Chapter Text
Aizawa Shota felt himself thrown onto the shore, gasping for breath.
Once he had regained control of his senses though, he realized that this didn’t make sense. He didn’t remember going into any water. For that matter, he didn’t even feel wet. So what had just happened to him? He looked behind himself, and saw the pool that he had come out of. However, it was unlike any water he had seen before, reflecting a black, starry sky. His attention immediately snapped to what was next to him.
Standing on the shore next to Shota was a dragon, with a long, serpentine body. Its scales were colored black and white like an orca, though it also had prominent white antlers on its head, as well as deep green eyes, a green horse-like mane than extended from its head down to its tail, and a goatee. The dragon did not seem surprised to see Shota, simply observing him.
“My condolences.” The dragon said in a male voice.
“What? What do you mean…” Shota spoke, and remembered what happened; his front door getting kicked open, his cats hissing at intruders, his attempts to fight back only to be overwhelmed by his attacker’s numbers and weapons…
Shota froze, the reality of his situation hitting him.
“Is this…”
“No, it’s not heaven or hell, and I’m not an angel or demon. I just wanted to borrow you for a moment before you move on.” The dragon responded.
Shota blinked, glaring at the dragon suspiciously.
“Who are you and why am I here?”
The dragon started to hover in the air, coiling into a more comfortable position.
“My name is Isle. And you are here, Aizawa Shota, because I don’t get you.”
Shota blinked, but glared at Isle again. The dragon seemed unbothered.
“Excuse me?”
Isle leaned towards Shota.
“You’ve done a lot of good Aizawa, and have helped a lot of people. But you have also hurt a lot of people.”
Shota scoffed. Really? Some kind of celestial being pulled his soul from the afterlife so he could harp on him for what happened with his former students? Isle seemed unbothered by Shota’s behavior.
“Here’s the problem though;”
Isle pointed towards the pool. It rippled, an image rising from the water. With a grimace, Shota saw Bakugou’s vigilante spree, culminating in his act of mass murder.
“Normally, when I wanted to get a measure of a man, I would just follow his perspective in whatever world I’m observing.” Isle cocked his head towards Shota. “Your perspective however is rather…limited. I don’t think that we could really understand just what kind of an impact you’ve had just by following your life alone.”
Shota frowned, recognizing the barb Isle made at him for what he probably saw as stubbornness. It almost made him ignore the revelation that Isle could apparently view “his world” from this pool; did that mean that there were other worlds? A multiverse? Isle though lifted a finger, not letting Shota dwell on this thought.
“There is however, one time that I’ve found where you can truly grasp the effect a man has had on the world around him.”
Isle waved his hand, and the image above the pool changed to a cemetery, where a crowd of mourners had gathered. Suddenly, the image expanded, enveloping Shota and Isle. Shota looked around, and saw the coffin and tombstone that the mourners had stood in front of.
HERE LIES AIZAWA SHOTA
R.I.P.
Looking around, none of the mourners gathered had reacted to his presence or that of the dragon with him. Either this was all just a projected image, or Shota and Isle existed as no more than wraiths here.
“You brought me to my own funeral?” Shota asked Isle as the dragon landed back on the ground, offended that he was treating a part of his life as something to spectate on.
“Uncomfortable though this may be, it’s worth pointing out that this is the last chance you’ll get to see your family and friends, and the last time that anyone will have a chance to say anything to you.” Isle pointed out.
Shota considered Isle’s words for a moment, and sighed. He was not looking forward to seeing people cry over his body, though a part of him was curious as to what the people he had known would have to say to him. He sighed and simply stood next to Isle, watching as mourners came up to pay their respects.
Surprisingly, the first to come up was Eri, guided by Midoriya Izuku. Shota closed his eyes and frowned. He didn’t want to see the little girl he had been taking care of cry. In a way though, he felt that he owed this to her, to hear what she had to say, no matter what it was.
“M…Mr. Aizawa?” Eri’s whimpered, making Shota’s heart break a bit. “I…I just wanted to thank you for helping to save me…and for taking care of me when I first came to UA and I couldn’t control my Quirk yet…”
Tears were flowing from Eri’s eyes in earnest, and Shota wished so much that he could put a hand on her shoulder to know that it was okay.
“And…I want you to know that all of your cats are okay too…Mr. Yamada is letting me take care of Milo…and I promise that I’ll take good care of him…”
Even as Shota’s heart ached, it was warmed by this small consideration for something that was important to him. When Eri had visited his apartment, Milo, his youngest cat, had sought out Eri and had immediately cozied up to the little girl. He seemed to be good at noticing when people needed help. The thought that Eri would be taking care of Milo was a great comfort to Shota.
“I…I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry that this all happened to you…you were so nice to me…” Eri sobbed, putting her head in her hands.
“None of this is your fault, Eri.” Shota said, wishing that Eri would hear. Thankfully, Midoriya stood behind Eri and gave her a small hug, which she returned, letting him lead her away.
“We’re going to take care of her, Mr. Aizawa.” Midoriya whispered, though Shota could hear the young Gen Ed student just fine. “You don’t need to worry about her.”
Shota gave a small smile at this.
“Thanks, kid.”
Shota watched as Midoriya led Eri towards his mother.
“He’s a good kid. It’s probably better that he and his mother are taking care of her than me.”
“Hm.” Isle nodded. “Would you mind if I asked you something?”
Shota felt a little mollified towards Isle, grateful that he got to see Eri one last time.
“What is it?”
“If Midoriya got into the Hero Course, would you have accepted him?”
Shota looked at Isle quizzically.
“Look, like I said, he’s a good kid, but a Quirkless hero would have been a liability on the field. Besides,” he pointed towards Midoriya, giving Yamada a supportive smile from his seat, “he’s happy where he is. Why would you ask that?”
Isle shrugged.
“That question’s a bit of a coin toss when it comes to the different versions of you throughout the multiverse. I was just curious.”
Shota cocked an eyebrow. There were versions of him that accepted a Quirkless student in the hero course? He was about to ask about that when Shinso Hitoshi came up.
“…Hey, sensei.”
Shinso didn’t look good. Normally it was obvious that he had a bad case of insomnia (fueling a bit of a joke amongst UA’s staff that he was Shota’s secret lovechild), but now his eyes looked red, either from lack of sleep or simply irritation. Over the past year, he had managed to pack on a decent amount of lean muscle, but now he was stooped over, staring at his teacher’s coffin.
“Shinso…” Shota groaned at the state one of his favorite students was in.
“…You gave me a chance, sensei. You told me I could be a hero when everyone else joked that I’d be better suited as a villain. And you also got me to take my dream seriously when I hadn’t put any actual work into it.” Shinso admitted.
