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People don't quite realize what's happening.
They are more focused on Shigaraki Tomura, who lays at the base of the ruined bank building, dead. Shigaraki's body lays unmoving, slowly disintegrating as his quirk no longer has a means of containment. No one had yet taken the knife out of his chest; Shouta doesn’t believe they will, not until his body is nothing but ash on the wind. The Underground Pro thinks it's fitting that a man who waged war against the world to leave his mark will soon have his existence erased.
Shouta's not sure what caused him to look over to the left side of this particular battlefield; all his kids are there, accounted for, if not suffering from a slew of injuries that will take them a long while to recover from—some physical, some mental. However, the continued tugging of his gut makes Shouta look over anyways; his gut instinct has always led him to notice what was important, what was relevant in his cases, what could differentiate between life and death. His gut had yet to lead him astray, and so Shouta would continue to trust it. Shouta looks over, curious, but alert.
On the grass of the small park, Shouta sees a small circle of people surrounding Knuckleduster—it’s the Naruhata Vigilante Squad, Shouta realizes—but not enough that Shouta can't see what's going on. Each one of them is tense, clothes tattered and bloodied, bodies lined with exhaustion. Their faces belied that, however, and each were lined with gentle, love-filled smiles, eyes only showing a sadness Shouta was all too familiar with. Again, Shouta sees Knuckleduster is on the ground but—and here, Shouta has to squint a little, his eyes overused from the hours of war waged before—but it's not Knuckleduster that the other vigilantes are looking at, it's... it's Adamantine.
Shouta almost can't see the kid, looking so small as he’s held tenderly in Knuckleduster’s arms. But what Shouta can see is how the Kevlar hoodie and shirt have been eaten away, and to Shouta’s horror, so has a lot of the teen’s stomach. Shouta’s elbow throbs in pain at the remembrance of Shigaraki’s brutal treatment, and Shouta can’t even imagine taking that quirk to his stomach. He watches as the kid’s complexion grows paler and paler with each passing minute.
Shouta takes a step forward, alarmed, ignoring the inquisitive calls of "Sensei?" and "Eraserhead?" he gets from his students and fellow Pro Heroes. He ignores them, his gut starting to feel heavier and heavier. Shouta takes a few steps more, haltingly, unsteadily, before stopping, watching the tight-knit group. Crawler looks up to see Shouta attempting to come forward and meets his eyes. The vigilante shakes his head, briefly meeting Shouta’s eyes; his eyes are so incredibly sad. Shouta's stomach sinks as the realization is all but said. Adamantine is dying
Shouta keeps his distance, but watches as Knuckleduster holds a dying Adamantine in his arms. Adamantine, with his mischievous eyes and his sassy, cutting wit. Adamantine, who's heart is one of the most just and Heroic Shouta has ever seen, fighting for any and everyone, regardless of quirk, gender, or sexuality. Adamantine, who is the same age as Shouta's kids, who aren't even out of U.A. yet. Adamantine, who is dying.
When Shouta sees the kid holding up a pinky to Knuckleduster, his heart cracks, even as he looks away. For all that Shouta holds the kid in high esteem and could even see him as a student, Shouta knew this moment wasn’t for him to intrude upon. The Naruhata Vigilante Squad were as thick as thieves and had bonds tighter than life. To lose a member, their youngest, was absolutely devastating. To lose any life was awful, but for a teenager to lose their life, it’s beyond tragic.
Shouta knows the moment Adamantine has passed away. He knows it from Crawler. Crawler is an overly-cheerful man with a smile as bright as Yagi’s, tempered with a sharper mind. He is someone who Shouta has yet to see truly glare at anyone, has yet to truly scream in anger or rage. The man is an optimist, always seeing the brighter side of issues, society, and people.
“Goddamnit!” Crawler roars, his voice raw with grief and pain. It reverberates amongst the crumbling rubble, and startles the Heroes and Police who have gathered to see Shigaraki’s rapidly disintegrating body. Shouta doesn’t do more than take a moment to glance before he has to look away. The Naruhata Vigilante Squad surrounds their youngest, heads bowed as they slump over their youngest’s body. Shouta knows that there isn’t a single dry eye over there. And so he looks away, giving them a moment to mourn in private.
Instead, Shouta turns to the right and watches the assembled crowd. He watches as the realization dawns on them, that something devastating has happened. Their expressions change one by one, starting with confusion and fading into horror and grief. The first to connect the dots is Tsukauchi. Tsukauchi, who is probably the closest to Adamantine outside of the Naruhata Vigilante Squad themselves, having spent years working with the boy to bring safety and security to Western Musutafu. Tsukauchi is roughed up, his Kevlar body suit the only thing that remained relatively unscathed during the long hours of the night; his shirt and pants are ripped and tattered, the cuts littering his arms and legs still leaking blood.
