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"Please... Let me visit him."
A finely aged and wrinkled Shouta lie across his bed, staring desperately into the nurse's eyes. The nurse looked back at him, a concerned look on her face.
"Are you sure you can make it, Mr. Aizawa? You've become very weak these past few days. I don't want you to overexert yourself."
Shouta sighs and turns his head to stare up at the ceiling.
"...I think so. I just want to see him. Just for a few minutes."
Shouta had moved into the nursing home after his husband, Hizashi, died of natural causes 15 years ago. He just turned 95 in the past year. It was early July, and the sun shined brightly into his room as high noon approached.
"If you say so... Here, let me help you stand up and get dressed. Your walker is over here."
Many generations of heroes had come and gone. After retiring from being a teacher at UA, he and Hizashi dedicated the rest of their lives to spending time together. He watched as former students of his rose up to be big-time heroes of their own, and marveled at his work. Later, stories of some of the heroes' children began to emerge, also looking to change the world with their quirks. The original heroes began to fade away after that. Most of them had to be on their third generation by now. Shouta couldn't help but grow tearful when he thought of his days as a student: young and ambitious, wanting to make a difference, and just being remembered as a hero. Sure, his work was barely made known to the public, but at least they knew he existed.
"Mr. Aizawa? Are you listening? I said we're heading out now."
The kind nurse's voice brought him back to the present time. His frail body shook as he struggled to hold onto the walker in front of him. He was aware of his age now. He was old, and he knew he didn't have much time left. He at least wanted to be able to go outside one more time before he'd be bedbound forever.
"I'm sorry. Let's go."
The ride felt hours long. Every time they came to a stop, Shouta looked around at the city around him. It was hard to believe this was the Japan he was born and raised in. Once familiar streets looked alien to him. Different people walked up and down the sidewalks. He had vague memories of patrolling this district long ago. It all felt so distant, like it never even happened.
"You were the Erasure Hero, Eraserhead back then, right?" A voice asked from in front of him.
"I'm surprised you've even heard of me."
"It's in your files. You were an underground hero, so it only makes sense for hardly anyone to know of your existence. I also saw you used to be a teacher at UA. Was it fun? What were your students like?"
Shouta remained silent for a while, trying remember as much as he could. "Being a teacher was an eye-opening experience. It really changed me as a hero, and as an individual entirely. The students... They were so determined to become heroes. They pushed themselves so hard, just to achieve their goals... I couldn't be prouder of them. They all became wonderful pro heroes after they graduated."
"If I remember correctly, you and your class were involved in an incident long ago? Something about a run-in with villains gone wrong?"
Silence.
"...It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I understand if the memory is still painful, even now."
The remainder of the ride seemed to go by much quicker.
~
"We're here."
Shouta was helped off of the bus carefully. Hot summer wind ruffled his short, white hair. For a moment, he was reminded of a summer afternoon with Hizashi when they were kids.
How he longed to return to those times.
Shuffling around the bus slowly, he approached the open iron gates to a cemetery. This was a cemetery for famous pro heroes of their time. Many of his former colleagues were buried here. As he weaved between graves, he recognized some of the names written on them.
Ishiyama. Kayama. Iida.
All had passed on long before, giving him the impression that he was the only one left.
As he glanced at the other names while walking, he found himself standing still to face a large and decorated headstone, covered in dark blotches and moss. The stone had been carved into a large statue, easily recognizable by him, but not so much by today's generation. He looked down at the words written below:
No. 1 Hero: All Might
He squinted at the name inscribed underneath it:
Toshinori Yagi
Suddenly, Shouta was overcome with hundreds of memories. He could clearly remember when Yagi had first come to UA to teach. He remembered how much he disliked him at the time. He was always so reckless and always wound up getting himself into trouble. But it was... admirable, in a way. Yagi was so devoted to being a hero. He stopped at nothing to save someone, no matter how minor or severe the situation was. He then remembered that underling of his. One of his own students.
He should still be alive, albeit old. Wonder how much he's changed since he dropped off the hero scene.
Focusing on Yagi again, he found himself starting to tear up.
He died some 40 years ago. The funeral was massive. Hundreds of thousands of his fans lined the streets that night. The air felt still. The world had lost what was basically the greatest hero of all time. It was devastating. Even Shouta was affected. It wasn't until Yagi's death that he realized how much All Might had inspired him as a hero. He recalled sobbing into Hizashi's arms and regretting every harsh word he had ever uttered to him. Shouta closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Hey, Yagi. Didn't think I'd be here, did you? Me, of all people! Ha! Hope everything's going well on your end. Tell Nemuri and the others I said hi. I'm sure they're up there hollering and screaming at me, telling me to hurry the hell up already. Soon enough, Yagi. Soon enough. Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that I... I miss you. Life just hasn't been the same, you know? We're dropping like flies over here. Probably the last one standing at this point. I deserve a reward for lasting this long! Tell the others to bake me a cake for the day I croak. Make sure it's chocolate. I wanna share with Hizashi.
Shouta realized he was getting off-topic.