Shota remembered when Shinso first became a part of 1-A. He had managed an impressive showing, defeating Kendo of class B in the first round of the Tournament in the Sports Festival, but it had been obvious to Shota that Shinso was relying too much on his Quirk and hadn’t put in any actual effort into his physical training. As such, Shota knew that Shinso was going to need personal training to be brought up to the appropriate level for the hero course. He had run Shinso hard, making him push himself, as well as having him learn the finicky techniques of how to use his own capture weapon. It had been a tough fight for him, even tougher than Uraraka, who had transferred in from the same class, but Shinso had stuck it out and had made Shota proud to be his teacher. He just wished he had let Shinso know that.
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you…” Shinso grumbled, his hands balled into fists and digging his nails into his palms. “You were the best teacher I ever had…but everyone keeps on talking about how the students you expelled killed themselves, or became villains, or did something stupid like that!”
Shota wished he could put a hand on Shinso’s shoulder.
“Now you see why I hate the press, kid. They’re just vultures, they don’t know what they’re talking about. I told you, didn’t I? The world is unfair. It’s just something we have to deal with as heroes.” He huffed in frustration. “I’d like to think that won’t be a problem for you anymore, but it wouldn’t be rational to expect the media not to jump on you.”
“But they’re wrong…you were a great teacher…even though I hadn’t trained or done anything before I came to UA, you made me who I am. I promise, I’m going to show everyone that they’re wrong…”
Shota closed his eyes, sad to see his student so upset, but touched that he thought so highly of him.
“You did a good job with him.” Isle commented, getting Shota’s attention. “Even with all of his problems, he’s become a quite skilled and competent young man.”
“Hm. I suppose he has.” Shota said, nodding.
Isle curled his head towards Shinso as he walked away, following Shota’s gaze before looking back at the former hero.
“Tell me, what was Shinso like when you first met him?”
Shota inclined an eyebrow towards Isle.
“Wouldn’t you know already? Haven’t you been watching this world?”
“I’m not omniscient, Aizawa.” Isle explained as he shook his head. “Usually, I can only focus on one person’s perspective whenever I look at a world.”
Shota rolled his eyes at the absurdity of his current situation.
“He was a scrawny kid with a chip on his shoulder. Despite being so cynical about how people saw heroes, he had naïve expectations about how the course was going to go, and didn’t realize that there was a standard of character and effort that he had to put in. It was clear that despite wanting to get into the hero course at the start of his first year that he hadn’t properly trained or even exercised. His Brainwashing was a powerful Quirk certainly, but even with that he had a problem with lacking creativity in how he’d apply it and relied on it too much. He'd always approach problems with the same tactics; insult his opponents to get a reaction. Once his opponents realized how his Quirk worked, he floundered. I think he must have internalized things that people said to him when he was younger that discouraged him from really working at his goals.”
Despite voicing the frustrations he had with Shinso from last year, Shota smiled.
“Once Shinso had someone willing to put the work in for him though, he was able to put the work in for himself. He just needed someone to be in his corner. After he had actually gotten into the hero program, he began to understand how serious this job was. It’s not as if anyone could expect him to understand immediately after all, even after the USJ; he hadn’t been there, he hadn’t experienced that kind of danger. It just took some time for the responsibility to sink in. He was cowed at first by what was expected of him, but all he needed to get himself to put in the effort was a little encouragement. Shinso applied himself, he pushed his limits and got stronger, he learned to get more creative with his Quirk, and when the techniques he knew weren’t enough, he found Support Gear that let him compensate, or he found some other way to adapt. It took some time, but I think he turned out well.”
Shota turned away from Shinso, ready to see who would come next, only for his attention to be caught by a particularly bizarre image. Isle was standing there, but next to him, it seemed as if an invisible window had opened up in space, showing another Isle, both copies of the dragon giving Shota a flat look. Standing next to the second Isle though was another Shota, albeit one that looked embarrassed and angry. Shota looked at his doppelganger in bewilderment. The other Shota looked as if he was going to shout something, only for the Isle in the window to speak to the version standing next to Shota.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Isle responded to his copy, and the other Isle closed whatever window he had opened in space. Shota blinked, confused.
“What was that?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Isle answered dismissively. Shota wanted to get a real answer out of the dragon, but sighed when the next mourner came up to his grave, Fukukado Emi.
In all the years Shota had known Emi, he had never seen her like this. Even outside of her hero costume, she’d wear bright, loud colors. Here though, like everyone else, she was wearing black. It didn’t look right on her.
“…Hey, Sho. I’d ask how you’re doing but…that would be in bad taste, I guess.”
Emi attempted a weak chuckle, but it came out more as a sob before she could get herself under control again.
“…I had fun with you Sho. You were a grump, but you were my kind of grump. And you were a good man. When we went out on patrols at the same time, I always knew you had my back. What was it…ten times you saved me and ten times I saved you?” Emi asked with a weak smile, which wobbled as she went on. “…I wish that I had been there for the tiebreaker. I’m so sorry Sho…you didn’t deserve this.”
Emi sighed, looking up at the sky with a pained expression before looking back at Shota’s grave.
“I know that you were never really interested in getting married, that was kind of the joke for me, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe I had actually taken it more seriously, I could have helped you to lighten up a bit. Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.”
Emi wiped some tears from her eyes.
“I’m…I’m sorry Sho…I just…this…this isn’t funny…”
She became too choked up to say any more and walked away. Shota stared after her, a sick feeling in his stomach. For the first time in his life, he wished that Emi had told him a joke.
Several of Shota’s old hero or teacher colleagues came to pay their respects; the staff of UA, Sir Nighteye and the heroes from the Eight Precepts raid, Detective Tsukauchi, even Sky Crawler came over from the U.S. Eventually, his students from the previous year came to pay their respects. Most were pretty short, simply thanking him for protecting them at the USJ. It was a shame; he had hoped that he had made more of an impression as a teacher on them, but it was nice that they had come at all. The last of his students to speak was Yaoyorozu, who had waited to give a chance to her classmates first.
Shota had to admit it, he was proud of Yaoyorozu’s progress. He had noticed her lack of confidence after the first Sports Festival and her internship, and had specifically chosen her to go against him in her Final Exam to test her meddle, even going as far as to have her take the Final on her own. To his pleasure, she had persevered as he had intended, and since then, had grown by leaps and bounds as one of the most talented of his students. She had pestered him with petty concerns as the Representative of the class, but she would learn to streamline things with time.
“…Hello, sensei.” Yaoyorozu said. “There are…quite a few things I want to say here…some of which I’m not certain would be deemed appropriate at a funeral.”
Yaoyorozu chewed on her lip for a moment.
“I suppose I should start with thanking you for all of the times you fought to protect us. I don’t like to think of how many more of us would have died at the USJ or the Summer Camp were it not for you…”
“It’s what heroes are supposed to do, Yaoyorozu.” Shota answered as Yaoyorozu paused for another moment to collect her thoughts. She looked over at where Shinso was sitting, exhausted, before looking back at Shota’s grave, frowning.
