Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter Text
Shouta sighed, grading a stack of essays in the teacher’s lounge during his prep period. The recently promoted Class of 2-A was going to be the end of him- not that it already hadn’t the previous year. Between the USJ incident, the Training Camp disaster, and two whole wars nearly back to back, it was a wonder that he was still around. But to be honest, the former hero knew deep down why.
He made a promise.
“I need to be there to see them graduate!”
It was the solemn vow he took up while fighting a suped up Shigaraki in the first war, wanting nothing more than to be there for his students and for Eri.
Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud to anyone but Hizashi, they truly were his kids.
If that meant being mangled beyond repair and a pause on his hero work to save his students, then so be it. Just last year, his students were rowdy, inexperienced, and juvenile. Now as 2nd year high school students, they became more experienced by 17 than most heroes by the time they’ve gone pro.
‘Oh, how time flies.’
And Hizashi still hasn’t failed to remind him that he hasn’t expelled a single one.
Red pen in hand, a few corrections were made, annotations and critiques jotted in the margins with the only noise being the ticking clock on the wall.
‘A constant. Just like…’
Shouta shook his head, continuing his marking. They all seemed more focused this year. Even Kaminari and Ashido’s grades had significantly improved. The homework was by no means easy, but maybe he should start increasing the difficulty of the assignments and tests he handed out. Having a 0.2% acceptance rate, all of these kids were smart regardless of their grades. Just getting into UA was an incredible feat, and the course load reflected that. But some of these kids just took longer to adjust than others.
Regardless of experience, all 21 students were still kids. And hopefully, they’d actually get to be kids this year.
Shouta had always seen glimpses, of course, the immature bickering and playful teasing were obvious, but he got a better picture once the dorms had been added to the UA campus. Mass study sessions, game nights, slumber parties and kitchen catastrophes galore. It was always something.
To be honest, he’d prefer to forget that last part, but the image of the microwave smoking and a melted cutting board in the oven were just the tip of the adolescent iceberg.
‘We weren’t that stupid at that age, were we?’
The dumbest thing they’d ever done in school was the time Hizashi thought it would be a good idea to hack into the school’s PA system just to play the Safety Dance during an assembly with Oboro Shirakumo actively distracting the teachers just so he could avoid being marked tardy because he overslept during lunch.
Or the time Oboro made a cloud big enough for the three of them and Hizashi blasted music on his boom box while Shouta used his capture weapon as a seat belt since none of them could drive at the time-
‘Okay. Looking back, I can see why we were called “The Three Dumbigos”.’ Shouta thought. ‘In my defense, I had nothing to do with that first plan…’
And by gods, if his students weren’t the dumbest yet smartest kids alive…
In fact, his class was filled to the brim with oxymorons: brash but caring, intelligent yet impulsive, naive yet conspiring, proud yet doubtful, positive yet self loathing, an open book yet a locked door. The list went on.
It was no wonder they were his hell class.
The sound of his cell phone ringing pulled the homeroom teacher out of his thoughts, normally he could just ignore it, especially now that he wasn’t getting calls regarding hero work nearly as often. Since he still couldn’t go out in the field, Shouta had been called on occasion to help with any strategy planning behind the scenes- particularly regarding any sort of drug raid or trafficking ring.
However, the caller ID on his phone said otherwise.
Musutafu General Hospital
(XXX)XXX-XXXX
Immediately, Shouta scrambled to pick it up, heart pounding against his ribcage.
“Hello? Aizawa Shouta speaking…”
“Ah! Mr. Aizawa. We were hoping to get in touch with you. This is Fujiwara Susumu from Musutafu General’s long term care ward.” A young sounding nurse answered on the other end of the line. “I’m calling in regards to a patient that’s been here a while that you’re listed as an emergency contact. He came to us as Kurogiri, also known as Shirakumo Oboro. I assume those names are familiar to you?”
Immediately, the injured hero nearly felt his heart stop.
