Chapter Text
“…What the hell?” Gran Torino mutters as he examines his living room ceiling (again).
It has been several months now since he woke from a nap (he really must be getting on in years, to be taking naps in the middle of the day, he reflects with a grimace,) and realized his ceiling is absolutely covered in footprints. Which is particularly puzzling, since Torino must have been going with all the strength he has to leave marks like that, and surely he’d remember that…
Could he have been sleepwalk… sleepjumping?
(Or perhaps he’s going – he shudders – senile?)
Torino shakes his head just as the phone rings. He briefly considers ignoring it, but then decides he’s bored. And hey, it might even be the kid!
Sure enough, the number calling is the beanpole’s. Torino chuckles as he answers, fully expecting another rant about Toshinori’s eternal struggle with paperwork.
Then he hears what Nighteye is calling about, and nearly has an aneurism.
“HE DID WHAT?!”
“Thank you for coming so soon,” Nighteye greets him before the lift doors even fully open.
Torino takes in his haggard appearance, bloodshot eyes and generally haunted look and almost legs it back to Kofu. But, despite his age, Gran Torino is still a professional hero who has stood against the might of All For One and emerged (relatively) triumphant on more than one occasion.
(Relatively triumphant, when All For One is concerned, translates to not becoming a small stain on some nondescript slab of concrete. It is surprisingly difficult, and whenever Torino is feeling depressed, he reminds himself of this achievement. Then he buys a tub of ice cream and eats the whole thing, because Nana was victorious.)
So Torino summons up all of his courage, manages a laugh (stilted, but still,) and thrusts the takeaway boxes he brought at the beanpole.
“Well, you look like hell,” he informs the sidekick as he marches past him and further into the apartment. “Where’s Toshinori?”
“TORINO!” All Might greets him as he enters the living room.
Torino stares at his former student.
The Number 1 Hero seems unable to stand completely still, and although his trademark smile is plastered on his face, his left eye keeps twitching. He’s also only wearing his boxers. (With a slightly disturbing Endeavor print. Why does he have Endeavor brand underwear?)
Torino glances around the room, partly because he really does not need the visual of his former student having a mental breakdown burned into his retinas, and decides the twitching is now somewhat understandable.
After all, there are what look like a dozen empty energy drinks cans spread over the floor.
Torino takes careful stock of the situation. Technically, Toshinori is no longer his problem (after all, One For All isn’t strictly necessary anymore, what with All For One dead). But then he remembers Nana, and how she entrusted Toshinori to him, how she even now is no doubt watching them, hoping he will help steer her successor through this latest crisis.
So Torino does what seems most appropriate: he jumps up and whacks the blonde fool in the head with his walking stick.
“What the hell, Toshinori?!” he barks out, and feels his earlier hysteria resurface. He ruthlessly squashes it, because now is not the time to panic. “How did you think this was a good idea?! Why would you adopt a CHILD?!”
“But Torino!...” All Might exclaims, though thankfully he’s toned his voice down so Torino no longer has to worry about his hearing. He’s clutching his head, and looks on the verge of tears. “He was all alone!... And he’s Nana’s grandson!...”
“Please tell me you didn’t kidnap him,” Torino pales. He can already see the headlines, and wonders faintly whether All For One could have engineered all this from beyond the grave. It’s the sort of insane plot the dramatic bastard would love.
“He’s an orphan,” Nighteye hurriedly assures him. “His whole family is dead, and… Well, he was probably only hours from joining them when All Might found him.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Torino blurts out. Then he realizes how that sounded, and winces. “Wait, that didn’t come out right.”
“He’s all alone,” All Might sniffs. “And I’m all alone!...”
“He’s not slept in three days,” Nighteye explains with a sigh. “I’m not sure what to do…”
Torino isn’t sure what to do, either.
“What do you even know about raising children?” he asks, slightly desperate. “This isn’t just a stray cat; you can’t just dump him at a shelter if things don’t work out!...”
“That is why I have THIS!” Toshinori announces, producing a book from somewhere and brandishing it at Torino. It looks as if the lad has gone through at least three packets of index tabs to mark all the relevant sections, but what really catches Torino’s attention is the title.