“Again…I don’t know how much I should say of what I am thinking about…”
Shota simply stood and waited. It was like Isle pointed out, this was the last chance for anyone to really say anything to him. Eventually, Yaoyorozu sighed.
“Going into UA, I think I was naïve about how the world worked. I saw a lot of terrible things happen, and some of the people that I’ve known have gone to do terrible things. It’s made me think about our time with you as our teacher, and seeing how Tsuragamae-sensei does things differently. With everything that I’ve seen, I just have to say…”
Yaoyorozu hesitated, and Shota unconsciously leaned closer.
“You were a terrible teacher.” Yaoyorozu said, frowning. Shota's eyes widened at her sudden change of tone.
“At the beginning of our first year, you got upset at Mina for saying that the Quirk Assessment test was going to be fun, and threatened to expel whoever finished last, only to tell us that it was a ‘logical ruse’ at the end. I thought that it would be obvious that you weren’t serious. No teacher in their right mind would expel a student on the first day, without getting any chance to train or improve themselves, no one could be that cruel or senseless. Since then though, I’ve learned about your previous classes, and apparently you are.”
Shota frowned in response.
“You admitted you were naïve. I told you that life isn’t fair. I was simply giving you a taste of what it’s really like. If you couldn’t handle that, you had no place in my class.” He said.
Yaoyorozu went on, deaf to Shota’s words.
“I have learned about all of the students you have expelled, the black marks you put on their permanent records, and the damage that this did to them after they graduated.” Yaoyorozu frowned at Shota’s grave, a hurt and confused look on her face. “How…how could you do something like that? How could you be so callous?”
Yaoyorozu sighed.
“I was content living in ignorance for a while, trusting that as long as we worked hard and put in the effort to improve, you would teach as what we needed. Looking back though, I sadly can’t remember a single thing you ever taught us. You put us through training to improve the strength of our Quirks at the Summer Camp, but it was always up to us to learn how to actually apply our Quirks in a practical manner. You didn’t give us advice on how to improve our work-out regimes, you didn’t teach us hand-to-hand combat, anything. You didn’t explain any of our exercises, you just threw us into them and expected us to figure them out on our own, some of which could have been potentially lethal; recall the Survival Training?”
Yaoyorozu titled her head towards Shinso, who was with the rest of her class. Shota scowled, not believing that she of all people would have the gall to speak to him this way at his own funeral.
“What’s made worse is the fact that I know you could have taught us these things, because you taught them to Shinso. Don’t get me wrong, I’m quite happy for him, but you had nineteen other students who could have benefitted from this care, and I just don’t understand why you didn’t help the rest of us. Any time that we wanted to learn a new skill, we either had to learn it on our own, wait for an internship, or hope that Midoriya could help us.” Yaoyorozu shook her head in frustration. “Midoriya was a great resource certainly, but I can’t help but feel that it is shameful that we were taught more, and could talk about our problems more to a General Education student than our own homeroom teacher.”
Shota scowled at his former student.
“Three of your former students from my year are in prison now. Bakugou, Kirishima, and Mineta. Barring Kirishima, if there’s one criticism that I’ve heard towards the school that’s fair, it’s that we should have seen it coming. First, there was the cheerleader outfit trick they pulled on me, in an internationally televised event, no less.” Yaoyorozu scowled before shaking her head in frustration. “At least Kaminari apologized later on, but that was just one of the many disgusting things Mineta did towards myself and the other girls in our year. He stared at us, made inappropriate comments towards us, attempted to grope us, and even tried to peep on us while we were dressing! And you did nothing. It should have been obvious that as soon as he got out from your protection, he got arrested for sexual assault.” Yaoyorozu frowned at the grave in disgust, an expression that Shota returned. He couldn’t believe that she was still bothered by something so petty.
“And then there’s Bakugou. The fact of the matter is, UA failed in how it handled him. You failed in particular as his teacher. Bakugou was constantly aggressive with us, using force far in excess for what a situation warranted, both in and out of exercises. His behavior just got worse throughout the year; I caught him outright trying to assault Mina and Kaminari several times after the Summer Camp attack. I can only be thankful that Midoriya helped me to get stronger, if only for the fact that it helped me stand up to him. But Bakugou has shamed us; our school, and our class. He had been shaming us throughout the year. He’d insult everyone around him, refusing to give anyone the respect of their own name, he belittled his classmates and especially those in the other courses. I can hardly blame any of the other courses for thinking so poorly of us with the vitriol Bakugou was spewing. And yet the most I ever heard from you reprimanding Bakugou was telling him to ‘grow up’ after he had nearly sent three of our classmates to the hospital. You went as far as to saddle our class and our school’s reputation to one of the most abhorrent people that I have ever met. I’m still struggling to make everyone realize that we aren’t like Bakugou because of the way you represented him.” Yaoyorozu spoke morosely.
“There are more important things than your comfort, Yaoyorozu.” Shota spat. “We rely on our reputation; getting rid of Bakugou would have simply made those trying to tear down our school feel justified.”
“Are you saying that they weren’t justified, though?” Isle pointed out, though Shota tried to ignore him.
Exhausted, Yaoyorozu put her hand on her face.
“Why? Why didn’t you do anything? You’re our teacher and a hero, so why didn’t you stop either of them?”
Eventually, the girl sighed.
“Perhaps this isn’t what you wanted to hear, sensei, but I have felt a need to say this for some time now. I told you about what Bakugou and Mineta did, I brought up the struggles that the other students were having, and yet you dismissed me. I know I’m young and inexperienced, but I would have thought these to be serious issues.”
Yaoyorozu shook her head dejectedly.
“Tsuragamae might not be a hero, but he has been teaching us, he has been working with us, and I feel as if I can trust him. I wish I could say that I felt the same with you by the time you left UA.”
Shota glowered at the retreating figure of his former student, angry that someone he had thought so highly of would treat him with such scorn.
“I have another question.” Isle said. Shota didn’t look at him and tried not to acknowledge him, but Isle apparently wasn’t asking permission. “With your reputation of expelling so many students, why didn’t you expel Bakugou and Mineta?”
Shota tried not to look at Isle, clenching his fists. However, enough reporters and angry protesters had tracked him down to ask these questions enough times that he had enough.
“I admit, had I known what was going to happen, I would have been harder on them both. However, I’ve dealt students like them before. Students who had powerful Quirks and thought that gave them a license to act however they wanted. However, it was always something that they would grow out of. I had assumed that Bakugou and Mineta would have been the same. Had I been allowed to teach unmolested, I’m certain that they would have become good heroes.”
“How though do you think that this affected your other students though?” Isle asked, pointing at Yaoyorozu.
Shota rolled his eyes.
