Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Reiko Yanagi’s hobbies were not creepy or off-putting – if looked at through the right lens.

She liked watching movies (the visceral slashers). She enjoyed riveting stories (like gothic horror). She searched the internet with like-minded individuals (searching for creepypastas and distressing news). She liked to pretend that she was as normal as anyone else, mostly to amuse herself. Sometimes other kids would give her grief, call her creepy or a zombie or a ghost girl, but it was something she took in stride. She didn’t mind holding this title; it was almost like a badge of pride. Little by little, most of her bullies opted to stop bothering with her. She found a few friends, kooky ones that were not easily stymied by her glum personage, and the ones she could play the straight woman to in response to their antics.

Reiko also liked talking to heroes – the ones who have long since left the mortal coil.

As far as she remembered, mortality rate among the pros was on the lower end despite the dangerous profession they were embroiled in. No doubt this was due to All Might’s overwhelming presence that helped reduce the crime rate to single digits. Most criminals or villains generally did not want fights to turn lethal; that would no doubt put them at risk of ending up in Tartarus, the kind of place that one did not leave once they got there. Similarly, most heroes acted as a relief force to disaster rather than actively preventing them from happening. If they did end up on-site of a coming catastrophe, they would no doubt do their best to prevent death and injury, even at the cost of their own.

Sometimes, however, heroes died.

She didn’t know much about the married pair that went by Water Hose. They had two water-based Quirks and specialized in coastal and maritime rescue. Fairly popular with the public opinion, though not high on hero rankings. Humble in how they carried themselves. Apparently they even had a son, and considered retiring because of that, to make sure they could properly raise him.

The villain that killed them didn’t give them a chance.

That Gotou Imasuji, villain name Muscular, was apprehended due to their sacrifice, must have been cold comfort to Water Hose’s friends and family, let alone the son that they have so tragically orphaned. Reiko could not begin to imagine the grief and pain he must have felt. Did he even understand it yet? Or was he too young to get it?

With those wandering thoughts did Reiko put an enclosed candle on the shared grave, staring up at the humble resting place of the two. The cool black marble was comforting to look at, even despite its grim purpose. Etched on the tablet with calligraphic characters were two names: Izumi Kawa and Izumi Nagare.

Parents.

Friends.

Heroes.

The grave was obviously taken care of; the relatives must have been visiting to take care of it. Reiko hummed, saying a quiet prayer to the departed spirits before she rose to her feet. It was about to rain, judging by the grim clouds gathering above her. The bus left from a nearby stop in a quarter; she had plenty of time to get there.

Yet, that was how she ended up stumbling into two peculiar people: a woman in her early thirties with a neat brown bowl cut and deep matching eyes, and a young boy in a curious horned cap whose hand she held. Reiko was silent, letting them ask the first question. Having visited her fair share of fallen heroes, she didn’t get to meet with those who would visit their grave very often; that being said, the few that met her invariably asked about her allegiance.

“...are you someone from the family?” The woman asked, brows furrowing. No doubt she tried to recall if she saw the pale middle-high student somewhere.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. I just wanted to come and pay my respects.” She replied truthfully. Faint confusion crossed the woman’s face before she settled for careful understanding. As far as she knew, Reiko was but a simple if dedicated fan of the Water Hose. The boy had a different reaction; he clung to her hand more insistently, and his already hostile glower only intensified. “If that is allowed to do, of course.”

“Oh… yes, of course.” The woman seemed to think about something for a spell, regarding the student with an inquisitive eye. “Are you… perhaps, seeking to join a Hero School?”

“If my humble abilities are sufficient, ma’am.” Reiko responded truthfully once again. Her Poltergeist isn’t a very flashy Quirk, but it has a variety of uses – and it would no doubt get stronger as she trained. That answer seems to bother the boy. Was he…? “...are you… forgive me for asking, but are you the son of the Water Hose?”

Before the woman could stop him, the boy stepped forward, gnashing his teeth. He was furious, the way children his age – or anyone, really – ever should. “How dare you… they have names! They’re right there at the tombstone, you stupid hero fangirl!” His words were bile, acid. Reiko recoiled despite herself, which only spurred the boy on to continue. The woman looked pained, but did nothing to stop him – perhaps it was something on the boy’s mind for a while. “You came here because Mama and Papa were good heroes who died and made everyone happy about it?! What do you even know about them?! You’re another dumb idiot looking to show off your Quirk like it’s the only thing that matters!”

It didn’t matter that they were in the sanctity of the graveyard. This was no tantrum or a childish folly; it was hatred, the kind of hatred that bred terrible villains. This boy didn’t even look old enough to have his own Quirk yet… “I don’t want you to come here ever again, you hear?! And… and if I see you again, I’ll punch you in the balls!”

