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[Okay, so that's Aizawa's senior thesis, is it-- Toshinori listens, focused, yes, but at the same time letting the lull of Aizawa's voice roll over him. He's articulate - that's excellent. Not that Toshinori had expected him to be bad at speaking, but he's saying more than a few sentences at a time, finally...

And he has a point about the popularity-based heroism that already exists. Toshinori loves that movie hero stuff, it's obvious in just about everything in All Might's image, but- while he's never turned down a payday- it's never been about the rankings for him. But nor can he work in the dark to do what he aspires to do, so--]

I'm glad that someone like you wants to be a hero. You'll do great— and this world needs heroes like you.

[It sure does; people need someone to look toward- that's him- and they need people to keep them safe in the dark, like Aizawa. They're like two sides of the same coin in that vein, All Might bursting at the seams with flashiness and style and Eraserhead moving discreetly to take on the darkest villains society has to offer. And neither of them can really work where the other shines.

All very symbolic, but what Toshinori says is,] That made you even more attractive.

[Ha Ha Ha-- and as he skims his fingers up Aizawa's side, idly,]

You're not the only one who thinks I'm a little crazy. [A beat.] But while we're talking about the overlooked people, what do you think of those people born quirkless? You know, as heroes?

[All Might gets... a lot of fanmail... that's it, that's the only reason.]

[He shivers as minutely as possible as fingers slide up his side. That's sensitive, but more than that, it's so new to have someone touch him like this. Each sensation is explosive in the best possible way, and he curls beneath it.]

I think they'd be at a severe disadvantage. And it would almost impossible for anyone who was quirkless to be a hero.

[Hmm. He frowns, displeased with that answer, and adds:]

But not because of their inherent worth. Now that around eighty percent of our population has quirks, people want to ostracize the other twenty percent, or claim they're inferior, which is stupid. There's nothing special about those with quirks-- we see that every day. Only a select few can make it as heroes; the others wash out or simply aren't fit for heroic work.

But to enter into a battle with no quirk at all . . . I think they'd have to be extraordinary in some other way. A genius at fighting or tactics.

[He tips his head up, those dark eyes sharp as they glance at him.]

Why?

Edited 2018-06-20 23:33 (UTC)

[Almost impossible... sad. Toshinori is hardly paying attention to his own fingers as he continues his ministrations, thinking. It's true that those without quirks are at a particularly large disadvantage - he knows - but--]

It shouldn't stop anyone from trying. [Hmm.] I'm a sensation-- I get a lot of letters from all sorts of kids who want to be just like All Might... Have you seen the forum about me?

[That's not important-- it's adorable, but not important. He shakes his head slightly, which just squishes his cheek against Aizawa's chest.]

Did you know this country doesn't have a single hero course that accepts quirkless students? If they're determined enough, and turn to vigilantism... it isn't going to be good for anyone.

Edited 2018-06-20 23:42 (UTC)

I don't disagree.

[Although he hadn't known that about quirkless students. It's a bit odd that Toshinori knows, honestly, but perhaps this is a personal cause for him. Some childhood friend or a cousin (or even a sibling; he realizes he has no idea about his home life).]

And I think they ought to be given a chance, so long as they know the challenges they face and how much harder they'll have to work. Even then, they might never become the top hero, or even a very popular one.

Frankly, whoever the first is, they'll have a lot to overcome. I don't just mean in the field-- they'll be the first, and there will be a lot of people rooting against them. They'll have to be perfect, because they won't just be a hero, but a symbol.

. . . kind of like you.

[Toshinori is quiet for a moment, taking in what Aizawa's saying and stopping himself from just blurting out a bunch of overly-enthusiastic agreements. He gets it! He's so... logical about it, counter to Toshinori's unbridled passion, but that's good - it's grounding, in a way.]

You think I'm perfect? [He tilts his head, eyebrows raised, a little smirk playing across his face. Ha ha, jokes, but anyway.] But that's the plan! I get just as many letters from people who'd like me to get hurt by a villain any day of the week.

[...But that's fine? He expected this.]

