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Third person pov

Izuku shut down after Nighteye's question about his mother, but the shake of his head still hung in the air like a bad omen.

All Might didn't push him. There was a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach, roiling like an oncoming storm. He knew there was more to this, something deeper and more dangerous. Someone out there knew about Izuku, and it was a small miracle they hadn't found or killed him yet. Whilst he was in that orphanage, anyone could've come by and just... picked him up. And that would've been that.

Maybe they already thought him dead. Or maybe— maybe they were still looking.

The thought that anything might come and hurt Izuku made Toshinori's throat constrict and his muscles tighten with rage. Anyone who came after his son would have to go through him first. That, he felt, had become an unspoken certainty. All might had never stood to the side before, and now is far from the time he'd start.

The attachment he'd grown to Izuku had come on fast and strong, but Toshinori would be hard-pressed not to absolutely adore him. Smart, genuinely kind, and truly good right down to his bones, Izuku was quite possibly the best child All Might had ever gotten the pleasure of coming across. And miraculously, he has gotten the chance to adopt, raise, and befriend him.

Even without him having been healed, Toshinori knows that he'd have found Izuku amazing. Izuku drew people in like a moths to a flame, his innate goodness and welcoming personality a testament to exactly what kind of man he'd one day grow to become. It was rare to find someone of genuinely upstanding character in this world, and yet here Izuku was, a shining light amidst a society that grows gradually darker with each passing day.

"Yagi—" Nighteye started to say. All Might gave him a sharp, silencing look. His former sidekick's mouth snapped shut so fast the clack of his teeth was audible.

It was strange to see Izuku curl into himself in such a way. It was telling enough of how bad things must've been. Whoever was after him was bad news. Luckily, there was truly no better place for Izuku to be than here in that case.

"I think we should table this discussion for another date." Toshinori said, and though it sounded like a suggestion, it was anything but. There was warning in his eyes. This talk, as it was, was over.

"Agreed." Nighteye said, despite the questions rushing through his mind. He had too many to speak aloud, though he knew without having to ask them that Izuku probably had every few answers. His mother might've once but she--

Well. She was gone.

"In fact, I think it's time for you to leave, Nighteye." All Might continued. There was no ill intent behind his words, or scorn. He glanced Izuku's way, and Nighteye nodded his understanding. "Perhaps you'd be amiable to continue this in a more secure setting. On a different day."

Really, All Might's apartment was about as secure as it could get, but Nighteye got where he was going with this. Questioning a child in their own home about uneasy topics would no doubt be damaging to said child's perception of the concept of safety. At Nighteye's agency-- with full security systems armed for things just like this-- would be better.

He stood fluidly. All Might mirrored the action. It was strange to see him back at full height this way, his eyes clear of the shadows Nighteye had grown used to seeing in all the press photos snapped of him. He looked healthy and young, the tension in his shoulders gone.

Despite himself, Nighteye felt excited. All Might was back at his prime. The future he'd seen, of Toshinori sickly and on the battlefield about to face his end--

Somehow, this boy had changed that. This boy had changed fate. Never, in all his time, had he seen such a thing. Yet he couldn't deny the obvious either. Unless the child's quirk wore off somehow, then...

"I am free all this week." Nighteye straightened his jacket, smoothing down the wrinkles that had formed in the fabric. He felt invigorated in a way he hadn't in years. All Might had rocketed back into the field, and Nighteye felt he was being helplessly tugged along for the ride. It was a feeling he'd missed.

On the couch, Izuku flinched slightly. It was nearly imperceptible, but All Might's eyes were keen. Nighteye's were too. A frown curved at his face as Toshinori whipped back in his direction, looking almost comically alarmed by the reaction. 

"A very far away different day." All Might remedied, glancing down at his adopted son for approval. Izuku peeked at him with watery eyes, and he folded like a wet paper towel. "A very, very far away different day."

Izuku curled back up. Nighteye resisted the urge to smack his palm against his own face.

"With all due respect--" Nighteye started, because this wasn't the type of issue you sat on. This was the kind of bull you took by the horns and hoped didn't gouge you. Let it hit you in the back, and there you were, crumbled on the ground and paralyzed for life. Or... some adjacent metaphor along those lines.

Immediately, Nighteye knew he'd misstepped. Toshinori's mildly-stressed expression swapped to a mildly-thunderous one instead. Nighteye froze in place, closing his mouth sharply for the not the first time this evening. Fatherhood, it seemed, had made Toshinori far less compliant and loose.

"With all due respect, I will text you whenever he is ready." He stressed, pointing at Izuku as though Nighteye needed help figuring out who he was talking about. "Now. Leave." 