Shouta watches the moment Tsukauchi realizes that Adamantine has died, that the vigilantes are hunched into themselves and mourning for a young life that ended too soon, the life of their youngest. The Detective pales, his face crumbling as he connects the dots. It is the most emotion Shouta has seen on Tsukauchi’s face in a long time. Shouta doesn’t blame him, though; Adamantine was a presence in your life that grew on you, and was so inherently good that he left people feeling happier than they were before. Shouta knew, having talked to the Detective over the years, that he had become someone trustworthy in Adamantine’s eyes when he had actually followed through with a promise to investigate the first death under Adamantine’s watch. Ever since, the camaraderie shared between Tsukauchi and Adamantine had been equal parts exasperation, respect, and admiration.
Shouta watches as Tsukauchi’s legs give out beneath him, and he falls to his knees. The look of insurmountable grief that fills Tsukauchi’s face is nearly too much for Shouta to bear, and Shouta turns away just as he sees Sansa rush to Tsukauchi’s side. Tsukauchi’s mournful “Adamantine” spreads rapidly through the crowd, and Shouta has to turn his gaze upwards, lest the growing grief he sees overcome him.
“Sensei?” Uraraka calls, from not too far behind him, and Shouta turns slightly to see what she needs. He’s met by twenty different gazes with varying levels of curiosity. He sighs, already knowing what Uraraka’s question is going to be.
“Adamantine was a highly skilled vigilante, one of the seven vigilantes that make up the Naruhata Vigilante Squad." Shouta began, capturing the class's attention. "Adamantine was the one to fight Shigaraki to a standstill and kill him. Adamantine just succumbed to the injuries he received during the fight.” Aizawa reported to his students, almost mechanically. He took a deep breath, turning away from his kids to look over the crow.
“Adamantine…” Shouta said, and the reality of what he was going to say next hit him deeply. “Adamantine just turned seventeen years old today.”
The kids behind him are silent, realization dawning for them as well. For once, Shouta didn’t need his eye drops as he looked to the sky. He closed his eyes, mourning the loss of an amazing human being.
0o0-0o0-0o0
The aftermath of Shigaraki’s waged war had far-reaching consequences. Named “The War of One Night'' by the press, was a major event. The complete destruction of a part of Musutafu, even if it was the slums, drew massive attention from around the world. People wanted answers, and The Hero Public Safety Commission couldn’t hide the fact that a teenage vigilante had died taking down the Villain that the Heroes and Police couldn’t take down themselves. The remaining Naruhata Vigilantes wouldn’t allow for Adamantine’s sacrifice to be in vain, nor would the dozens of Heroes that had been at the battle that day. Shigaraki’s defeat at the hands of the vigilante known as the People’s Hero made news worldwide, even more so when the rest of the Naruhata Vigilante Squad had shared that he was Quirkless. The revelation of Adamantine’s quirk status had been the push needed for a slew of Quirkless and Quirk Discrimination reforms to be pushed through legislature, making it hard for those with discriminatory biases to use their power against those who don’t have a quirk. The legislatures had been named in honor of Adamantine, the vigilante who inspired the movement.
Another after-effect of the war was the rebuilding of Western Musutafu. The neighborhood had undergone a drastic change from its previous look. The buildings and streets had been rebuilt to a safer standard, and city works updated the piping and structural supports. Thanks to a dedicated task force, the money was able to be correctly distributed throughout the Western neighborhood, and all major repairs had been made, bringing life back to a part of the city once abandoned to crime.
Walking along the streets of New Western, as the local denizens preferred calling it, Shouta had to admit that the neighborhood was looking far better than it was before. With the neighborhood getting the funding it should, the people were able to maintain the streets and services more. This was good for the denizens of the neighborhood for multiple reasons. The streets stayed clean of trash and vandalism, and keeping the streets clean created jobs that the denizens filled themselves. It was something that Adamantine would have loved and fully supported.
Shouta’s favorite part of New Western, however, was located in the center of the neighborhood. It was the flower garden at the very heart of New Western. The flower garden was created as a memorial, the idea coming from the vigilante squad themselves. The HPSC had wanted to create some sort of memorial for Adamantine in the neighborhood in an attempt to appease angry citizens that blamed the HPSC for Adamantine’s death. They had reached out to the current liaison for the Naruhata Vigilante Squad, Knuckleduster, in an attempt to work something out in their favor. Knuckleduster made it clear that the kind of memorial that the vigilantes would accept, and the memorial Adamantine would want, would be a garden in the neighborhood he loved so much. The HPSC hadn't cared for the idea, and had ceased negotiations with the vigilante squad with the plans to come up with something else.