“Heroes need to be able to handle difficult circumstances, whether that be combating dangerous villains, or working with belligerent coworkers. This was just something that the students had to learn to deal with. They would have grown stronger from the experience.” Shota gestured towards Yaoyorozu himself. “Yaoyorozu even admitted that Bakugou’s presence motivated her to become stronger. It’s all part of how we drive our students to push themselves.”
Isle just stared blankly at him. Shota didn’t care to defend himself any further, instead watching as the next mourner approached, this one the light pink-haired Fuwa Mawata from the year prior to Yaoyorozu’s.
“Hey…sensei…” Fuwa said.
Shota sighed. Fuwa was amongst the students in his previous class that he had expelled two years ago, but once she had gotten “a taste of death” as he would say, she had applied herself, and had worked to earn her spot back in the hero course.
Fuwa hesitated, seeming unsure of what to say.
“You know…when I started my second year, I appreciated the reality check you gave me. I wasn’t taking heroics as seriously as I should have, and needed to make myself get stronger. Or…at least that’s what I used to think.”
Fuwa’s hands trembled, while Shota watched in confusion at her change in tone.
“At the beginning of this year, when the Ministry of Education talked to us, I found out what a black mark would have done to me and my classmates if it hadn’t been removed.” Fuwa stared at Shota’s grave, though somehow, it felt to him as if she was staring directly at him. “You gave black marks to so many of your other students…and it was a death sentence for them.”
Shota glowered. Could he not escape this even in death?
“I…I told my classmates that we should have been thankful to you…thankful!” Fuwa yelled, regardless of whatever scene she might be making before she lowered her voice again. “I wanted them to be thankful for an action that would have left us without a future, to go through years of back-breaking effort only to be rejected wherever we went to try to apply to an agency, to be made homeless, to become so desperate that our best options would have been to either commit suicide or join a group of terrorists trying to tear this whole rotten system down!”
Fuwa started breathe harder, crying in a panic.
“Hell, forget about waiting until we graduated, I found out that two of my classmates were kicked out of their homes when they got expelled! One of them had to live with relatives from across the precinct, and the other’s been living in a homeless shelter!”
Fuwa clenched her fists and shook her head.
“We got ‘a taste of death,’ sensei. And I don’t care what you think, There were other ways you could have made us take the class seriously. But you just dumped us without giving us a chance, even though we had earned our spot. I don’t care what you think, we did earn our spots, we were ready to take the class seriously, and even if we weren’t, nothing we did was worth putting our futures at risk so you could prove a point. The fact that I stood up for you is something that I am going to be ashamed of for the rest of my life. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can be grateful that our society collapsed, because if it hadn’t we would have been doomed, and it would have been your fault.”
Fuwa panted from her rant, fighting to regain control of herself. Once she had calmed down, she deflated, giving Shota’s grave a blank look.
“Goodbye, sensei.”
Shota frowned at the departing figure of Fuwa. If he was honest, he could understand her frustration towards him. Admittedly, he had never anticipated that a black mark could be so damaging to one’s career, though he had always seen it as simply one other obstacle that his students would need to work to overcome. It was upsetting of course that so many had failed to do so.
“Another question;” Isle spoke, making Shota groan. “If you didn’t expel Bakugou and Mineta, what exactly did Fuwa’s class do that made you expel them?”
Shota turned around, getting in Isle’s face, though the dragon didn’t flinch or change his impassive expression.
“When I had Fuwa’s class take the Quirk Assessment Test, they showed no potential. None of them were taking their work seriously; they weren’t putting in real effort, they expected to coast by on their Quirks alone. Bakugou and Mineta at least demonstrated a firm handle on their Quirks. But there wasn’t anyone in that class that was really pushing themselves, none of them were showing any kind of creativity with their Quirks. If I had sent them out into the field, they would have gotten themselves, and everyone else around them killed.”
“Probably.” Isle agreed. “If you had sent them out then. But isn’t that why they were in a school in the first place? They had three years to train to become heroes. Despite the talent and resilience that Yaoyorozu’s class demonstrated, it’s hardly reasonable to expect students to have the kind of mentality or the talent required of a hero.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Aizawa asserted. “I’m not a babysitter. If those students weren’t going to make themselves stronger off of their own initiative, me holding their hand wasn’t going to change anything. They were scrawny, untrained, unmotivated, uncreative, or relied on brute-forcing problems with their Quirks, or expected that they could rely on Support Gear that could fail in the field. They couldn’t adapt to problems. If they didn’t understand how serious hero work was, I knew that they never would, not unless I gave them a taste of death, and apparently for some of them even that wasn’t enough.”
Shota glared at Isle, convinced he had made his point. Isle though stared back before reaching out to the side of Shota. He grabbed at the air, and it seemed to bend around his grasp, before he pulled it towards him. In the space where the air had been, Shota could see himself speaking to another Isle, albeit with a happier tone. The other Isle glanced once at Shota and the Isle with him before standing next to the window that had been opened, watching the other Shota speak, staring in the direction that the mourners had walked off to.
“Once Shinso had someone willing to put the work in for him though, he was able to put the work in for himself. He just needed someone to be in his corner. After he had actually gotten into the hero program, he began to understand how serious this job was. It’s not as if anyone could expect him to understand immediately after all, even after the USJ; he hadn’t been there, he hadn’t experienced that kind of danger. It just took some time for the responsibility to sink in. He was cowed at first by what was expected of him, but all he needed to get himself to put in the effort was a little encouragement. Shinso applied himself, he pushed his limits and got stronger, he learned to get more creative with his Quirk, and when the techniques he knew weren’t enough, he found Support Gear that let him compensate. And when his Quirk couldn’t work in a situation, he learned to adapt without it. It took some time, but I think he turned out well.”
The other Shota turned to his Isle with a smile on his face, only to frown with a confused expression as he saw Shota and his Isle. Shota felt his eye twitch in anger as he realized what his Isle had just done. Before he could shout though, Isle looked to his past self.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The Isle of the past said before Isle closed the window, turning back to Shota.
Isle looked at Shota, waiting for a response.
“Shinso had potential.”
“What makes you so certain that your other students didn’t, when they started off just as Shinso did? Your other students had actually demonstrated talent and skill from managing to get in through the Entrance Exam.” Shota was about to snap at Isle, but the dragon gave a sharp growl to cut off Shota’s rant before it started. “Yes, the Entrance Exam is biased towards powerful, destructive Quirks. That does not mean that it is incapable of being used as a metric for potential of at least some form. It shows the ability to remain calm in frenetic combat, to demonstrate power for practical purposes, to be able to move quickly through difficult terrain, to adapt when one’s Quirk isn’t exactly suited for a situation, and also has a hidden test for measuring an applicant’s willingness to put themselves in harm’s way to protect others.”
Shota tried to think of a counter to Isle, but could think of nothing that he hadn’t repeated before already. After giving him a moment to think of an argument, Isle continued.