“Y-Yes…”
“As you know, when we reached out to you a few months ago, it was to put a pause on the video calls with Shirakumo, as he had stopped responding which caused him to regress.” Fujiwara explained. “But since then, we’ve been able to accelerate his treatment and make a breakthrough. He’s been responding positively to the therapies prescribed over the past 30 days: including but not limited to physical therapy, a psychological evaluation and daily sessions, as well as Detective Tsukauchi coming in to question him given Kurogiri’s history. You as well as his other emergency contact Yamada Hizashi should be able to start visiting him in person this afternoon.”
The daily video calls had been a constant for Shouta since he and Hizashi learned that the warp villain was really their dead best friend. A stray light of hope, even. But the vial containing Oboro’s quirk had been smashed during the Meta Liberation War. If all traces of Kurogiri could be removed, the missing member of their trio would be essentially Quirkless- just like Shouta.
The video calls were therapeutic to the injured underground hero, especially during his recovery. The day the hospital called that they needed to pause them with Oboro being unresponsive felt like they were losing him all over again.
But now…
“This.. This afternoon?”
“Of course!” Fujiwara answered cheerfully. “Shirakumo’s mornings have been filled with sessions and other appointments, so later visiting sessions tend to work better for him.”
Kami. This couldn’t be real.
“Thank you. We’ll be there.” The sense of finality washed over Shouta as he hung up, immediately scooping up the stack of papers and sliding them in his bag. Grading essays could wait. Right now, there was something more important to tend to.
The man slung the bag over his shoulder, grabbing his phone and shooting a quick text email to Nezu before dashing out the door. Formalities could wait. There were more important things that needed his attention, and Shouta planned on using every second.
The dash through the halls was a bit awkward, still not used to running on the new leg Power Loader built for him. He was bound to regret it at his own physical therapy appointment tomorrow, but for once he couldn’t care.
A few faculty members may have stared on the way, but Aizawa didn’t pay any mind.
The flights of stairs had Shouta skidding to a stop, managing to catch himself on a nearby railing before he tumbled down to the floor below. Yes, he needed to get to the hospital. But he sure as hell didn’t need to be admitted !
Slowly, Shouta took the stairs one at a time, hanging onto the railing and putting extra weight on it as needed in an attempt to give his leg a break again. As slow as it was, stairs were still a work in progress. But at least he could now climb and descend stairs as long as he didn’t push himself too hard.
Speaking of which, he was definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow, or even tonight when the adrenaline finally wears off.
Touching down on the floor below, Shouta regained his footing before taking off down the empty corridor- eyes scanning for the right classroom as he mentally scanned through his husband’s schedule. In a flash, the 1-C hung just above him, causing Shouta to come to a screeching halt and half slamming against the door in a flurry of black.
Rubber boot soles immediately crossed the tile floor, and the homeroom teacher had about 2 seconds to catch his breath before the door swung open.
“Sho?” Hizashi questioned, looking down and immediately catching the other man as he lost balance- using the door for support. “What’s up? I’m so good looking that you’re falling for me all over again?” The Voice hero grinned, sending his husband a sly smile and winking behind his triangular tinted glasses.
Shouta scrambled to his feet, face flushed and out of breath from running. He gave noted eye roll at the flirty remark and wasted no time pulling the blond out of the room and shutting the door.
“‘Zashi. Hospital.” He insisted, regaining balance and pulling out his phone. “Got a call. We need to go-”
“Woah, woah, WOAH! I’m gonna need to to press pause on that track and rewind a bit.” Hizashi told him, placing his hands on his husband’s shoulders to steady him. “Is Toshi okay? Is Eri okay? Is your class okay?!”
Kami forbid anything happen to what was now 2-A.
Shouta nodded, fixing the messenger bag that was practically falling off him. “Fine!” He breathed, unable to fathom the thought. “Everyone’s fine. Got a call from Musutafu General. From the long term care unit. ‘Bout ‘Boro. We can visit.”
Deep emerald eyes went wide behind those ridiculous glasses, Hizashi letting one hand go and bracing himself against the door.
“You mean…”
“I think so…”
There was a sudden moment of unease, but Shouta’s notification alert broke the tension. He immediately pulled it out to find a reply from Nezu.
“Sho?”
“Shut up, I texted Nezu!” He explained, tapping on the email so he could read it.