That's disturbing.

[But not unexpected. Still, he wonders about those kinds of people, and more importantly, if they're stupid enough to leave return addresses.]

Do you know someone quirkless who wants to be a hero? Or is all of this just from fan letters?

[He shrugs; yes, it's pretty bad, but he's dealing with it as best he can. It will either get better or-- not matter, the longer he's undefeated.]

Personally? No. [Technically not a lie!!] I take my fan letters very seriously!

You really read them all . . .

[Shouldn't he hire someone for that? Or better yet, just throw them all out discreetly. It's all well and good people write him letters, but surely he doesn't have to waste time reading through them.

He huffs a sigh and settles back down.]

You're ridiculous.

Hahaha, what's wrong? You wouldn't read what people send you?

[He probably wouldn't want to be noticed enough to get letters... But still, they're so cute, Aizawa.]

There's better ways to spend your time.

[Like training. Or sleeping, he thinks, rubbing at one irritated eye.]

Besides: doesn't it demoralize you to see how many people wish you ill?

[He trains all the time! Aizawa!!]

Not particularly, no. It did at first, but more people are starting to come around... It's important to know what's in people's hearts in order to be a hero.

[Better ways to spend his time, please-- appreciate the people!]

If you say so.

[He still doesn't believe it, but this isn't an argument either of them will ever truly win. Instead:]

I'm starting my second internship soon. I probably won't see you for a few weeks, unless it's on the field--

[Which is a possibility, he realizes. Of course it is, but he hadn't really thought about it before . . . he can't treat All Might as anything but a distant symbol, if that.]

--but if you want to try and find a date in that time for whatever American movie you wanted to see, I'm pretty sure I can find at least one afternoon free.

[He gestures behind him. There's a schedule and a calendar; look and pick, babe.]

Edited 2018-06-21 02:25 (UTC)

[He'll do his best not to play favorites with interns who are not working with him at all-- it might take a huge effort, but he will try. For now he twists to look up at the schedule, which sadly involves pulling away to sit up.

Hmm, hmm.]

You have a Thursday here, [he says, reaching for it, because Aizawa can also see through the back of his head.] And it looks like a Tuesday here.

[So, pick one, or he will pick both.]

This time, I'll pick you up.

Thursday.

[Give himself something to look forward to, and thus push through whatever difficulties he has in training. He's about ready to settle back down again, but then another thought occurs, and he glances up.]

. . . you mean in a car, right?

[IT'S JUST THAT HE'S SEEN ALL MIGHT JUMPING AROUND BEFORE . . .]

[Haha... uh.]

On foot...?

[All Might can't fucking drive, call the presses.]

In my defense, any car I'd buy would be big enough to stand out.

As long as you don't plan on carrying me.

[He just doesn't want this to be a Lois Lane-Superman thing. On foot is acceptable, and that settled, he curls up against Toshinori again, his head against his chest.

They stay like that for a little while, Aizawa slowly dozing off. he hadn't thought he could have on a date, and certainly not with someone so dazzling as Toshinori, but he's an exhausted man and Toshinori is good at being calming. A few hours tick by, and sometimes they talk and sometimes they just sit in silence.

Once he heads out (sneakily, sort of, but not really, his head ducked down as though that will erase the fact he's seven feet tall), Aizawa flops back on his bed, trying not to do anything stupid like hyperventile or grin.

It's a little hard to believe, honestly. It's hard to believe that any of this is happening; that he's gone from being sour and anti-social to having someone like Toshinori eager to take him out. And better yet: that he himself likes someone like Toshinori. But honestly, it makes sense, doesn't it? He's always gravitated towards bright, loud types, so long as they had something beyond volume. It means they can be the social ones while he simply stays quiet and basks in their presence.

He spends the next few days being an absolute idiot in his thoughts, though he tries hard not to. He takes his classes seriously, but it's hard when all his mind wants to do is drift away and fantasize about what Toshinori might be doing . . .

