Chapter Text
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second – the newcomer is…All Might?”
Present Mic’s voice climbs up several octaves and severely increases in volume as he speaks, so the dark-haired woman standing next to him hastily covers her ears and gives him an annoyed look.
Toshinori grins brightly.
Next to him, Nedzu nods gravely, his tiny eyes closed as he continues to speak, “Starting from today, All Might will be teaching Foundational Hero Studies here at U.A.”
Present Mic’s eyes go wide and he claps his hands together in excitement, while the woman next to him, who Toshinori now recognises as the R-Rated Hero Midnight, instantly dons a flirty smile and licks her lips. Thirteen and Snipe start whispering between themselves in hushed voices about something Toshinori can't quite catch and Cementoss just stares at him, his expression unmoving as his eyes seem to burn through him.
Toshinori grins wider.
“Welcome!” Present Mic booms as he takes several steps towards him. He stretches out his hand and effectively shuts the others up, the buzzing noise in the room finally quieting down again. Toshinori would have liked to give him a grateful smile but his sore jaw has already snapped into place and he’s pretty sure he will be stuck between a thousand watt grin and a frown for the rest of the day – so he sticks to the slightly more welcoming option. “I’m Present Mic – or Mic for short. You can also call me Yamada Hizashi, ‘cause that’s my name, ya know – or just Yamada. Hizashi’s fine too, though. To be honest, you can call me anything you want, I’m cool with whatever, just lemme know, alright?”
His grin, impossibly, almost matches Toshinori’s and his green eyes are effectively glowing behind his trademark sunglasses. Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori spots another man, clad in black and hidden at the very back of the room, who’s giving the most impressive eye roll Toshinori has ever seen – and that’s certainly saying something, seeing as he used to live with Dave back in the day.
Toshinori suppresses a curious huff and reverts his attention back to the Voice Hero in front of him. “Nice to meet you, Mic,” he says, settling on Mic because it seemed the most appropriate out of all the names he gave him – not too uptight, yet professional. He takes Mic’s outstretched hand and gives it a medium hard squeeze before he adds, “I quite enjoy your radio show!”
Mic’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open until he almost looks comically shocked, and it takes a few seconds (and another quite impressive eye roll and a huff from mystery man) until Mic regains his composure. He returns Toshinori’s squeeze with a grin and says, “Means a lot, man, thanks for tuning in! Might have to think more about what I disclose about my massive crush on you though,” he adds with a wink, before he walks away backwards, giving him finger guns. “Welcome to the madness, you’ll have a blast!”
It doesn’t take more than a second for Midnight to appear in his place, and the smell of her perfume nearly makes Toshinori cough. She gives him a sly look beneath half-lidded eyes and breathes, “Nice to meet you.” Her tongue darts out to swipe across her lips suggestively before she bites down on her bottom one and adds, “I’m Nemuri Kayama, but you can call me later tonight.” With a wink and a grin that’s only half-playful, she turns around and walks away, her hips swaying from side to side as she goes, and Toshinori swallows, clearing his throat, and fights the blush that’s threatening to creep up his neck – he’s had his fair share of advances in all his years of being the Number One Hero, but that doesn't mean he particularly likes that kind of attention.
So he grins harder, his skin straining as it stretches across his jaw, his muscles hardening, and he lets All Might steer the boat.
Thirteen gives him a small wave and what Toshinori supposes must be a smile, and Snipe merely nods at him curtly before they both turn around and start shuffling through some documents on the desk behind them.
The last person currently in the room who Toshinori hasn’t talked to yet, is Cementoss – well, besides mystery man, but said man keeps true to the nickname Toshinori gave him and is showing no sign whatsoever of having any intention to introduce himself.
“On a good working relationship,” Cementoss says, bowing politely, and Toshinori is surprised to hear the gentle harmony in his voice. Looking a certain way was supposed to come with expectations.
“I look forward to it!” Toshinori replies, a few seconds too late, and his own familiar voice stands in sharp contrast with Cementoss’ calm one. He files that thought away in a box that he knows he can’t reach and laughs.
After a few moments of observing the room in silence, his curiosity gets the better of him and he makes his way over to where mystery man is still perched over his desk, seemingly ignorant of his presence.