From: Nezu
Subject: Time off request
CC: Yamada HizashiI’ve heard the news, Aizawa! I’ve already got All Might covering your heroics class, and I can take over English since I’ve got Yamada’s lesson plans for the day. I’ll have Thirteen keep an eye on little Eri in the meantime. Let me know if you need anything!
“How did he know already?” Hizashi wondered, reading the email over his husband’s shoulder.
“No idea.” Shouta insisted. “That rat probably has camera feeds everywhere, wiretaps, and even underlings relaying information back to him. He pocketed his phone once more, vaguely feeling the principal’s eyes on him as he did so.
The English teacher opened his mouth, but quickly shut it. “You know what? I should be surprised, but I’m really not…” he commented. “I’ll let these first years know I need to pause this playlist to go to commercial while you head to the car. I’ll probably beat you there anyway.”
Right. It was infuriating how much slower he was than before now that he had a prosthetic he was learning to balance on. Shouta couldn’t help but give a reluctant nod as he let his obnoxious husband take care of things while he made the lengthy trek to the teacher’s parking lot.
The stairs, his bag, and his prosthetic were all that was keeping Shouta from breaking out into a dead sprint. He was lucky that he hadn’t tripped already rushing down the stairs to Hizashi. Knowing Nezu, he would be down any minute to dismiss him. His own kids were finishing up Math with Ectoplasm, then onto lunch. Hopefully All Might can keep his hell class under control. Granted, they’ve settled a bit since last year, but not enough to keep them from being unruly. More than likely, Iida was going to run the show, per usual. The home room teacher knew he was going to get bombarded with questions as soon as he showed up for class tomorrow, but it was really none of their business, so he wasn’t obligated to say anything.
Except for Hitoshi. And Kami knows how THAT’s going to go.
By the time Shouta made it out the door, Hizashi was already there with his blue sports car, pulled up to the stairs and waiting.
“That was fast.” He noted, dropping his bag in the back seat and sliding into the front passenger.
“I took the shortcut across campus. It was quicker than going around. That, and it was the easiest way to fetch through without any of the listeners trying to stop me in tha hall.” Hizashi smirked. “What can I say? You get tossed in the limelight, you find a way to get people to avoid you.”
“Or you can just not be in the spotlight at all.” Shouta retorted, anxiously watching the greenery fly by, quickly followed by the cityscape.
The ride continued in anxious silence, neither man knowing what to do with themselves. Shouta held a death grip on his phone, dark eye trained on the numbers displayed on the screen that slowly changed as time passed. Hitting the power button, he caught his reflection in the darkened screen. Long shaggy hair, face littered with large scars, and patch firmly secured over his right eye. He had the option for a prosthetic, but the former underground hero wasn’t one to keep up appearances, so he declined. Besides, Hizashi and all his kids had joked that he looked cooler with the patch, so it stayed. His eye bags have been reduced significantly, though he still had them. Shouta supposed that not having two jobs on the regular allowed him to get sufficient sleep for once.
His gaze trailed down to the ‘V’ shaped scar sitting just below the eyepatch. It had been over a year since his orbital floor was shattered. Over a year since the hulking monstrosity of a nomu picked him up and slammed his limp body against the concrete.
Over a year since they first saw Kurogiri- entirely unaware of his connection to him.
“Hey, Shou?”
Shouta looked up, a hand on his shoulder and the blue American sports car parked in an all too familiar lot.
“We’re here.”
He blinked, nodding slowly before climbing out of the car with Hizashi on standby. Though he had gotten better, the prosthetic tended to trip him up if he wasn’t paying attention.
“Got your cane, ‘old man’?”
Shouta reached out, sending a hand to whack his husband’s shoulder but barely missing him.
“Oooh! You gotta be quicker than that!” The blond chided with a grin, ducking out of reach as another playful hit came his way.
“If I'm old, then you're ancient.” Shouta couldn’t help but give Hizashi one of his trademark creepy grins as he straightened up before it softened into something more sincere. “And I’ve got it right here. You never let me leave without it.”
He patted the discreet black collapsible cane that was fastened to his utility belt. To the untrained eye, it just looked like a piece of equipment or some new gadget. He was using it less and less, but still kept it on his person in case it was a bad day.