Not that he really needs to fantasize, not when All Might's accomplishments are plastered everywhere. He keeps stacking up the wins, defeating villain after villain with such ease it's almost unbelievable. Most often a solid punch or two does it; most of his battles last less than five minutes.

It's odd, watching All Might nowadays. It's odd to see the difference between the exuberant boy he likes and the almost obnoxiously positive superhero.

His internship starts and it is, as he predicted, difficult and time-consuming. Entirely worth it, of course, and he learns a great deal in a small amount of time, but still: exhausting. Each day is a lesson in how to deal with different kinds of criminal activity: how to defeat everything from gangs to small fry loners; how to spot a drug deal and how to judge if it's worth his time; how to know when to sit and listen and when to immediately act.

They don't cover large-scale disasters for the simple reason that there are none, and this is practical training. That's good, Aizawa thinks. Most of the large-scale monsters are immune to his quirk, and while he knows he needs the practice on how to defeat those kinds of villains, it's certainly not something he's looking forward to.

Which is why one attacks, of course. The day before his date with Toshinori, some kind of slimy, acidic blob of a creature attacks a bank. The gang its affiliated with rushes in around it, intent on stealing the stacks of money stored there, while the creature writhes and twists, spitting acid out wildly. Is it stupid, or simply bent on destruction?]

The latter.

[He answers his mentor quietly. Water Watcher (as he's known, with the quirk to manipulate liquid molecules) crouches on the roof next to him, rapidly observing the situation. There's an instinct within him to rush forward, especially as the screams grow in volume, but he'll only be a victim if he doesn't have any kind of plan.

Aid any injured citizens. There's a hospital three blocks away; if you bring them at all closer, an ambulance can meet you halfway. The important point is that they get out of range of that thing, his mentor decides, and Aizawa nods, straightening up and preparing his capture cloth. I'll be the one to deal with him.

A solid plan. It might have worked, too, save for the fact that he hears a boom of familiar laughter ring out from across the street.

Oh, boy.

All Might is here.]

[Toshinori, predictably, because he sure is all over the news doing it-- throws himself back into his hero work the very next morning. The sun is hardly up before the first All Might headline is being drafted live on the scene of some unruly pair of villains trying to plant something in a train station-- and it only gets busier from there.

He thinks about Aizawa, sure, thinks about him a lot, actually, but there's little time to himself when he's working, and he's working most hours of the day lately. When he gets a free minute, a moment to stop and breathe, it's that evening in Aizawa's room he always comes back to; soft and quiet and intimate, relaxing in the exact way his everyday life is not.

Not to say he doesn't thrive under pressure, because he does. Each time All Might's grin is plastered all over the news it's broader, his heroics grander, as if daring villains to even try. When one gives up and turns himself in the moment All Might arrives on the scene, Toshinori feels something shift in the way the world thinks about heroes. Minute, sure, tiny - but it's there.

It has its ups and downs, though; the very next day another villain appears spouting nonsense about how All Might really inspires villains to try harder, and that one he makes short work of with the same smile - but he feels a sick dread settle in his stomach. He's glad he works alone; no one to prod him about the change in his demeanor, unnoticeable to anyone who isn't really paying attention.

It's only a few days since Sunday but it feels much longer, and All Might feels like he's been awake for weeks when he shows up at the bank. There's some kind of blob monster quirk and the villains around it- its... keepers? Or are they its cronies? Who knows-- for All Might, those details aren't as important as the immediate action.

If only heroes had a social media feed, they wouldn't double-book like this.

Either way; All Might is here!! and everyone knows it already, several civilians on the floor of the bank cry out in relief, and several of the gangsters actually drop their bags and turn to approach him. So they're the reckless types, wholly convinced All Might is not nearly as unstoppable as the press claims— and they come at him at once with their quirks while two others continue their looting, out of reach beyond the acid... thing.

So, he'll keep these guys occupied, which shouldn't take too long.]

[It's unfortunate that they've, well, double-booked, but it isn't actually a detractor. All Might is new, but he's not green; he's easy to partner with in a pinch, which means this fight ought to go even faster.

