Today's chapter
If you like the fanfic, add this to your library. Powerstones and comments are greatly appreciated!
I have 7 hours before my connecting flight. BTW weather at Heathrow is bad, and I have been here for just 2 hours. That say's alot. It's the sad gloomy kind of rain.
Anyway enjoy the chapter. And I see you guys nearing the milestone!! Keep it up!
Happy reading.
--<<>>--
Nezu stared at the boy. This was out of his calculations.
He saw a paradox. A healer who wanted to be a destroyer. A hero who wanted to rule through fear. It was radical, but it was exactly what the world might need when the Symbol of Peace inevitably fell.
He grinned.
"Fascinating," Nezu whispered.
"Anything is better than joining that damned organization," Honoka said from her bed. She looked at her son. "If you want to be a monster to save people... well, at least you'll be an honest monster. Not a government one."
Recovery Girl sighed, leaning heavily on her cane. She looked at Akira, seeing the way his red eyes burned with conviction.
"That is a huge goal you have set for yourself, Akira," she warned. "Being the Symbol of Peace is hard. Being the Symbol of Fear? You will have no allies. You will be alone."
Akira took another drag from the pipe, the smoke curling around his face.
"I have you guys," he shrugged. "And honestly? Even with a quirk like this... just being a normal hero would be disappointing. I have the power of a god and the durability of a cockroach. Might as well aim high."
"Yeah," Chiyo muttered, shaking her head. "I suppose you might."
Akira stood up, dusting off his hospital gown. He looked at his mother's broken leg, then at the calendar on the wall.
"We should order some formals," he said, his voice dropping to a somber tone. "For the funeral tomorrow."
Honoka nodded, tears pricking her eyes again. "Yeah, we should."
***
The funeral hall was suffocating.
It was a traditional ceremony, held in a large, somber hall draped in black and white. At the front of the room, surrounded by mountains of white chrysanthemums, were two portraits.
Shino Izumi, looking stoic and calm. Sasha Izumi, grinning.
The hall was filled with people. Heroes in formal black suits, sidekicks crying into handkerchiefs, government officials looking solemn and checking their watches.
The doors opened.
The whispers stopped.
Akira Shuzenji entered, pushing his mother's wheelchair.
He wasn't wearing a black suit.
Akira's drip(In the comments)
He was wearing something that felt like it had been pulled from a different era.
His outer layer was a dark charcoal kimono. On his left chest, stark against the dark fabric. The collar was worn loose, revealing a white inner collar and a dark grey secondary layer beneath.
Around his waist was a wide, champagne-colored obi, tied in a structured, geometric knot that added a sharp formality to the loose robes. In his hand was his medical smoke pipe.
He pushed the wheelchair down the center aisle. Honoka, dressed in a simple black kimono, held her head high, though her eyes were red.
They reached the front row, reserved for the closest family and friends.
Standing there were four heroes in colorful costumes that looked jarringly bright in the gloomy hall. The Wild, Wild Pussycats.
Mandalay was crying silently. Tiger stood with his arms crossed. Pixie-Bob and Ragdoll were clinging to each other.
Honoka tapped Akira's hand. "Take me to them."
He nodded and wheeled her over.
"Sosaki-san," Honoka whispered.
Mandalay turned. When she saw Honoka — battered, broken, in a wheelchair — her composure cracked.
"Honoka," Mandalay choked out. "I... we heard. The report said you were there. That you fought."
"I'm sorry," Honoka said, reaching out to take Mandalay's hand. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't save them."
"Don't say that," Mandalay wept, falling to her knees to hug Honoka. "You were with them. You didn't let them die alone. That... that means everything."
Akira watched them hug. He watched the tears. He watched the other heroes whispering, about the fight, about Muscular, about the "mysterious fire quirk" that had glassed the canyon.
He felt sick.
The air in the hall was too thick. It was filled with pity, and Akira hated pity. In his last life and in this life.
He needed air.
He quietly stepped away from the wheelchair, signaling to Tiger that he was stepping out. Tiger nodded solemnly.
Akira walked back down the aisle, ignoring the stares. He pushed open the heavy side doors and stepped out into the cool afternoon air.
The funeral hall was located near the coast, not far from where the Shuzenji cabin was. The ocean breeze was salty and fresh.
Akira walked toward the beach, needing to hear the waves instead of the weeping.
He walked past a row of vending stalls set up for the tourists who visited the nearby shrine. He ignored them, heading for a quiet spot under a large pine tree near the seawall.
Then he heard it.
Sniff.
Akira paused. He looked around the trunk of the tree.
Sitting there, curled into a ball with his knees pulled to his chest, was a small boy. He was wearing a black shirt that was too big for him. He had black hair and a scowl that looked etched into his face.
He was crying, but angrily. He was wiping his eyes furiously as if trying to scrub the tears away.
Akira stared.
What the hell? He thought. Is this the designated crying spot?
He recognized the boy. From the photo on Sasha's phone.
Kota.
Akira took a breath. He adjusted his kimono. He walked over to the tree.
"Hey, kid," he said, his voice low. "What are you doing out here?"
The boy jerked his head up. His eyes were red, swollen, and filled with a hatred so intense it was startling on a three-year-old's face.
"GO AWAY!" Kota yelled. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Akira didn't flinch.
He just stood there. He took the pipe, put it to his lips, and inhaled deeply. The blue light on the tip glowed. He exhaled a long stream of vapor that drifted over the boy's head.
Then, he sat down.
He sat on the other side of the tree trunk, leaning his back against the bark. He crossed his legs, resting the pipe on his knee.
Silence stretched between them.
Kota cried for a while longer, his sobs hitching. He seemed confused that the stranger hadn't left or tried to hug him.
Finally, the boy sniffled loudly.