The pair walked into the hospital lobby, immediately hit by the distinct smell of antiseptic. Being an hero, it was a smell that was unfortunately encountered often. Being an underground hero, Shouta was around that smell for much more than he’d care to admit. He wrinkled his nose at the thought as they flashed their ID’s at the receptionist who pointed them in the right direction to Shirakumo’s room.
“So… what did the nurse say over the phone?” Hizashi asked, breaking the tension. He kept a watchful eye on his partner as they walked down the corridors.
“Just when we’d be able to visit, since he has appointments in the morning.” Shouta replied matter of factly. “She didn’t say much otherwise, so I don’t know what all we can expect, given the situation. I mean, anything can be inside that room…”
“Oh…” The homeroom teacher could see his husband's lips pressed into a thin line before forcing a smile back on. “Well, whatever he’s like, I’m sure our first and longest listener will be happy to see us!”
“Do… Shouta exhaled, trying to reign in his thoughts that had been flying around his head since that phone call. “Do you think he’ll remember? You know… everything that happened during our internship together, the USJ, the training camp, us on the other side of the glass begging for him to…”
“We won’t know until we visit him.” Hizashi answered with a sense of finality. “But if it were me, I wouldn’t want it pressed on me. If Oboro remembers, then he remembers. But why should we make him feel guilty when we haven’t seen him in a solid decade and a half? The Three Dumbingos are back on tour, and I’m going to be the opening act!” The DJ grinned, patting his husband on the back briefly before knocking on what they were told was Oboro’s door.
“Take a breather.” He assured with a knowing grin. “You ran yourself ragged today. I’ll be here. And if anything happens, you’ll hear the broadcast.”
Shouta watched as his husband disappeared inside the room, the door closing behind him. He could hear Hizashi greet whoever was inside, but the voice didn’t quite sound like Oboro. Was he just remembering it wrong? How would he act upon seeing him? Sure, Hizashi and his loud personality was unmistakable. Anyone who saw his picture in the UA archives could tell it was the voice hero. But Shouta? He’d changed a lot. He gained some bulk from training so hard since the incident- the scars, eyepatch, and prosthetic being the biggest changes (the third usually covered up by his pants or hero costume).
The last thing Shouta wanted to do was to put their old friend on the spot, singling him out with more sensitive questions. But at the same time, would Oboro single himself out, with Shouta’s appearance being back a flood of memories.
The initial adrenaline from earlier had worn off, making the tenderness of his leg a little more apparent. But this was the normal aches and pains from overdoing, which was much preferred to his bad days where he would have to use his cane much more consistently.
He couldn’t make out the conversation from inside the room, so he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and opened the door.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Summary:
Shouta and Hizashi finally get to see Oboro for the first time in 15 years. But the question still stands: will he recognize them?
Notes:
Have some fluff with a side of feels! But seriously. I didn’t expect to knock out another chapter so quickly! Please don’t get used to this upload schedule, because I don’t have one.
On another note, thank you all so much for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks on the last chapter! I didn’t expect for you to love it as much as you all do. It makes me so excited to write more knowing that people are genuinely excited for this fic. Thank you all so, SO MUCH!
Chapter Text
NOTE: The lovely hhbluedynamite created some awesome fanart of our favorite revived cloud boy on Tumblr! They’re on TikTok under the same user name as well, so go give them a follow!
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/hhbluedynamite/tagged/shirakumo%20oboro
Shouta watched as his husband disappeared inside the room, the door closing behind him. He could hear Hizashi greet whoever was inside, but the voice didn’t quite sound like Oboro. Was he just remembering it wrong? How would he act upon seeing him? Sure, Hizashi and his loud personality was unmistakable. Anyone who saw his picture in the UA archives could tell it was the voice hero. But Shouta? He’d changed a lot. He gained some bulk from training so hard since the incident- the scars, eyepatch, and prosthetic being the biggest changes (the third usually covered up by his pants or hero costume).
The last thing Shouta wanted to do was to put their old friend on the spot, singling him out with more sensitive questions. But at the same time, would Oboro single himself out, with Shouta’s appearance bringing back a flood of memories?
The initial adrenaline from earlier had worn off, making the tenderness of his leg a little more apparent. But this was the normal aches and pains from overdoing, which was much preferred to his bad days where he would have to use his cane much more consistently.