“I would appreciate it if you could correct me, but if you can’t, this is what I am going to believe: You didn’t expel Shinso because he reminded you of yourself, having a Quirk that people didn’t like, that wasn’t ‘flashy,’ and so you gave him a chance. That is commendable. However, these other students managed to get into the Hero course through the Entrance Exam, having Quirks that were able to more easily handle physical threats, a test which you have often derided as biased. They got in, but were not at the level of proficiency or power as Bakugou or Mineta, and you realized that they needed more work to get to the point that they could be heroes.” Isle glared at Shota. “Shinso had the exact same problem, and yet you put the work in to train him.”
Shota couldn’t speak at first, but he was not going to back down so easily.
“Perhaps I did show some favor to Shinso, to someone who hadn’t gotten a chance before. That was my choice, though. I still maintain that it isn’t my responsibility to hold anyone’s hand, especially when they don’t show initiative.”
Isle’s gaze honed in to Shota that he had still ended up repeating an argument. However, Shota wasn’t going to surrender his pride as a teacher.
“What’s in your pocket?” Isle suddenly asked.
Shota blinked, caught off-guard by the question.
“What? Why do you want to know what’s in my pocket?”
“Humor me.”
Shota scowled, but reached into his pocket, pulling out two scraps of paper. He was surprised to see them, as they weren’t there when he died, though they did at one point belong to him. Isle plucked one of the papers and held it out to him.
“What is this?”
Shota frowned. It was just one of his paychecks.
“It’s one of my checks from UA. I already cashed it.”
Isle nodded in response.
“And why were you given this?”
“As payment for my job at UA.”
“That job, being?”
“…To teach students how to be heroes.” Shota grumbled.
Isle nodded again, and took the other scrap of paper from Shota, holding it in front of him, allowing him to recognize it as his heroics teaching license.
“What is this?”
Shota glared at Isle, unconsciously using his Quirk on the dragon, but Isle was unaffected and unbothered.
“…My teaching license.” He growled.
“What does your teaching license do?”
“It grants me legal permission to train students in the use of their Quirks.”
“Hm.” Isle looked at the license. “Why didn’t any of your students have one of these?”
“They weren’t legally qualified.” Shota answered, despite growing irritated at this exchange.
“Would any of their parents, teachers, coaches, or other friends have one of these?”
“…Not unless they were themselves, a hero.”
“So, to reiterate;” Isle held up the paycheck and the license, “Not only were you paid to teach these students, but you were one of the few people who legally could teach those students. Prior to meeting you, unless they were related somehow to another hero, or were using their Quirks illegally, they would not have the capability to train their Quirks, or really practice heroics in any context.”
Suddenly, the license and the paycheck caught fire, burning away to ash in Isle’s grasp, the dragon seemingly unbothered by the flames.
“You did a good job teaching Shinso, and possibly a few other select students, but as for all the others, who, by the way, all passed your school’s test to be part of the hero course, it seems that your quality as a teacher was rather poor, if not outright toxic.” The dragon said, looking down on Shota.
Shota had enough of this. Somehow even being dead, he could feel his eyes burning and his head throbbing as he stood his ground against Isle.
“I had the right to teach as I saw fit. You might have some tricks, but you are in no place to judge my capabilities.”
Isle maintained his glare.
“Perhaps I’m not,”
Before looking to the side.
“But he is.”
Shota looked, and saw the next mourner.
“Hello, Aizawa.” Nezu said, staring at Shota’s grave, his usual smile absent. Shota’s former boss had certainly seen better days. Despite keeping the black suit he wore for Shota’s funeral as pristine and crisp as anything else he wore, Nezu was showing fatigue for the first time Shota had remembered; wrinkles were showing up in the creases around his eyes, and some of his furs were turning grey.
“I wish I was here to recount the good times that we had; watching the students grow under your care until they were released into a dog-eat-dog world of heroics, working with you on missions, watching you and all of the other teachers run around like chickens with their heads cut off while I dropped some new element of chaos on all of you to push your capabilities as teachers.”
Nezu chuckled, but looked at the ground.
“The past year though has made me realize the folly of how I handled you and my school. Many former students washed up, dead, or driven to villainy, one of whom will forever be seen as the embodiment of why our system of heroics failed. It has been all I could do to prevent UA from getting shut down.”
Shota clenched his fists and felt his stomach roll at the reminder of his perceived failures and how they reflected on UA.
“Truly though, I am to blame for this. I hired you, I gave you permission to act as you saw fit without oversight, I allowed you to expel students based off of your own discernment despite the sheer quantity, and I trusted you to handle students like Bakugou. I was your supervisor, I should have not granted you so many freedoms when it was apparent that you were abusing them. You were not the only staff member who performed ignominious actions, but you were the one that I feel the most guilt about.”
Shota wanted to shout, to defend himself, but even if he could think of anything to say, no one but Isle would have heard him.
“This was an obvious failing on my part. I deemed the long term benefit of having access to your Quirk as worth what I saw as the short term issues of your expulsions.”
Nezu bowed and shook his head.
“I am intelligent, but perhaps not so wise. I trusted you to discipline Bakugou, rather than simply expel him myself when I noticed his abhorrent actions. I knew your expulsions were cruel, I even reveled in them. I simply told myself that as long as the students were able to graduate as heroes in the end, whatever mental scarring you inflicted would be irrelevant.”
Nezu pinched his brow.
“I admit it, I was caught up in my sadism. I found the struggles of the students amusing, and deemed their frustrations as insignificant hiccups as long as they could grow from them. I should have realized that the damage of your teaching style and your expulsions was far more caustic and left much more long-lasting harm than I had considered. Truly, by allowing you to act as you did, I not only failed as a principal, but doomed countless potential heroes to ignobility.”
Nezu sighed, giving a sad smile.
“Most of the public seems to think so as well. It’s actually a wonder that I have held out for as long as I have, but I wanted to try to keep the school afloat during these tumultuous times. I decided to resign while I still have some dignity left. It is apparent with my failings that I am not fit to lead UA.” Nezu lowered his head, a frown visible on his face. “…It’s quite depressing, I had been feeling quite invested lately in my sessions with young Midoriya.” Nezu lifted his head and sighed. “I shouldn’t feel too sorry for myself though. It’s not as tragic as if I will never see him again; we still stay in touch over video call and the school board still allows me to visit him when he’s available. Perhaps I can at least be a good teacher to him. Thankfully also, the police still wish to make use of me. Hopefully, I can atone for my sins.”
Nezu stared one last time at Shota’s grave, while Shota stared at his boss. This was how he was seen now? This was how Nezu would perceive his work as a teacher from now on?
“I have much to answer for. I wish that I had something better to say Aizawa, but for what I allowed you to do, what I did not incite you to do, and for what I highly suspect has led to your death, I regret hiring you as a teacher, and I am deeply sorry both for the people you hurt, and for yourself. I hope that you will at least finally get some rest.”