“That’s enough, Kouta.” This time the woman intervened, though it didn’t seem like she was angry with him – merely tired. “...please go, young lady. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“...I think I should be the one apologizing.” Reiko did not seek trouble, opting to bow her head in humility. “...please take care.”

----

A year later, Reiko was among the forty people fortunate to become freshmen at UA – and was heading out for a summer camp.

To think the woman who she met at the Water Hose grave would turn out to be one of the Wild Wild Pussycats… a few of her classmates were their fans. Of course, they weren’t here to lazy about; the next few days would be a grueling test of endurance and skill, all to better their abilities as heroes. Her class walked in on 1A’s exercises, ranging from mild (running around like that was probably a regular occurrence for Iida) to… ethically questionable (was Kaminari plugged to a generator?!).

“Who’s the kid?” She heard Kamakiri ask and blinked before her eyes wandered towards the lodge. Indeed, a familiar face was making his way towards her group – or her, specifically – glowering from under his horned cap. “And why does he look like he’s about to open a can of whoopass on us?”

“Monoma, what did you do?” Kendo sighed exasperatedly. For once, their resident troublemaker had nothing to say, merely shrugging with a confused look on his face. The boy – Kouta, Reiko recalled – marched towards her, stopping just short and looking up at her. Tsunotori and Tokage seemed to be his fans, crooning how cute and adorable he was.

And then his fist struck right where he said it would. The next thing Reiko remembered was the ant crawling around the ground as she writhed in pain in a fetal position , followed by an exasperated Mandalay arriving to the rescue, not that Kouta needed much of it, having stormed off in a huff a moment after and leaving her class stupefied.

Chapter Text

T he last few days have been… exciting, for all the wrong reasons.

First she got hit by an angry kid, then she was put through the wringer together with the rest of her fellow hero applicants – and then the villains attacked the camp. Reiko didn’t remember much from what happened; one of the villains’ Quirk incapacitated most of her class at the time. It seemed that, barring a few examples, most of them got lucky to get away with only this poisoning. Awase looked like he tumbled down a mountain in a laundry basket.

And to think the worst was yet to come.

Reiko watched with bated breath as All Might faced against a monstrous villain in a black mask. She watched someone who was not only able to survive against the Symbol of Peace’s overwhelming power, but also get an upper hand. Whatever it was that the villain did, it stripped All Might of his herculean strength. No. 1 Hero won his last fight, to the roaring applause of all the onlookers watching from up close, from the telescreens in Kamino Ward, from those on the other end of the country.

A day later, All Might announced his retirement, and Reiko knew she just watched history being made – and she hated every last second of it.

Japan without All Might? Her generation couldn’t begin to imagine something that was a constant in their lives. Neither could the adults or Symbol of Peace’s fellow heroes. His very presence was enough to keep villains and crime at bay; The League of Villains was a very strange aberration, not the norm. But now… even knowing All Might must have been getting in on years (how old was he? Mid 50’s? Past 60?), the thought just didn’t want to settle as something that happened.

It wasn’t easy for Reiko to go back to her hobby, morbid as it was – the UA faculty decided to reposition all students to the dorms at the campus. Very fancy place, that, but they were also made to understand that curfew was going to be put into place and very strictly enforced. The school didn’t want to take any chances. The League already targeted a specific student – and Reiko could see why they would try and nab Blasty McSplode – so there was no telling who was next.

...and with All Might gone from heroics entirely, other villains would no doubt rear out. The streets would be turbulent for a time, until Endeavor – next in line in rankings – would sort this situation out. If he could, even.

...well, no matter that. Reiko managed to find a graveyard nearby the dorms – and localized a hero with an interesting history for someone taken so young.

Technically speaking, Oboro Shirakumo hadn’t yet been a pro-hero at the time of his death – but his team led by now-retired His Purple Highness had become famous enough for their exploits. Apparently, Midnight-sensei and Aizawa-sensei were in the same group, too (although Reiko could not, for the life of her, imagine someone like Eraserhead rolling with such a flamboyant team).

One of the most promising students of his class, with a seemingly weak Quirk that was refined with grueling work and vivid creativity… Reiko could certainly emphasize with someone like that making it big.

And then he died.

Apparently it wasn’t even a villain who did him in, not directly – he simply perished in a collapsed building that said villain struck during a rampage. To the end of it, Shirakumo – Loud Cloud was his chosen hero name, apparently – protected the civilians trapped in the middle of the site. He was the only casualty of that incident, although His Purple Highness had to be hospitalized too.

This could be any one of us, a thought struck Reiko.

Even discounting the attacks made by the League, any one of them could have perished during internships. Didn’t Iida almost die, in fact? And it didn’t even have to be a villain. It could be a purse-snatcher pulling out a knife, or a car crash, or a house fire… was it weird of her to ponder her mortality like that? Or were the others too cavalier about the profession they were going for?