He couldn’t make out the conversation from inside the room, so he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and opened the door.
“- and he still insisted we keep it, even though we had two already.” Hizashi’s voice rang out in the otherwise quiet room, the summer sun streaming through the windows and spilling out onto the floor. “We were still in our apartment at the time and could only have two pets stated by our lease. So every time someone came over for maintenance, we had to wrangle the little guy and lock him in the bedroom with toys and pray he didn’t get himself stuck somewhere! He won’t cry, and will sit there like a doofus, but he scratched out a bit of carpet from under the door because he was accidentally locked in too long, so we went on a spree finding just the right sample to patch it!”
Shouta couldn’t help but smile at the memory. One of their cats had accidentally gotten locked in the bathroom amidst the morning rush and was stuck there until he and Hizashi came home from teaching.
Two voices rang out in laughter as he closed the door. One distinctly Hizashi, but the other was so familiar yet so…
Foreign.
“And both of us SUCK at the whole DIY thing, but we must have had a damn good job because we still got our deposit back when we moved out, and we never heard anything about it! Seriously! It was such god awful carpet! Absolutely ancient! The fact that we could pull it off let alone found a sample match was a miracle.”
Shouta blinked at the figure in the bed. It wasn’t at all what he and Hizashi probably pictured. Maybe it was the nostalgia. Maybe he was getting too hopeful for a change. It wanted to leave a bad taste in his mouth, but it didn’t. This wasn’t Shirakumo. It wasn’t Oboro !
And yet, it absolutely was.
He was tall (Oboro had always been the tallest of them), probably still beating Hizashi by a few centimeters if he stood. His build now edging more towards the blond than his own deceptively muscular yet lean frame. His face still held that little training baby fat from their teenage years, giving him that mischievous boyish charm.
What was once powder blue hair was now indigo on the cusp of violet with stands of that familiar and beloved blue peppered in. It was just as thick, but definitely longer (two is a coincidence, three is a trend). Not quite the length of Shouta’s own dark locks, but Hizashi must have offered him a hair tie since the bulk of it was able to be tied back in what could only resemble a cloud.
His body was covered in dark purple discolorations in various sizes like a reverse vitiligo- apparently no indicator of any underlying conditions. Some had more hard edges while most of the smaller ones felt more wispy like cirrus clouds, akin to the likeness of the standard blushing on the body where the feathered edges blended into the rest of his skin
But despite everything, what shocked Shouta the most were his eyes.
The shape was just the same as he remembered it. His left eye still held its piercing blue like a sunny day while his right had turned into a piercing gold that Shouta swore shimmered as the light hit it. And just right above that eye was a monstrously thick scar stretching as far from his temple to the top of his forehead, tapering off just through his brow and stopping just short of his eye. The rest of it extending clear into his hairline.
All as if his head experienced severe trauma.
“Oboro?”
The man turned his attention from Hizashi, eyes sparkling and grins pressing across his face.
“Shouta? Kami, look at you! You look so badass! I never would have pictured you of all people looking so cool- no offense!”
“Erm-”
“And what’s with the chain around your neck? Never took you for a jewelry kind of person either!” Oboro continued excitedly. “I mean, Hizashi, I can totally see. But you?”
“I’m not.” Shouta countered lazily, taking a seat next to his husband. They shared a knowing look before he pulled out the chain from underneath his hero costume as Hizashi showed off the back of his hand.
Both displaying matching rings.
“But I made an exception.”
Oboro executed a perfect impression of a fish as his gaze flickered back and forth between his two best friends.
“Look, Oboro…” Hizashi cut in. “Not very many people know about ‘us’, okay?” He explained, gesturing to him and the perpetually exhausted man next to him. “Just those who need to know just know, ya’ know? We don’t like advertising it because of hero work- especially Shouta here-”
“YES!”
The pair were startled by the sudden outburst, nearly jumping out of their skin. However they soon relaxed at their friend’s reaction. Oboro was grinning widely, fist pumping the air.
He almost looked seventeen again.