Nezu walked away, leaving Shota dumbfounded and humiliated. Isle made no comment on this, but Shota could feel the dragon’s judgement. It was almost a relief when the next two mourners came up, or it would have been, had Shota not recognized who they were.
“You can’t be serious…” he growled, glaring at the man and the woman. “These two…they were two of the people who killed me!”
Shota whipped around, about to shout out, only to remember that no one could hear him. He turned to Isle.
“Is this some kind of sick joke to you? Watching as my murderers come to spit on my grave?”
Isle glanced at Shota.
“As I said, this is everyone’s last chance to speak to you. I never said that it was just your friends.”
Shota groaned, glaring at the two, daring them to speak. The man came forward first. He was slightly on the chubby side, having hair that looked like the dappled coat of a corgi, of all things. The man glared down at Aizawa’s grave.
“I noticed that little girl paying her respects to you. She was someone you saved, right?”
Shota scowled back, vowing that he would find a way to come back from the dead if this man threatened Eri in any way. That was not the man’s intent, however.
“Let me tell you about another kid. His name was Imai Kouki. Do you remember him?”
Shota frowned, realizing that he could vaguely recognize the name. Imai…he was one of his old students; he had a dog Quirk similar to Inui’s. He was also one of the students that he had expelled and reenrolled in previous years. Shota had a sick feeling in his stomach as this, and the realization of why this man was here, hit.
“He was my little brother. He loved playing heroes, like everyone else. I loved playing heroes with him, even after I lost interest in becoming one myself. I was a little disappointed, to be honest; my Quirk just gives me an enhanced sense of smell, but Kouki could do a lot more. But he was always encouraging to me. Sometimes I felt jealous of him, but he was such a little ball of sunshine it was impossible to get upset with him, he was just that positive and friendly. He could tell when I was upset, and always did whatever he could to fix that. Eventually, I got into UA, in the General Education course. Became a cook. The year after I graduated, Kouki applied to the UA Hero Course. Got a great score on the Entrance Exam. And then he had you.” The man growled. “Orientation, you expelled him, saying he wasn’t taking things seriously.”
Shota remembered. That year, Imai was the only student he had expelled. None of the students were perfect, but Imai particularly grated him; he was like an even more hyper version of Ashido, getting excited about the friends he thought he was going to make there, clearly having no idea what he was getting into. Shota knew that he needed to put a stop to that kind of naivety quickly.
“See…that’s a thing about Kouki. He was a bit like a cartoon character sometimes. He was so cheerful and positive that sometimes he could come off as annoying, but the moment you felt like that, it would make you feel guilty because he was such a good kid. But that never meant he wasn’t taking things seriously. He worked hard preparing for UA, spent all of his time at the gym or studying. I could get you thinking that he wasn’t taking things seriously, but how the hell could you justify expelling a kid for something like that? Just because he acted positive and wanted to make friends? Do you know how devastating it was for him at home? It was the first time he ever really looked sad, acting like he let me down or something. The next day though, he talked to Yamada, who told him that he’d probably get reenrolled the next year. He was still down on himself for a bit after that, but he kept at it anyway. He did pretty well at the Sports Festival, but he couldn’t exactly make up for even the few weeks of training the students still in the hero course got with actual instructors, and couldn’t get to the Third Round. That was hard for him to deal with, even though it wasn’t his fault. You let him back in the next year, though everyone else judged him for getting expelled in the first place, for being a year behind everyone else. Still, he worked hard, busting his ass to get on the same level as everyone else.”
Shota maintained his belief that he had done the right thing. It was worth upsetting someone in order to get them to face a harsh reality, and regardless of what opportunities Imai lost out on because of his foolishness, Shota had seen it as another necessary challenge for him to overcome. However, his blood froze at the sheer venom in the elder Imai’s voice as he scowled at Shota’s grave.
“But you know, hero students really rely on those internships they get from the Sports Festival. The fact that he missed out on one alone made it hard for heroes to take him seriously, and that was without the black mark. Even though he ended his time at UA with good grades, he just couldn’t make up for how that missing year made him look. I saw how hard Kouki worked. You saw how hard Kouki worked. You must have, by the time he had graduated from UA, he was at the top of his class. He worked himself to the bone, to the point that he was a hard and cold shell of his former self, just to prove that he was worth it. I had thought that once he had a license though, he’d be alright, that he’d go back to the cheerful little brother I had. But that black mark…Kouki spent years applying to different hero agencies, trying to make a break, to find someone who’d give him a chance to be the hero I knew he could be. But it didn’t matter how good his grades were or how hard he had worked; that black mark was the only thing they saw, and everywhere he applied, they laughed him out. He even tried to go solo, but it didn’t matter, because no one would call on him, not the police, and not the HPSC. To them, he was some washed-up nobody who hadn’t managed to get a decent internship to his name. Eventually, it got to be too much for him. He couldn’t support himself, couldn’t make rent, couldn’t feed himself, and no one gave him a chance, because you stole it from him without a second thought. Throughout his time at UA, you saw how much he was struggling, and you never gave him any help that could have corrected for what you did. And the worst part about it all? I knew what was coming. I saw him, desperate, crying to himself, only to stop feeling anything at all, until one day when I tried to check up on him, I found his body dangling from the ceiling.”
Despite his self-assurances, Shota felt his blood run cold as he recounted what had happened to Imai. He had indeed improved by the end of his time at UA…though Shota had assumed that what had happened to him later had shown that Imai truly wasn’t ready for the duties of hero work. He had told himself that if he wasn’t strong enough to handle the pressure, he would have inevitably gotten killed in the field regardless. He kept telling himself that.
The elder Imai pulled a worn teddy bear out.
“I got this for Kouki when he was four. I was only eight, I didn’t know to put more thought into it, but he loved it. He said it helped him sleep. Sometimes, for years afterwards when he thought he was alone, I saw him holding it when he was upset.”
He put the bear next to Shota’s tombstone.
“If there is any justice in the world, I hope you can see this. I hope you can see something of the little brother I knew that you destroyed for inane reasons. I hope that you have to take this with you wherever you go. Burn in hell, you bastard.”
The man walked away, leaving without speaking to anyone else. Suddenly though, Shota felt something on his hand. He looked down, and saw that he was holding the same teddy bear. He yelped, dropping it. The bear’s button eyes stared up at him.
“Should I take it you don’t want it, then?” Isle asked.
Shota glared at the dragon in response, and Isle sighed.
“Well,” Isle lifted his hand, and the teddy bear was enveloped in a bubble before vanishing. “I suppose that I can at least try to make sure it gets back to that poor boy.”
The woman came up next. However, seeing her more closely, Shota realized that he knew her.
