Prologue
The city was darker than it was supposed to be. New moon deprived the night sky of its usual glow, as if reenacting the loss of society's light that had occurred exactly one year ago.
Had it truly been a whole year since the death of their symbol?
The underground hero buried his chin deeper in the capture weapon wrapped around his neck. Icing winds pricked at the bit of exposed skin around his wrists. His eyes clung to the few flickering lights at the foot of the memorial, and each time he blinked, another candle seemed to have gone out. With midnight approaching, the day of mourning was almost over, and most visitors had returned home.
He had only visited it once in all those months. The stone feet of the statue had already been flattened out by then, having been touched by too many hands.
Eraserhead took a deep breath. He turned to his left. An unmoving figure left their feet dangling over the edge, not afraid of the height. He could see a few strands of white hair peek from underneath their hood. Seems the kid wasn't wearing his usual full-face mask tonight.
"Did you have a personal connection to him?" The pro asked the question that had been bugging him for a while. There was just something… He couldn't quite explain it, but there was something about the young vigilante that reminded him of the late symbol of peace.
"He was my mentor," the young man admitted, his soft voice dull behind the metal mask covering the lower half of his face. It felt weird hearing it without the usual distortion of a voice changer.
Eraserhead wished he could say he was surprised by the answer, but he really wasn't. He let go of a heavy sight and turned back to the monument.
"For what it's worth… I'm sorry."
"Your condolences are appreciated." Normally, sarcasm would be dripping from those words. Tonight, he could tell they were spoken with seriousness, even a bit of warmth was swinging in them. The hero pressed his hands deeper into the pockets of his pants.
"My offer still stands," he let the other know, "our society is in shambles, we need capable people like you. If you turn yourself in, negotiations would be held in your favour. Of course the offer will be extended towards your partner."
A chuckle. "We'll think about it." Always the same answer, always the same result. Eraserhead's hair would turn as white as the vigilante's before the young man would take up on the offer.
As if being summoned by the pro's words, a few light taps could be heard behind the two. A figure dressed similarly to the sitting vigilante appeared, a bouquet of white flowers, chrysanthemums, in their hands.
The young man to Eraserhead's left rose to his feet. The flowers were handed to him. He picked a seemingly random one up, revealing it was not like the others. A bright yellow lily.
"I know the associations with this one aren't the best, but somehow, they remind me of him. I can't help it. Maybe because they're like his hair," the vigilante joked, unable to completely hide the bitterness in his dull voice. Eraserhead didn't take him for one to know about flowers. Then again, whenever he wasn't sassing the heroes that repeatedly failed to capture him or being the flaming green force of nature that he was, the young man spoke softly and with compassion. Despite not showing his face, the smile could be felt and heard in his tone. Always reassuring people, always making sure they were safe before throwing himself into the battle.
He would be an amazing hero, would he ever deem society worth protecting.
"Thanks for the company, Eraser."
How polite. The pro only nodded at the two young adults, not even trying to go after them when they disappeared into the dark of the night.
One year ago, All Might had died, and with him, the light that had kept their world in a state of peace and prosperity.