“Parenting for Dummies?” he reads. “Really, Toshinori?”
Any answer is drowned out by an alarm going off. Torino is familiar with it, since it signals that All Might is needed somewhere in the city. Nighteye, though, lets out a horrified wail, and Torino twists to look at him…
CRASH!
When he turns back, All Might is gone, leaving a rather large hole in the wall.
“That’s the third time he’s done that,” Nighteye groans.
Torino takes stock of the situation. Then he sighs and makes his decision.
“You get some sleep, beanpole,” he commands the sidekick. “And… I think there’s a hero with a sleep-inducing Quirk; I’ll see if she’ll knock him out for us.”
Toshinori Yagi sighs for what feels like the tenth time in just two minutes.
Truthfully, Gran Torino and Nighteye have a point: he doesn’t know anything about raising children. The reality of it hit him about three minutes after signing the adoption papers, and…
…Well, he’s been in a state of near-constant panic ever since.
But he feels responsible for Tenko, and he owes Nana so much for believing in him; he needs to at least try. Not for the first time he wishes he knew more people with families; after waking up this morning (after 33 or so hours of sleep – he must remember to send Midnight a gift to thank her), he remembered the one person that might be able to help.
Endeavor had not sounded pleased when he answered his phone.
Toshinori sighs again as he shifts the bakery box in his arms. It’s tradition at this point; whenever he needs help and guidance, he picks up strawberry shortcake from the café in Might Tower and goes to pay his respects to Nana.
The graveyard is mostly empty; it’s a chilly weekend morning, and as he makes his way towards Nana’s headstone, Toshinori feels some of the tension drain from him. It is always strangely relaxing here; like the outside world melts away, and sometimes he can almost feel Nana’s presence, urging him to do what is right.
Surprisingly, there are people at one of the nearby graves. He stops when he sees them, and feels a strange twinge as he watches the father and son. He wonders if one day he will be able to bring Tenko here, to meet the grandmother he never knew…
He realizes, as he starts walking again, that he recognizes both of them. The boy… he almost laughs as he remembers the lad from that charity fundraiser, who seemed to have a hundred and one questions. He’s fairly certain Nighteye and him would get along splendidly.
But it is the father that truly gives him pause. Because he remembers the man well, and his heart breaks all over as he remembers just how… lost he seemed. Toshinori can relate, after all; he felt similarly after Nana died. And he didn’t have to worry about explaining it to her son, finding the words to tell a child his mother was never coming back; he didn’t have to be there for all the inevitable heartbreak, all the weeks and months of tears…
Toshinori stops at Nana’s grave, but doesn’t really notice it. His brain is going a hundred miles an hour, as he remembers large, green, happy eyes, and a beaming smile. And even now, as he glances over, the boy seems to be telling a story, his small hands waving wildly.
The man glances over and catches Toshinori’s eye, and, awkwardly, the hero raises his hand in greeting. There’s a moment’s hesitation; then the man crouches down and says something to his son, and presses a quick kiss to his curls.
As the man heads over, Toshinori tries desperately to remember his name. Something with M. Midaro? No. Madorya? No. Was it…
“Madara,” he greets the father.
The man hesitates for a moment, obviously surprised; then he runs his hand through his messy hair with a chuckle.
“Yagi,” he acknowledges him.
They stand in awkward silence for a second, and Toshinori stares at Nana’s name as he tries to think of the best way to approach the subject. Finally he huffs and manages a smile as he glances back to where Madara’s son seems still absolutely focused on telling his story.
“…Your son?”
“Yes,” the man chuckles. “He wanted to tell his mother about his new friend. It’ll probably… probably take him a while. Because his friend is, apparently, absolutely wonderful. And incredible. And amazing.”
“Well, that’s good,” Toshinori feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. He had wondered, these past few months, how Madara was faring. And now he wonders if one day perhaps he’ll be on the receiving end of such boundless enthusiasm. He thinks it might be...
...It might be nice.
They stand there in silence for a moment. Toshinori glances back over at Madara’s son, and seeing the smile on the lad’s face gives him the final push to ask.
“…Do you have any advice?”
“What?”