Well, there was “cavalier” and then there was “Midoriya”, but that was neither here nor there.

She prayed in front of the grave decorated with a small figurine of Momotaro, the hero of the olden folklore. The faint aroma of burned incense wafted through the calm air, coming from the small glass jar placed upon the grave. It seemed someone was here recently.

“...Yanagi?” Reiko started from her pondering, eyes wandering over to a scruffy man in black approaching. A familiar scruffy man, no less. The Poltergeist user appraised the slouched form of Eraserhead regarding her with, very rare on his face to find that, genuine surprise.

“Aizawa-sensei.” Reiko nodded hello, suddenly very conscious of her hands. She had that habit of holding them in front like a hopping vampire of sorts when they had nothing to do – which became now, the moment she ceased praying. Hopefully that wasn’t going to be a bother.

“...the curfew is ending soon. I hope you know that.” Ah. Guess he was a teacher first in this scenario. Honestly, after the incident with Kouta-kun, Reiko welcomed the change.

“T-thank you, sir. I shall be on my way.” She didn’t get very far, stopped when the educator cleared his throat. Didn’t turn to look at her, which was fortunate; her hands were starting to move back to their “default” position again.

“Yanagi. Who was Shirakumo to you?” Slowly, she turned to face him, watching as he appraised the grave and the Momotaro figurine on top of it.

“A hero, sir. Someone who perished in the line of duty, and who died young. I…” She mulled over her next words, not sure if this was her place to say it. “figured I will visit him. Pay my respects.” For a time nobody said anything. The sky gave way to stormy clouds; no doubt it would be raining soon. “I realize this is sudden…”

“No one but me, Yamada, and Kayama come to this grave.” Eraser sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Shirakumo’s parents had passed away, and he’s had no other relatives.”

“...I understand this happens more often than we would have liked.” Who visited the grave of the Water Hose, really? Kouta-kun and the Pussycats, no one else. “Do you… want me to cease my visits?”

“...no, by all means, knock yourself out.” Eraser shook his head as if to approve of that, but his face seemed dismayed. Then again, when wasn’t it? “...I know how I look like right now, but… I appreciate you visiting, even if I still can’t figure out the why of it.”

“...if I may… is the “why” all that important here?” Aizawa shook his head again, but this time a wry half-smile slipped on his face.

“I suppose not.”

Chapter Text

Things had been calm for a time.

After the series of never-before-seen events that happened in Kamino Ward, the life in Hero Society returned to normal the best it could. Yes, there was no more All Might, but it seemed no villains besides the League – now missing for a few weeks now – wanted to try their chances at rearing out yet. Reiko could appreciate that.

She’s grown accommodated to living in the dorms. In recent days, both her class and 1A earned their provisional hero licenses as well. Though this was a privilege normally reserved for second-years, this time an exception’s been made. From what she’s heard, the Hero Public Safety Commission wanted to nourish teamwork and encourage cooperativeness among the pro-hero force – including the fledglings like them.

Vlad King said it himself back at the start of their summer camp: this year’s been anything but ordinary.

Apparently, neither Bakugo nor Todoroki passed their tests, to Monoma’s utter delight. To countermeasure this power high her class was experiencing, a meeting was arranged with one of UA’s Big Three. 1A went first and met with Togata-senpai, who proceeded to decimate eighteen people (as neither Bakugo nor Todoroki participated) by himself within a span of a minute and change.

All that while buck naked.

The faculty seemed to conclude that putting another class in infirmary would not do, and so 1B had to contend with Hadou-senpai (“Just call me Nejire-senpai, really~”) instead. So were the rules different: rather than try and best her in combat, Hadou-senpai posited that all 1B needs to do is to touch her once to pass.

Lo and behold, twenty freshmen were pitted against her, and she ran circles around every single one of them.

“I don’t understand!” Tokage was still incredulous about it at the dorms. “How do I not touch her when I have fifty parts to touch with?! What is she, ethereal?!”

“Pretty sure that’s Togata-senpai’s Quirk instead.” Kaibara chimed in.

“Apparently his Quirk is being hung like a horse instead.” Tsuburaba’s casual interjection had Shiozaki nearly-choking with her granola bar. She cast a withering glare at the Air Barrier user once she recovered. “And you, Tokage, were only going for Hadou-senpai’s chest and face.”

“N-no? Maybe?” The idle chatter turning toward indecent avenues had Reiko tune it out slowly. Still, her class seemed to be in high spirits; that was what was important.

The “Yakuza incident” didn’t stifle that, although the sentiment was not shared by her 1A peers. No small wonder, since a few of them were involved in the incident. Some old Yakuza group was holding a child hostage for reasons that eluded Reiko at the time, and their stronghold was raided by the hero force. Togata-senpai was part of that assault, too, and he paid a grave price: the villains were able to deprive him of his Quirk for good.

