Cross posted on Ao3 just gonna spam post what I have so far jsjdhshshx

Third person pov

Toshinori is about 90% sure he's having a fever dream right about now. 

He's at an orphanage when it happens. Surrounded by absolutely delightful children-- all of them climbing him like he's a jungle gym and swinging off his arms like little monkeys. Their excitement is adorably contagious, but he can't help but be drawn to the little boy watching from afar. He's sitting in the corner when Toshinori first lays eyes on him, looking at All Might with such raw, open concern that the Number One pro can barely hold back a flinch. His pair of massive green eyes look like they're peering right into his very soul. Like this cute little kid knows every one of his secrets and then some.

For a moment he waits. He doesn't want to force the kid into anything, and supposes his hesitance may be a small bout of anxiety. It isn't everyday a hero shows up, he knows. He shoots glances to the boy, painfully aware of how his viridescent eyes track him across the room. It's uncanny to feel so watched by someone so small. He's never run across a child quite like this before. He's rescued a few who shy away and curl into themselves like wilting flowers hiding from the sun. This is different than that, he knows. Toshinori, ever the bleeding heart, can't help but feel concerned. 

So he approaches, naturally, because what else is he supposed to do? The kids are all distracted-- running around with never ending energy that keeps them bouncing off the walls for hours on end. The boy shrinks back as Toshinori approaches. He knows he's intimidating in his hero form, standing at well over seven feet tall with a broad frame. Most children are too awed to be afraid, and those who are despite that tend to get over their shyness quickly. Toshinori is sent into a spiraling bout of distress when tears fill this child's eyes. He doesn't even seem afraid, necessarily. Just... just worried, if Toshinori was going to put a label on it. It's unusual. He gives his best grin and crouches down to say hello. If something is wrong, he wants to help.

The boy stares at him quietly. There's a weight behind his gaze that prevents Toshinori from looking away. He's intrigued, taking in his fluffy hair that seems to curl wildly in every direction. He's got a smattering of freckles strewn across his cheeks like misshapen constellations. He's precious, and Toshinori ponders why he hasn't been adopted yet.

The boy can't be more than nine or ten, looking impossibly small all curled up in the corner like he is. A part of All Might wants to get a blanket and wrap the poor kid up like a burrito. There is a bone deep sadness that reflects back at him when he locks eyes with him. He internally panics for a moment. His smile and booming laugh is usually enough to brighten any child's day. He can't tell what's upsetting this poor boy, but it's clearly something serious if the tears about to spill over are anything to go off of.

Before Toshinori can do much of anything, the boy reaches out a tentative hand. It's impossibly small compared to his, but he still lets the little boy take it. He watches quietly as the little boy turns it over palm up, placing his own, much smaller hand flat down on it. It's not even half the size of his. His hands are impossibly soft against his calloused ones, warm and alive and oh so very little. He can't help but smile, his confusion showing only slightly through his tentative grin. The boy peers at him for a moment, seeming to inspect him a moment longer before turning back to their connected hands.

The heat of the boy's palm increases. He feels a jolt of what feels like electricity travel up his arm. For a moment Toshinori wonders what's happening. And then he sees the kids eyes glowing green and realizes, oh, this kid is using his quirk on him. Entirely concerning all things considered. Though, noting that now would be pointless.

Before he can quite bring himself to pull back, something happens. His injury-- you know, the one he's had for almost a year that can't be healed and is going to probably kill him eventually-- vanishes. As in, disappears. As in, it is no longer there. 

In an instant, it's gone. Just like that. He blinks and misses it-- feels it fly right over his head. He can feel the tight skin vanish and the agonizing pain in his lung snap away like a rubber band pulled taught. The pressure in his chest ejects itself. The strain of keeping his quirk active lifts immediately, and Toshinori is so utterly surprised by the sensation that he actually loses his grip on One For All. 

He expects the usual puff of smoke to appear and expose his massive secret. It takes a few seconds to click and realize that it isn't going to happen. That his quirk is off, and there's not even a bit of smoke to be seen. He doesn't deflate like he usually does. The skinner, unhealthy form caused by his injury has suddenly retired itself just like the would itself. His shock is so palpable that he almost opens his mouth and screams. It's a true fight to keep his mouth shut and not shriek at the very top of his lungs.

