時刻摘要
Yagi lays collapsed on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, coughing and in severe pain. All he could think about was his boy, his sweet boy, Izuku. He feels himself slipping away and the pain spiking hard in his side, his old wound had been hit in an accident during class. It ripped open and he thought he was fine. The thoughts flying through his head slow down. Would Izuku be okay? Who would tell his boy? Is Izuku going to be the one to find his corpse? Will he die? Can he survive this? As Yagi goes unconscious he thinks back to the day everything changed. The day that All Might was finally allowed to be himself once more. Even if it's only with Izuku alone, Yagi loves to be allowed to be Toshinori Yagi again.
The room around Toshinori Yagi swims in and out of focus, the once vibrant colors of his office at U.A. High School now a muted blur. He lies on the cold, unforgiving floor, the taste of copper filling his mouth as he gasps for air, his body wracked with pain. The crimson pool spreading from his side is a stark reminder of the battle-worn frail man beneath the bright smile. His hand, trembling, reaches out to the photo of a young boy—his sweet Izuku—sitting proudly on the desk. The edges of his vision darken, and his thoughts spiral into a vortex of dread. "Izuku..." he whispers hoarsely, "I'm... I'm so sorry."
The pain sharpens, a cruel echo of the accidental blow that had torn open his old wound. The very essence of him feels like it's slipping away, each pulse a mournful symphony of his dwindling strength. His heart clenches as he contemplates the horror of his pupil discovering his lifeless form, the weight of his failure as a mentor and protector too much to bear. The room seems to spin as he succumbs to the abyss of unconsciousness, his mind a tumult of doubt and regret.
In the fading light of his awareness, moments from the past reel before him—the day he had passed on his power, the day he had ceased being the untouchable symbol of peace. The weight of his legacy presses down on him, a crushing burden that threatens to snuff out the flickering ember of hope. Yet, amidst the chaos of his thoughts, there's a soft warmth that lingers—his time with Izuku, when he could be just Toshinori Yagi. The gentle warmth of those moments is a stark contrast to the cold embrace of the floor beneath him, a poignant reminder of the humanity he cherishes so deeply.
And as the darkness creeps in, he can almost hear the echoes of laughter, the sound of Izuku's voice, untainted by fear or despair. It's a whisper of comfort, a promise that no matter what the future holds, their bond remains unbroken. With a final, agonized exhale, Yagi surrenders to unconsciousness, his thoughts a silent prayer for his successor's safety and strength.