But, he survived – his internship provider and his master did not.

Sir Nighteye was a name known even to laypeople, if only because he bore the distinction of being the one sidekick All Might ever took up. He usually remained on the sidelines, his Quirk and his skills being more complimentary to the Symbol of Peace’s overwhelming firepower. Still, it was a partnership that might have very well been Japan’s most golden of ages. Few villains dared rear out and those bold enough would be swiftly cut down.

Even after the team dissolved following some kind of a disagreement between the two, Sir Nighteye and his agency remained a very noteworthy group. Though they weren’t high in the Hero Rankings, they held numerous contributions in cracking down kidnappings, human trafficking, terrorist cells lying in wait to have their turn after The League of Villains bloodied the society’s nose so successfully.

The hero participated in the raid on the yakuza fortress in person – and, being the only casualty of it, his loss was felt all the more. As she wandered towards the grave, Reiko absentmindedly thought about how his death was only recent. Was it really alright for her to be here? There would no doubt still be plenty of people coming to visit; Sir Nighteye’s agency members, those that interned under him, All Might…

That poor girl he gave up his life for…

Reiko appraised the grave; still full of flowers, candlelights, wishes for a better life past this mortal coil… this was the first she saw a late hero’s grave tended to with such love and care. But, that was always the case. Save for those who had no family or friends, these graves would always be full of these gifts for the road ahead, these reminders that the person interned in the grave or the urn… or, rarely, the person who wasn’t there anymore even in bodily remains… that they were loved and that they would be missed.

And in time, those graves would become emptier and more sparse. Candlelights would flicker out; flowers wilt; the cards fly away, carried by the merciless wind. Whether the friends and loved ones truly loved the late person or not, the test of time would reveal their feelings. Neither the Water Hose nor Loud Cloud were forgotten about, even though precious few visited their graves. Perhaps here things would be different.

She placed the flowers atop the grave of Mirai Sasaki and said a quiet prayer. “Your sacrifice was not in vain, sir.” She said under her breath, hands clasped together. “The girl you have struggled to free will have bright future ahead.” It wasn’t really her place to say it, but it felt right. “We shall all see to it.”

The grave, being cold marble, did not reply – and yet, Reiko nodded along as if acknowledging it.

----

“Is that… Young Yanagi?”

Izuku was a bit at disbelief himself, but yes, that was the girl from 1B. They haven’t talked much; their classes didn’t really get many joint exercises, and the few times he tried Monoma made it very clear that Midoriya was not to approach for fear of being bitten.

Izuku wasn’t entirely sure if Monoma would truly bite him, but perhaps it was better to be safe than sorry. Having come with All Might to visit Sir Nighteye’s grave and pay their respects, the two of them stared at the unmistakable form of Reiko Yanagi praying in front of the cold marble. “Could she be a distant relative of Sir Nighteye’s?”

“He’s never mentioned any…” All Might muttered, rubbing his chin in thought. Izuku recognized a familiar gesture, although in his case it would inevitably be followed even more muttering. Was Yanagi-san Sir Nighteye’s secret love child, perhaps?

Midoriya reflected, realizing he was indulging a Todoroki-kun-tier of theorizing. “Let’s leave her to it.” All Might decided. “We can come back in a few minutes. I trust your curfew isn’t too stringent to disallow it, yes, Young Midoriya?” That was probably a question they would have to ask the girl over there as well…

Chapter Text

It’s been a quiet few months, barring the revelation of their schoolmate’s bizarre powers.

Their joint training class with 1A turned out to be a surprisingly even affair (no matter what Itsuka might have said about Yaoyorozu having a “moral victory” over her or whatever); the big upsets were Bakugo’s team completely rolling over Setsuna’s (or rather, Bakugo and his cheerleaders rolling over Setsuna’s team)… and the last bout where Midoriya’s Quirk started acting up.

Well, “acting up” was one way to describe the utterly eldritch clump of black-and-green tendrils that started shooting out from him apropos of nothing. How did that relate to his strength?! Reiko wasn’t entirely sure of that, mostly focused on trying to survive the onslaught. Uraraka and Shinsou were able to bring Midoriya back to reality, somehow. Nobody seemed to want to acknowledge this bizarre event after; instead, the classes just went about their day. For a moment, Reiko felt she was going crazy; what was it about 1A that had them place themselves in these improbable, logic-defying situations so often? Was Monoma really onto something?

Over time, the interest in Midoriya’s strange outburst of powers (his Quirk was vaguely named “Super Power”, but that was still a different ballpark entirely!) waned and the life resumed anew. Before Reiko knew it, Christmas and New Year were done with, and their pursuit of a life of a pro-hero continued. So did she continue with her morbid hobby, although this time it turned out to be a bit of an accident.

