Chapter Text
Once a year, U.A. had a graduation event, just like every other hero school. Since U.A.’s reputation often caused it to monopolize the media spotlight, this ceremony was carefully scheduled so as not to overshadow the other schools.
Each school had their own day, and U.A.’s was the first Monday in March.
It happened not on campus, but in a large hall that the faculty had rented out for the night. Everyone was here. Heroes who were ready to pick up their future sidekicks, the faculty in its entirety—including a picture of Vlad King, sitting on an empty place at the teacher’s table—and the parents of the graduating students.
And of course, standing out between all of them, the representatives of the Hero Public Safety Commission.
The line to the graduation was not very long. Those who made it to this point were the cream of the crop. It made Izuku feel conscious about himself, standing next to the towering third years not in his uniform but in his hero costume, including the new haori Momo had made him.
The pattern was quite plain, mirroring the colors of his own hair more than the previous bright green, the sleeves just long enough to hide his gloved hands.
Momo was sitting in the crowd. Though she had received the same offer to graduate early, she refused. As Izuku had moved past his teachers, she felt she had things to learn, even as she had finally surpassed the need to hide her scars. No gloves, no scarf, and a smile that made his heart skip a beat.
Izuku looked back from the crowd towards the start of the line on the stage. Mirio Togata’s chest was brimming with energy, not unlike All Might’s chest used to. The man was like a bundle of untapped potential, almost jumping on his toes getting ready to take on the world.
And in front of him was the man who would allow him to do that.
Tenkai, through the rocky start of their work relationship, had persisted to do what was best not just for the people, but for Izuku’s family. While he had shunned all interviews after the fight and hid himself away with everyone until he could return to school in peace, he had given some bait to leave him alone: ‘Ask Tenkai-san, he helped me a lot’.
While it might have been a little petty of him, it had helped Tenkai as well. A nice promotion, a nicer suit, a less unpleasant swallowing sound whenever Tenkai spoke. The man stood there on the stage with a smile, next to the table with Pro Hero Licenses, handing them out one by one. Mirio Togata graduated to the cheers of many, in particular from a young woman with blue skin and also All Might’s former sidekick, Sir Nighteye. Nejire Hado was next. Then came a rather diminutive young man by the name of Tamaki Suou.
One by one, they accepted their licenses with a shake of Tenkai’s hand, and walked off, until finally it was his turn.
The cameras flashed to the point where he had to look away to avoid being blinded. Tenkai smiled a genuine smile that made Izuku more uncomfortable than the usual unpleasant smiles he had seen on the man’s face.
“Congratulations, Hashira,” Tenkai said. Izuku frowned. “Now now, no frowns on this day. You’re the youngest student since Hawks to graduate. You’d better hold yourself to a high standard.”
Izuku sighed. In the wake of his final blow against All For One, which was not something he had accomplished by himself but was credited onto him due to the optics of it, the sword had been used to choose his new hero name.
Kagura was old news—now the media called him Hashira .
He really didn’t like it, and yet it was as Midnight had warned them a long time ago. People are often stuck with the name that the media picks them up by. At this point he would have preferred Little Town Samurai.
All Might announcing his retirement afterwards was the nail on the coffin. Some people thought he was picked as successor to the symbol, while Izuku did his best to avoid any such topics. He was not worthy of being All Might’s successor, and he was not going to be a symbol of peace.
He was just going to be a hero like he had always wanted.
“Smile for the cameras, Izuku Midoriya,” Tenkai said, handing him the license and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Heroics is all about PR. A hero must always be smiling.”
The small card in his hand felt so insignificant, and yet so important. Izuku smiled, not because Tenkai told him to, but because even through those bursts of discomfort that made him feel undeserving, he felt happy.
Class 1-A stood up and applauded, cheering for him loudly. Aizawa-sensei, too, was clapping, the small snake on his shoulder bobbing up and down. All Might, standing near his former sidekick, hiding under a heavyset hoodie, was smiling at him from the crowd.
The old man of Shibuya was grinning up at him, and Izuku found himself grinning back.
###
Tartarus was, ostensibly, a prison made for high profile criminals who mustn’t escape. It was, in the words of a particularly loud-mouthed and hypocritical American politician, a human rights violation and a half.
But in a lot of people’s eyes, it was a necessary violation. No privacy, no quirk use, no movement. It was the place where people were put to die slowly, unable to do more than turn their heads.
Hisashi Ubuyashiki had been caught trying to sneak out of the country during the ensuing chaos, and now he was stuck here .
Next to mass murderers and the like.
How the mighty had fallen.
It was with a sigh of relief that he was unbound just for today, because he had a visitor. He wasn’t sure who would come to meet him, but in response to his quirk they had muzzled him with a device that would detect any heat near his tongue and foam his throat shut. He wasn’t sure how that would feel, and the foam was supposed to allow him to breathe, but he wasn’t willing to test it out.
