Chapter 9: Chapter 9:- Hypocrisy
The air inside the solemn hall was heavy with the fragrance of lilies and roses, a stark contrast to the weight of grief that hung over the attendees. Among them stood Katsuki Bakugo, his usually fiery demeanor tempered by the somber occasion. His mother, Mitsuki Bakugo, stood beside him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and regret.
The mourners gathered around the casket adorned with flowers, each bouquet a silent tribute to the life of Izuku Midoriya. As the ceremony began, Mitsuki's gaze drifted to her son, a storm of emotions brewing beneath her composed exterior. She couldn't ignore the guilt gnawing at her, the memories of Katsuki's past actions haunting her conscience.
In a moment of quiet reflection, Mitsuki stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. All eyes turned to her, the gravity of her presence palpable in the air. With a deep breath, she addressed the assembly, her voice carrying a mix of pain and determination.
"Katsuki," Mitsuki's tone was firm yet tinged with sorrow, "You damned brat. I should've taught you better, shown you the true meaning of friendship. For that, I am deeply sorry."
Her words hung in the air, a heavy admission that echoed in the hearts of those present. Katsuki, normally brash and unyielding, looked at his mother with a hint of vulnerability, his usual defenses momentarily lowered.
"I know, Mom," Katsuki murmured, his voice barely audible above the hushed murmurs of the gathering. "I messed up, big time."
Mitsuki's eyes softened as she reached out to place a comforting hand on her son's shoulder. The unspoken bond between them, forged through years of trials and misunderstandings, spoke volumes in that brief moment of shared sorrow.
Meanwhile, Inko, sat quietly in the front row, her gaze fixed on the portrait of her son. Her heart ached with a mixture of grief and anger, emotions that warred within her as she struggled to make sense of Izuku's untimely death.
As the ceremony progressed, Katsuki found himself standing before the podium, his heart heavy with regret. He glanced at Inko, their eyes meeting briefly before he took a deep breath and began to speak.
"Deku," Katsuki's voice wavered slightly, the weight of his emotions evident in every word, "you were more than just a friend. You didnt had a quirk even then you had the brightest eyes. When I first got my quirk i thought i was the most awesome and you were the least awesome. You kept following me where ever i went, protected anyone in need stood up against me when you were not even awesome. Only now i realise that you were way more awesome than what i gave you credit for. YOU were already a hero at heart!"
His words resonated in the quiet hall, drawing the attention of the mourners. Katsuki's usual brash demeanor gave way to a raw honesty as he spoke of their shared past, the highs and lows of their turbulent friendship.
"I was blind," Katsuki admitted, his voice tinged with remorse, "blind to your true worth, your unwavering spirit. I pushed you away when I should've been standing by your side."
"I was a damn fool, too caught up in my own ego to see what was right in front of me." Katsuki paused, his fists clenching at his sides. "I can't undo the things I did, the way I treated you. All those times I called you 'Deku' and dismissed you as worthless."
Inko listened intently, her heart heavy with grief and unresolved anger. She wanted to believe in Katsuki's sincerity, to find solace in his words, but the wounds ran deep, too deep for simple apologies to heal.
As Katsuki's eulogy came to an end, he stepped back from the podium, his gaze once again seeking Inko's. There was a plea in his eyes, a silent request for forgiveness that hung in the air like an unspoken promise.
Inko's inner turmoil was a tempest of conflicting emotions. "Should I forgive him?" she wondered silently, her gaze flickering between Katsuki and Izuku's portrait. The anger she held felt like a barrier, a shield against the pain of loss and betrayal.
All Might, seated in the front row, met the young man's gaze with unwavering focus. The Symbol of Peace's features betrayed no emotion, his mind consumed by the weight of past failures and his conscience screaming at him for not being able to save Izuku. His stoic facade cracked slightly as he listened to Katsuki's eulogy, the words hitting close to home as he reflected on his own role in shaping Izuku's decision.
_" Young Bakugo,"_ All Might mused, his expression steely. _"You've come a long way, but the path ahead is filled with obstacles. I must ensure you stay the course, that you truly embrace the spirit of heroism Izuku embodied. There can be no room for the arrogance that once defined you."_
While the mourners grappled with their own emotions, an unexpected figure made his way to the front of the hall. It was Hiroku Natsumu, the Minister of Heroes, a man known for his political presence and acumen.
Hiroku's presence drew immediate attention, the whispers of surprise rippling through the gathering. He stood tall before the podium, his expression solemn yet composed.
"This is my chance," Hiroku thought with a mixture of determination and cynicism. "A tragedy turned opportunity, a stage where I can rewrite my narrative and wash away the stains of past, this quirkless boy had already created enough problems finally it's time he repay."
"Ladies and gentlemen," Hiroku began, his voice commanding attention, "we gather here today to honor the memory of a remarkable young man, Izuku Midoriya."
