Chapter Text
He heard gentle scraping from a few rows behind him.
It was a curious sound.
Checking around a curve in the graveyard, he saw the back of green hair, before a hand dipped into a wood bucket, a handle less brush in those fingers. It came back around to the baseplate of one of the gravestones, cleaning off some of the moss and dirt. It was raised and brushed over the face of the stone, bringing romanji back into view. A little water was brought over the top, spilling down the face, before a soft cloth cleaned the remaining dirt away from the light stone, completely changing the color, all together.
Deciding that just watching made him feel like a creep, he cleared his throat, a little. The preteen looked up and gave a gentle wave.
"Good afternoon, Sir. Is something wrong?"
"Not at all...Did you know them?" He gave a little shake of his head, throwing curls back and forth.
"Not in life, but I've found out a lot about him. A pilot in the third world war. His grave is so dirty, because he was American. He had no family, so he was buried here, in Japan. He helped three Japanese pilots reach the ground, safely...but, he, himself, crashed, when one of his engines blew. He was thirty-two years old."
"No one comes to see him?"
"He had no one. A lot of them...The ones further back in the cemetery...They don't have anyone, anymore." He gave a little, sad, smile.
"So, I come by and clean them up, when they get too dirty. Just...to let them know that they aren't forgotten. I was offered a job. Keeping up the cemetery.”
“And since you, already, were doing it, you were happy to accept…”
“Indeed.”
The man, a rail thin blonde that stood like a beanstalk, let a little smile cross his face.
"How kind of you, Shounen. I'm sure they're grateful. How long have you been doing this?"
"Four years. When I came to clean my parents', I realized just how little people come to see their loved ones, nowadays. People my age don't really have people that have passed, besides relatives, and they have others in their families to come to those graves."
"Your parents?"
"Oh. Yes. My parents passed, when I was eight." The man looked saddened, before clearing his throat and holding out a hand.
"Yagi Toshinori." The preteen shook his hand.
"Midoriya Izuku."
Toshinori glanced over his shoulder, before looking back at the preteen.
"So...You're the reason Nana's statue is pristine, every time I come here..." He was given a little smile.
"Guilty. Honestly, I think only three people come to see her. You, me, and an older man."
"Short. Cane. Grey hair and beard. Brown eyes?"
"Yes."
"Huh...My old teacher visits here..."
"Your teacher?"
"Yes. He and Nana were friends."
"I see. It's nice to know that some of her friends are still alive. It makes me wonder if she had any children or grandchildren."
The blonde smiled, unknowing that doing so made his gaunt appearance seem lighter and more full. It made him look healthier.
"Do you know any of the others? Like ones that you've cleaned the graves of?"
"Sadly, a decent amount of heroes are buried here...My father being just one of many." Blue eyes widened.
"Your father..."
"Salamander." The man's mouth went dry.
"Hisashi..."
"You knew him?" Making sure they were alone, he nodded.
"We went to school together."
That made Izuku look him over, before his eyes widened, slightly.
"Wait a second...I knew your name was familiar! You're...You're All Might."
"Uh..."
"I won't tell a soul. Cross my heart." He relaxed.
"Thank you."
"It's not my secret to tell."
After a moment, Toshinori glanced at the gravestone.
"May I watch you work?"
"Oh. Sure."
He just watched as a pass of the brush and a ladle of water brought the man's name into clear view, written in romanji, before it was redone in the Latin alphabet, below it.
"Amazing what a little time can do...Both to something and returning it to how it was supposed to be..."
"I agree. Seeing their names and the clean stone...It's almost like they're smiling at you...Thanking you for giving them a bath, after so long."
The blonde just looked over this preteen again.
"Midoriya-san? May I ask what your quirk is? I'm inclined to think that you have a connection to nature..." He was given a little chuckle, the boy’s complexion paling a bit.
"I'm quirkless, Yagi-san." The man started, gently.
"Oh...Please call me Toshinori."
"Of course."
"Are you sure you're quirkless?" Izuku just nodded, his curls bouncing, slightly.
"Unless some catalyst has to happen for it to activate, yes. I was born with the joint and I never unlocked any power. I guess it's why I do this. It makes me feel like I'm making a difference, even if it's just the dead that see it. It's something and it makes me feel good to do something for people that have no one." His head snapped up, when the blonde smiled. A phrase he never expected fell from the man’s lips.
"The Hero Of The Dead."
Startled, Izuku scratched his head.
"Hero...I...never thought I'd hear that word being associated with me..."
"It's true. You save them from their loneliness." That made a longing smile wisp over his face.
"Thanks…”
“No problem. With all you’ve gone through, you still find it in your heart to give company to those that need it. You want to help those that cannot help themselves. That is what a hero, truly, is.” A hand settled on the preteen’s shoulder, as soon as he felt little tears, the thickness of spider’s silk, streaked down his face.
“Thank you.”