A Silent Kind of Strength

Chapter 40

The next day found Izuku in his borrowed bed, staring up at the ceiling as he slowly woke himself up. After a few minutes he managed to convince himself that getting up early for another round of yoga was still worth it. So he dragged himself out of bed, hooking his phone up to the aids in his ears as he quietly padded down the stairs. Luckily over the past year his tastes in pajamas had shifted from his old matching All Might sets to his more worn activewear. So he didn't need to put forth the effort to change since he was already in some ugly green sweats and an oversized grey t-shirt he was sure was Hatsume's at some point. As tattered and holey as they may be they worked well enough for a quick morning yoga routine.

He put one of his more tranquil mixes on as he fetched and rolled out the mat. He took a few paced breaths before he stepped into his first stance, slowly waking his body up for the day. Another round of breathing and then he's sliding his foot out further and bending his back just so. Hold. Breathe. Ease into the next form.

He is never as at peace as he is during early morning yoga.

He allows his mind to wander amongst half formed thoughts. Nothing concrete. Nothing he wanted to focus on. Hold. Breathe. Next. The thought of familiar green hair and eyes popped into his head for a half a second before he shoved it away with a savage ferocity. Nope. Not today. Breathe. Next.

And on he went, working his way up in the complexity of his movements and contortions. When Hitoshi stumbled into the training room he had his chest to the floor, back arched and the tips of his toes brushing the floor by his face, resolutely ignoring the slight pulling of his newest scars. "Gods Izu. That doesn't even look natural."

The greenette stuck his tongue out petulantly, but kept up with his breathing instead of replying. Slowly he lifted his legs to point towards the ceiling before he carefully shifted his weight from his chest to his elbows. From there he straightened into a full handstand. Unfortunately his baggy shirt made it to where he couldn't really see much when he was upside down like this so he didn't see his friend eyeing his toned tummy.

He did hear the gasp from the doorway though. And the sound suddenly reminded him that he was in someone else's home and that not everyone knew of his scars. And he wasn't wearing an undershirt. He quickly jackknifed into a standing position tugging his shirt back down and tucking his arms behind himself, wishing that the stretched out collar of the old shirt didn't show quite so much of his shoulders and collarbones.

He nervously looked towards the door where Yamada stood in all his ruffled half asleep glory. The sharp movement of the kid seemed to have snapped the hero out of his surprise luckily, and the man was quick to slide an easy smile back onto his face. "Sorry kiddo! Didn't mean to startle ya! I was just surprised at how easy you made that handstand look! I've never managed to master them myself…. Anyways! I was just popping in to tell you two that breakfast will be done in about thirty minutes or so if yall want to get a shower or something first…"

Hitoshi frowned at his foster father from his spot leaning against the wall. Minorly upset with the man for yanking Izuku out of his quiet contentment. "OK Yamada. We will be out in a bit then." He turned back to his friend, trying not to feel bad about being a bit snippy with his tone. But damn it his friend had felt comfortable enough to not wear one of his stupid undershirts. And now the loud mouthed hero might have gone and ruined it.

"Come on Izu. Let's go grab showers real quick and then we can head for the train right after breakfast." The taller teen made a discreet flapping motion with his hand at the man in the door. Luckily Mic got the memo and walked away with a cheery, "See you two in a minute!".