The little boy, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, grabs his large hand with both of his and gives it a squeeze. Only now he's smiling, and all Toshinori can do is stare back with wide eyes and a ghostly pale complexion that speaks as a testament to just how hard he's reeling right now. This kid healed him. This kid somehow knew he was hurt, grabbed his hand, and poof. Injury gone. Goodbye! He's fine now. Absolutely fine. His quirk isn't even on and yet his muscle mass is retained, as though he was never injured to begin with. The world around Toshinori slows. He can't breathe, and he's not sure his heart has beat a single time in the last thirty seconds.

He had resigned himself to his new life stubbornly. He'd tried to find a healer, he'd failed, and he'd moved on. That was okay. All good things had to come to an end eventually. It had been worth it to take All For One down, he's sure. The injury he'd gotten would kill him one day in the not-so-far off future according to Nighteye. It had been the cause of their falling out-- the whole reason they hadn't spoken since that fateful day at the hospital. It feels like he's breathing for the first time. His mind struggles to comprehend the sudden loss of his future cause of death. Of his debilitating weakness. It's gone. This child took it, and he... he doesn't know what to do.

Green eyes inspect him further. They're too smart for someone this boy's age. He doesn't let go of Toshinori's hand, holding it softly as though trying to be supportive, a knowing gleam shining out at him. All Might opens his mouth to say something. He snaps it shut not a moment after, his teeth clacking together painfully. What does he say in this situation? Is this real? It can't possibly be. Recovery Girl explored outlets all across the globe, reaching out to old friends and contacts in hopes of finding someone, somewhere who could help him heal. Help him get back to his former glory-- expand his time from five hours a day to all hours a day, just as it used to be. Nothing came of it. Toshinori had been forced to accept and adapt. 

Only now that's all a moot point, isn't it? The hand the boy isn't holding shakily comes to pat at his side, feeling for the twisted injury under the taut fabric of his hero suit. There's no irritated twinge when he does so. He takes in a shaky breath of air, not daring to pull away from the little boy. The child looks at him like he's hung the moon and stars, smile so full of relief that Toshinori melts. The emotions seem too raw and developed to belong to a child so young. Yet they do, clearly. They're all soft and green and rounded at the edges. They press into him with a calming ferocity. Pushing, but not so much that it hurts. There's a demand there that he isn't sure how to answer. 

"What's your name, my boy?" All Might asks quietly, unable to say much of anything else. The boy's smile is brilliant. It lights up the room, everything bright and real in the world. It washes over him like a refreshing summer rain. Toshinori breaths in deeply and fully, his shoulders going lax for the first time in nearly a year. He does not feel like a building about to collapse. He feels hearty and full. Revived in every sense of the word. This boy who he did not know and who did not know him had seen through the veil and reached out, selfless and without another motive. He can see that clearly in the boy's face. It is the one thing he's certain of right now.

"I-I'm Izuku." His voice is small. It rings in his ears, echoing like a sign. Something resolute settles in his chest. The tides feel like they're shifting. In what direction, Toshinori can't tell. He doesn't scramble to find out. He stays settled there inside, Izuku still holding his hand like he's still trying to make sure he's okay before he lets go. There is still worship in his eyes, but he doesn't look at Toshinori like he's untouchable. He looks at him like the human being he is. Sees him and accepts him and smiles despite it all. Toshinori feels like crying. Like hugging this boy and never letting go. 

He wonders where he came from. How he ended up here. He could never fathom someone letting such a sweet child go. He doesn't know him, but it feels like he does. He can't explain it. There's a warmth in his chest. Izuku is small and meek, but there's miles of kindness that stretch out behind his green eyes and small smile. His face is so open and genuine, and he feels so much and so deeply for someone so young. 

For a moment good moment he simply sits. He stares, and mulls, and continues to question what in fresh fuck is actually happening right now. Izuku looks contented now, cheeks holding a happy flush that makes his heart feel lighter. His tears are gone down, dried away just as quickly as they'd spilled over. The kid seems content not to say anything, a quiet presence. He only vaguely registers a few other children calling out to him, shrill and incessant in their demands. He would've found it endearing any other time. Right now, he can't seem to turn away. Not until one of the caretakers lightly taps on his shoulder.

His head whipped towards her. She startled slightly, blinking at the slightly-stunned expression on his face. It was odd to see the Number One Hero without his signature grin. His eyes had cleared, the woman thought, no longer shadowed over until the whites were painted near black. It was such an odd thing to notice, but she supposed not uncharacteristic. The lightning had to have something to do with it. That didn't quite explain the shock splattered across his face like paint on a blank canvas. She gulped.