However, the moment the idea of a memorial garden for Adamantine had reached the ears of the dozens of fighters from that July Day, donations had flown in to design a beautiful garden befitting the teenager who had sacrificed everything. What Shouta liked most about this was that the Heroes didn’t just donate money; they became involved in the designing and building process. A quiet Tsukauchi, still reeling from Adamantine’s death a month earlier, had quietly suggested they call the memorial "The People’s Garden" in honor of Adamantine's founding principles. This name was met with a resounding agreement from the Heroes, Police and vigilantes.
The press had a field day when it was announced that a Hero-sponsored memorial garden would be going up in honor of the vigilante Adamantine. The planning committee for the garden had openly shared the building plans with the public; this was going to be a public space, and as such, they deserved to know what was going on. Such a show of communication and dedication shown to a fallen ally, especially one so young, showed the citizens in Japan that the Heroes in the country were becoming more in-tune with the wants and needs of the people.
The HSPC, upon seeing the success from the memorial project, had tried to inject themselves into the project, often causing delays in the project. Their actions were met with resounding hostility from the people of New Western, including the Naruhata Vigilante Squad and, surprisingly enough, Nedzu. Nedzu, upon learning of their constant interference, had stepped in, with some sort of blackmail that Shouta wasn’t privy to. Whatever it was, it had been quite effective; not only had the HSPC stopped interfering with the building process, they had even anonymously donated a sizable amount of money to the project. Shouta was curious about what Nedzu had so clearly frightened the HSPC with, but was content enough to leave it alone. The added money had only done the garden justice.
Entering The People’s Garden, Shouta made his way to his favorite part of the garden. It was in a little corner, out of the way enough where people could sit and admire the gardens in peace. Sitting down on the metal bench, Shouta leaned back and took a minute to relax and enjoy the scent of the zinnia flowers planted there. The flower choice had been left up to the vigilante squad, who had been involved in the planning of the garden itself. The flower choice decided had been zinnias. When reporters had reached out to ask why, the spokesperson for the project, Midnight, had explained that the choice of flower was because zinnias had multiple meanings. She explained that zinnias represented who Adamantine was as a person, and the interactions he’d had with the neighborhood: friendship, endurance, daily remembrances, goodness, and lasting affection. When the denizens of the neighborhood heard that, they had unanimously agreed that zinnias were the perfect choice.
Another reason zinnias were a popular choice was because they came in so many colors. Those who would care to take a stroll in the garden, or perhaps stay a moment to stop and admire the colors, would always have a beautiful sight to see. Shouta was one of the latter people, occasionally finding his way to his normal corner view, a beautiful, smaller area where they had a selection of blue zinnias. Nedzu had used his extensive sources to bring in Fuyu Hanako-san, a florist with a quirk that allowed her to produce any flower, so long as she had enough of a familiarity with them. In a conversation shortly after the grand opening of the memorial, Knuckleduster had quietly admitted to Shouta that Adamantine would have loved learning from Hanako-san, the teen vigilante having wanted to eventually open his own flower shop as a way of helping people in everyday situations.
As Shouta tilted his head back, he wondered what Adamantine would say, six months after he had passed away. Shouta hoped the teenager would have been happy. Young children ran around the garden, twirling and leaping over tiled names that honored the other lives lost that night. As he watched the kids oohing and ahhing as they pointed at the different flowers in the park, Shouta smiles lightly. He thinks the teen would be very happy to see the neighborhood flourish as brightly as had.
0o0-0o0-0o0
With a sigh, Iwao exited the train, bags swinging in his hand. He was running a little late, having been called in this morning to deal with an unexpected problem with some logistics. Over the years, he had been promoted to Director of his support organization, and while he was incredibly happy to be making such a difference in their society, his role often had ups and downs. One of them was dealing with panicking workers on his days off.
Huffing in exasperation, Iwao made his way to the edge of the town’s boundaries, following the cemented sidewalks that turned into dirt paths. Iwao’s destination was a ways away from the small town, but Iwao didn’t mind the journey much; he enjoyed taking the time to unwind from the hustle and the bustle of Tokyo. It made him feel like an old man, though, Iwao supposed, he probably already was. He would turn fifty in a few years, after all.
Iwao enjoyed the sounds of nature as he walked. The rustling of the wind on the trees, the birds twittering, and the animals running along the forested grounds. Fifteen minutes into his walk, a faint sound could be heard in the distance. He smiled, walking a little faster as he followed the sound forwards. As the sound grew louder, the trees began thinning out, and the path Iwao traveled along began shrinking. When Iwao broke through the tree line, he paused for a moment, taking in the beautiful sight before him.
As far as the eyes could, flowers covered the grounds. In beautiful shades and blends of colors, dozens and dozens of different flowers could be seen. It was a beautiful flower field, one Kazuho had spent over seventeen hours searching the depths of the internet for. She had been exhausted and quite cranky by the end of her research, but it had been well worth it. They had found their youngest a beautiful resting place.