Upon getting a closer look, Toshinori notices that his dark mane of hair is a lot messier than it seemed from afar – it spills down his shoulders in knots and tangles, almost completely shielding his face from view, and looks like it hasn’t seen a proper cut in at least a year. Yet, instead of being dry or matte, it actually looks rather healthy and luscious, and Toshinori even suspects a hidden curl pattern, that could look quite pretty with the right cut and proper care routine.
Someone in the room turns a page and Toshinori startles, blushing when he realises that he’s been staring at a stranger’s hair for several minutes.
Mystery man, however, didn’t seem to notice – in fact, he isn’t even acknowledging Toshinori’s presence at all, even though there is no way he hasn’t noticed a seven foot tall man standing right next to him. Instead, he keeps flicking through a stack of what seems to be student essays, his breathing slow and steady and suspiciously rhythmic.
Toshinori clears his throat, and mystery man underlines a sentence in red and scribbles something in the margins. Intrigued by his unusual behaviour, Toshinori clears his throat a second time and says, “Greetings! I believe you are the only person that hasn’t spoken to me yet!”
The only indication that the other man even heard him is a quiet scoff and the fact that he turns his head to the side, as if that would make him disappear. “I’m All Might!” Toshinori says and extends his hand in spite of it.
He is well aware of the fact that he is very obviously unwelcome, knows that he should just leave it and find a way to connect to the other teachers instead, but somehow, this strange (and quite frankly rude) man caught his interest and he won’t give up until he gets a response, however short it might be.
As if he heard his thoughts, mystery man lifts his head from the desk and slowly turns around to face him. His eyes are a kind of vibrant dark brown that paradoxically almost seems to shine under the bright ceiling lights, and his gaze is piercing. Thick, black brows frame his face and highlight not only his prominent cheekbones but also the dark shadows under his eyes. After every blink it seems to take him an enormous amount of effort to keep his eyes open and paired with the stubble on his chin that's at least a week old, Toshinori can only conclude that the man must be exhausted.
“I know,” the man finally says and his voice is deep and low, and he’s dragging the words and drawing out the vowels until it sounds like a sticky string of honey. He glares at Toshinori’s outstretched hand as if it's the most offending thing he has ever seen, his lips pursed and nose screwed up slightly.
Toshinori’s face hurts, everything strains and aches and burns, but he laughs anyway and it tastes like copper and iron – it would have sounded awkward and insecure if it weren’t for the booming guffaw of All Might protecting him and he thinks that a little bit of blood is a small price to pay for a confident and strong self.
Slowly, he takes his hand down.
“And who might you be, young man?”
“What do you care?”
Slightly taken aback at the blatant hostility in his voice, Toshinori stumbles, losing his grip, and it takes him a moment to reply. “Well, I would like to know who I have the pleasure of working with! I’m sure I must know you already, I just can’t seem to remember!”
Mystery man turns his back, black strands of hair falling over his face again, and strangely Toshinori all but feels the loss of his calculating gaze on him – it’s been a while since someone looked at him like that, really looked at him, and Toshinori isn’t sure whether anyone ever actually did after he passed Young Age.
“Eraserhead. You wouldn’t know me.”
His response is clipped and dry, every word seemingly chosen with great care, yet the same undertone of hostility seeps through his feigned disinterest.
Aching to prove the man wrong, Toshinori racks his brain, trying to remember if he ever came across the name Eraserhead, and while he worked with a lot of different heroes and met a ton of new people every week during his years at the top, he doesn’t recall ever meeting anyone called Eraserhead.
“Well, I look forward to getting to know you, Eraserhead!” he says, and, for once, he means it. He gives a version of a thumbs-up that’s unnecessarily over the top, even for All Might, as if he’s trying to counter the negative energy radiating off the smaller man.
The man in question however merely grunts and doesn't even bother looking at him, instead focusing on his task again, his head so close to the desk by now that Toshinori fears for his eyesight.
Taking that as his obvious cue to leave, Toshinori leaves the man to his work and makes his way over to the other teachers standing in a small circle next to the coffee machine, chatting amiably.
“Yooo, All Might!” Mic greets when Toshinori joins their circle, “I take it you met my man Shouta?”