Gunshots ring out (who still uses guns, he wonders faintly) as Aizawa zips and springs his way down, his stomach swooping giddily even now as the ground rushes up to meet him. He's quick, his shielded eyes scanning the people below. They run quickly for the most part, and he ignores those who do, but--

There, a woman who hobbles too slowly. She must have twisted her ankle, but she's gamely trying to go as fast as she can. It isn't fast enough, though; that acidic monster is turning, winding up one hand. It's a clear shot, there's no way he won't make it--

--and it's easy, really. It's almost like a training exercise. He lands on a pole and whips his cloth out, snagging her and yanking her up just as the acid flies. It sizzles on the ground, eating away at concrete, as she shrieks in terror and dangles in the air.

Give her this: she doesn't struggle the moment she realizes Aizawa is trying to help her. Within a moment he's released her, jumping down to join her and help her hurry away. Ten feet, twenty, and he half-turns, keeping that monster in his focus, except there's even more gunshots, too many for even a few people to be shooting at once.

It's not several guns. It's just one, one man, bullets spraying from his fingertips. Ten "guns" in all, and All Might is dodging well, but he's also contending with beating the other members of the gang. It's all too much at once, and then--

--abruptly, the bullets stop.

All Might sees the opening and strikes; within an instant he's knocked the walking gun out. And that's all well and good, and Aizawa feels something like pride rise in his chest, and then--

--then, there's a scream and a shout of warning and all he knows is darkness.

It's such a stupid injury. A rookie mistake that he'll agonize over later. He'd taken his eye off the acidic monster, and of course it had attacked: it hit him square on the side, a large glob of it eating through his uniform and sizzling on his skin. He'd staggered, stumbled, gasping from the pain; another blob had hit him square in the chest, and he'd blacked out from sheer pain.

And now he's here, in some sterile environment, his mind swimming as he tries to wake up.]

[It's a good fight, right up until the end. He's surprised for only a fraction of a second when he sees a flash of movement in his periphery and realizes it's Aizawa; his grin broadens as he sinks his fist directly into a gangster's face, and surely that's his love of justice making him smile like that and not his--whatever they are, people who've yet to go on a second date.

It's a good fight, anyway, and All Might ends his bout against the gun-handed man with only a graze to show for it, and then--

Everything is a blur, after Aizawa goes down. Toshinori wants to rush to his side but All Might is occupied with the remaining gangsters and the acid blob himself. He makes short work of the gangster - a punk with a quirk that creates false images of himself, but All Might is fast enough to punch through all of them and knock out the man before he can make more - and puts himself between Aizawa and the acidic monster.

One for All isn't the greatest quirk to use against what seems to be just an amorphous blob but he punches it anyway, knocking off sizzling blobs and blistering his hands as he does, until he can reach the quirk holder embedded at the center of it and drag them out, tossing them to the ground. It's done; civilians applaud, some press try to reach him, but All Might has already returned to scoop Aizawa up off the ground and demand an ambulance for him and the other injured people here.

He can see the headline now: All Might: Hero's Hero or something like it, singing his praises for plucking a hero intern out of danger. Too bad he doesn't really care what the press says about this incident, at the moment.

But All Might has work to do, and it pains him to leave Aizawa at the hospital, but he affects his best look of detached concern, tells a few people to "take care of the boy!"-- and he's gone. It never stops... until hours later, well into the next morning, it does, and it's Toshinori who lies his way into Aizawa's hospital room, saying something about being a former schoolmate and family friend.

Sure. Well, he's here, slumped in a chair and dozing, jerking awake when his head lolls back (he is... too tall for this chair). He's up, he's up, and so is Aizawa-- relief hits him full in the chest, and all of a sudden he's upright and awake.]

Hey! How are you feeling?

[He is . . . so loud. So loud and so bright, and Aizawa squints up at him, more than a little overwhelmed. He blinks once, twice, his eyes burning, wondering how Toshinori managed to get into his bedroom, vaguely pleased about it regardless . . .