“I knew it! I just knew it!” He laughed. It was a little lower than Shouta had expected, but it was loud and bright and unmistakably Oboro. “It’s about time! You two had been dancing around each other for so long! I was wondering when you’d ‘fess up to each other! Hizashi said you two were living together, but I didn’t know if you were just roommates or…” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows- which earned furth laughter from Hizashi and a strangled cry from Shouta.
“But seriously! How did you guys get together?”
“We were roommates at the time. I’d been crushing on him big time.” The loud blond explained. “But I never said anything because our favorite Power Saver can be harder to read than a scratched up CD! As civillians, we’ve actually been mistaken for a couple here and there. And so one day, Shouta over here was like ‘hey. Let’s just start dating. Everyone thinks we’re a couple already’. And the rest is history!”
“Oh my god. And you were roommates .” Oboro murmured in bear stunned silence.
The phrase was something Shouta had heard Kaminari and Ashido say once or twice, not really understanding the joke. But apparently the majority of the class that was caught up with internet slang usually found it hilarious. Oboro more than likely had no idea, but he had used it in the right context.
Kami forbid Oboro ever actually met the electric blond. Yet another recipe for disaster.
Shouta rolled his eyes. “It was only logical.” He explained. “And you weren’t saying anything about it to argue, so I just figured why not?”
“Awwww! Who knew you could be such a big sap!” Hizashi cried, throwing his arm around his husband.
“You did. Now get off of me.”
🎵Kore nani, kore nani, kore nani kore nani kore nani kore nani NEKO!🎵
The kawaii ringtone broke through the usual antics, leaving Shouta to immediately pull out his phone with a chuckle from Hizashi and further gaffawing from Oboro. Rising from his chair, he crossed the room towards the door so he’d be out of the way.
🎵Kore nani, kore nani, kore nani kore nani-🎵
“Hello?”
“OH MY GOD! DAD! ARE YOU OKAY?!”
Shouta nearly dropped his phone, juggling it in surprise as the usually sarcastic voice on the other end was never Hizashi levels of loud.
“‘Toshi?”
“IS POPS OKAY?! ERI?! WHAT HAPPENED?!”
“Hitoshi, I’m fine.” He assured albeit with some confusion, holding the phone away from his ear to avoid hearing loss. “Hizashi is fine. Eri is fine. And what’s going on? ‘Zashi can hear you across the room, and you’re not even on speaker.”
“Everything’s A-Okay, lil’ listener!” The DJ called out from the other side of the room.
“See?”
There was a pause, presumably from Hitoshi himself. The concerned voices in the background shifted to light laughter, so Shouta could only assume that their son got worked up and panicked.
“Hitoshi, what’s going on?” He tried again, softer this time. “I promise we’re okay. No one’s hurt.”
After the war, he couldn’t exactly blame him….
“During hero training, we were told that there was an emergency, and that you and Pops had to go to the hospital…” The teen told him. “So I got really worried, thinking that something happened to you guys or to Eri…”
“Everything’s fine.” The semi-retired pro assured. “I’ll explain later, but Hizashi and I got a call from the hospital wanting us to come down. No one’s sick, no one’s hurt, and we’ll be back in time for dinner.”
Another example why All Might was still a novice and an idiot. Apparently he made it seem like they got caught up in a villain attack.
“Promise?”
“I promise, ‘Toshi. Just relax, and we’ll be home before you know it.”
Turning around and pocketing his phone, Shouta was face to face with a flabbergasted Oboro.
“YOU GUYS HAVE KIDS ?! AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME?! ”
Hizashi cackled. “Getting there, promise! Hitoshi is our oldest, but newest. He’s been officially ours for two months now and is going to turn 17 any day now. He has a wicked cool Quick where he can brainwash someone if he asks a question and they respond. Pretty powerful stuff. You’d love him! Just one look, and you’d think he’s a mini Shou!”
“‘Zashi and I are teachers at UA now.” Shouta explained, gratefully sitting back down. “He teaches English, and I’m the Class A homeroom teacher. Hitoshi managed to claw his way into the tournament round during the sports festival last year, but he got eliminated pretty quickly. He was originally in general studies, and I offered to mentor him since he wanted to be a hero. He was able to train with the students from A and B as his exam. His situation wasn’t great, so we were fostering him by then. But with the new school year, he was finally able to transfer into their hero course.”