Staying up late on class days was generally ill-advised, but sometimes Reiko just couldn’t help but lurk in the living room, nearly unrecognizable from under the pile of pillows and blankets that would occupy the space. Was it budding depression? Insomnia? A whim of a teenager? Or maybe she was just nocturnal? None of the above? All of the above?

Point was, she sat there, with hot cocoa in her mug. Most TV stations ran reruns this late into the hours, but there were some with more unique schedules (and no, she didn’t mean the after-dark-shows). One channel in particular had quite a solemn show in its program: a memorial for the heroes fallen in the line of duty. She got some knowledge out of it, jotting down the names of those she would like to visit and pay her respects to. Mostly, it was old names from before Reiko’s time. Despite the dangers of the profession, it held a relatively low fatality rate until recently when the League of Villains emboldened other such characters into action, and which All Might’s retirement only exacerbated further. Even then, most heroes died during disaster relief (or, sometimes, disaster prevention) than anything, and those numbers too were fairly low.

Learning about a new name on the list was always an event, even if Reiko was aware that portraying it as such made her sound like some kind of a sociopath.

Sajin Higawara was a fairly unknown name, despite the hero’s long career. A graduate from Ketsubutsu with a Quirk that let him transform the parts of his body into a sandstorm. He disliked the spotlight of a pro-hero, but lacked the allure of an underground hero and worked in broad daylight. Still, his death would have made for an event regardless. The announcer even mentioned that Snatch (hmm… she wasn’t sure about that hero name) perished fighting a group of villains.

And then the announcer presented a familiar countenance in glasses, and Reiko immediately understood the silence about Snatch. He and Sir Nighteye perished on the same day. Now, whose death would make the news? A c-lister with some feats to his name, famously known to not bother with the glamour of Hero Society? Or the ex-sidekick of flippin’ All Might?

Reiko sat there, feeling as if someone struck her right in the kidney. The clammy feeling dwelling somewhere in her heart sluiced down in a disgusting slither, filling her guts with revulsion. She had no idea. She too was caught up in Nighteye’s death, how he was the only casualty of that yakuza raid. And he was, yes – but heroes didn’t just die apropos of nothing. Snatch was escorting a prisoner and fell to a group of villains on the same day that the yakuza raid happened. What notorious group was running around still? What villain group had just been destroyed, with its leader in captivity?

And yet, nobody talked about Snatch. Reiko couldn’t remember anything from that day beyond the media harping on about Nighteye. It was understandable, considering who the man was – but to give the other casualty nothing? Was he even on the info bar?

“Higawara-san had no immediate family nor a hero agency that could take care of his post-mortem arrangements.” She heard the announcer speak in a calm, comforting voice. In the heat of the moment, it almost felt like mocking the dead man. “In situations like these, the Hero Public Safety Commission is responsible for providing the adequate accommodations. Such heroes are interned in the Kurarin Cemetery, located near the Commission’s headquarters. The public can visit such heroes at leisure, but more often than not” The announcer’s voice turned a touch wistful. “these fallen servants of the people are left to their own devices.”

...well… that wouldn’t do. Unfortunately, her enthusiasm was quickly curbed by facts of the matter. The Commission’s Headquarters was a fair distance away, and it was going to be a trip for the whole day, back and forth. Considering the increased villain activity and the dorm curfew, she couldn’t just excuse herself saying she wanted to go downtown… this was the kind of trip that could possibly require a co-conspirator, even, and…

----

In the end, asking Itsuka to tag along proved… surprisingly easy. Reiko felt a little bad for thinking she would have to use some kind of subterfuge here.

“So… where exactly are we going?” The Class Prez asked, expression schooled in her usual gentle smile. She hadn’t expressed any surprise or objections to the two of them boarding a bullet train – but with each stop passed, her eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “No offense, Reiko-chan, but you’re being rather, uh, suspiciously quiet about it.”

This was a kind of a problem, Reiko realized after already committing. Sure, Itsuka would offer her help no strings attached – but explaining her morbid hobby (or was it duty today? She did feel like she had to do something for Snatch, inspired by her earlier soulsearching) to someone as practical and straightforward as the redhead… it felt off. It felt wrong. She thought she’s grown past being conscious about it, but Itsuka really was a good friend and Reiko would loathe for that relationship to strain.

...then again, maybe doubting the Prez only showed that it was Reiko who wasn’t a good friend instead. “Hey.” Itsuka reached out across the little table between them, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I trust you.”

“...it’s fine. I’m just… having a difficult time figuring out how to explain this. You may think this is a morbid fascination.” And yet, Itsuka’s sunny, encouraging smile didn’t waver. She was a lot like the sun in some aspects, when she wasn’t a stern and responsible mother of nineteen. (or did Monoma count for two…?) “...do you… sometimes visit remote vistas to take in their presence? N-not necessarily their allure, but rather…”

“I think I know what you mean.” The redhead nodded after a moment. “But we’re not going to a vista.”