“Wait…” Shota looked closer at the young woman. “I recognize her…Sudou Kiyomi. But why would she be here? Why would she have been a part of this?” From what Shota could remember, Sudou had managed a decent career as the heroine ‘Matter Mask’ using her ‘Absorb’ Quirk, which allowed her to turn her body into any substance that she touched. She was a generally quiet girl though, in fact, the only time Shota remembered having any issues with her was with this one boy named…
“Ogawa Kippei.” Sudou said, unknowingly finishing Shota’s line of thought. “Do you remember him?”
Shota scowled. Sudou had complained to him about Ogawa acting inappropriately towards her in their first year. He had dismissed it as normal, inane high school banter. Sudou had been quite insistent towards him that Ogawa had been acting in ways around her that made Sudou feel threatened. Granted, Ogawa had been wasting time flirting with her, and Shota did have to tell him to focus on his work at times, but beyond that, Shota told Sudou that if she had issues dealing with something so simple, it put her capability to operate as a hero into question. Sudou hadn’t brought the matter up much after that. Shota remembered teaming the two together during some of the exercises to force them to deal with the problem. He rolled his eyes, remembering Kayama mentioning a rumor from a tabloid that the two were in a relationship after they had graduated.
“When I first started off in your class, Ogawa harassed me. It started off small, making comments about my costume, getting in my personal space, putting his hand on my shoulder even though he knew I didn’t like him. It was small at first, so I didn’t think much of it, but it still bothered me. And you saw it. I always hoped you would do something about it. As time went on, it got worse. He wouldn’t leave me alone. The things he said got cruder, the places he’d touch me got more private. He’d always seem to find me when I was alone. No matter how many times I told him to leave me alone, he’d just laugh and come back later. At that point, he was starting to scare me, and I told you about it. The most you’d ever do though was to tell him to focus on his work. Once he saw that was all you’d do, he got more aggressive. He’d wait for me outside the locker rooms or the bathrooms. He’d corner me against a wall and lean over me, making it look like he wasn’t going to let me go. He’d grope me in full view of the class and laugh it off like an accident. His friends laughed about it. You saw all of this, and did nothing. And when I tried talking to you about it again? Not only did you tell me to stop complaining, you put us together more often, as if it was my problem. You kept forcing me in close proximity with the boy that was becoming my abuser! But I knew that I couldn’t say anything to you by that point; you’d made it clear that at best, you’d just stick me around with Ogawa longer, at worst, you’d expel me. Sometimes I wish I had just transferred, but by that point, I had heard rumors about your expulsion record. I already knew what a black mark could do to someone; I had a cousin who was kicked out of his home for one. So I tried to ignore it. I tried to act like he didn’t bother me, or I’d try to hang out with my friends as much as possible. But it just got worse. At one point, he outright forced a kiss on me, and I used my Quirk to punch him. You gave us both detention, but you gave me twice the amount you gave to Ogawa! You said that I had overreacted and hitting someone with my Quirk was going too far for ‘just a kiss!’ That was sexual assault! I’d have thought that as a hero you’d know the difference! I tried to go to the other teachers, and while they were better than you, they just told me that I was your student.”
Sudou shuddered. Despite himself, Shota shuddered with her.
“So I tried to deal with it, not to let it bother me. But I wanted to be at UA, I wanted to be a hero, and when everyone was telling me that I was overreacting, I started to believe it. It just made things worse, because it let Ogawa know that he could go further, and I wouldn’t do anything!”
Sudou looked pale even as she glared at Shota’s grave.
“Things got worse when we did internships and work studies. He’d always take the same ones as me. The thing is, the heroes we worked with were bothered by what he was doing, but because of how he set things up, I’d always get blamed with him! They said that we were flirting, and Ogawa would laugh it off, making it look like I was the one who started it! The heroes took me less seriously because of what he would do. But we just kept getting paired together. It was just you at first, but when the heroes looked at our exercises, they followed your lead.”
“Then we graduated. I thought I was free of him. But he followed me, set his own agency up in my district. He didn’t fondle me in public like he would when we were at UA, but when he got me alone, and at that point I had forgotten how to fight back…”
Sudou started to shiver, tears trickling down her face.
“Despite everything that they did, I can’t help but be grateful to the League, because at least when Gigantomachia went on a rampage, he finally freed me of Ogawa. I hope it hurt.”
Sudou leaned closer to the gravestone with a disgusted look on her face.
“It’s only now that I’m free of him, and this whole disgusting system that you profited from that I really started to come to terms with what happened to me. It’s not as if therapists are easy to come by in this country at the best of times. I hope I can find someone and talk about what happened to me, but at least now I can hope that you’re here to listen to what you did. You were supposed to be a hero and my teacher. I should have been able to rely on you. But when I was getting hurt by another of your students, you just dismissed my concerns. No, you made things worse. I hope I get to talk to a reporter some day so I can let everyone know that Bakugou and Mineta were far from the only bastards you trapped your other students with. I hope you burn in hell, you son of a bitch.”
Shota was silent, absorbing the information that he had been given. He almost wished Isle would say something, ask another question, to mock him, anything to give himself a chance to defend himself, to try to justify his actions. All too soon though, the grave cleared out, except for one more person.
Though he had given the eulogy, Hizashi had waited for everyone else to say their peace before taking his turn. In fact, he had vanished at some point during the funeral while everyone else paid their respects, and had only shown up again around the end. He came up to Shota’s grave.
“…Hey Sho, sorry I’m late. I had to wait for everyone else to say their peace first. I…uh…I got to bring someone!” Hizashi said with an attempt at a smile before he gestured behind him.
Shota’s breath stopped in his throat. Approaching his grave, accompanied by several police officers, was the black-misted figure of Kurogiri. It was only over the past year though that Shota had learned the man’s real name.
“Oboro…” Shota whispered.
Shirakumo Oboro was not quite the excitable young man he once was, but he also wasn’t the cold, almost robotic Kurogiri that Dr. Garaki had turned him into. While still wreathed in black mist, Oboro’s facial features could be seen in the cloud that made up his head.
“…Hey, Shota.”
Shota could scarcely believe it. His friend that had been killed in a villain attack when they and Hizashi were still students was standing in front of him, and now Shota could recognize him and his voice. He knew from when they had interrogated Kurogiri after he had been caught the previous year that he was made from the body of Oboro, but Shota had all but lost hope that his friend could be recovered.
“You’re probably confused about why I’m here, right? Well…I guess a bit of me has been coming back ever since Shigaraki died at Jaku. All For One had linked himself to Shigaraki, he meant to take control of him, but when Lemillion killed him, there was some kind of backlash against All For One. He’s still alive…kind of, but he’s basically brain dead. I guess he tried to put too much of himself into the Quirk he gave to Shigaraki. But good news for me, I guess, because ever since All For One went catatonic and Shigaraki died, Kurogiri or whatever they made me to be has been dying with them.”
Oboro shuddered, and despite the stern expressions of the police guarding him, Hizashi put his hand on his friend’s shoulder to steady him. Oboro took a breath.