The music, for that was the sound Iwao had been following for the last ten minutes, was a little ways away, coming from a very old boombox. Under a large oak tree on top of one of the rolling hills was the rest of the old vigilante squad. He could see that he was the last to arrive, the other five sitting on a large mound of blankets at the tree’s base, chatting idly with each other. There was plenty of food and drinks on the blankets, but most of it remained unopened. It was one of the many traditions they kept.
It was Koichi who saw Iwao ascending the hill, and the man greeted him with a blinding, cheerful smile.
“Iwao-san!” Koichi called, and the others turned to greet their group’s eldest, smiles and teasing words on their lips. Iwao smiled back at them
“It took ya long enough, old man,” Soga said cheekily, and Iwao snorted.
“I was called into the office this morning,” Iwao said. “Someone from the grocers messed up the delivery order, arranging for the food donations to arrive tomorrow instead of today. It was a nightmare.”
The group winced collectively at the thought. Over the last ten years, discrimination had gone down a lot, but such ingrained prejudices were hard to erase and even harder to change. It was a shame, but shelters such as the one Iwao was in charge of were still necessary, and any delays to deliveries and donations was a major hindrance.
Iwao sank to the ground with a quiet groan, sitting at the open spot at the base of the tree. Rapt and Soga snickered, but Iwao ignored them. When they were older, they would understand how your bones would crack and your back would ache. It was only a matter of time.
Kazuho nodded at him with a small smile, a gallon of water, a bucket, and a brush at her side.
“We’ve already finished cleaning the grave,” She said, and Iwao nodded, thankful. He opened the bags that had accompanied him, pulling out the senko and chain of honeysuckle and forget-me-not flowers he had purchased yesterday. Turning to Moyuru, the man nodded, lighting the sticks of incense with a finger. With a nod of thanks, Iwao turned to set the incense back in front of the small grave, smiling at the sight of a crimson feather nestled in prayer beads to the left of the incense. Iwao tilted his head down and closed his eyes, clasping his hands together in respect. For a moment, their little area was silent, each of them thinking of the young man who had changed their lives so irrevocably and so wholly.
Iwao opened his eyes and sat back against the tree, taking a moment to watch the younger members of the family. They were all aging well, looking happy and healthier than they had years before. It was all Iwao could really ask for, his little family here being happy. His wife had passed away four years ago, and so this motley crew of unique and bright people were all he had left in this world, and Iwao would be damned if any of them suffered anymore. Not if he could help it.
The last ten years had been an on-going testament to the idea that family was more than just blood. Iwao knows that the support system they had made for themselves had seen them through some rough times, especially after The People’s Garden memorial had been finished, and Iwao had been asked to cut the ribbon to officially announce the garden open. Their family had needed even more support at the first anniversary of the War of One Night; Iwao admittedly doesn’t remember a whole lot about that night beyond the lot of them drinking their sorrows away at his house, under the watchful eye of his wife. Iwao was glad for the support he had from his little family; god knows that he had spent many nights sleepless, having fallen asleep only to wake up screaming and crying from nightmares. As much as he had been there to comfort the younger vigilantes, Iwao had also been comforted by them, and he valued their love and support highly. This was especially so when Iwao had finally taken down the room he and his wife had secretly set up for after the war; it had remained set up for years after, and Iwao hadn’t had the heart to dismantle it until after his wife had passed away. It had been too painful.
Iwao shook his head slightly, and grabbed a drink from the pack in front of him. The others soon followed his lead, each picking up a drink. They all turned to him, and his lips pulled back into a warm smile, pulling at the scar on his cheek. He raised his drink.
“Happy birthday, kid,” Iwao said, turning to the grace at his side. “Even though life seems darker without you here, the world has become a better place because of you. Here’s to another birthday spent together, and many more to come.”
“Here, here!” the group responded, and Iwao was filled with warmth at the joy-filled faces that faced him. There’s nothing that made him happier, seeing them all together, celebrating their family. It was a good feeling, sitting together as they chatted, catching up and sharing old stories.
As they talked, the sound of music coursed quietly through the fields, accompanied by the swaying aurora of flowers. A gentle breeze blew around them, and the chain of honeysuckle and forget-me-nots rustled lightly from where they sat on the corner of the grave. In the gentle July summer, the marble grave glowed, the words engraved softly gleaming under the hazy beams of the sun.
Adamantine
Strong of Heart, Strong of Mind, Strong of Will
Forever young, forever loved, forever remembered
Fly, for you are now free
0o0-0o0-0o0
Blue Zinnias symbolize trusted friendships and paying tribute to how much you value that relationship. Honeysuckles symbolize Bonds of Love. Forget-Me-Nots represents the feeling of Do Not Forget Me.