They were gathered in the kitchen that late afternoon. School was over for the day, and the few people that had to go to their internship that day had just arrived back. The dorms were full and lively as ever, people talking over each other to recount their day to each other, laughter filling the room, and from time to time, some tired grumbling noise or loud swearing could be heard from those that not really liked the liveliness of their classmates.

It was messy and chaotic and absolutely wonderful in Toshinori's eyes.

The former hero was leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for his tea water to boil while he watched his students fondly. He had snuck down from his room, away from paper that needed to be graded, as soon as he heard the first children come back home. Nothing in the world could keep him from missing this.

"…and then, Senpai said that "I'm like the sun"!" Kirishima remembered, his laughter showing off his sharp teeth as he gestured around. "Dunno what he meant by that, but it sounds like a compliment, right?"

"Either that, or your teeth are too shiny," Sero retorted, laughing as the redhead aimed a playful punch at him for it.

"Why thank you, I polished them this morning!"

"You're kidding, right?" Kaminari leaned forward, trying to take a closer look at Kirishima's teeth. "You just use your quirk to make them sharp!"

"Of course I'm kidding!" Kirishima laughed aloud, joined by those around him. "But, honestly, I don't really use my quirk for my teeth. They always were a bit sharper than normal, just like that."

Toshinori bit back a chuckle as he turned, pulling the hissing teakettle off the stove and filling the water into the cup. Now that the conversation had taken this turn, he could already predict where it was going from there.

And three… two… one…

"Uh, Kirishima-kun…" Izuku shuffled closer, hands clasped around one of his notebooks, eyes shining with barely withheld excitement. "I just heard that conversation, and… would you mind if I take some notes about it?"

"You want to take notes about a guy's teeth…?" Sero started, flabbergasted, only to be shut down by the looks his classmates directed at him and Uraraka hissing quietly "Shhh!". Coughing, the boy cut himself off and mumbled, "Forget I said something."

"Sure, Midoriya!" Kirishima straightened, grinning. "What do you want to know? Ask away, dude!"

"There we go again," Tokoyami muttered, even though he was smiling, barely visible due to his beak.

Izuku's eyes lit up like stars as he flopped down beside Kirishima, notebook open on a new page and ready to write away.

It pulled another fond smile from Toshinori as he watched, relishing in this quiet moment they all got…

"All Might."

"Hmmmm?" It wasn't easy to shake himself free from the quiet peace that had settled over him, and when someone addressed him directly, Toshinori jolted in surprise, turning a bit too quickly, perhaps.

Aizawa lifted his hand in a calming gesture, signaling the other to relax. Simultaneously, he turned, leaning against the counter next to Toshinori, watching the students, too. "Just wanted to tell you that I won't be here this evening."

"Another case?" Toshinori tried to stomp down the urge to ask everything there was to know – he was no hero anymore, he needed to remind himself once again, just a civilian.

"Hrm. Still the same one."

"The eight precepts of death."

"Exactly."

They stayed quite for a moment, both lost in thought. Different emotions clashed inside Toshinori, the peace from before all but forgotten as worry for his colleague, guilt over being no help and bitterness over his own powerlessness waged war inside him.

I'm really… no help at all anymore, am I?

A slight tap to his shoulder pulled him from his darker and darker thoughts.

"The children want to do a movie night, I heard," Aizawa informed him, hand still resting on the blonde's shoulder. "I'm sure they will be more than happy to let you join."

A welcome distraction. Toshinori smiled weakly, but gratefully nonetheless. "I will consider it."

"Hmm. Just don't lock yourself up in your room."

"I wouldn't… well, yes, I would," Toshinori relented as Aizawa shot him a look, vividly remembering the first few times he had had bad days at the dorms. Be it bouts of self-pity or his wound acting up, he had locked himself inside his room for hours, missing meals and worrying the children senseless. It had taken quite some time to adjust and accept that there were people who would comfort him on such days – that he didn't have to deal with them alone.

"I won't this time," he promised as he turned around to get his tea, getting an approving nod from his colleague.

And that was when everything went south.

First louder words weaved over to the two men just then. Clearly, the children hadn't hesitated to provoke Bakugou once again, teasing lovely to laugh over his reaction.

"So, you're basically just jealous that Midoriya asks Kirishima about it instead of you?" Sero wondered, tapping his chin as he flashed Bakugou a grin.

"Guys, please, don't argue again."

"Why would I be?" Bakugou's patience was getting thinner, the frown marring his face a dead giveaway, but he wasn't yelling yet.

Yet.

