Chapter Text
Reiko Yanagi’s hobbies were not creepy or off-putting – if looked at through the right lens.
She liked watching movies (the visceral slashers). She enjoyed riveting stories (like gothic horror). She searched the internet with like-minded individuals (searching for creepypastas and distressing news). She liked to pretend that she was as normal as anyone else, mostly to amuse herself. Sometimes other kids would give her grief, call her creepy or a zombie or a ghost girl, but it was something she took in stride. She didn’t mind holding this title; it was almost like a badge of pride. Little by little, most of her bullies opted to stop bothering with her. She found a few friends, kooky ones that were not easily stymied by her glum personage, and the ones she could play the straight woman to in response to their antics.
Reiko also liked talking to heroes – the ones who have long since left the mortal coil.
As far as she remembered, mortality rate among the pros was on the lower end despite the dangerous profession they were embroiled in. No doubt this was due to All Might’s overwhelming presence that helped reduce the crime rate to single digits. Most criminals or villains generally did not want fights to turn lethal; that would no doubt put them at risk of ending up in Tartarus, the kind of place that one did not leave once they got there. Similarly, most heroes acted as a relief force to disaster rather than actively preventing them from happening. If they did end up on-site of a coming catastrophe, they would no doubt do their best to prevent death and injury, even at the cost of their own.
Sometimes, however, heroes died.
She didn’t know much about the married pair that went by Water Hose. They had two water-based Quirks and specialized in coastal and maritime rescue. Fairly popular with the public opinion, though not high on hero rankings. Humble in how they carried themselves. Apparently they even had a son, and considered retiring because of that, to make sure they could properly raise him.
The villain that killed them didn’t give them a chance.
That Gotou Imasuji, villain name Muscular, was apprehended due to their sacrifice, must have been cold comfort to Water Hose’s friends and family, let alone the son that they have so tragically orphaned. Reiko could not begin to imagine the grief and pain he must have felt. Did he even understand it yet? Or was he too young to get it?
With those wandering thoughts did Reiko put an enclosed candle on the shared grave, staring up at the humble resting place of the two. The cool black marble was comforting to look at, even despite its grim purpose. Etched on the tablet with calligraphic characters were two names: Izumi Kawa and Izumi Nagare.
Parents.
Friends.
Heroes.
The grave was obviously taken care of; the relatives must have been visiting to take care of it. Reiko hummed, saying a quiet prayer to the departed spirits before she rose to her feet. It was about to rain, judging by the grim clouds gathering above her. The bus left from a nearby stop in a quarter; she had plenty of time to get there.
Yet, that was how she ended up stumbling into two peculiar people: a woman in her early thirties with a neat brown bowl cut and deep matching eyes, and a young boy in a curious horned cap whose hand she held. Reiko was silent, letting them ask the first question. Having visited her fair share of fallen heroes, she didn’t get to meet with those who would visit their grave very often; that being said, the few that met her invariably asked about her allegiance.
“...are you someone from the family?” The woman asked, brows furrowing. No doubt she tried to recall if she saw the pale middle-high student somewhere.
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. I just wanted to come and pay my respects.” She replied truthfully. Faint confusion crossed the woman’s face before she settled for careful understanding. As far as she knew, Reiko was but a simple if dedicated fan of the Water Hose. The boy had a different reaction; he clung to her hand more insistently, and his already hostile glower only intensified. “If that is allowed to do, of course.”
“Oh… yes, of course.” The woman seemed to think about something for a spell, regarding the student with an inquisitive eye. “Are you… perhaps, seeking to join a Hero School?”
“If my humble abilities are sufficient, ma’am.” Reiko responded truthfully once again. Her Poltergeist isn’t a very flashy Quirk, but it has a variety of uses – and it would no doubt get stronger as she trained. That answer seems to bother the boy. Was he…? “...are you… forgive me for asking, but are you the son of the Water Hose?”
Before the woman could stop him, the boy stepped forward, gnashing his teeth. He was furious, the way children his age – or anyone, really – ever should. “How dare you… they have names! They’re right there at the tombstone, you stupid hero fangirl!” His words were bile, acid. Reiko recoiled despite herself, which only spurred the boy on to continue. The woman looked pained, but did nothing to stop him – perhaps it was something on the boy’s mind for a while. “You came here because Mama and Papa were good heroes who died and made everyone happy about it?! What do you even know about them?! You’re another dumb idiot looking to show off your Quirk like it’s the only thing that matters!”
It didn’t matter that they were in the sanctity of the graveyard. This was no tantrum or a childish folly; it was hatred, the kind of hatred that bred terrible villains. This boy didn’t even look old enough to have his own Quirk yet… “I don’t want you to come here ever again, you hear?! And… and if I see you again, I’ll punch you in the balls!”
“That’s enough, Kouta.” This time the woman intervened, though it didn’t seem like she was angry with him – merely tired. “...please go, young lady. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
“...I think I should be the one apologizing.” Reiko did not seek trouble, opting to bow her head in humility. “...please take care.”
----
A year later, Reiko was among the forty people fortunate to become freshmen at UA – and was heading out for a summer camp.
To think the woman who she met at the Water Hose grave would turn out to be one of the Wild Wild Pussycats… a few of her classmates were their fans. Of course, they weren’t here to lazy about; the next few days would be a grueling test of endurance and skill, all to better their abilities as heroes. Her class walked in on 1A’s exercises, ranging from mild (running around like that was probably a regular occurrence for Iida) to… ethically questionable (was Kaminari plugged to a generator?!).
“Who’s the kid?” She heard Kamakiri ask and blinked before her eyes wandered towards the lodge. Indeed, a familiar face was making his way towards her group – or her, specifically – glowering from under his horned cap. “And why does he look like he’s about to open a can of whoopass on us?”
“Monoma, what did you do?” Kendo sighed exasperatedly. For once, their resident troublemaker had nothing to say, merely shrugging with a confused look on his face. The boy – Kouta, Reiko recalled – marched towards her, stopping just short and looking up at her. Tsunotori and Tokage seemed to be his fans, crooning how cute and adorable he was.
And then his fist struck right where he said it would. The next thing Reiko remembered was the ant crawling around the ground as she writhed in pain in a fetal position , followed by an exasperated Mandalay arriving to the rescue, not that Kouta needed much of it, having stormed off in a huff a moment after and leaving her class stupefied.