His hands were locked in place on the table, underneath heavy steel. His feet, much the same. After he was secured, and one of the guards gave the other a nod, they opened the door.
“Ah,” Hisashi said, finding himself staring at those familiar eyes which had made him forget about his ambitions all those years ago. “Of course.”
Inko Midoriya glared at him, but said nothing as she sat down at the table, her eyes trailing the chains and bindings that kept him from moving anything but his head.
“Well, dear,” Hisashi said. “It seems you finally have what you wanted. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re the most insufferable monster I know,” Inko said, frowning. “You were like poison to my family, and don’t you dare call it our family. It could have been.” Her fists clenched on the table, shaking as her voice broke. “It could have been.”
Hisashi would be lying if he said he didn’t regret that it came to this.
But it was too late for regrets now, wasn’t it?
“I’m a fool, yes,” Hisashi said. “And in working with that monster, I’ve come to realize that the way I’ve treated you was inhumane, but I imagine you’re not here for an apology.”
“No, I’m not,” Inko said. She shook her head, regaining her bearings. “The MZ-cells. Where did you hide them?”
“I destroyed them,” Hisashi said, clenching his teeth. “Once that monster took the most undiluted of the cells, I took the self-replicating ones and threw them in the burner.”
“Liar,” Inko said. “You would never, you’re too in love with your own delusions to ever do something like that.”
“You can believe what you want,” Hisashi said. “Or you can find yourself a police officer with a lie detector, or maybe some villain who has no issue with breaking my mind, but the answer will remain the same.”
“Why would you do that?” Inko asked. “If anything, I’m surprised you didn’t end up taking them yourself. You’re a monster, just like him.”
“No,” Hisashi said, looking away. Perhaps he was a bit too defensive. “Just live your life and move on, Inko. You and me, we’re nothing but strangers who happened to turn in a marriage registration form many years ago.”
“You hurt my son,” Inko said, standing up. “You’ve hurt countless people, and in my nightmares I still see all their faces asking me why I didn’t stop you.”
“Why didn’t you?” Hisashi asked. Inko’s fist smashed down on the table. One of the guards started. “All it would have taken was a word to the media, begging for protection for that brat from the heroes. You wanted to see the fruits of that research as much as I did.”
“I wanted my family to live in peace,” Inko said, her voice tight. She would not cry. Not in front of this man. She had shed enough tears for Hisashi Ubuyashiki. “And I was about to do it, before Akane revealed her own plan. I would have died to keep my family safe. But not you. The only person you ever loved was yourself.”
Hisashi frowned. He did not feel like he deserved the last word, and shut his mouth as Inko stood up and walked to the door. The guard opened it for her using his key. It was funny, he thought.
Her back looked so much bigger now than it ever had as she was hunched over research notes and formulas. The young man who was waiting near the door for her gave him a glare, his almost bleached gray-blue hair making the red stand out.
###
Izuku arrived just like that time all those months ago. He walked in with his head held high, greeting the old lady at the reception with a bright smile. She smiled back, offering him a piece of candy, and he took it from her as he proceeded down the hall to Yoroi Musha’s office.
The man was sitting at his desk in the spartan office just like before, except this time he didn’t even make an effort to hide the sake on the table.
“Welcome to Yoroi Musha’s Hero Agency,” Yoroi Musha said. “You wouldn’t happen to be the squirt who applied to be my sidekick, would you?”
Izuku smiled, tilting his head. “I don’t know, old man. I think I’ll need to renovate once I take over.”
Izuku wanted things to go slow for a while, after a year that had gone on so quickly that he still had whiplash from it.
The offer was simple—as the one and only sidekick of Yoroi Musha’s agency, he had to promise to take over once Yoroi Musha retired. Or, as the old man had insisted, when he was dead.
Considering the way his bones creaked whenever he moved, Izuku wasn’t so sure Yoroi Musha would make it to his grave before he was forced to stop, but then again Izuku had seen even more ridiculous things.
Like Stain—who now had a scar not unlike that of All Might’s—missing half his organs, and still running around with a sword in hand. At least he had stopped chasing villains down, instead deciding to take it slow.
He wasn’t sure if Stain really deserved a pardon for helping with the demon threat, but he would certainly not tell anyone he didn’t. Stain was, in the end, not as bad of a person as he made himself out to be. He had a shitty ideology, and a miserable and caustic attitude, but he was not irredeemable.
“I applied to make this building a historic site,” Yoroi Musha said. “You get to renovate nothing.”
Izuku crossed his arms, sitting down in the chair in front of Yoroi Musha’s desk. “Not even if I put some posters of my dear mentor on the wall? I truly miss him, he was such a good hero. If only he hadn’t destroyed his liver with all that drinking—”
Yoroi Musha shoved the desk forward, into Izuku’s stomach. Izuku grunted over the desk, laughing through a cough.