Anyways, what I REALLY wanted to say was... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I treated you when you were alive. I highly respected your work. I really did. I just... I couldn't bring myself to say it. You were too damn popular. I didn't want to bring myself down to a fan's level. Speaking of fans, is Midoriya up there? I'm pretty sure he's still around, but just in case, tell him I said hello as well. Now, I really must be going. I gotta go meet someone else here.
"Mr. Aizawa, let's go."
Shouta exhales quietly.
Goodbye, Yagi. I'll see you in the afterlife.
~
Moving on past the large grave, he walked a few more feet until he came upon a large tree. It's full, leafy branches shaded him from the harsh sunlight, as well as the headstone sitting peacefully beneath it.
"About time we arrived," Shouta grumbles. He falls silent as his eyes rest on the grave.
Voice Hero: Present Mic
Hizashi Yamada
"This... This is where your husband is buried, right?" The caretaker behind him asked, already knowing the answer. Shouta nodded wordlessly. For a moment, time felt as though it had either slowed down to a crawl, or completely stopped. All the surrounding noises had faded out, only to be replaced by the deafening silence between him and his deceased husband.
"I had heard about him as well. A famous radio show host, correct?" The caretaker continued, but his voice was somewhere far off and distant.
Hizashi... I'm here. I'm sorry for not coming back sooner. They had me cooped up for so long, I thought I'd never leave.
His hands trembled on the handles of his walker.
I miss you. I miss you so much. Ever since you left, every day has left me with a pit of sadness inside me. When you died... You took a part of me with you. I've been so lonely ever since.
Shouta lets out a shaky breath as tears begin forming in the corners of his eyes and rolling down his wrinkled face.
At least I managed to make it today. I'm sure you know why. It's July 7th. Thought I'd forget? I'm old, but I'm not THAT forgetful.
A pause.
Happy Birthday, Hizashi.
The caretaker peers over Shouta's shoulder to view the grave. Now he realizes why Shouta wanted to go so badly. Even though the man remained silent, he figured he was having a conversation in spirit.
I don't have much time left. I'm sure you've been anticipating my return. Well, you'll be getting your wish soon enough. I can't wait to be with you again. I'm afraid there isn't much you missed down here, but I'd be more than happy to create new memories with you once we reunite. We have the next eternity to spend together. We can go anywhere you want. I'll let you decide. I bet there's some fancy restaurants or something up there that you want to go to.
There was a low chuckle heard through sad sniffles. Shouta swallowed hard as he tried to keep himself together.
Sorry I didn't bring you a gift. Not much I can offer to you, anyways, besides myself. But I'm sure that's fine by you. I promise I'll get you a gift later, though. Just give me some time.
"Mr. Aizawa, I think we should head back soon."
Shouta looks behind him with blotchy red eyes and scoffs.
Guess I gotta wrap this up. Tch. We'll have more time to talk soon. But for now, I guess I have to go. Be seeing you soon.
He fully turns around with his walker in preparation to walk back to the bus.
I love you.
~
The next day, Shouta couldn't move from his bed at all. He thought he had used up all his strength from yesterday, and this was his punishment for doing so.
Another day passed, and he still couldn't move. His limbs felt too heavy. Everything was too heavy. There was no point in moving.
Eventually, Shouta had come to terms with his fate: He was dying.
The last days of his long life were uneventful and boring. He was stuck staring at the ceiling all day, and the sounds surrounding him got more and more muffled. His vision was hazy, and it was hard to think or say any words. The nurse had brought in some medical equipment to monitor his health. No one came to visit. Nobody that was still alive, obviously. If he had the strength, he would have furrowed his brow and grunted in frustration.
Live alone, die alone, I guess.
On his final day, nothing felt real. His room and his bed were nonexistent. Shouta felt as though he was simply floating across the fabric of space. Memories were coming and going as he recalled every major highlight of his life. Some stood out more than others.
Meeting Hizashi. Being a hero. Becoming a teacher. Marrying Hizashi. USJ...
They just wouldn't stop. It was said that in one's final hours, they would replay their memories of their entire life in clips, much like a movie.
An overwhelming force washed over him as he blinked slowly.
"Sleep," a remote voice ordered. It sounded unfamiliar, but it had no sound at all. A silent voice in his head... Perhaps it was his consciousness?
"You are tired, you must rest," the voice commands again. It took him a few moments before Shouta realized what was going on.
He really was tired. He couldn't remember the last time he slept, or if he even slept at all. Either way, this disembodied voice in his head seemed to be giving good advice, so he decided to take it. His eyelids suddenly felt heavy, as if on cue. Listening to the voice seemed to be the only logical thing to do, since there was nothing left for him in the physical world.
And with that, he closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh, not knowing that this breath would be his final one.
Shouta Aizawa died peacefully in his sleep, one week after Hizashi's birthday.
~
His name was included in the obituaries section of Japan's local newspaper. Some of the elders who leafed through the pages stopped and stared at the name for a while, soon remembering why it was so familiar.
They would only remember that name if they had him as a teacher.