“Not your man,” Eraserhead suddenly grumbles from behind them and when Toshinori turns his head he just catches him walking out of the teachers’ lounge, a stack of papers under his arm and a frown on his face.
Mic cackles. “He loves me,” he tells them, once Eraserhead is out of earshot. His lips twist into a smug grin and now it’s Midnight’s turn to roll her eyes. She smacks her lips and inhales sharply before she turns to address Toshinori, “Shouta’s not the most sociable of the bunch, but he’s worth it.”
Thirteen nods along, her expression unreadable as always, and Mic’s grin turns into laughter so heartily, Toshinori is afraid he will knock over the mugs on the counter with his tall hairstyle. “What are you talking about, he's the life of the party! Remember last month, when we dragged him to that shady karaoke bar? Still can't get that image outta my head, yo!”
Apparently that image must have been quite something, because it elicits a mischievous, borderline sadistic, smirk out of Midnight, and even though Toshinori isn't usually one to be invested in the personal lives of other people, something he unlearned back when he was quite young, he finds himself intrigued despite himself, wishing he knew what they were talking about. From what little he knows about Eraserhead so far, he can't, for the life of him, imagine him at a karaoke bar, let alone enjoy himself there.
“Do you and...Eraserhead perhaps share some history?”
His question slithers into the buzzing quiet that always lingers after laughter, when nobody quite knows what to say. A silent calmness that just isn’t still enough, but rather unfinished, raw and open, like a spark that could light up again at any given moment.
Toshinori suffocates that spark and tells himself it’s okay because he’s asking as All Might. He tells himself that they won’t know he’s lonely because All Might surely must have a bustling social life – and All Might does, did, but Toshinori just doesn’t have the energy anymore.
Mic’s post-laughter mouth turns into a lazy smile, dripping self-confidence, and he says, “Sure do! He’s my best buddy, known him since the good old school days! We,” he points at Midnight next to him, “been friends since pretty much first year at U.A..”
Toshinori looks at Mic and wonders what’s the difference between them.
Midnight scoffs. “Don’t trust a word he says. He’s been following him around for months, constantly gushing about how he wants to be his friend so badly he could die.” Midnight snickers, ignoring Mic’s outraged expression, “He practically blackmailed that poor boy into friendship.”
“Uncool, dude!” Mic protests, his lips pulling into a pout, “He likes me now, too!”
Midnight laughs, her eyes closed and head thrown back, clearly enjoying herself, and Toshinori’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of them, and he wonders if Eraserhead has that effect on everyone.
“I suppose you’re the closest he’s ever let anybody into his life,” Midnight agrees eventually, which instantly puts the smug grin back onto Mic’s face, a feeling of pride emanating from him as he pushes his chest out and stands up straighter, like Eraserhead is a wild animal only he could tame.
Snipe shakes his head, telling Toshinori that he’s been privy to this conversation more often than once already. A few moments pass in silence until Mic turns to Toshinori and says, “No, but for reals, Shouta can be very difficult at first, but he’s a real softie at heart.”
Immediately, he raises his hands in defence and adds, “Don’t tell him I said that!”
Toshinori laughs, thunderous and brash laughter that rings even in his own ears and he wonders if the others can hear the strain in it too. It’s been a particularly exhausting day and he knows he’s stretching the hours of how long he can stay in this form.
“I think Eraserhead and I will have a fantastic working relationship,” Toshinori adds with confidence and ignores the voice in his head screaming at him that the man obviously can't stand him. “However, I am afraid I must excuse myself now as I have some important business to attend to.”
“Sure thing, my man!” Mic says with a grin. “All Might obviously can’t waste his time with boring small talk now, can he?”
Snipe lets out a huff of air, indicating that he finds this funny, and Toshinori feels the twist of anxiety in his chest when Midnight nods and adds, “See you tomorrow for your first lesson!”
Quickly, he says his goodbyes, and smiles while doing so, but when he walks out the door he worries whether he will be able to handle teaching a bunch of kids, considering that this is merely a job borne out of necessity rather than want. He doubts that the others will ever take him seriously as a teacher, and he honestly can’t blame them – he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing and it’s only a matter of time until they will all see him for the fraud that he really is.