“These past years…it’s like I was sleepwalking …but…I was still there. I…I remember what I did. What I helped Shigaraki and All For One do…I…I…”
Oboro put his head in his hands and fell to his knees.
“Shota, I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry…the USJ, I helped Shigaraki kill those two girls, your students…and I helped kidnap that boy from the Summer Camp, and all of those horrible things…it was such a relief when I finally got caught…”
Hizashi put his arm around Oboro’s shoulders and helped him back up, holding onto him until he could get ahold of himself.
“I…still don’t feel quite myself, but whatever Kurogiri was feels like he’s fading away. I’m not sure what I’m going to do from here…maybe I’ll try to see if I can help out with whatever this new system has turned into, it’s not necessarily that different from hero work, and I still want to help people.” Oboro looked at his stern-faced guards. “I hope I’ll get a chance, anyway.” He sighed, before looking back at Shota’s grave. “Sho…I’m sorry…I wish that you were still here, that I had started to regain my self sooner…I guess I can understand how you felt when I died.”
Shota couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even look at Oboro in the eye.
“Hizashi told me about how you became a teacher, and the things that have been happening lately.”
Shota’s attention became completely focused on Oboro. His friend’s death was why he had become a teacher in the first place, to try to prevent what had happened to him from repeating. With everything that had been said about him, Oboro’s opinion was the one he most wanted to hear. He wanted to hear him say that he was proud of Shota, that he had made the right calls.
“I’m sorry that you got hurt so badly by my death, that it made you so closed off, that it made you do the things you did. I wish that things hadn’t turned out this way.”
Shota felt his heart in his throat. Was that all Oboro could say about him? Words of pity and regret? Was he really that bad of a teacher that even his friend, his reason for becoming a teacher in the first place, though that he had done poorly?
Oboro sighed, closing his eyes.
“…I wish you were here.”
Oboro couldn’t say anything else, and backed away from Shota’s grave towards his waiting guards, who escorted him away. Hizashi was the only person left in the cemetery, looking down on Shota’s grave. He didn’t speak immediately, just standing in silence with Shota’s ghost. For his part, Shota was torn between wanting to hear his friend say something, anything at all, and the fear of being left alone once Hizashi had said his peace.
“This wasn’t how I expected things would go for us, you know?” Hizashi eventually said. “I know I always made myself sound like a ‘loud idiot,’ but part of why I did that was because we both know how quickly life can end, and I wanted to try to enjoy it as well as I could.”
Shota grimaced at the reminder of the insult he’d sometimes casually make to Hizashi, despite his friend never seeming bothered by it.
“It’s just…I always thought we’d have gone the way that we thought Oboro did, you know? Out in the field, trying to save lives, ready to have each other’s back.”
Hizashi grimaced, taking his glasses off and wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me, Sho. Not when you were killed, and not when you were hurting, not in the way that I should have. I wasn’t a good friend Sho. I should have confronted you about this stuff. Even if it meant losing you as a friend, I would have at least done something…”
Hizashi took in a deep breath to steady himself and let it out before looking at Shota’s grave again.
“We weren’t good teachers, Sho. I tried to be, but I let a lot of bad stuff happen to our students that I just ignored, thinking that it was just part of life, of being a hero. But a lot of it came from decisions you made. I should have done more, talked you down when I first saw what you were doing, making you realize that this wasn’t how to honor Oboro’s legacy. You explained why, and I get it, but hurting our students like that, taking away their chances, that was wrong, Sho. But I thought that I needed to trust you, that things weren’t as bad as I thought they were.”
Hizashi looked down at the ground.
“But they were Sho, they were so bad. Bad enough that some of our students got killed. Bad enough that some of the students you had ended up going and hurting people. I didn’t realize how bad it was, but I saw enough, I saw how so many of your students ended up missing a year of training, or ended up becoming depressed, or hurting each other without consequences, and I should have stepped in, told you that what you were doing was wrong.”
Hizashi looked back at Shota’s grave.
“…I’ve visited a lot of graves over the past year, when I got the chance. Some of our old students. I…tried to apologize…but it’s just too late, there wasn’t anything I could do to make it better for them, and I can’t get away from that. I tried to find whoever was still alive, but…well…none of the students from UA that you expelled wanted to talk to me or anyone from our school. I can’t exactly blame them. But I had to try to apologize. I hope you took the time to visit some of those graves, Sho. I know it would be hard to accept what you did, but…I hope you visited them.”
Hizashi shook his head morosely.
“Maybe things won’t be as bad for the ones who are still alive and aren’t in prison, since the Ministry of Education removed all of the black marks you’ve given in your career. Maybe they’ll be able to get into this new system. I hope some will, anyway. Some of the people that I talked to seem pretty bitter, both towards you and towards society in general, and they might not really want to do anything to help it. I can hope though that with time they’ll get better, that they’ll find some way to be happy now. Maybe they might be willing to let me apologize to them some time in the future.”
Hizashi stared at Shota’s grave for what felt like an eternity.
“I’m sorry. I wish I had something cheerier to say.” The man grimaced, turning to the side in thought before looking back at the tombstone. “I’m going to do the best I can to look after your students, Sho. I’ll keep an eye out for Eri, though I think she’s doing alright for herself. I ended up splitting your cats between her, Fukukado, and me, so don’t worry about them.”
Hizashi forced a hesitant smile on his face.
“For what it’s worth, I had some good times with you. Joking with you, being announcers for the Sports Festival, talking about our students. We had some good times too…” Hizashi’s smile fell away. “There’s…just a lot of things I wish I had done differently, though.”
Hizashi paused again before speaking once more.
“There’s so much that I feel like I should have said to you. Maybe it’s too late, but I feel that if there’s anything I should say, it’s this: Sho…you’re my best friend. Also…”
Shota was silent, not hearing anything else around him, just the last words of his best fri…
“…you’re the biggest asshole I know.”
Shota was left dumbstruck as Hizashi left on that note. Now, he was stuck in an empty graveyard as a ghost, with no one around but Isle.
“…I tried to do my best.” Shota said. “I was trying to help them. I was trying to make them ready for a career where men and women died young. I wanted to get rid of the things that would have killed them faster. Carelessness, indecisiveness, lack of creativity and effort. I was trying to keep them from dying.”
Shota finally looked at Isle. The dragon’s expression though was unreadable.
“I hear what you say, Aizawa Shota, and I want to believe that you’re a good man, but what I have seen is the consequences of your actions.”
“No…” Shota spoke in a hollow voice. “No…I was trying to protect them…I was trying…”
Shota mumbled, his voice slowly turning quiet as he ran out of things to say. Isle didn’t interrupt him, and didn’t speak until Shota looked at him again. He spoke once more.
“A tree is judged as good or bad by the fruit that it bears.”
The world around the two began to melt and fade away, and Shota faded with it. Eventually, Isle found himself back in front of the pool. He closed his eyes, and let out a breath from his nose, before looking back into the pool.