My Hero Academia x Readers

Where Memories Sleep: Aizawa x Reader

Congrats to EdgeLordCreator for winning 1st place in my latest writing contest. This oneshot here is the submission that earned her first place. Yes of course I got permission to re upload her work! Hope you all have fun reading this!

Some memories are like dead bodies. 

Bodies are casted off into ominous places that are specifically designed for the burial of a loved one or someone that was held dear to some. Bodies were dead and still, frozen in time and to never to have seemed alive again. Those buried corpses were caused by something memorable and heart-breaking, no one could deny that death was an ill fortune to have been bestowed on one. Those decaying forms left forgotten and unwanted, buried under the blankets of the earth and hiddened in the hidden depths of one's mind. While some were able to pass off a passing of one's life subtly and easily, others weren't the same in that aspect. 

He didn't understand that aspect either. Why would someone spend so much time mourning on something so trivial? His morality and knowledge back then did not reflect his current thoughts. It seemed illogical, it seemed pointless and unnecessary, it seemed irrational. 

The pro hero was known for being well-rounded. He was quick in grasping comprehension of someone's situation, but when it came to his own issues, he didn't have the same textbook-guided answers that he could look over at the back of his teaching lesson plans agenda. He was aware of that, and he continued to struggle, he was a man that always looked to the logistic side of him, a human that looked before he leaped, a firm believer of looking at the cruel, realism this superhero society had presented to him, rather than aspiring to false hope and a temporary promise. Despite his nature though, when it came to a little soul-searching through himself, he fell short of everything he expected himself to be. 

Memories were a harsh thing to control and have. It was a double-edged sword, weakening and strengthening people at given times. It gave them the courage to confess to your true love, or it gave you that fear that caused you to shy away from your crush. But memories were a lot more deeper than that. Memories were the skin and bones that your body would always be made out; it was the foundation of one's ideals and fundamental, the defining characteristics of a person. Without any sense of memory, you were nothing less than an empty shell of the former self you once stood out to be. Memories were the very thing that had created their ideals, their passions, their morality and humanity- everything in between philosophical and anthropology. 

It would be foolish of him to try comparing the two when death and memories were practically one on one. 

Memory by definition, was the storing of data and information. To him, it was more like a burial of a body. Some memories were celebrated and smiled upon, just like a great president's anniversary. Others were secreted in the hollow abyss of one's mentally written journals, to have been better never remembered and more beneficial to have walked away from. However, concealed or not, they always found a way to resurface, like an annoying thorn that grew out of his side due to an obnoxiously loud, and slightly tolerable blonde friend. 

A cooling wind blew through his ravenette hair as he stared emptily at the ground in front of him. Around him, was a gloomy atmosphere that lingered around and about, emitted from his body as his hands fumbled with the textures of his pockets inside his baggy pants. Everything below his nose was buried in the comfy covers of his capture weapon, the metallic and cold feeling of his goggles brushing against the underside of his chin. The end flaps of his scarf danced softly in the wind with slow-moving and expressive maneuvers, floating ominously around his body. 

Small droplets of water that spilled on his exposed hands face caused goosebumps to break through his skin, covering his sensitive, stiff cheeks. His muscles in his mouth flexed as his formerly open mouth closed down again when realizing what he intended on saying wouldn't fall from his pouting lips. Steadily, the volume of the water coming from above increased, and now, the bright jade grass around him and the hot pink summer leaves had lost its taste with the blandish, smokey sky. The bristle of the trees and the soft snapping of branches from the wreckage of the playful breezes echoed through the empty valley and hill, the only other sounds he could hear than his soft and balanced breathing.