“About parenting,” Toshinori sighs, suddenly exhausted again as all the events of the past few days catch up with him. “I… I just adopted a child. Only… I’ve realized I have no clue what I’m doing.”
For a moment, the other man stares at him; then he chuckles and shakes his head.
“Welcome to parenthood. None of us have a fucking clue what we’re doing.”
“Really?” Toshinori frowns, surprised. “…But your son seems so happy.”
“It’s a good day,” Madara admits with a sigh. “There are bad days, too, when he doesn’t understand where his mum is. But children are resilient. And I… I have a decent support system.”
“Oh,” Toshinori ponders it. He tries to imagine Sir Nighteye on babysitting duty and winces. “Well, are there any books you can recommend?”
“Not really,” the man shrugs. “I’ve been making it up as I go along, mostly. It seems to be working, and… Well, I did get a few pointers from the therapist about helping him grieve.”
Toshinori makes a mental note to start looking into child therapists. And take a notebook along to the first meeting.
“Besides, it’s not like there’s an instruction manual that can tell you what to do in every eventuality,” Madara chuckles. “If there was, every hospital would be handing them out to new parents.”
Toshinori shifts, feeling rather foolish, and the man seems to notice.
“How many parenting books did you buy?”
“…Seventeen,” he mumbles.
“If it makes you feel any better, I… went on a bit of an overprotective rampage when my son was born,” the man laughs softly. “I refused to sleep for about five days because I was terrified he’d stop breathing in the middle of the night.”
“What happened?”
“…I was so sleep deprived I fell asleep in the middle of a… work meeting,” Madara winces. “Needless to say, my wife was not terribly impressed.”
Strangely enough, Toshinori feels rather comforted. Perhaps Madara is right; perhaps he is not alone in his ignorance. (Perhaps he is not alone in his fear.)
“Papa, I’m done!” Madara’s son calls over, green eyes sparkling. Then his smile dims a bit, and he glances back at the gravestone. “…Do you think mama heard me?”
“Of course she did!” Madara immediately assures him. “And I’m sure she’s really happy you found such a good friend!”
The thought seems to perk the boy back up, and Toshinori can’t help but smile at how his face lights up.
“I need a few more minutes, so how about you show mama just how well you can count?” Madara suggests. “Then we can go have lunch.”
“Okay!” the boy nods and spins around, and frowns down at his hand as he starts counting. “One, t-two…”
“Like I said, there are good days and bad days,” Madara sighs as he turns back. “Thankfully, I got a particularly adorable child.”
“Can’t argue with you there,” Toshinori chuckles.
“I guess, though, I have two tips,” the man pauses, and Toshinori mentally prepares to take notes. “Don’t take everything as gospel. Parenting books… they don’t have all the answers. They’re more of a general guide.”
“And the second?”
“Spend time with your child,” Madara sighs, and glances over at his son, a sad smile on his face. “It’s not always easy, when you’re tired, or have work, or… anything else… but it’s for the best. It’ll make them happy, and… It helps. It reminds you what‘s important. Plus it can be rather fun.”
“Really?” Toshinori frowns, trying to think what he could do with Tenko. What do young boys even do?
“Absolutely,” the man laughs. Toshinori blinks, because there is something vaguely familiar about the sound… “I get to try and take over the world at least once a week. And anytime people find out, they always say I’m such a wonderful father.”
Toshinori can’t help but chuckle at the image of the serious, put together man ‘fighting’ an excited toddler.
“Papa, is ten or nine next?”
“Did you remember eight?”
“Eight!” the boy gasps. “And… t… nine, and ten!” the boy nods, and turns back to his father, quite obviously proud. “Papa, I counted to ten!”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a very smart boy who deserves some cake,” Madara chuckles as he nods to Toshinori. His son obviously hears him, because he turns and waves goodbye to his mother’s gravestone, a somewhat sad smile on his face.
“Bye bye, mama!”
“Goodbye, darling,” Madara murmurs faintly as he stops next to his son and takes his hand.
The two turn and wave farewell to Toshinori too, the young boy far more enthusiastic than his father. Toshinori waves back, already pondering what he’s been told.
He glances down at the bakery box.
I wonder if Tenko likes strawberry shortcake?...