The mention of Izuku's name elicited a wave of emotions, from sorrow to reverence, as the mourners listened intently to Hiroku's words this was because of his quirk escalating everyone's emotions.
"Izuku Midoriya," Hiroku continued, his tone measured, "a boy without a quirk, yet a hero in every sense of the word. His bravery, his selflessness, his unwavering dedication to others—these are the qualities that define true heroism."
His words carried weight, resonating with the audience in ways they hadn't expected. For Hiroku Natsumu, known for his previous criticisms of Izuku's quirkless status, this eulogy was a strategic move, a carefully calculated gesture to reshape his public image.
"As Minister of Heroes," Hiroku declared, his voice unwavering, "I must acknowledge the impact of Izuku Midoriya's actions on that fateful day. His selfless act of heroism, jumping in to save a fellow classmate, speaks volumes about the strength of character that transcends quirks."
Hiroku resolved inwardly, his gaze scanning the crowd for nods of agreement and empathetic expressions. "And now i will be the voice of unity and understanding, the politician who learns from mistakes and grows stronger."
The media, present to capture the somber event, recorded every word, capturing the subtle shift in Hiroku's stance. It was a well-thought-out political maneuver, an attempt to redeem his image and lessen the impact of past criticisms.
Hiroku Natsumu's eulogy faded into the solemn air, a heavy silence settled over the gathered mourners. Inko Midoriya's gaze remained fixed on Izuku's portrait, her heart aching with a myriad of emotions. She couldn't shake the turmoil within her, torn between the desire for closure and the lingering pain of loss and betrayal.
Bakugo, standing amidst the somber crowd, felt the weight of his words lingering in the air. His eyes remained locked on Inko, searching for any sign of acceptance or understanding.
Mitsuki Bakugo, standing beside her son, observed the scene with a heavy heart. She longed to bridge the gap between Katsuki and Inko, to mend the fractures caused by past mistakes and misunderstandings. Her own guilt weighed heavily on her, a constant reminder of the role she played in shaping Katsuki's turbulent journey.
Hiroku Natsumu made his way towards Inko, his expression carefully neutral. Inko's eyes flickered with surprise at his approach, unsure of what to expect from the Minister of Heroes.
"Inko Midoriya," Hiroku's voice was respectful, his tone measured, "I offer my condolences for your loss. Izuku's actions that day were a testament to the true essence of heroism."
'This should be good enough for the media, they should just keep quite now atleast for sometime.' Thought Hiroku as he departed.
Inko nodded slightly, acknowledging his words with a mixture of gratitude and wariness. She couldn't forget Hiroku's previous criticisms of Izuku, but his eulogy had struck a different chord, a subtle shift in perspective that left her contemplating the complexities of forgiveness and redemption.
Meanwhile, Katsuki stood off to the side, his eyes still lingering on Inko. Mitsuki approached him, her expression a blend of concern and determination.
"Katsuki," Mitsuki's voice was gentle yet firm, "you have to make things right. Apologies are just the first step. Show her, show everyone, that you've changed."
Katsuki nodded silently, a flicker of determination in his eyes. He knew that words alone wouldn't suffice, that actions spoke louder than apologies. With Mitsuki's encouragement, he approached Inko once more, his resolve bolstered by the weight of his remorse.
"Aunty," Katsuki's voice was sincere, his usual bravado replaced by humility, "I know I've messed up, more times than I can count. But I swear, I'll do whatever it takes to make amends, to honor Izuku's memory."
Inko looked at him, her gaze softening slightly. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine remorse etched in every line of his face. It was a small glimmer of hope amidst the sea of grief and anger.
"Katsuki," Inko's voice was quiet, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her stoic facade, "I don't know if I can forgive you just yet. But I'm willing to try, for Izuku's sake."
Katsuki nodded, understanding the magnitude of her words. He knew that earning her forgiveness would be a long and arduous journey, but he was determined to walk that path, no matter how difficult it might be.
As the day drew to a close, the mourners slowly dispersed, each carrying with them a renewed sense of introspection and resolve. For Katsuki, Mitsuki, Inko, and even Hiroku, the funeral had been a catalyst for change.
A figure watched from afar. Hidden in the shadows, his presence unnoticed by the mourners, this shadowy character observed the proceedings with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
"Such hypocrisy," the figure muttered to themselves, a cynical smirk playing on their lips. "They gather here, shedding tears and offering apologies, yet how quickly they forget their own roles in this tragedy."
The figure's voice carried a bitter edge, a reminder of the darker undercurrents that lurked beneath the surface of hero society. He had seen through the manipulations, the hidden agendas, and the relentless pursuit of power that often overshadowed genuine acts of heroism.
"You think they can wash away their sins with empty words and grand gestures," the shadow scoffed, his eyes narrowing with contempt.
"But at the end i know how rotten you all are... and i will make sure you get all the attention that you deserve" said, revealing an malicious grin.
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