Nighteye, wisely, turned on his heel and left.

~~~

It's not that Izuku is trying to be difficult. There's just something that seizes in his chest anytime he thinks about talking about it. His voice catches in the base of his throat. He knows he should get it over with, that All Might and Sir Nighteye can help, but--

Well. All Might isn't pressuring him. He hasn't even hinted at the possibility of them going to Nighteye's hero agency to talk to him. Instead, they got to watch a movie, bake cookies, and make up their own secret handshake. 

Izuku could feel himself relaxing more and more as the days rolled by and it wasn't brought up again. Sometimes he knew Nighteye was emailing All Might, and maybe even trying to call, but Toshinori-san never mentions it. He just makes a face and taps away furiously at the screen, the phone hilariously tiny in his massive hands.

Life reaches a lull. The knowledge that he eventually needs to talk about things casts a shadow, but not one so consuming and dark that Izuku can't see the brighter things. He feels consistently happy for the first time in a long time, living with All Might a simple and joyful thing.

The routine they develop is an easy one. All Might works whilst Izuku is in school, saving lives and fighting villains, and comes around just in time to pick him up. They head home and spend time with one another-- whether that's All Might helping him with his homework, them doing something together at home, or All Might donning his "disguise" and them going somewhere.

Izuku tries foods he's never even heard of. He traverses malls so big he never thought they could exist, and they visit gardens with blooming flowers and plants of every kind. They buy matching T-shirts and draw pictures at the park. All Might listens to Izuku ramble, and lets him ask the millions of questions he has about the man's patrol that day.

Something warm unfurls in Izuku's chest knowing that Toshinori-san's booming laughter and the deep, even breaths he takes when he nods off are because of him. Izuku was able to give him that. He was able to take that pain away, and pay him back for all he'd done as the Number One hero.

Izuku doesn't talk about the nightmares he has from it. Maybe one day he will, because he knows now that Toshinori-san would not hate him for it. The specifics, though? Those... they will stay with him forever, he thinks. 

The things he sees, the sick that crawls up his throat sometimes, or the oily feeling that spreads out across his skin and makes him feel like he's suffocating when he wakes up from them. Those eyes flashing across his peripherals. And if there's a twinge of something sharp and harsh in his side occasionally, well--

It'll wear off eventually. Anything he experiences as a result of the healing was, and always will be, 100% worth it in his eyes. Not a thing in the world would change his opinion on that.

"They came!" Toshinori-san's shriek cuts through his mellowing train of thought. Izuku blinked rapidly, dropping the marker he hadn't realized he'd held in a white-knuckle grip and turning. Toshinori-san skids out of the entryway, box held over his head. "You can be the All to my Might!" 

Toshinori-san looks so absolutely over the moon about the concept of even more matching shirts that Izuku can't do much aside from grin back.

~~~

Remember when he said that Izuku is the best kid ever? Toshinori's got a drawing of himself framed right on his work desk that serves as proof that this is surely true. It's a good drawing, too-- Izuku is very talented for his age.

Dozens of missed emails from Nighteye glare at him from the screen of his phone, which beeps with another text from the man himself which will go ignored. It's not that All Might isn't worried, or doesn't see the urgency of the situation. He does-- perhaps more than anyone.

This isn't something they should wait on forever. Over a month has gone by and Izuku hasn't spoken a word of it, but All Might is holding out nonetheless. He can tell that Izuku wants to say something. He can see the boy on the very cusp of blurting it out, only to bite his lip last second and back down. He's right there on the edge, if he can just take the plunge.

Whatever happened, Toshinori refuses to push him on it. He wants to wait for Izuku to come to him for as long as possible. He wants Izuku to be ready, and feel comfortable, and to trust him enough to step forward all on his own. Right now he is safe and protected. The press doesn't know All Might has acquired a child, least of all who that child is.

Out of the press' eye, it's unlikely Izuku will be found. Especially with his surname changed and his place of residence moved. All Might had felt uncertain about his schooling situation, but whoever had killed Izuku's mother likely didn't expect that he'd stay going to the same institution under a new title... right?

So far there'd been no incidents, and Toshinori prayed it stayed that way. He'd gotten Izuku a phone just in case, and a special watch with a panic button that would have Toshinori dropping whatever he was doing and vaulting out the nearest window to get to him. Now in peak physical condition, he could clear entire prefectures in a jump. He'd be there quicker than any emergency personnel could ever hope to be.

Izuku was blooming like a flower. He was amazing in every way, shape, and form that Toshinori could discern. With his almost terrifying level of genius and and ability to empathize with anyone he saw, to analyze villains and heroes alike, and with a determination to simply help in any way he could that rivaled even Toshinori's drive--

One For All buzzed beneath his skin. It was not time yet. Izuku was still young, merely ten years old and still adjusting to the shaky, strange circumstances of this new life he'd been plunged into. He and Toshinori were still figuring out all the little ways their puzzle pieces fit together. Toshinori loved him, and Izuku seemed to love him too, but they were both still fresh in this field.