Because just then, Kaminari piped up, "'Cause you need attention, Blasty."

"Who needs attention from the nerd, huh?!"

"Ah, well, but you were the one that was the happiest when you saw the page Midoriya made about you in his notebook…?"

"Okay, that's it, you're dead, Pikachu…"

"Oh come on dude, no death threats so close before dinner…"

"Is he angry or embarrassed now?"

"Both, most likely."

"Calm down, I was just wondering…"

"…you can go write your fucking will, man!"

And Toshinori jerked, hand missing the cup of tea slightly and knocking it over instead. The porcelain clinked loudly against the countertop while hot liquid sloshed over the edge and over Toshinori's hand, making him jump back with a loud, bitten out, "Shit!"

And all of sudden, everything was in motion, shouts resounding from around him. Before he could even register the pain, mind still clinging to what had startled him so much, Toshinori already felt someone gripping his wrist and tugging. The next thing he knew, his throbbing hand was being held under the water jet of the faucet, the cool liquid numbing the burn.

"Be more careful, All Might," Aizawa chided softly without letting go of the thin wrist in his grip.

"A-Ah, sorry," he answered more out of habit than really thinking about it, mind still racing. One single word, and it had sent him reeling…

"Sensei!"

"Sensei, are you okay?!"

"Do you need some ice?"

"Toshinori-san…!"

He looked up, meeting not one or two, but twenty pairs of worried eyes, all trained on him.

Cringing slightly, Toshinori managed a weak smile. "I'm alright, I'm alright! Please, there is nothing to worry about, really!"

"You burned yourself," the way Izuku said it, matter-of-factly and plain, made it sound like Obviously there is reason to worry!

"Somebody get a salve for the burn," Aizawa released Toshinori, allowing him to pull his hand out of the water and to reach for a dry towel instead. "Shouto, some ice wouldn't be too bad. You others, make sure that he doesn't overexert himself right away again."

"I can still hear you, you know," Toshinori piped up, nearly rolling his eyes at the other as he toweled down his hand. "I'm standing right next to you. And it's just a tiny burn!"

Aizawa flat-out ignored him. "Someone can make him another cup of tea."

"On it!" Satou exclaimed, already aiming for the cupboards.

"I will go get the salve," Uraraka dashed off at high-speed.

They manhandled him over into the living room, getting him to sit down onto the nearest couch while they treated his hand and prepared him a new cup of tea.

Normally, Toshinori would have protested, telling them that it was fine, nothing but a scratch. Weakened or not, he wasn't made of glass, and he felt always slightly bad for accepting so much help over something so little.

This time, however, he remained silent during the whole ordeal. For one because his mind was occupied with other things still, and also because this way, it would be over sooner and he would be able to retreat to his room and think over things alone, away from worried eyes.

Finally, when his hand had been cooled, then covered in salve and finally bandaged neatly, a new cup of tea had been pressed into his uninjured hand and everyone had calmed down a tad, he made to stand up.

Immediately, there were hands reaching for him, ready to steady him, and Toshinori sighed a quiet chuckle. "Really now, I can walk to my room just fine, thank you."

There was some laughing and throats being cleared embarrassedly, but finally, they let him get up alone.

"You're going to your room?" Aizawa's gaze was sharp although he spoke quietly.

"To rest," Toshinori stressed the word with a roll of his eyes, making sure that everyone believed that he wouldn't just hide alone in his room. "I will need some sleep if we're all going to do a movie night this evening."

"You're joining us, Sensei?!"

"Aaah that will be great!"

"What are we going to watch, anyway?

The mention of the movie night managed to distract the children long enough that Toshinori could maneuver himself through between them – patting Izuku's and Uraraka's head on the way to assure them that it was fine – and headed for the elevator.

It took every ounce of his willpower not to run, and to keep his smile up until he had entered the elevator.

He more fell through the opening the elevator's door once he reached the first floor, by now more running than walking towards his room. Once there, he slammed the door shut behind himself, welcoming the silence and darkness of his room – he had lowered the blinds when he had left this morning, hadn't he.

The teacup was placed onto the nearest surface without much care, already forgotten the moment he let go of it, and Toshinori almost had to drag himself over to his desk chair to fall into it.

Once he sat, he hid his face in his hands, letting out a harsh bark of incredulous laughter.

A will.

Of all the goddamn things to upset him, it was the simple mention of a will... something that he had never thought he would need…

No. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about the need to draw up a will.

He just thought that it wasn't necessary.