“...yeah… that is why I said it would be difficult to explain.” But… Reiko was determined to do explain it. Itsuka deserved that much, since she already went with her; it was only fair. They still had an hour or so before they would reach their destination. That should be enough for a summary, right…?

----

The Kurarin Cemetery felt intimidating in a way no other resting places have felt to Reiko.

Places like these were quiet by design, but even then it wasn’t impossible to find another visitor. Failing that, there were still gentle sounds dancing between the gravestones; ambient noise, odd birds singing nearby, even something as quaint as the cars outside. Kurarin felt less like a place and more like one large monument, a sphere of silence made out of the same gray plates; everything composed into a featureless open box.

It was… disconcerting.

“I wasn’t aware it’s a place like that.” Itsuka muttered as they made their way inside the premises. The redhead seemed open to the idea of visiting a recently fallen hero to honor them, even if she had to ask why the need for secrecy. She didn’t judge, which for Reiko was more than sufficient. They’ve received the directions from a surprised security guard stationed at an entrance booth, making it look more like some kind of factory plant than a resting place. The fact that a cemetery even needed security made Kurarin stand out in how uncanny it felt.

Or maybe it was just because it was the Commission’s property, technically.

The plot wasn’t actually as full as Reiko first expected, which was heartening in a way. There might have been many fallen heroes, but it seemed most of them had someone who cared for them even in death. Cases like Snatch were the exception rather than the norm, and their visit already changed that a little bit. “Cemeteries are quite grim by nature… but this one definitely stands out.” The Poltergeist girl concluded. A chill ran through the Prez as they turned in the alleyway, and finally stood before the cool stone plate.

A name, a hero name, years of birth and death – and a little epitaph written in a fancy, gothic font.

“Thank you for your service.”

“...everything okay, Reiko-chan?” Itsuka asked when the other girl didn’t say anything for a time, staring at the marble plate.

“...yeah. Just… taking it in, I suppose.” Reiko shook her head. There was no point thinking about whether the Commission was doing a good job on that front. It was probably something that was left to a small division while the majority focused on things of the here and now. After all, there was no helping those who had already moved on.

Fishing a candle light and a few flowers bunched together from her backpack, Reiko set the items on the plate. Here they were; a tribute to a near-forgotten hero of the present day from an unlikely onlooker. Itsuka watched her from a small distance, looking like she wasn’t exactly sure what to do with herself. Once Reiko was finished, she stepped back and clasped her hands together in prayer. No words were necessary, and frankly, no words seemed appropriate for the situation.

Itsuka prayed with her, the two hero students paying their tribute in silence.

Chapter Text

It was hard to believe things were over now.

Two grueling conflicts back-to-back, with an unstable period of chaos in-between them. The Hero Society fell to its knees on that fateful day when Gigantomachia ran roughshod over countless cities, killed so many people and displaced even more. To Reiko, it felt like that one act was what caused the rift between the heroes and the public; for all of the mayhem at Jaku, no one blamed people there. (well, except Tomura Shigaraki)

Those moments blurred between each other like a corrupted video. Dabi’s declaration of being Endeavor’s son. Endeavor, Hawks and Best Jeanist standing before the incensed media. Civilians huddling in makeshift bunkers or trying to fight villains in the streets with counterfeit Deternat equipment. Midoriya, missing. There was a secret of sorts that he shared with the rest of his class, but 1B remained clueless until much later. Similarly, they had no hand in dealing with Aoyama – AFO’s spy who was responsible for that disastrous summer camp. Even if he wasn’t a willful traitor, the fact that nobody told them anything… stung.

For all of their own accomplishments, 1B remained in 1A’s shadow, unseen and unheard. Still, all of them did their part; in that first conflict and in the second one… the conflict to end all conflicts. In her case, first at the ruins of the Jaku Hospital, then against AFO himself. It looked good, for a moment. They had what seemed like half of the national hero force with them. Mt. Lady led the charge, with the items she and Yui threw for the massive heroine to use. Gigantomachia showed up, apparently having decided to turn coat and fight his former master.

All of it for naught. One second, AFO was on the defensive, trying to fight his way through their combined forces and tactics. The other, they were all lying in a bloodied pile as if none of their efforts ever mattered. Supposedly, they did. Supposedly, it was enough to stall him, since that meant he was Rewinding further and further. The AFO that fought All Might later that day was just a child and not a teenager. It mattered. It certainly didn’t feel that way. Reiko remembered cradling Yui close, trying to shake her awake. Her friend was cold and clammy, like she was already dead. In her panic, she wouldn’t have checked her pulse. Mineta of all people was there to help, even though she remembered him shaking like a leaf, talking back to AFO, somehow keeping the villain from stealing Tokoyami’s Quirk.