“Eri was first, though.” Hizashi explained. “She’s a little girl from a raid Shouta found and was granted guardianship of. She couldn’t control her Quirk for a while, even though she’s seven, and Shou was the only one that could keep it under control if it got out of hand. That little ray of sunshine is as sweet as the candy apples she asks for when we go to a festival.”
Oboro beamed, looking over at Shouta. “You teach our old class?! Look at go! And here I thought you should teach Nursery or Elementary! What’s it like?”
Clear skies, a bright summer day.
He and Oboro were walking to their internship with His Purple Highness that day, waiting at an intersection.
“Hey! It’s Loud Cloud!”
Oboro beamed as a group of day care kids approached with their teacher in tow. “Oh! If it ain’t the Nursery Brigade, out on a march!” He crowed, sitting on top of one of his clouds.
One by one, he helped kids up onto the cloud with him, all of them eager to climb up with their favorite hero. But-
“Whoa!”
“Careful!” Shouta reached out, snagging a kid who had fallen off backwards- catching her before she could hit the ground. “Don’t fall now.” He righted the kid back onto the cloud, watching as his friend was swarmed with small children climbing all over him.
How could he be so happy?
“Wait!” Shouta insisted, holding his arms out. “Look both ways before crossing!”
Oboro couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a natural at this, Shouta!”
“No, you’re just careless.”
“You know…” The wispy teen grinned as they all crossed the residential street together. “You’d be pretty good working with kids, like at a day care or as a school teacher or something!”
Shouta rolled his eyes at the remark. Ridiculous. He hated people. “Me? No. You… Maybe.” And people didn’t like him. “What could children possibly like about me?”
They helped the group of children off the cloud, reuniting them with their smiling teacher, each and every one of their small faces with chubby cheeks filled with smiles.
“Bye bye!”
“Bye bye, Loud!”
“See ya!” Oboro waved with a grin, all too happy to help with something so minor.
“Goodbye, Eraserhead!”
Shouta perked up, scowl vanishing off his face only to be replaced with a soft smile.
“See?!” Oboro encouraged, slapping him on the back before they continued on their way. “It’s ‘cuz you’re so observant that you overthink stuff! Like, you psych yourself out and convince yourself you can’t. But you could do just about anything if you put your mind to it!”
“Anything..?” Shouta asked, turning to look at his enthusiastic friend. “Like run a day care? Or be a teacher?”
“Exactly!”
The shorter teen rolled his eyes. “Try thinking before you speak.”
“I’m serious!”
Shouta couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t want to. But I got recommended without my knowledge, and then persuaded. Hizashi was about to start the next term, but I started the following year.” He wasn’t going to mention Nemuri. Not now. “As for my class, it’s exhausting and full of problem children.”
“Don’t listen to him!” Hizashi insisted. “Shou LOVES his ‘hell class’ and would literally die for them. He’s had no problem expelling entire classes in the past! And how many have you expelled so far?”
“… None.”
“And how many students do you have?”
“All 20, and then we gained Hitoshi at the beginning of the year. So 21.”
“See? He loves them! Stop laying out the dis tracks, Shouta! You love them!”
“Love might be a strong word.
“You’ve practically died for them, Shouta! Thrice!”
“They’re my responsibility.”
“Shouta you big tsundere! I’ve seen the way you look at those kids! You’ve practically adopted them all as a pseudo parent!You know those kids better than they know themselves”
Oboro nodded, laughing at his friends’ bickering as he looked between the two. “Okay. So you’re married, are pro heroes, have cats, you’re parents now, AND UA teachers. PLEASE tell me you’ve finally got your own radio show, Hizashi!” He begged with puppy dog eyes.
The blond laughed. “Got a whole station, now! It’s been over ten whole years of being on air. Just ask for ‘Put Your Hands Up’ Radio, and someone should be able to put it on for you. My live shows are late Friday night into Saturday morning. But even if I’m not there, we keep the party going for anyone to tune in any time. I cut back once I started teaching, but I had enough staff to let them take over the station while I’m not there.”
