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The sky was a light gray with a listless breeze. Morning dew coated the graves they passed. Izuku led his family down the well worn pathway, pulling back a couple branches to reveal a hidden off-shoot in the woods. A few twists and turns later and they arrived at a prairie of graves.
A man in a white suit and red shoes stood near a mausoleum. If Izuku didn’t know why he was there, he would have assumed he was visiting the dead. But Izuku was well aware of why he was there, so he led his family up to the ancient mausoleum.
“No mourners?” Izuku asked.
“No funerals.” The man raked his eyes over Izuku’s family before settling on him. “Hello, Ku.”
Izuku smiled up at him. “Hello Aikoku. It’s good to see you again.”
“You as well.” And with that, Aikoku knocked on the doors of the mausoleum in a quick pattern, letting whoever was in charge of opening them know it was safe.
The doors creaked open and Izuku ushered his family inside.
----
“A funeral?” their dad said. “It lasts all night?”
Izuku nodded. “Quirkless funerals work differently than quirked ones. They aren’t done out in the open and it’s more of a freedom celebration.”
And it was true, as morbid as it was. Quirkless funerals celebrated how far the dead came in life and how free they now were from quirkism. Depending on the age of the person who died and what they did, the current community leader would read off a list of some of their biggest accomplishments before letting those who knew them personally share stories of them.
Izuku would be one of the people expected to share tonight. Kimura Akari was one of his best friends. They were a brilliant writer, not that the world was aware of the face behind their pen name, Shi. For the rest of the world, Shi would simply and suddenly disappear. For the quirkless community, Akari would be celebrated and laid to rest.
Hitoshi interrupted his thoughts. “They’ll need new suits and shoes.”
Dad and Pops looked at him. Toshi simply shrugged. “Quirkless funerals are different. Honorary family wears wine red suits with white shirts and shoes. False negatives wear gray suits with white shirts. Quirkless people wear white suits.”
Pops looked between them. “Do you two already have suits?”
“Yeah,” Izuku said. “I’ve brought Toshi to a couple of funerals before, so we both have them.”
Dad sighed. “Alright. I suppose we’ll go shopping then.”
Izuku smiled sweetly as Pops squealed. (And if Hitoshi wanted to squeal too, well, it wasn’t everyday a quirkless person would trust a quirked person enough to invite them to a funeral.)
----
The mausoleum was so much bigger inside than Shouta thought it would be. Mostly because it opened up into stone steps that led below the ground and into a giant chamber. The lights were red everywhere but the stage, where a closed casket rested. There had to be at least 100 people wandering around and greeting each other like long lost friends.
Izuku had been greeted by quite a few people, all of them calling him “Ku,” which Izuku had mentioned before they left that a vast majority of people went by nicknames or false names. While they were there, Hitoshi was to be Hito, Hizashi was Za, and Shouta was Ta. Granted, Izuku didn’t think they’d actually need to use those names, but if they needed to give a name, those were what they were supposed to give.
A quiet fell over the crowd when a lady, dressed in a white suit like a vast majority of the people here, stood on stage. She laid a hand on the casket and said “Better terrible truths…”
“Than kind lies.” The crowd finished for her and then they were sitting on red pillows that were passed around.
“Hello everyone. You may call me Kazemi. We are here to celebrate the life and death of Kimura Akira, 17 years old.” And damn if Shouta hated that this was a 17 year old, only two years older than his sons.
“Contrary to rumors, Akira did not die at the hands of the Quirkless Hate Group: Kiyo, but due to the negligence of Musutafu General Hospital, who refused to perform an appendectomy, and the workers at Akira’s orphanage, who refused to take Akira to Liberty Hospital after the initial refusal to treat.”
Shouta had to close his eyes. This could have been Izuku. This could have been my kid.
“However, let’s not focus too long on what we cannot change.” She smiled softly. “Akira was a valued member of our community. And a valued member of quirked society as well, if their reactions to Akira’s work as Shi is anything to go by. Along with their impressive written works, they were an avid member of the cat savers and brought over 1000 stray cats to various rescues in their 17 years of life.”
Suddenly, Shouta had a mental image of another Kimura, one he knew from his own work as a cat savers member. They were a teenager as well, quirk unknown, with long red hair and violet eyes. They had been one of the best. It’d been three years since Shouta had changed around his schedule. Three years since he last saw them.
Kazemi continued with a few other accomplishments before sighing. “I suppose it’s time for me to stop talking and let those closer to Akira have their turns. However, as we start, I do have a gift for the first person I call up. As we went through their last possessions, we found a letter stating that should they die, Akira would like this folder of their unfinished works to go to their friend. They wrote that they trusted this friend to finish and publish their last unfinished works as Shi.”
Kazemi held up a red folder. “So may Ku please come share a story of Akira and collect their gift to you.”
Shouta saw Izuku startle a bit, eyes wide, before calmly standing up and going on stage. Kazemi handed him the folder before stepping off stage. Izuku stared down at the folder before placing a hand on Kimura’s casket. And if Shouta didn’t know better, and he didn’t, he would think Izuku whispered a quiet thank you.
“When you can’t beat the odds, change the game.” Izuku said. “Aki used to tell me that all the time. They also used to tell me to be the odds. But really, I think they were the ones who always changed the game. It’s interesting how, in this day of quirkism, they managed to write stories featuring mainly, if not all, quirkless cast and passed it off as fantasy. And people read it! They love it!”
Shouta was pretty sure Izuku was shaking, just a bit.
“They cheated the system.” Izuku ran a hand down the edge of the folder. “The first time I met them, I was seven. They were nine and writing nine line poems, but they made an exception and wrote seven lines for me. When I asked why, they shrugged and said that “sometimes, it’s worth it to play outside the rules.” Ten minutes later they punched one of my classmates in the face for trying to use his quirk on me.”
A few people laughed. Shouta couldn’t help but smile.
“We exchanged usernames that same day. And ever since, we’ve sent each other stories. Well,” Izuku chuckled, “they sent stories and I sent a lot of quirk analyses.”
More people laughed or grinned.
“I’m not sure why they gave me their stories. I can’t remember the last time I did more than beta read for them. But if they trust me with their stories, then I’ll do my best to make them proud.”
Izuku took a breath. “I’m proud of them. For changing the game. For beating the odds. For living three years passed life expectancy. And I’m happy for them. I’m happy they’re free. Free to write without fear. Free from quirkism. But no matter how proud or happy I am, I miss them. I’ll always miss them.”
Izuku ran a hand over Kimura’s casket and walked back to where he was sitting. Shouta wasn’t sure if a hug would be too much or inappropriate, so instead he carefully laid a hand next to Izuku’s pillow. Giving him the choice to take or leave it.
Izuku took his hand as Kazemi walked back on stage and called up the next person. The rest of the funeral passed in a montage of stories and songs and poems. And at the end, just before it was time to leave, the song that started all of this, the song that opened up their family to one more, came on.
She’s talking to angels,
counting the stars
Making a wish on a passing car
She’s dancing with strangers,
falling apart
Waiting for the Church Grim to pick them up…
And so Shouta softly sang with them.
And if when they got back home, the second thing Izuku did, only after changing out of his suit, was to fall into Shouta’s arms in a hug he initiated, well, then Shouta had no problems sleeping on the couch as his kid cried himself to sleep. Nor would he mind, come morning, keeping his kid close for the day.