Work Text:
Before You Read:
Samhain (pronounced sow-in) is a modern reconstruction of what is believed to be an ancient Celtic tradition. Many witches, Pagans, and Wiccans will celebrate across the span of multiple days to even weeks. The day of Samhain is often celebrated on October 31st or November 1st, depending on your practice.
It’s believed the word samhain means “November” in modern Irish and Scottish Gaelic (“Year of the Witch” page 96).
This holiday marks the first of the holidays on the dark side of the wheel of the year. It’s often thought of as the Witch’s New Year. Traditions can include: having a dumb supper (or silent supper if you prefer to call it that), inviting spirits to feast with you, finishing old projects so you can rest during the cold months, and releasing the old to welcome in the new. If you’re familiar with the origin of many western Halloween traditions, many of the beliefs come from old pagan traditions. If you’re someone who loves autumn, especially Halloween, I highly recommend doing some research into it. You’ll find a lot of European pagan origins for what we think of as modern traditions. This is especially true for holidays like Christmas (Yule) and Easter (Ostara) that have non-secular traditions that come directly from European paganism.
This paragraph is an excerpt from my grimoire. It’s a mix of various sources which I do not have so I apologize:
“There are many activities that can be done on this holiday that hold a lot of spiritual and traditional beliefs. Since this is a holiday to honor the dead, it is the best time to do divination work or any spirit work including working with the fae. Pumpkin carving is a big activity. It is believed that you should put a spirit candle inside the pumpkin (jack-o-lantern) to scare away any negative wandering spirits. To entice wanted spirits, you can leave photos of your deceased loved ones in your window to welcome them home. To welcome wandering spirits, leave a food offering. This is why it is important to finish your harvest if you have a garden in case the spirits think your garden is your offering. When visiting gravesites, you can leave a jack-o-lantern to ward off negative spirits. This can be done before Samhain.”
For me, personally, Samhain is a day of mourning. I lost a friend to suicide on October 6th, 2018. Since starting my path, Samhain has become a time for me to grieve and honor the people I’ve lost.
Note: The prayer in this story is not any specific Samhain prayer or ritual, I came up with it for the purpose of this fic.
Sources:
“Year of the Witch” by Temperance Alden
The Ancient Myths of Samhain (Celtic Mythology Explained) - YouTube
Samhain - How to Celebrate - YouTube
The candle flickers with intensity. The air in the room almost feels electric as Tomura’s hairs stand on end.
He feels a slight pressure on his shoulder. It’s so faint, he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t already feeling so sensitive.
He’s used to the feeling. Dead hands touch him day in and day out. Those same hands that cause his stomach to wring itself. Those same hands that cause his vision to be filled with red. Those same hands that shouldn’t touch him day in and day out, do. He’s really grown used to the feeling.
This is different though.
This time, he doesn’t feel alone. He doesn’t feel the hatred that fuels him.
No.
He feels like there’s a hole in his chest; something important is missing.
All that fills him is sadness, until…
It abruptly stops.
He stares at the candle as it burns steadily, the flame’s movements never feigning in the slightest. The tiny fire emits a soft, amber glow that gently fills the room. Tomura sits on the floor with his legs crossed while he stares at the center of the glow.
Disappointment fills him after some time. He licks his pointer finger and thumb before snuffing out the flame. The sudden, pitch-black darkness that fills the room reminds him of how he feels inside. He sighs audibly at the irritation.
He leaves his room to meander to the kitchen. It’s not like he has a ton of food. All For One was supposed to send a trusted ally with supplies, however, that ally never came. Toga is able to sneak out occasionally to steal food—the mayhem happening all over the country helps, as well as her quirk. Tomura knows another trip is coming up soon, but for now he will settle for the scraps left over.
He’s searching through the last of their stock for chips or something. When he finds what he’s looking for, he decides to take his reward back to his room. He’s halfway through the small bag when there’s a knock at his door.
“What?” he calls.
“Tomura-kun…”
It’s Toga’s voice. She speaks softly, a sad melody in the sound, like she’s longing for something.
Tomura is too.
Toga continues, “Come to the living room. And bring the candle.”
He hears the soft pad of her feet pitter away.
Tomura debates on if he should finish his chips first. Or even just…not go at all. He relents, allowing his feet to carry him to the living room—or what he thinks of as Dabi’s room, since the scarred man has been crashing on the couch whenever he’s around.
When he gets to “Dabi’s room”, he sees the remaining League members sitting around a very tiny—albeit depressing—meal. Dabi, who’s facing away from Tomura, reaches his hand up without looking at his boss. Tomura places the candle in his hand. The scarred man lights the wick with his quirk, then places the candle in the center, filling the space that was designated for it.
“Tomura-kun, you can take a seat,” Toga says, indicating the spot between herself and Spinner.
He sits in the empty space, knees grazing against his colleagues’.
“Who’s the oldest now?” she asks.
“Probably Skeptic,” answers Spinner.
Toga hands the dark long-haired man a piece of paper. “Read this outloud.”
With a voice deep like the shadows he puppeteers, he begins reading the bizarre words:
“As day turns to night,
In the lessening light,
Hear our call.
“As the candle burns,
Our soul, together, yearns,
Hear our call.
“Join us on this night,
And to you, we invite,
Hear our call.
“As we eat this feast,
We invite the deceased,
Hear our call.”