Still, even with the boy this young, Toshinori knew. The decision had been made. Nana always joked that she'd known within mere hours of meeting him. That there was this click, and suddenly there could be no other holder of her quirk. Toshinori hadn't thought much about those words until now. Now, he understood. Izuku was meant to be Nine.

It made him giddy. The idea that he'd one day get to share that with Izuku. Most parents passed their quirk on the their child in some way, shape, or form. Toshinori's way was a little more unconventional, but he'd still be passing on his legacy to his son, and that made something in him want to shout with glee.

On his desk, his phone gave another chime. Not a "this is Nighteye, do not answer unless you want to be heckled" chime, but the special one Izuku had somehow set for himself. No matter how many times Toshinori changed his password, Izuku still managed to get in! It was utterly fascinating and he loved it.

Scrambling for the device, Toshinori beamed a grin at the text Izuku had sent him. A photo of a half-finished drawing, as well as a hesitant, polite request for pizza for dinner. All their debate about it this morning (with the mutual agreeance that pineapple paired with mushroom was a grievous crime) had apparently drawn him into craving it.

Texting back his enthusiastic affirmative, Toshinori leapt to his feet with newfound purpose. Nevermind paperwork! School would be out in a mere three hours. He needed to find the best pizza place in Japan, and he needed to find it now.

~~~ 

It's something they should've done sooner. For all Izuku's insistence that he was perfectly fine, Izuku could literally break his leg and would likely be saying the exact same thing anyway. So really, his opinion on the matter wasn't all that reliable.

For all Izuku insisted that his quirk's side effects didn't have any lasting effect on him, the simple fact of the matter was that he'd never healed an injury as severe as Toshinori's was. Toshinori had been looked at by every specialist you could think of. Across the globe, they had scoured for some way-- and they'd found it, in a manner of speaking.

He'd survived. Impossibly, he had somehow survived. With the damage done to him, it shouldn't have been possible for Toshinori to walk away from it in any sort of shape, even as poor as his was before meeting Izuku. He defied fate and he lived to tell the tale, and that alone had been a miracle despite the missing organs and twisting scar.

"This... This is astonishing." It was the first time All Might had ever seen Recovery Girl looked any level of stunned. The expression on her face was nothing short of utterly flabbergasted as she pressed her stethoscope further into his side, like the unlabored breaths she was hearing were somehow a result of her not pushing it in hard enough. "Yagi... you're really saying this boy did this? With no lasting side effects?"

Toshinori wanted to say yes, but he didn't. Instead he turned to look at Izuku with raised brows. Immediately, the boy flushed and ducked his head.

Recovery Girl whirled on the freckled boy not for the first time since they'd been here. She'd practically fainted when Toshinori lifted his shirt. She actually had for a moment, when she'd asked how it was possible and he'd pointed at the (perfect, adorable, super smart, best child ever) ten year old he'd brought with him. 

Izuku had been asked every question under the sun, all so fast he hadn't even gotten a chance to answer any of them yet. Honestly, Toshinori wasn't sure he'd ever witnessed Recovery Girl as lively as she was right now. Her eyes were wide open, her back straight, and she seemed to almost grow taller as she bounced between the pair of them.

"N-No... serious ones." Izuku offered, arms curling around his middle. Toshinori frowned. It was the most he'd gotten Izuku to talk about his quirk since... "Nothing I won't get over as time passes."

Not reassuring at all, but Toshinori forced himself to keep his mouth shut. Maybe Recovery girl was just intimidating, or maybe her also having a healing quirk had something to do with it, but either way, Izuku was being more open than he'd been at all so far. His quirk was a touchy subject-- something he was almost afraid to talk about.

Anytime Toshinori prodded near the topic-- even if it was just about what it did and how it did it, nothing pertaining to his past-- Izuku would brush it off. Clam up, get quiet. He was incredibly hesitant to speak out, and Toshinori refused to force him.

"Dear god. It's like there's two of them." Recovery Girl pinched the bridge of her nose. Toshinori couldn't help but puff up at the insinuation that he and Izuku were alike in any way, even if the comparison wasn't a flattering one. "Lift up your shirt."

Izuku pales. Toshinori goes pale too. Recovery Girl reaches out, whacks Izuku's arms with her cane, and lifts the shirt up for him.

For a heart stopping moment, Toshinori has some absolutely horrible vision of his own scar on Izuku's torso. He almost expects to see it, even if Izuku had lifted his shirt up before to prove to him that it wasn't there. His breath catches and his body freezes, because at first glance he can almost see it. 

