Chapter Text
Dark hair fell limply around his face, as he surveyed the others gathered in the room. His gaunt face and sunken in eyes told of sleepless nights and restless days of endless regret and grief.
“Is this all of us?” he rasped out, voice thick with words he never got to say.
“No and I’m not quite sure what you were thinking, calling this meeting,” a sharp-eyed fellow said curtly, glasses flashing, obscuring his eyes. Before anyone could chide the god, a hand landed hard on his back, a less than light clap between his shoulder blades. His closest companion laughed boisterously, contrasting the gloomy atmosphere.
“Don’t mind my friend here! Neither of us have anything better to do, hard as Mirai tries to change what he sees! Haha! The Fates don’t like to be meddled with.”
The first man sighed, a broken noise, anguish dripping from it. No one blamed him for it, even as the last four swept into the room.
“There, there Shouta, that’s the last of them,” a woman said, seated next to the dark haired god. Her indigo eyes framed by smoky navy glasses were hazy, voice rumbling with a gentle peace, lulling one’s mind into sweet emptiness.
The white-haired goddess dipped into a graceful bow to Shouta, ice blue eyes filled with painful guilt, and a red handprint forever decorating her face. “My deepest apologies, Shouta, my eldest was rather reluctant to come."
The dark haired god merely nodded in acknowledgement, while the young man who had entered with the woman sneered at him, “Why’d you call me here anyways, old man? I’m not like you, I have patrons.”
His mother placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in warning, a chiding, “Touya.”
He wrenched his shoulder out of her grasp, stepping away from her, “That’s not my name anymore and you know it! I’m not the- I’m not the representation of perseverance anymore, of suffering so one man can- can-!”
Shouta seemed to stare through him for a moment and then he spoke, “We are the gods and goddesses representing the downtrodden, the forgotten, the helpless. We are the minor gods of all the hurt people suffer and their last bastion, their safety net, when Hope, the cruel creature that he is, walks away. I believe it is time we do more, time to fight more than the wisps and head straight for those that exude and cause such darkness in people’s hearts and inflict endless pain upon them. Tell me friends,” looking around the room, he saw everyone’s eyes fixed upon him, “is it not time we speak and fight for the voices only we hear cry out for anyone to save them? We are the only ones who will fight for them, after their pleas have already been ignored by the ones more acknowledged, more powerful, more arrogant. It is time we fight for them as a whole rather than resigning ourselves to helping only those we can reach individually.”
Silence ruled.
“Well said Aizawa.” It honestly surprised no one that the God of Encouragement spoke up first in support. The big man grinned, “I’ve been knocked off my pedestal for far too long and enough with this passive acceptance. I have not been satisfied in my work of supporting the downtrodden for quite some time now. Yes! This is the path we’ve avoided walking and it is time to walk it now!”
His pine-haired companion sighed and pushed up his glasses before he spoke. “Toshinori is, unsurprisingly, correct. The path, the road you wish to lead us on, is indeed the one untraveled, untrodden. It is also the more difficult path. Hope will not aid us, you know this, yes?”
The muscular blonde didn’t look deterred, broad smile only widening further, reminiscent of how he smiled when not only encouragement and confidence were his domain, but also triumph, the domain stolen from him. Mirai, too, had been usurped and remained bitter. After all, he had once stood and learned under The Lady Nagant, Daughter of the Future, the Overseer of the Inevitable, the Woman who Penetrated the Uncertainty of the Fates’ Impending Will, capricious as the trio is. Cast aside for the daughter of the representation of Envy, Malice, Arrogance, Incandescence. Mirai didn’t hate her, the Crystal Bearer; her luminescent eyes held an endless well of sorrow and he knew that the path she walked upon was not the path she would have chosen for herself.
The white-haired goddess of mistakes and broken relationships tapped her chin, “It is not Hope that we need, it is Strength, I should think.” She cast her eyes to her youngest, who stood beside her, face still, unfeeling, a stalwart unwavering presence, immovable in nature. “I think, my dearest, you can…?” She trailed off.
With the barest inclination of his head, he nodded. “I will ensure Hope will not interfere. He… likes me and it is not…” He trailed off for a moment, “Distracting him will not be difficult.”
The dark god of past regrets’ eyes bored into the heterochromatic youthful god, “Handling the Problem Child, perhaps one of the biggest obstacles and quite often the source of all our trouble won’t be difficult?”
Shouto gave only the barest of nods. “He will leave even his exalted, most explosive, God of Mania and Eruption alone for my company. And, I expect, you are aware of his particular fondness for that god.”
Such a fact was well-known, how Hope and Mania and Eruptions (mostly of emotions) went together, just about everywhere. However, it was the younger god who trailed the God of Mania, and not the other way around. Bakugo Katsuki (son of the Goddess of Boldness and the God of Assurance) merely tolerated Midoriya Izuku (son of the Goddess of Kindness and Simple Comforts and the God of Havoc) as their parents were close friends.
The Goddess of Peaceful Sleep’s lips quirked, “Well, it’s not like I’d ever say no in the first place. So count me in, Shouta.”
Aizawa looked at the last two deities, waiting for his decision. The God of Spite, Hurt, and Betrayal, son of the Goddess of Mistakes, Broken Relationships and the Incandescent God of Triumph, who passed his previous title and domain to his eldest son, the heavy mantle of Bitterness and Failure; caring nothing for the burden it would have, does have, on the former god of Persistence, twisting his domain into something painful for one so young…
“Tch,” spat the young deity, turquoise eyes burning with the pain of his father’s cruel and uncaring decision. “If we get to topple that bastard… fine, I’ll go along with your scheme.”
All eyes turned to the Goddess of Forgiveness, who bit her lip. Her eyes darted from god to god. The God of Encouragement wasn’t the only God that didn’t quite fit in, didn’t quite match with the others. Oh, she supposed the young God of Strength and Silence didn’t quite fit in either, but he still belonged with them in a way she didn’t.
“Of all the deities you called… Why me? I’m not… I am about letting go of the hurt and the anger, the pain… I’m-”
Aizawa cuts her off, “You’re the most important piece of this, Shimura-san.” He closed his eyes for a moment before meeting her eyes. “Each and every one of us carries pain, hurt, and regret towards the ones who hurt us; resentment towards others if not ourselves. And there are certainly times when a person cannot forgive the one who hurt them,” he dipped his head towards Dabi, “resentment is also a poison. If we allow it, if we don’t let go, that poison, that resentment, it won’t help those that look to us to protect them, to help them. Instead it will only corrode our purpose and the attempted meaning that is expressed.” The god took a deep breath before he stood and made his way to the dark haired goddess. Offering her his hand, “Shimura Nana-san, Goddess of Forgiveness, of Compassion and Absolution of Guilt, will you help me in freeing those who are bound by chains and burdens which are not theirs to bear?”
The dark haired goddess looked at him, the uncertainty in her face clearing
and she smiled as she took his hand in hers.