Suddenly, the once-steady flame on the candle begins to flicker. Tomura gapes at the sight.
“Do you feel them too, Tomura-kun?” asks Toga.
The white-haired man feels like the air is sucked out of the room. He takes a deep breath to steady his racing thoughts. Anger suddenly boils inside of him; the pain is too much to bear.
“I’m sorry…” His voice croaks with each syllable.
A scaly green hand comes into his vision, holding a small paper cup. Tomura grabs the offer in an accustomed four-finger grip, taking a large gulp before slowly sipping the rest of the water.
He wasn’t expecting himself to say those words. What was he sorry for? For not reacting quick enough to stop Overhaul? For not being around to kill Hawks well before the bastard was able to get information out to the heroes? For not waking up just moments sooner before his trusted ally mortally wounded himself to save his comrades?
He doesn’t even feel responsible. He just wants revenge.
Revenge on every piece of shit to ever cross his path. Petty revenge on every bastard hero who exists.
He will destroy everything.
Until all he has are his allies.
“Tomu…”
Toga’s voice pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. A cool hand is around his wrist, shaking it softly. Tomura slides his eyes to the left to meet Spinner’s. He sees relief wash over the green man’s face.
Tomura clears his throat right as Dabi speaks, “What’s the point of this?”
“What?” says Tomura. “You called me down here and you don’t even know?”
“We have to honor our friends,” Toga answers.
“They’re dead. There’s nothing to honor.” A wicked smile stretches across the burned man’s face, pulling the metal rings with it.
“That’s exactly why we have to honor them!” Toga argues.
“You really are fucking psychotic, aren’t you?”
It’s the final straw for Toga. The small teen launches herself at Dabi so fast that he doesn’t even have time to respond with his quirk before he’s pinned under her with a knife to his throat.
“What’s your fucking deal?”
“My fucking deal, Dabi, is that three of our friends are dead. Three of us are never coming back. And any of us could be next.”
Dabi lets his head lull to the side, giving Tomura a view of his profile. He mutters, “If you want to honor them, then do it already. I’m fucking starving.”
Toga climbs off of Dabi to return to her spot opposite of Dabi.
“You need to relight the candle,” she mumbles under her breath, dabbing a wet napkin at the small burn on her leg.
Dabi picks the candle up and uses his quirk again to light it before placing it back in the center of the food. “Dumbass,” he mutters.
“Are you finally going to let me read it properly now?” Skeptic scoffs. He reads the words again, and the candle flickers once more.
Tomura doesn’t feel the same blind rage as before. This time, it’s more solemn. The air feels heavy. He looks around at his colleagues’ faces. Even Dabi has his brow slightly furrowed.
Toga dishes bits of the food to everyone. The meal is small and consists of only convenience store items, but it’s warm nonetheless. Tomura slurps at his ramen, the weight of loss releasing from him. He’s filled with a warmth that feels vaguely familiar; as if it exists in a distant memory. The feeling of camaraderie.
The feeling of home that you get with only specific people.
It’s the same feeling he gets around Kurogiri. It’s the feeling he got when he took revenge on Overhaul, his first successful win with his comrades.
Everyone finishes eating in silence, taking only minutes to inhale their less-than-substantial feast.
“Now what?” Spinner asks.
“Release them,” Tomura answers.
“Say goodbye…” Toga finishes in a hushed voice.
Silence falls over the group. Skeptic, who was tolerating everything for the sake of food up until this point, is visibly growing irritated.
Spinner purses his lips tightly before speaking slowly, trying to figure out how to word his question. “How do we… do it—uh, release them?”
“We have to do it from within,” she explains.
“Done,” Skeptic says.
He stands and leaves. No one seems to mind his departure too much, but Tomura can sense with his search that the lanky man lingers just outside the door.
“I don’t…” Spinner starts to say, stopping before he can get choked up by his own words. “I don’t think I can.”
“Yes you can.” Toga smiles to encourage him. “Thank them for coming to share one last meal with us.”
Tomura watches as Spinner closes his eyes. For a moment, he hesitates. Wariness grows inside of him as well. Then, he closes his eyes as well.
He steadies his breathing, focusing on the pain inside of him. A lump forms in his throat, but he squeezes his eyes tighter. Fists clench in his lap, holding on to the memory of the faces of the ones he’s lost.
Then slowly, he surrenders his anger.
A single thought trails through his mind: thank you.
There’s a shift in the energy of the room again; the lingering charge in the air lifts, and fades away. When Tomura opens his eyes, the flame of the candle is as still as if it were a lightbulb. Spinner’s grip on Tomura’s wrist loosens, then melts away from his skin as the scaly man retracts his hand. It felt so natural that Tomura had completely forgotten Spinner was holding on to him.
After a moment, Toga snuffs out the flame.
Tomura watches her and Spinner pick up the trash from the meal. After the pair leaves, Dabi finally stands. He swipes his thumb across his cheek. Tomura doesn’t miss the way the moonlight highlights the faint shimmer of fresh blood on the man’s digit. He’s not entirely sure what that’s about, but he’s not sure that he really cares to know. The illusive man is just as mysterious since the day when Tomura met him; even knowing his full identity now.
Tomura sits, staring at the remains of the candle; the faint trail of smoke from the wick dissipates into the still air.
The hole in his chest is gone; filled with the acceptance that he’s still surrounded by his friends.
Yeah.
His friends.