“I did what you told me,” Izuku said. “I tried to be a good man, I tried to cut with kindness. I’m not sure if I succeeded.”
“Do you feel happy?” Yoroi Musha asked. Izuku did not hesitate whatsoever, he nodded with a resolution that made Yoroi Musha nod back. “Then that is what matters the most. If you did not do your best, you wouldn’t be happy.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Izuku said, scratching the back of his neck. “Still, I suppose the media focus on me won’t die down that easily.”
“Don’t let that fame get to your head, then,” Yoroi Musha said. “There’s nothing worse than young heroes nowadays trying too hard to be appealing to the media. We have jobs to do, after all—law enforcement isn’t a modelling show.”
“No need to be jealous that I’m polling above you in the popularity rankings,” Izuku said, shrugging. “Fearing for your spot in the top ten?”
“Sidekicks are excluded from the charts, you brat,” Yoroi Musha said. “You can have my spot the day I die!”
Yoroi Musha’s glare caused Izuku to laugh. Seconds later, the man joined in with roaring laughter of his own.
###
Eri danced.
Sword swinging in hand, she took every step with a frown on her face, making sure that they all sat properly. The distance from her left toes to her right heel, the spin that came with the grace of a young child enjoying her life.
Nezuko watched.
Just as she had watched Izuku all those years ago. Unlike him, Eri had a talent in the Breath of Water that was enough for Nezuko to call her a prodigy. Though some of the moves looked slightly off, inspired not by her own understanding of the technique, but by Stain’s.
For a girl with such a good heart, the Breath of Blood came to her just as easily.
Eri finished the routine with a sigh, the sword hanging down at her side. It was not the one Momo had given her—this one was the appropriate length for one who wished to learn the Breaths. The tip touched the ground, knocking against it twice.
“Izuku-nii isn’t home yet,” Eri said, looking towards the window.
“He has a date with Momo,” Nezuko said. Eri blinked, looking back to Nezuko.
“A date is what couples do, right?” Eri asked. The TV had taught her that. Nezuko nodded. “But he said he’d come so we can celebrate his graduation…”
“He’ll be here, just a bit later,” Nezuko said, nodding again. “Do you want to take a break for now?”
“Yes,” Eri said, raising the sword up above her, the hilt held tightly and the blade reaching over her head. “I think I need a heavier sword.”
Nezuko raised a finger to her chin, thinking about it. “If you can do the routine three times without stopping, I can give you a heavier one.”
“Later then,” Eri muttered. She was still looking as if she was contemplating something. Wondering. Thinking. An expression on her face that Nezuko had often seen whenever something was eating Izuku up. “Auntie?”
“Yes?” Nezuko asked, prompting her to continue. Eri trailed off, her lips moving but no words coming out.
“The bad men are all gone, right?” Eri asked eventually, frowning. She looked over to the clock at the wall. “Does that mean you won’t be here anymore?”
Nezuko paused.
She was thinking, her eyes moving to the clock as well, and then back to Eri.
Just a few months ago, she had been still awaiting the day that Izuku Midoriya would cut her head off and release her back into the transparent world which had been denied from her for so long.
Today, she was not sure. Or rather, she had never been more certain.
“I will be here,” Nezuko said, beckoning Eri closer to her. The girl let go of the sword, walking over. Eri wrapped her arms around Nezuko, and Nezuko did the same for her. Perhaps it was not just Izuku who had grown under her tutelage. “I will keep watch for many years.”
###
It was not a private grave somewhere off to the side in a reclusive location. It was simple, and yet in that simplicity there was beauty.
TANJIRO KAMADO
KANAO KAMADO
They had been buried together, next to so many other graves which carried the Kamado name too, until a day two hundred years later when that family name had died out with some daughter’s marriage. With the descendants having different last names, the family grave had lain forgotten.
Forgotten by all but one. Nezuko often came to pick the weeds and pray.
Today, it was Izuku and Momo, standing here at the brink of dusk after a day that had seemed to stretch on forever. The costume he wore was not his uniform or his hero costume—it was a traditional outfit, with a cloth hiding his face, and a seven-branched sword in his hands instead of a Nichirin blade.
It might not have been the most romantic place for a date after his early graduation, but underneath the wisteria tree that framed those graves, Izuku felt at ease, Momo’s hand in his for moments longer until they joined their hands in prayer.
Izuku could feel it.
He was sure Momo could too. The shiver that ran down his spine, the warm hands that grabbed his arms from behind, all those people whom he had met in that transparent world, all those hopes and dreams he carried with him.
“Are you ready?” Momo asked. Izuku nodded. As the sun set, and the night took over, Izuku stood in front of the graves and raised the seven-branched sword.
Izuku danced.
Underneath that wisteria tree which had bloomed so easily once planted, he danced the Dance of the Fire God.
Momo stood up, her own seven-branched sword in hand, and fell into the same rhythm.