Chapter Text
It was a perfect day for burials.
He stepped upon the cold grass and let morning dew seeped in through the soft fabric of his suede shoes. Kaoru paid them no mind. It was an overcast day, with nary a breeze to interrupt the silence that surrounded the graveyard. The soil beneath dipped with the weight of their bodies, ground soft from a night of rain.
Above, the heavy rain clouds threatened to burst into tears. Kaoru thumbed the umbrella in his hand, not particularly caring if the old bespoke suit he had put on for this occasion was to get ruined. The only reason he had deigned it necessary to carry an umbrella was because Denki was still recovering from their visit to the doctor. He didn’t want his son to suffer through a cold on top of everything else that had occurred.
In the coffin, the body lay. They painted her face, so that she would be as lovely as she was when she still lived. From his spot in the crowd, Kaoru catched glimpses of it as they prepared to close the coffin. Her eyelids were closed, sockets bulged out with fake orbs designed to emulate the real thing. Kaoru wondered if they had painted it. He wanted to peel the whole mask back, if only he could see her one last time. He wanted to kiss her decaying lips, and lick up the blood that ran down her cheeks like tears. She must have been happy when she died. Her visage was spread into the most fervent smile.
Her body was here, but her soul rested in their home. Kaoru held Denki closer to him, and planted a kiss on the top of his head. He couldn’t wait until they got back.
The lid of the coffin slid shut, and they pushed him to the front, expecting a heartfelt speech. The Kaminari—Hikari’s family—crowded around him. Cousins, mothers, fathers, siblings-in-laws, those who faced Kaoru had never tried to remember. They made Denki groan and yawn against his neck, and the smile plastered on his face grew tight.
“Hikari’s memory lives on inside all of us.” Kaoru played with the handle of his umbrella, pressing against the cold, hard plastic, “Though today, we lay her body to rest, she remains in the shadows at the corners of our eyes, in the flowers that bloom in early spring, in the sunlight that flickers at our window sills.” He glanced around, and let those perfunctory words settled. His relatives, none of whom were related to him, shuffled with unease, “Forevermore shall she remain…Thank you all for having come today.”
Denki whimpered as they stepped off the podium, eyes bleary with sleep. Ignoring the crowd, Kaoru leaned in to shush him.
They lowered the coffin to the ground without much ceremony—rolled grass over Hikari’s body. At her feet, monkshood were planted to keep away the wolves. Lilies of the valley shaped like tear drops at her head. She always had a peculiar sense of humour. Kaoru just hadn’t expected to see them make it into her will.
The gravestone erected, it started to pour. Kaoru bundled Denki up in his arms and opened his umbrella, letting the sheer dark canopy hide them from view. They parted from the crowd and began to make their way to the car. None of the remaining funeral-goers try to stop them. Softly, the rain pattered against Kaoru’s feet.
“Mister Kaminari.”
He didn’t stop, not at first. They weren’t the only ones in the graveyard with that name. Denki was starting to grow heavy, a thought that would comfort Kaoru on any other day but this one.
Yet, a finger reached out and tapped against his shoulder.
“Mister Kaminari.” He paused.
“Yes?”
Turning around, the sight that greeted Kaoru wasn’t one that he was familiar with. Gone were the honey-gold eyes of the Kaminari, vivid blond hair replaced with silver, almost gray hair. The wrinkles that crowned the person’s mouth deepened to emphasize their dimples, and it made his heart twist. Hikari’s were much more genuine. She’d always made sure he noticed them.
The speaker had a well-fitted suit, collar flipped up and smooth unlike his own. Their tie was blue. Kaoru eyed it for a moment, before lifting his gaze.
“I want to pass on my condolences,” the person began, wringing their hands. “I cannot imagine how hard it must be for you, Mister Kaminari. Miss Kaminari was a beautiful soul. She will be sorely missed.”
They spoke her name with a foreign familiarity. Kaoru blinked. “I don’t keep track of all the company my wife kept, so you’ll have to forgive me for not knowing your name.”
“Please, it is of no concern. Knowing the safety of her loved ones is reassurance enough.” The person placed a hand on their chest and closed their eyes, as though offering a prayer. Kaoru waited for them to finish, then continued.
“Thank you.”
They stared at each other. The person’s eyes had no pupils, although their sclera still shifted in acknowledgement of sight. After a moment, they lowered their gaze to Denki.
“My, what a lovely child. His name is Denki, is it not? Miss Kaminari mentioned him once or twice before her passing. Forgive me, for I cannot recall, but this year he is supposed to be…”
Kaoru let the silence hang between them for a beat longer. The smile on the person’s face twitched, but otherwise, the rest of their features remained frozen in place—a picture of geniality. He sighed.