Some of 1B joined Midoriya for his final climactic punchout with Shigaraki… or AFO… or ShigAFO… or whoever the hell was left by the end of it. Reiko only remembered passing out the moment she confirmed Yui was alive and waking up in the hospital to a new era. The day was won. AFO, Tomura Shigaraki, the League of Villains, the Paranormal Liberation Front… all things of the past now. Some seemed to believe just that would be sufficient for things to go back to normal. Reiko wasn’t knowledgeable on the subject, but even she could tell that was misplaced optimism at best.

They couldn’t just “go back”. They had to be better. She wasn’t sure how, but they had to be.

Perhaps, she could start with how she had always done; by visiting those fallen in the line of duty.

----

Morbid as it was to say, Reiko had her pick of choices now.

Surprisingly, the second conflict didn’t have that many casualties on heroes’ side. Even those American pilots, the ones that once assisted Star & Stripe, managed to escape with their lives. The first one however had seen a fair share of death. The first choice was obvious, and it was why Reiko didn’t go there.

...she didn’t feel ready. Perhaps it would be a while before she could truly visit there.

Instead, she turned towards lesser known heroes. It wouldn’t be possible to visit too many; though the immediate danger was past them, UA maintained its curfew and the clean-up efforts remained ongoing. Most of the villains fought were killed or captured, but there were still remnants skulking in shadows, slowly picked off one by one. There was no such thing as too much caution.

And so, Reiko found herself investigating the career of Native.

The man was in the spotlight earlier this year, as one of the would-be victims of Stain. Had the Hero Killer… well, killed him, it would be tragic but expected. If even someone like Ingenium could fall prey to Stain’s ambush… but, Native survived. It just so happened that Tenya Iida barreled onto the scene seeking vengeance for the abrupt end of his brother’s career which spared the older hero. Yet, Iida too would have fallen if not for Midoriya and Todoroki arriving to aid him.

Officially, it was Endeavor who was credited for the then-capture of Stain, but the news got out at some point. Reiko really should have known better; it seemed as if the world bent itself backwards to put Midoriya in the middle of these events, his insane drive and near-suicidal determination (scratch that “near”, actually; if not for Eri-chan, he would have thrown himself at AFO even with no arms) notwithstanding.

Stain’s capture was also when the Hero Killer gave his chilling speech, later seen through countless counterfeit copies as it spread through Japan and its web like a wildfire. Analysts and pundits credited that as the first real strike against the Hero Society; the first time in a long while when villains felt bold enough to rear out in greater numbers. It was the first domino that led them to all the events after.

Native wasn’t really instrumental to any of this. He could have been anyone. He was just there. He didn’t do much of anything besides his best until he died at Jaku; not to Shigaraki’s decay wave or to the arriving Gigantomachia, but to one of the so-called “Nigh-End” Nomu.

And yet… perhaps Reiko was grossly overstating the poetry of it, but Native was there for the first time Hero Society buckled… and when it toppled. It was a shame he couldn’t see it rise up and emerge victorious, in the end.

But then again, he wasn’t the only one. Not just the recent casualties, be they heroes or civilians – all of those who fought and lived throughout the ages, all of those she had ever visited at their resting places… they were denied seeing that better tomorrow. And although it was often said that such people’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain, Reiko couldn’t help but find the notion hollow.

Perhaps it was just melancholy. Having a moment of peace and quiet to actually process everything that’s happened. The kind of adrenaline she’d felt in those fights wouldn’t hit her again in a long time, if at all.

But, she wasn’t here to take pity on herself. She got to live this new life and make it better as she went. Native didn’t have that opportunity, but people remembered him. The grave was modest, but well-tended to. She could compare it to Sir Nighteye’s from those months back when she first visited. There must have been family or friends who visited. Native might not have been a big name or anyone the wider public would know at large – but to someone, he must have been the greatest hero there was.

She didn’t stumble into anyone nor was there anyone accompanying her this time. Just another visitor to pay their respects. No doubt, someone else would visit in the same manner she did down the line – and so, it would continue. No words were necessary for now.

At the small and modest grave prayed a small and modest hero.

Chapter Text

It took Reiko much too long to visit her grave.

It just didn’t feel right, though she couldn’t explain why. There was never an official function; her death would be a significant happening otherwise, but the never-before-seen events that followed took priority. From what the girl could understand, there was a small private event for the closest friends, for Yamada-sensei and Aizawa-sensei. Then, once the war was finally over, she got a proper plot.

Reiko knew that others from 1B visited her grave; some alone, some in groups. 1A certainly did; they were the ones who found her when she was about to pass, brutalized by PLF thugs. It seemed like such an unfair way to go. What did she do to deserve such a fate? Why couldn’t the villains show at least this small sliver of humanity and kill her painlessly?