But he's not in his bedroom. He's in the hospital, because he was acting like it was his first year and he had no concept of villains attacking in pairs. The memories come back one by one, stumbling in and presenting themselves in ashamed little mumbles. You got cocky, you got distracted, you got attacked and needed to be rescued--

With a groan he slumps back, resting against the pillow.]

What happened? Everyone got out all right?

[One more loud thing to add to the growing list: Toshinori dragging his chair as close as he can get it to Aizawa's bedside, reaching for his hand to curl his fingers around it lightly. He's sporting a few bandages himself - had to walk all the way here with his hands in his pockets, just in case - but otherwise he's fine. Of course.]

All Might punched the villain until it exploded, [he says, and that's pretty much what he did to the thing, so that's good enough.] No one else was hurt as-- as seriously as you.

[He doesn't outright ask if Aizawa is okay again, but it's written all over his face.]

Good.

[He says it thickly, some of the tension releasing from his body. He fucked up, but at least he hadn't fucked up in such a way that innocents got hurt. He won't be so lucky next time, he knows, and swallows thickly.

Toshinori's hand feels good surrounding his. He feels a bit guilty for accepting the comfort, but he knows pushing it away in some fit of self-flagellation won't help. Training, improving, getting better . . . that's how he'll make up for this.

He tips his hand up, threading their fingers together, and takes stock of how he feels.

. . . fairly miserable is the conclusion. His body hurts, one massive burn that hurts each time he moves. Even breathing hurts; the rise and fall of his chest is quiet agony.

A stray thought crosses his mind, and he frowns.]

What day is it?

It's Thursday morning. [So.] You're probably standing me up tonight.

[He manages a smile and a gentle squeeze to his hand. Date night is ruined, but he'll probably be here all night again if they don't let him sit here all day. He has things to do... not yet, though. Not yet.

He isn't particularly worried anymore, now that Aizawa is awake. Sure, he's still injured, but it's the difference between nearly comatose and awake, but hurt-- he won't die from an injury like this. Not that that makes Toshinori want to leave his side, but when he inevitably has to, he won't be as distracted as he was the night before.

Anyway, he can totally bring his DVDs here-- but first, another realization.]

There's a slight chance your name is in the paper. With mine. About that. Your internship had more to say than I did about you being there, and... [He waves his other hand, an "I couldn't help it so hopefully it's not too embarrassing" gesture.]

[It's not Toshinori's fault, but still Aizawa's mouth tightens, regret and displeasure written all over his expression. He can well imagine the headlines, frankly: painting him as inexperienced and immature, a boy who would surely have perished if All Might hadn't been there. It was undoubtedly good press for the symbol of peace; less so for Aizawa, who had virtually no other press to back up on.

This was going to cost him offers, Aizawa thought, but then forced the thought away. Perhaps it would and perhaps it wouldn't; either way, he could do nothing but accept that.]

Fantastic. Did they disavow me or just say they hadn't worked with me long enough to teach me anything?

[A croaked out few sentences as he pulls his hands back, bracing them on the bed behind him. Aizawa grunts from effort as he forces himself to sit up, the movement jerky and erratic. His body hates the idea and informs him in no small terms just how stupid he's being; he ignores it.]

I doubt I'll stand you up. There's no logical reason for me to stay in here much longer, not if they've already wrapped me. All I need are the instructions for the coming weeks.

They-- You're moving too quickly for your injuries-- They praised your initiative, at least.

[The real question is whether or not they meant it. Toshinori won't soften the blow and tell him he did a good job; he didn't, quite simply, and it's that kind of mistake that Toshinori, as All Might, would have to reprimand him for if Aizawa were his intern. Mistakes happen, everyone gets hurt eventually-- but they really shouldn't, when it comes to hero work.

A solid C- across the board. Toshinori watches Aizawa struggle just to sit up, frowning around his protest that he really should spend another night in the hospital, but instead--]

I'll take you home with me. I was going to pick you up anyway, so this is simpler.

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I am mobile and innocent. Next time i'm leaving it!!!!!!

you can't when you're all might that's not the plus ultra way!!

Toshinori is allowed to be lewd!!!

hmmmmmm

you heard me

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