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Months had passed since that fateful night when Izuku became a part of the Yagi family. Despite their rocky start, Izuku and Toshinori, now father and son, had been bonding in their own unique, often humorous way. The once reserved and emotionally distant Izuku had slowly started to open up, finding moments of levity and connection with his newfound father.
Today, however, was one of those days where Izuku sought solace in solitude. Shirtless and without a care in the world, he sat atop a mountain of trash on the very beach where Toshinori had once trained him. His body, now more defined and muscular, bore the scars of battles past—nasty reminders of the pain he'd endured, yet symbols of the strength he'd gained. The sun beat down on him, but he didn't mind. For Izuku, this was peace.
Down by the shore, All Might, in his skinny form, strolled along the beach, deep in conversation with Aizawa. They had taken to meeting here every so often, discussing both hero work and the more mundane aspects of life. Well, mundane for Aizawa—All Might, despite his towering reputation, often displayed the tendencies of a well-meaning but slightly clueless muscle-brain.
"So, what you're saying is, I should've used a different detergent for his clothes?" Toshinori asked, scratching his head in confusion.
Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Toshinori. Fabric softener is for softening fabric, not for cleaning it. And while we're on the subject, stop using your hero strength to open jars. You're crushing them."
"Ah, right! I'll make sure to remember that!" Toshinori chuckled awkwardly, his laugh a bit too loud, which drew a few passing glances. "You know, it's still all so new to me—this whole parenting thing."
"Parenting is about the small stuff," Aizawa muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and something bordering on fondness. "But honestly, you're doing better than I expected. It's the emotional stuff that's the hardest."
Toshinori nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Izuku's still keeping a lot to himself, though. I just wish he'd open up more…"
As they walked further along the beach, Aizawa suddenly stopped, his sharp eyes narrowing as he spotted something in the distance. "Toshinori," he said, his voice unusually tense.
"Hm?" All Might continued walking, oblivious to the change in Aizawa's tone.
Aizawa placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Look over there."
Toshinori followed Aizawa's gaze, and when his eyes landed on the figure perched atop the mountain of trash, his heart skipped a beat. "Izuku…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. The sight of his son's scarred body, so exposed and vulnerable, sent a jolt of both pride and worry through him. Pride at the strength Izuku had gained, but worry at the evidence of the pain he had endured.
Aizawa could sense the tension rising in Toshinori, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to intervene. But before he could say anything, Toshinori's voice broke through the silence.
"IZUKU!" All Might's booming voice echoed across the beach, startling Izuku out of his reverie. The boy's crimson eyes flicked toward them, his calm demeanor replaced by a brief flash of annoyance. "Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath, realizing he'd been caught.
Without hesitation, Izuku leaped off the trash heap, using his wind element to cushion his landing. He landed gracefully on the sand, standing upright as he faced his father and Aizawa, both of whom were now staring at him with a mix of shock and concern.
For a few moments, the beach was eerily silent, the only sounds being the distant waves and the rustling of wind. Toshinori's eyes were glued to the scars on Izuku's chest and back—each one a testament to the battles he'd fought, battles Toshinori had never been a part of. He clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface, not at Izuku, but at the unknown forces that had caused his son such harm.
In a voice trembling with barely restrained anger, Toshinori asked, "Who did this to you, Izuku?"
Izuku's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It doesn't matter," he replied, his voice cold.
Toshinori's fists tightened, his frustration evident. "Izuku, please—just tell me who did this. I can't stand the thought of—"
But before Toshinori could finish, Izuku snapped, his calm exterior shattering in an instant. "Look, I accepted being adopted, but that doesn't mean you get to pry into every part of my life!" His voice was filled with anger and bitterness, emotions he had kept buried for so long. "I don't need you to fight my battles, Toshinori! I've survived this long without you, and I can damn well keep doing it!"
Toshinori recoiled as if he had been struck. The use of his first name, devoid of any affection or respect, stung more than he cared to admit. Aizawa, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward, placing a hand on Toshinori's shoulder in a silent gesture of support.
Izuku's eyes burned with intensity, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "You want to be a father? Fine. But stop acting like you can just fix everything with your power. You can't fix me, Toshinori. I'm not some broken toy you can piece back together."
With those harsh words hanging in the air, Izuku turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps heavy as they left imprints in the sand. Toshinori watched him go, his heart sinking with each step Izuku took away from him.
Aizawa, ever the pragmatist, sighed and looked at Toshinori, whose face was etched with regret. "He'll come around eventually," Aizawa said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "You pushed too hard, but he knows you care. Give him time. Maybe one day, he'll open up to you about his past."
Toshinori nodded slowly, though the weight of his mistake hung heavily on his shoulders. "I just… I just wanted to protect him," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You can't protect someone from themselves," Aizawa replied. "All you can do is be there when they need you."
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the beach, Toshinori sighed deeply, the realization of his error settling into his bones. He had wanted so badly to be a good father, but in his eagerness, he had overstepped, pushing Izuku away instead of drawing him closer.
Later that night, the Yagi household was enveloped in an uneasy silence. The dining table, usually a place of light-hearted banter and awkward attempts at conversation, was now dominated by the sound of clinking cutlery and the occasional scrape of a chair.
Izuku sat across from Toshinori, his face expressionless as he poked at his food. Toshinori, feeling the weight of the earlier confrontation, struggled to find the right words. He had replayed the moment in his mind over and over, each time feeling more and more like a failure.
Finally, he couldn't bear the silence any longer. "Izuku," he began, his voice filled with remorse. "I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I just… I just worry about you, and I… I don't want to lose you."
Izuku paused, then slowly set down his fork. He looked up at Toshinori, his eyes searching his father's face. For a moment, Toshinori feared that Izuku would lash out again, but instead, he simply sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"You don't need to apologize," Izuku said, his voice softer than before. "I get it. If I were in your shoes, I'd probably react the same way."
Toshinori's eyes widened in surprise. "You would?"
Izuku nodded, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I mean, it's annoying as hell, but… I get it."
A flicker of hope ignited in Toshinori's chest. "Does that mean…?"
Izuku raised a hand, cutting him off. "Don't get ahead of yourself, old man," he said with a teasing tone that belied the seriousness of their earlier argument. "I said I understand, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to spill my guts."
Toshinori deflated slightly but couldn't help but chuckle at the way Izuku had addressed him. "Right, right. I won't push."
There was a moment of silence before Izuku continued, his tone more thoughtful. "I'll tell you about my past one day. But… not now. Not yet. I'll do it when I'm ready."
Toshinori nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Whenever you're ready, Izuku. I'll be here."
Izuku smirked, shaking his head slightly. "You better be. I don't need you keeling over before I'm ready to talk."
Toshinori laughed, the sound filling the once tense room with a sense of warmth and hope.
"I'll do my best to stick around, kid," Toshinori finished with a grin, the tension between them easing into something more comfortable.
Izuku rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was genuine. "Yeah, you better."
And with that, the atmosphere at the dinner table lightened, the earlier conflict set aside for now. Both father and son knew that there were still many unresolved issues between them, but for tonight, they were content with the progress they had made.
In the silence that followed, they continued their meal, each lost in their own thoughts. There was still much to discuss, much to learn about each other, but for now, they were a family—and that was enough.
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