But then, Reiko supposed they were villains in the first place – and ones high off their own success to boot, following the trail of destruction Gigantomachia left behind. AFO’s pet giant might have been the critical blow Hero Society suffered, but the lowlifes and dregs trailing behind proved to be the festering infection on the wound, making things so much worse for so much longer.

Midoriya and others like him – people with great ideals and luck so absurd they could regularly win the lottery – championed the need to understand the other side, to take steps to prevent villains from ever being created. The world changed and things were better, slowly working on bringing those ideas into the fold. But, there was always going to be someone falling through the cracks. The question remained: did they fall by accident, through no fault of their own – or did they willingly cannonball themselves into immorality?

The PLF grunt that claimed responsibility for her death remained in captivity, unapologetic and delusional. Apparently, he was writing a biography to expose the rot in the Hero Society that his organization would supposedly prevent by destroying everything standing before. It would no doubt get overshadowed by Spinner’s book; from what Reiko had heard, the reptile villain was focusing more on Tomura Shigaraki than any grand ideal. Maybe he thought Midoriya’s ideals had some merit, to better detail just who was the man all of Japan feared like a tsunami or a meteor shower…

...well, at this point, Reiko was just stalling for time – not even very well. She was out of high school, about to become a sidekick and devote herself to hero work full-time. There wasn’t going to be a better time than this.

----

Midnight – Kayama-sensei – was laid to rest next to Loud Cloud.

Unlike Loud Cloud, her grave remained full of wishes, of candlelights and flower arrangements. She had plenty of fans, friends, frenemies (or whatever it was that she had going with Mt. Lady back in a day), the works. Loud Cloud, in contrast, was an unknown from an even further past. And yet, both graves remained spotless and well-cared for. Reiko imagined that would remain the case for as long as Eraserhead and Present Mic were still around. Then, who knows, maybe Shinsou and Eri-chan would pick up the habit after them?

A bright-colored card from Ashido, and a blood-red one from Kirishima. A green plastic covering for a candle, with a little gecko sticker – Setsuna, most likely. Flowers of all sorts, some already wilting while others were freshly placed. Generic cards bought in stationery shops; from heroes, civvies, students, fellow teachers. Now, Reiko would be adding her own candlelight and a prayer, hands clasping together.

“This feels familiar, Yanagi.” She didn’t start when a familiar gruff voice reached her. Eraserhead stood next to her, still his usual scruffy self. Though it’s been a few years now, she still had to get used to the eyepatch.

“Hello, Aizawa-sensei.”

“No longer your teacher, am I?” Eraser scratched at his cheek. “...never really been, now that I think about it.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

They prayed in silence, hoping their words reached the people out there. “I expected to see you earlier, Yanagi.” Eraser’s voice wasn’t chiding, but Reiko couldn’t help but flinch anyway. “Something kept you from it?”

“...myself, I think.” She replied quietly. “...I was afraid to face her. I can’t really explain why.” The man grunted, but didn’t pick up the conversation for a moment. The two of them unclasp their hands and start heading out.

“Much as we’d all like for Kayama to still be around… I think she’d never forgive herself if it was one of you kids there instead of her.” Eraser said, slouching even more than his usual. “...and it was a near thing. Nobody really apologized to you for having to face Gigantomachia back then.”

“We knew the risks, Aizawa-sensei. Nobody was forced to be there.” Aizawa fixed her with a level stare that she met. “...though I understand what you’re saying. I think.”

“Mm. I’m glad you made it, in the end.”

Suddenly, an idea struck Reiko. “...actually, Aizawa-sensei… are you free right now?” The man’s eyebrow raised in a silent question. “...I was meaning to visit Kurarin Cemetery as well today and… for all of my appreciation of haunting places, that one is always difficult.”

“...huh. They put Yoroi-Musha there, I recall.” Reiko couldn’t really understand that decision, considering the old hero’s disgraceful retirement still echoed through their society. Anyone who “did a musha” was considered someone who retreated the moment things got tough, whether they were a hero or a salaryman. Supposedly, he did show up in one of the less-hectic corners of the final conflict to do his part, but it appeared to be nothing more but hearsay.

...still, Reiko supposed he had a storied history before he torpedoed it with his announcement. One didn’t become a part of the Top 10 by going through the motions, surely. “...I was actually meaning to visit Snatch there, but… I think I have a candle to spare.”

“...Higawara, huh? Haven’t heard that name in forever.” A ghost of a smile danced on Eraser’s face for a fraction. “...sure. Lead the way.”

Though Reiko would continue with her hobby going forward, there would be less graves and less fallen heroes to visit – which, in the end, suited her just fine.