“Four.” Denki’s Quirk presented at a later age than most kids. For a while, they thought he would be Quirkless.
He glanced away in the hope that it may bring the conversation to an end. No such luck. The person stepped closer to the two of them and began to coo at his son. Denki shifted in his arms, asleep but bothered by the noise, “My sincerest apologies. It must be a trying time for you, Mister Kaminari. As a father, raising a child alone is no easy task.”
“Easy or not, he is my son,” Kaoru informed the person. “I have no complaints.”
“Nevertheless, as an acquaintance of Miss Kaminari, I cannot in good conscience leave you to bear this burden alone.”
The person reached into their suit. Smooth, gloved hands produced a shiny business card with the flourish of a performer.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am a representative from the Hero Public Safety Commission, a branch of the federal government responsible for regulating Quirks and Pro-Heroes. As an extension of this, we also offer services to families with difficulties managing their children’s Quirks.” Their smile widened, showing two pearly rows of teeth. “The HPSC can facilitate your transition into being a single parent. You will be eligible for a federal grant, and Denki will receive all the training he ever needs with regards to his power. Electricity, no?”
“I don’t need help raising Denki,” Kaoru repeated. The business card hung in mid-air, the person’s hand wavering after it became clear Kaoru had no intention of taking it.
“Please, I simply must insist.” The HPSC representative said, dimples dimming. “Untrained Quirks are a danger to all those who come into contact with them. Pertinent to you, Mister Kaminari, if Denki’s Quirk is lethal even to those who resist it, how can you be certain that he will not, one day, pose a threat to your safety. Under those circumstances, training from the HPSC may prove to be vital-”
“Any outcome that results from Denki’s Quirk is, and will always be, solely my responsibility.” As the sky continued to weep, Kaoru’s eyes pinned on the representative. “That is all I have to say on the matter to the HPSC. Have a good day.”
He spun away, curling his arm to hold Denki closer to his chest. With the disruptive noise of their conversation, his son had startled awake, golden eyes wide and looking up at him. Kaoru smiled as little fingers pawed at his neck.
“Do you hold so little regard for your own safety, Mister Kaminari?” The representative chased after him, a frantic expression on their face. Heavy steps splattered mud onto their dress shoes, “Surely you do not expect to be able to control such a Quirk. For someone such as yourself, that is tantamount to suicide!”
They reached the gate of the graveyard, an ornate metal structure that towered over them both. Just outside, Kaoru’s car was parked. It beeped as he opened the passenger door and swept his son inside.
He turned back to the HPSC representative, standing in the rain with a set frown. The wrinkles on their faces made him reminisce about his old school teachers, all of whom were stern followers of the household rules. Hikari had a million things to say about their attitude growing up. He expected that she had a million more now left unsaid.
Kaoru smiled against his racing heartbeat. He extended a hand, palm face up.
Shoulders sagged in exaggerated relief, the representative handed him the business card they had outstretched. “I am glad you are able to come to your senses, Mister Kaminari. Nothing pains me more than seeing a parent get hurt out of some nonsense sense of duty. If they are wise, they should know that discipline is the best medicine.”
“The HPSC is truly dedicated.” Kaoru commented as he glanced down at the content of the card. The matte, laminated paper was simple in design—charcoal black, with a crystal logo and a single line of text that read:
Hero Public Safety Commission – Learning and Development | Tokyo Office
He digested the text—imprint it in his mind. Then, Kaoru looked up at the representative before him and dropped the mindless smile from his lips, “Unfortunately, I’m not interested. Goodbye.”
He crumbled the card and let it drop out of his hand. Paper met the rain-soaked grass, a splash of black on vibrant green. The representative eyed him, their face frozen. Kaoru watched them with a deadpan expression.
“You are giving away a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Mister Kaminari. With HPSC’s backing, your son’s future as a Hero is all but guaranteed. He will never have to worry about hurting anyone ever again.”
His chest was heavy, the weight of loss like stones in his stomach, weighing him down. It was a perfect day for funerals. “That sounds wonderful,” Kaoru said, and his hand, clutched around the half-closed plastic umbrella, was chalk-white. He barely gulped down a sneer. “But you see, my child isn’t a thing to be contained.”
He ignored a violent flinch from the representative and threw himself into his car, locking the door behind him. Before long, they were driving away, neither of them looking back.
Storm clouds lingered in the sky for the rest of the morning.