity, to brandish it against a foe and increase his chances of victory when the fire in him proved too weak to protect others, and, despite his mind's protests, he dared to feel optimistic at the prospect.

"How do you suggest I start?" Toshinori asked finally. It was spoken softly, as if he were to say it too loudly, he'd scare off any chance of success.

Nedzu's smile spread. "The best thing would be to start with the basics. Luckily for you, I enjoy a good lesson plan– I'm sure we'll be able to brainstorm a good one just for you!"

As his associate began to rummage through drawers and pull out notebooks and sheets of paper, the corner of Toshinori's lips twitched upwards in a ghost of a smile. He was too old to hope, and yet, hope he did, even if the voices in his head told him not to.

'I know it won't be that easy, but…' he mused. Finally, his smile began to take form. 'Well, I suppose it's a good thing that I've always been a quick study, isn't it?'

A/N: I know that not a lot happened in this chapter and that some of you were hoping that we'd be at the actual Sports Festival now. But as much as I wanted to jump right to it, this felt like a necessary part to include for me personally. And don't worry, we'll be getting into the thick of it in the next chapter!