Running a hand through his hair, Toshinori took a deep, shuddering breath. He had known for six years that he would most likely die. Chances for surviving after having it foretold by Nighteye's prediction where slim to non-existent. Accepting that fate, he had used the last years to prepare for his upcoming death, looking for a successor and teaching the next generation…

But a will? He had never thought of that even once.

It wasn't like he had had many people who could inherit something from him.

But now…

The sound of muffled stomping, voices and laughter sounded through the floor beneath him, barely audible. His students were back to being as lively as ever, their worry momentarily forgotten.

Now I have.

Overcome with a sudden, bitter determination, Toshinori sat up, turned his chair around and rolled closer to his desk. He pushed graded papers and notes aside, pulling out a blank sheet of paper and a pen, while he simultaneously started his computer.

And then, he started writing without much planning, only with the vague idea of a goal in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ H ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took him longer than he had anticipated, with All Might's and his large savings being divided over different accounts in different banks, but finally Toshinori had the feeling that he done what he needed to do.

Before him lay a whole hand-written page that listed names of those that would inherit and the amount they would inherit.

Allowing himself to think again – it felt as if he had pushed everything away from himself the whole time while doing this – Toshinori paused for a moment, steeling himself, before he went to re-read the list, even though his hand ached from writing and he felt hollow and empty.

The list was led by his students. Neatly written, organized by the initials of their first name, Toshinori had gifted each of them with a personal account. Each account would only become accessible to them once he… was no more, and each of them held an amount of money that would ensure that the children could found whatever future they chased after.

Only one on this part of the list was a bit different. Underneath Shouto's name, Toshinori had squeezed in another point with a second amount of money. Just the amount one single mother would need to leave a clinic and start a new life somewhere else… without having to worry about her husband.

He couldn't really think of a way how to give the money to Shouto's mother directly, so Toshinori would have to count on his student figuring it out by himself.

Shouto sometimes had a bit of an oblivious streak to himself, but this the boy would understand, would know how to use it. Toshinori was sure of it.

Next, he had insisted on gifting his friends, too. There were Chiyo Shuuzenji, Gran Torino, and Naomasa Tsukauchi, followed by Nighteye's agency, and that followed by a not too little amount of money that went to each of his colleagues at U.A.

Only after that came those heirs that were less personal than the former ones.

The Uraraka's family business would find themselves with a very generous, yet anonymous donation to their free disposal. It was the same for U.A. – even though Toshinori had a feeling that Nedzu would figure out who was behind this, especially since the former hero hadn't been able to resist the urge to add an extra large sum dedicated only to the medical bay.

The rest of the fairly large amount of money that his job as the Number One hero had earned him had been divided in adequate amounts, donated to different facilities. One organization for orphaned children, one for abused children (and especially their mothers), one that specialized in the education of quirkless people and how to integrate them in this world full of superpowers… there were others, many others, and Toshinori had made sure that he spent approximately the same amount of money on all of those that could need it.

What was left was far from the impossible large savings he had had at the beginning of this, but it was still a good left over. It would have been more than enough for him alone to make himself a nice evening of life.

This, Toshinori decided while he looked down at the end of his long, long list, this would be what Izuku would inherit, along with every personal belonging he owned.

He was sure that the boy would have refused adamantly, had he known about it, but he didn't know, after all, and Toshinori… Toshinori wanted Izuku to be the one to obtain it.

It just felt so right.

Gathering up the list and notes he had made over the past hour or so, Toshinori staked them all neatly, placing them in the middle of the desk where they would surely catch his eye. (As if he could ever forget.)

Only then did he allow himself to lean back and take a shaky breath. Hands shivering and cold, he was unable to look away from the paper that looked so harmless, but held everything that he owned, dedicated to all those people that were close to him.

There is… nothing more I can do, is there?

Something felt off, still, but….

Gaze fixed on the papers, Toshinori let his mind wander to places he hadn't dare to while writing all of this. His friends and colleagues wouldn't agree with his decision to draw up a will. They would think it as a sign that he had given up on living, and accepted death.

It wasn't like that, though. He just wanted to make sure that everything was taken care of, should he… not be able to do it himself.

He didn't want to imagine how everyone would react when it would happen, and his will would be read aloud.

Izuku would be… angry, confused? Sad, of course. He had promised the boy that he would try to twist fate and stay alive, after all. He wouldn't understand… if there only were a way to make him understand…

His gaze wandered from the paper over to the pen lying next to it, and Toshinori hesitated.

There is a way.

And before he knew it, he had pulled out a new piece of paper and started writing again, with the fervor of someone who feared to lose something very important.