"U-Um, is everything all right?" She asked hesitantly. The man stared dazedly, like he had no idea what she was asking. She flushed slightly in embarrassment. "I-I mean, did you need anything, sir?"

All Might blinked at her for a moment. She glanced between him and Izuku, who looked rather happy to be holding his hero's hand. The caretaker momentarily wondered if the freckled boy had been bothering him in any way. He hadn't been here long. His refusal to talk had been attributed to the trauma that followed the death of his mother. There was no quirk listed under his name in the registry, but a visit to the doctor told them he didn't have a double-jointed toe either. It wasn't uncommon for children to develop their given powers and parents to put off or not bother taking them to the doctor until they were much older. It was a sign his quirk was probably something minor. At the very least it wasn't anything she had noticed.

"Ah, yes." All Might seemed to snap out of it, shaking his head and smiling. It wasn't his larger-than-life grin. It seemed more sheepish and reserved. She watched with bewilderment as his cheeks gained a bit of a pink tint. Was it possible for the Symbol of Peace to be embarrassed? "I was actually wondering if you could perhaps enlighten me on the adoption process at your facility?"

Izuku jolted, and her jaw dropped. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Izuku knows when people are pain. He knows it as surely as he knows his own name. How people feel is a smell in the air. All-encompassing at times, so thick it's almost tangible and suffocating. He has seen many types of suffering in his short lifetime. He's seen it in himself when he looks in the mirror, hiding bruises and burn marks from school. In the elderly neighbor next door with chronic pain in her hands. In his teacher after they've jostled their broken leg. In his own mother, even, when she'd died protecting him.

His quirk was not one to be used lightly, he knew. His mother had told him in no uncertain terms that he was to hide it at all costs, and this much he could understand. Izuku knew that if people figured out he could feel and repair and fortify, they'd be after him. So he went to school apathetically, told his classmates he was quirkless, and took the backlash quietly. He knows it hurt his mother to see him like that. She was scared every day. Her palpable fear had been something that he'd lived and breathed for the longest, and now he wasn't sure what to do without it there. It's as relieving as it is sad. Bittersweet, an adult with more tact might say.

It felt impossible to talk. His mom had been all he had, and now she's gone and he's alone. He wished he'd been there when it happened. He could've fixed her back up-- do what he did best and hold her hand. Only he wasn't in the very end, and there's nothing he can do to change that. He doesn't have the strength to blame himself right now. He thinks he may break if he does. Instead he has to focus on making sure his quirk doesn't escape him. His mom had told Izuku to hide, to run, and to keep low. He understands this too. It was her strongest, most solid wish. It is the least he can do.

Or so he'd thought, anyway. He hadn't had plans to use it before All Might walked in the door. The unexpected amount of pain was like a slap to the face. A harsh wakeup call that left him unable to focus. All he can do is stare, because he has never felt so much hurt before. All Might is injured, and alone in a room full of people. He's desperate and resigned both at the same time. He feels lost, like he's wandering through the miasma of his own injury. Treading turbulent waters in the middle of the ocean. Izuku can tell all this at a glance. His mother's words echo in the back of his mind. He tells himself he isn't going to approach. And he doesn't, truly. He can't even try no matter how much he loves the hero.

All Might comes to him instead, which he should've expected. He's smiling, and crouches down and says hello. All Might has always been his idol. Everything Izuku hopes to be and more. A bright ray of hope even his mom felt they could rely on. A good man, she'd said, and even better hero. They'd watch his work on the news, cheering as he knocked down villains. He'd seem so untouchable through the screen. Izuku isn't scared or shocked. He's sad. He knows heroes are human too. That's fine-- good, even. But to be this vulnerable... this close to breaking... well, he can't sit back and do nothing. 

All Might is trustworthy. His mom was just as big a fan as Izuku. If anyone is going to keep his secret safe, it's him. This is the very least he can do. It's no wonder he patrols less and less. He's barely hanging on by a thread. His hero is dying. Who would dare leave someone in need like that when they knew they could do something? All Might gazes at him with mild concern. He's worried for him, a boy he doesn't know. There are a dozen other kids he could give his attention to. Who would match his energy in tenfold and sing his praises. Izuku is weird and quiet, he knows, but his decision is made when All Might's brows furrow with worry. 

He reaches out and grabs his hand. There's not much to it after that.