Chapter 19: The Walk and the Walls
The transition was as jarring as stepping into another dimension. One moment, Gaara was standing in the quiet apartment with the frail, skeletal Toshinori Yagi. The next, a cloud of steam had billowed and dissipated, and he was standing beside the colossal, vibrant form of All Might. The shift was more than just physical; the very atmosphere around the man changed. The tired, sorrowful air was replaced by an almost tangible aura of charisma and unshakeable confidence.
"Ready, young Gaara?" All Might asked, his voice now a familiar, booming baritone. He gave his signature, V-for-victory sign.
Gaara, clad in the ridiculously formal U.A. uniform that still felt like a costume on his skin, gave a single, curt nod.
Their walk to U.A. High was an experience in itself. The moment they stepped onto the street, the world seemed to stop and pivot around them. Heads turned. Conversations died. Phones were instantly raised, their camera lenses like a hundred unblinking eyes. A wave of excited shouts and whispers followed them.
"It's All Might!"
"He's really here! In person!"
All Might handled the attention with an effortless, practiced grace. He walked with a confident stride, offering a brilliant smile to a group of star-struck children, a cheerful wave to a salaryman bowing deeply, and a hearty "Good morning, citizens!" to the world at large. He was a walking parade, a mobile source of public joy.
Gaara walked a half-step behind him, a silent, invisible shadow in the hero's blinding light. No one even seemed to notice him. Their eyes were fixed on the sun, oblivious to the small, dark moon orbiting it. And in that shadow, Gaara observed. He saw the genuine hope in the eyes of the people looking at his companion. He remembered the weak, coughing man who had shared his breakfast in a quiet apartment, and he saw this giant of a man who could calm a crowd with a single smile.
The public saw an invincible symbol of strength. Gaara saw both the symbol and the fragile man beneath it. He saw the immense effort it took to be that symbol. And a new, profound thought began to crystallize in his mind. It is not his power that makes them love him, he realized, watching All Might gently thank a woman who had offered him a flower. It is this. This warmth. The feeling he gives them that as long as he is here, everything will be alright. He thought of the hand offered to him in a dark, cold cell. Perhaps this… is what it truly means to be a hero.
They arrived at the gates of U.A. High, a massive, imposing structure that looked more like a fortress than a school. It felt alien, untouchable, a place he had only ever seen as a target. Now, he was walking through its gates.
The teachers' lounge was a chaotic mess of papers and personalities. All Might led him directly to a desk where a figure sat, almost entirely encased in white bandages. Only tired, dark eyes and a shock of black hair were visible. It was Shota Aizawa.
"Aizawa, my boy!" All Might boomed cheerfully. "Good to see you're… upright!"
Aizawa's tired eyes flicked up, first at All Might, then they slid past him to the boy standing silently in a U.A. uniform. The exhaustion in his gaze vanished, instantly replaced by a hard, cold, diamond-sharp shock. The friendly atmosphere around them evaporated, replaced by a sudden, frigid tension. Gaara could feel the man's gaze on him, a physical weight. He remembered those eyes. He remembered them glowing red. He remembered the feeling of being severed from his power.
"All Might…" Aizawa's voice was a low, dangerous rasp, muffled by the bandages around his face. "What is the meaning of this?" His eyes, locked on Gaara, were filled with a hostile, uncomprehending fury.
As the trio walked the long, sunlit hallways of the main building towards the principal's office, the door to Class 1-A's homeroom was slightly ajar. Inside, Izuku Midoriya was only half-listening to his classmates' excited chatter about the upcoming Sports Festival. His mind was still replaying the events of the USJ. He glanced towards the hallway, his eyes catching a flash of movement. He saw the unmistakable broad back of All Might… and for a fraction of a second, a glimpse of the student walking beside him. All he saw was a flash of distinctive, crimson red hair.
His blood ran cold. He remembered the boy from the alley. The boy with the dead eyes who had been with the villain, Shigaraki.
Could it be…? he thought, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. No. That's impossible. It couldn't be him. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the unsettling image, but the seed of anxious doubt had already been planted.
Principal Nezu's office was a calm, orderly space with a panoramic view of the school grounds. The small, mammalian principal greeted them with his usual cheerful, enigmatic smile and poured them all tea.
"So, All Might," Nezu began after a sip. "I received a most fascinating call from my old friend, Detective Tsukauchi. It seems we have a very unique situation on our hands."
All Might, now in his skeletal Toshinori form, nodded grimly. He began to explain everything he had learned from Gaara—the life of total isolation, the manipulation by the villains, the boy's profound lack of understanding of the world.
Aizawa, who had stood silently by the door, finally spoke, his voice dripping with icy pragmatism. "I understand the sentiment, All Might. But my responsibility is not to him. It is to the nineteen students in my class who just survived a traumatic, near-fatal attack orchestrated by him and his associates." His bandaged head turned, his dark eyes fixing on Gaara with an unnerving intensity. "You are asking me to invite a live grenade into my classroom and trust that it won't explode. I will not add a virus to my class. My duty is to them. The answer is no."
The word hung in the air, cold and final.
"Aizawa, please," Toshinori pleaded, his voice earnest. "He is not a virus, he is a victim. A child who has never been shown the light. It is our duty as heroes, as educators, to provide it! To cast him aside now would be to do the very same thing that pushed him into the darkness in the first place!"
"My job is to teach them to be heroes, not to be martyrs," Aizawa shot back. "And it is impossible to teach in an environment where my students feel threatened by the person sitting next to them. The psychological damage alone would be immense."
The two men were at a stalemate, a clash of pure idealism versus hardened realism. Nezu watched them both, his beady eyes gleaming with unreadable intelligence.
Finally, Toshinori stood up, his frail body seeming to draw on a deep well of conviction. "Then let me bear the risk," he said, his voice ringing with the authority of the Symbol of Peace. "I take full and complete responsibility for him. I will be his primary supervisor. If he ever harms a single student, if he ever shows the slightest sign of reverting to his old ways, that failure is mine and mine alone. The consequences will fall to me."
He looked at Aizawa, his blue eyes blazing with a passionate, almost desperate fire. "Please, Aizawa. Give him a chance. One chance. That is all I ask."
Aizawa was silent for a long, heavy moment. He was a man of logic, and everything about this situation screamed that it was an illogical, emotional, and dangerous mistake. But the conviction in All Might's voice… it was the same conviction that had saved the world time and time again. To deny that conviction felt, in its own way, like a betrayal of everything they stood for.
He let out a long, weary sigh, the sound muffled by his bandages. He ran a hand over his bandaged head. "You have always been a sentimental fool, All Might." He turned his gaze to Gaara, who had remained utterly silent and still through the entire debate, a silent statue at the center of the storm.
"I will give him the slimmest possible margin of trust," Aizawa said, his voice cold and sharp as ice. "But know this. The very first time he steps out of line, the very first sign of instability, this entire experiment is over. Do you understand?"
Relief washed over Toshinori's face. "Thank you, Aizawa."
"Don't thank me yet," Aizawa grumbled. He straightened up. "The discussion is over. I have a class to teach." He walked to the door, then stopped, his back to the room. He spoke without turning around.
"Well? Are you coming or not? Let's go."
The words were directed at Gaara. He looked up, startled, from Aizawa's back to the faces of Toshinori and Nezu. Both of them offered him small, encouraging smiles. After a moment of hesitation, Gaara gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. He stood up and walked towards the door, following the bandaged man who was to be his new teacher, leaving the two most powerful figures at U.A. behind.
The first, highest wall had been breached. But he knew, with a cold certainty, that there were many more yet to come.