"Why are you still here?" Kota demanded, his voice raspy.
"I thought I'd give you some time before we started talking," Akira said calmly, looking out at the water. "Crying takes energy. Gotta recharge."
Kota glared at him. He looked at the red pipe.
"Are you not too young to smoke?" Kota asked, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "That's illegal."
Akira chuckled. "Oh, this? This isn't smoke. It's a calming agent. Medicine. I have... anger issues."
"Oh," Kota said. He went silent again.
Akira took another puff. "The name is Akira Shuzenji. What about you?"
Kota froze. His head snapped around to look at Akira properly. His eyes widened.
"Shuzenji?" Kota whispered. "You... you were the one? With my mom and dad?"
Akira nodded slowly. "I was there. My mother, too."
Kota stared at him. The anger in his eyes flared up again, hotter than before. He stood up, his small fists clenched at his sides.
"Are you here to say the same thing as everyone else?" Kota spat. "That they died heroically? That I should be proud? That they chose to save the village instead of coming home to me?"
Tears welled up again, spilling over his cheeks.
"Everyone keeps saying they were heroes!" Kota screamed. "But heroes are just people who show off and die! They left me! They chose strangers over me!"
Akira looked at the kid. He saw the raw wound. He saw the same logic he had used just days ago.
Why did they die? Because they were heroes.
Akira stood up. He towered over the three-year-old.
He reached out.
Kota flinched, expecting a hug or a lecture.
Akira patted him on the head. It wasn't a gentle pat. It was a firm, solid hand on his hair.
"Nah," Akira said. "I didn't even know you were Kota until just now. But I was looking for you."
"Why?" Kota sniffled, suspicious. "To tell me the same thing?"
"No," Akira said firmly. "I don't agree that a parent has to lay down their life to fight a villain. I think that's stupid."
Kota looked up, shocked. It was the first time someone hadn't fed him the 'noble sacrifice' line.
"You think so too?" Kota asked, his voice small. "Mom and Dad... they made a bad choice?"
Akira knelt down so he was eye-level with the boy. He looked deep into Kota's eyes with his own crimson ones.
"The system is broken, Kota," Akira said. "But your parents? They were strong. Stronger than any hero I have ever met."
Kota just listened.
"The reason they are gone isn't that they didn't love you," Akira said. "It's because this society makes heroes believe they have to be self-sacrificing. It tells them that dying is part of the job description. That's why they died. Because they played by rules that the villains don't follow."
He paused.
"But don't you dare think they chose those villagers over you."
Akira reached into his kimono sleeve and pulled out his phone. He didn't have the picture, but he had the memory.
"Before that villain attacked us," Akira whispered, "your mom got a phone call. From you. Remember?"
Kota nodded, a hiccup escaping his chest. "I... I asked about math."
"Yeah," Akira smiled softly. "Math."
"When she talked to you," Akira said, "that was the widest smile I ever saw her make. She lit up like a lighthouse. And your dad? Shino? He was the most serious guy I've ever met. He didn't laugh at anything. But when he heard your voice on the speaker... he smiled too. A real smile."
"They loved you, Kota. More than the job. More than the village. They fought that monster not because they wanted to be heroes, but because they wanted to survive to come back to you. They just... ran out of time."
Hearing this, Kota broke. The anger drained away, leaving just the heartbreak. He hiccuped, looking down at his shoes.
"I miss them," he whispered.
"I know," Akira said.
Akira stood up. He looked over at the vendor stalls. His eyes caught something.
"Wait here."
He walked over to a small stall selling cheap toys and hats for tourists. He pointed at a red cap with two golden horn-like protrusions on the front.
He bought it.
He walked back to Kota and placed the cap on the boy's head. It was too big, sliding down over his eyes slightly.
"Be proud of your parents, Kota," Akira said, adjusting the brim. "Because they were good people. The best."
He took a step back, his expression hardening. The Red Flame flickered in his eyes.
"And don't worry," Akira vowed. "I'm going to fix it."
"Fix what?" Kota asked, holding onto the hat.
"The world," Akira said. "I will make a society where good people like your parents don't have to die to save others. A world where the villains are too scared to crawl out of their holes because they know I am waiting for them."
He looked at the ocean.
"I will become the Symbol of Fear. And under my shadow, kids like you won't have to cry at funerals."
Hearing this, Kota wiped his eyes. He looked at the older boy — this terrifying, strange boy in a kimono who smoked medicine and spoke like a villain but felt like safety.
Kota nodded. He adjusted the hat, pulling it tight.
"Then..." Kota sniffled, his voice finding a tiny sliver of steel. "Then I will become strong enough too. So that nobody's mommy and daddy has to die."
Akira smiled. A real, genuine smile.
"Good goal."
He stretched out his pinky finger.
"This cap is the proof of our promise. You get strong. I'll get scary. Deal?"
Kota looked at the pinky. He reached out his own small hand and wrapped his finger around Akira's.
"Deal."
From the corner of the seawall, near the entrance to the hall, the Wild, Wild Pussycats were watching.
Mandalay had fresh tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. Tiger had a hand on her shoulder.
"That boy..." Mandalay whispered. "He said some scary stuff. But... look at Kota."
Kota wasn't crying anymore. He was wearing the hat, looking up at Akira with something that looked a lot like hero worship.
"Your son has a unique way of comforting people," Mandalay said to Honoka, who was sitting in her wheelchair beside them.
Honoka laughed, a soft, tired sound. She watched Akira ruffle Kota's hair.
"He sure does," Honoka said.
--<<>>--
Was the talk with Kota good?
Let me know.
Plus if you want, you can read up to +10 chapters and support me you can alway join my P@treaon. (Just search up Joe_Mama p@treon on google.)