It hadn't been there before. The marking. So pale it's almost white, there's a... silhouette of his old scar, Toshinori supposes he could call it. It's stained across Izuku's skin like a brand. It's not raised, or sunken-- there's no change in texture that Toshinori can see. It's just as though it's been dyed there, this odd, mangled swirl of pale color. 

It's stark against Izuku's skin tone. Toshinori's eyes are stuck on it. The pale shadow of his old injury, marring his son's side. He feels a little sick, and his own side gives a ghostly pang in remembrance. Izuku should not be wearing Toshinori's failure like that. He shouldn't be so okay with it, either.

Izuku smiles sheepishly, unbothered. He doesn't flinch when Recovery Girl reaches out to harshly prod the edges, and something in Toshinori relaxes slightly at that. It is not as sensitive as the real thing had been, at least.

"I-It doesn't hurt. It's just an echo." Izuku offers quietly, head ducking. "I only have one other. They... They take a week or two to sink in. It's why it wasn't there before."

Meaning the side effects didn't just last those agonizing hours after Izuku let go of his hand like he claimed.

"Yagi here said you felt the pain of his injury. From the first blow to the very last, and then some." Recovery Girl pulled away, and Izuku dropped his shirt. "Are there any other lasting effects? If you're wanting to be a hero one day like he seems so keen to brag about, it'll be here at UA. I'll need to know the details of your power one way or another, so you may as well get it over with."

Surprisingly, that seems to work. Izuku swallows thickly, hunching in on himself slightly. Toshinori brings an arm up to wrap around him. His feels bubbly and fond despite himself when Izuku leans into his side.

"...Pain like that--" Izuku cuts himself off and grimaces for a moment, backtracking. "It's not that I still feel it. It's that... that level of pain is traumatic to the body and I... I guess to my nerves, or something? I get phantom jolts. I-I took all aspects of it, in a way, so I'll probably always have occasional aches and nightmares. About..."

"About the injury?" Recovery Girl questioned as Izuku trailed off, voice growing distant and eyes a little hazed as he thought about it. She looked expectantly up from the clipboard she was scribbling on.

Toshinori's throat tightened all over again when Izuku shook his head.

"Not the injury." Izuku's hand clenched into his t-shirt, right over where the pale marking he now bore was. Forever a reminder of the burden he'd taken from Toshinori. "The fight. It... M-My quirk connects me to the experience. To the fear, a-and anger, and..."

Izuku's eyes well with tears, and for some reason he looks ashamed. Toshinori cannot fathom why. It feels like every part of him has gone icy cold. Like he's been plunged into a vast, arctic lake, and the top is freezing over and trapping him beneath the surface.

It had been bad enough, knowing this child had taken on the pain of his injury. The most agony Toshinori has ever felt in his life. Izuku had felt every minute of it. He'd felt every bone break. He'd felt the pain of losing a lung, and having his ribs blown out. Of his arm twisting in ways no arm should twist, of his legs cracked and skin shredded.

He'd felt the burns. He'd felt a hole get torn into his side. That alone was bad enough, but--

To know he'd felt every ounce of fear Toshinori had felt in that moment. To know he'd seen the horror of All For One, even if it was just snapshots of it. The hopelessness, the hatred, and overwhelming, all-consuming pressure that comes with thinking you are going to die.

Izuku is ten years old. He's just a boy. And he didn't--

He'd looked Toshinori in the eyes and smiled when he took his hand. He didn't hesitate for a second.

"Izuku." Toshinori croaks out. His eyes are wet, and he tries not to let his tears fall as Izuku blinks up at him curiously. He doesn't seem bothered, or particularly upset discussing what he went through. "You shouldn't ha--"

"Toshinori-san." Izuku shakes his head immediately, and then he grins at him. It's a small grin, almost secretive in a way, perhaps mischievous. It fits the youthful roundness of his face. "I'd do it again tomorrow if I had to."

He says it almost nonchalantly. Like it's obvious, the only logical choice. Toshinori is nearly bowled over by the simplicity of his resolve. There's no tears in his eyes, or turmoil. He's not overly emotional. To him, it was worth it. Impossibly, all that suffering was worth it to him.

He's going to be an amazing hero. And Toshinori thinks he may be truly learning what it means to be a parent, because fuck. That terrifies him.

There's no words he can conjure up, so he doesn't try. He wraps Izuku up in a hug instead. Recovery Girl is polite enough not to say anything, turning her attention to her clipboard to continue writing her observations down. 

Izuku hugs him back fiercely, like he'll be able to convey with that alone just how much he means it. If he notices Toshinori crying, he doesn't pull back to gawk at him for it. He just hugs him harder, too small to wrap all the way around him. Tiny. A reminder of how young he is, of what he went through because of Toshinori.

Sitting there, Toshinori makes himself a promise. Maybe he couldn't save Nana. Maybe he could hardly save himself. But Izuku?

Nothing is going to happen to him. Any anyone who tries is going to have to kill him first.