The trio chatted through the afternoon, talking about this, that and the other such as the current top ten heroes compared to the ones in their school days. For once, things felt completely normal- as if Shirakumo Oboro hadn’t been stripped away from them at the tender age of 17. However, it didn’t seem that long before 4:00 came around. With it being Shouta’s usual after school nap time combined with today’s recent development and running around the school, it wasn’t long before he was half curled up in his husband’s lap with his arms wrapped around him.
“Is Shouta okay?” Oboro asked, looked down at the sleeping man before turning his attention back to his fellow extrovert. “And I mean actually okay… I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to say anything.” He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “After all, he was always telling me to think more before I speak.”
Hizashi’s broad smile turned to a sentimental one. “He will be.” The blond answered, uncharacteristically quiet. “When I said he almost died for his students, he very nearly did each time. All within the span of a year, no less. To Shouta, his life means nothing if the lives of his students are on the line. And honestly, I think they would call him their greatest hero. And if I have to be honest, I think you’re his.”
“Me?” Heterochromic eyes stared down at the sleeping form, whose chest was slowly rising and falling.
“Everything he did, be it for himself or his students, he did because you held such a strong influence on him.” The Voice hero explained. “Even now. Shou’s had a rough year, and you helped pull him through some of the darker times. Hell, he talked to you every day about anything and everything. Sometimes about nothing at all, but it didn’t matter. It was like therapy to him. For Shouta, he could just get everything out in privacy, and no one would be the wiser but him. Sure, I’ve been his support system, his go-to, the love of his life. But you and now the kids he teaches are the reason behind every action he takes. So… Thank you.”
Oboro furrowed his brow, finally keeping his attention on Hizashi. “But why are you telling me this?” He asked. “Why won’t Shouta?”
Hizashi laughed. “Because Shouta is a very private person and will take it to the grave without telling a soul. He hasn’t even told me! But I watch him, and I know- even if the rest of the world is oblivious. So do yourself a favor and just watch him. Watch what he does, what he says, hell, even how he says it. Because you, Loud Cloud, are a hero.”
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Summary:
Hitoshi has questions, and Aizawa has answers. But will he accept them?
Notes:
Hey, guys! Sorry about the delay. I was on hiatus, and I really didn't like how the original chapter read, so I rewrote most of it. I should be able to post more frequently now, so be on the look out!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The sky had turned into a swirl of pinks and oranges as Hitoshi sat on the steps of the teachers dorms. Though he knew where his dads were, it didn’t stop the general unease from churning in his stomach.
“When’s Daddy and Papa coming home?” A small voice piped up.
The lavender haired teen looked down at the little girl next to him, who was coloring in a book from some new kids show that he forgot the name of already. A cheerful cartoon cat was giving a flower to a bunny while a dog and a bird played in the background.
“I don’t know, Eri…” Hitoshi answered, starting to regret his decision of skipping out on dinner at the Class 2-A dorms. “Should be soon, though. Dad said that they’d be home for dinner.”
Unlike the students, the UA teachers usually ate on their own since most of their schedules differed. The teachers’ dorms, however, were set up like apartments with a communal living area compared to the standard dorms the students lived in.
It had taken Hitoshi some time to get used to living with his foster family (now official family), and he was now starting to get used to the dynamics between his classmates. He had come into the hero course with no intention of making friends as stated during his personal exam, but a few students like Midoriya and Kaminari seemed a little too eager to take on that challenge. Now 2 months into the new school year post the academic delay, he was much more comfortable sitting at the large table surrounded by his classmates and listening in on conversations- even if he didn’t have much to say himself.
The sound of a familiar pair of voices caught their attention, and the insomniac teen quickly helped his little sister put away her crayons so they didn’t have to worry about them later.
“Daddy! Papa!” The little girl called out, rushing down the remaining stairs and running towards the pair or heroes. Their Papa grinned, viridian eyes bright behind those ridiculous tinted glasses.
“Hey, there, Princess!” Hizashi laughed, immediately picking Eri up and spinning her around. “What’s my littlest listener been up to today? The two erupted in giggles before she wrapped her arms around him and earning herself a piggy back ride.
“‘Toshi and I had apple slices, and then we both did our work, and he helped, and then we watched Neko-chan, and then we sat out on the steps to wait for you!” The little girl spouted excitedly.
‘Neko-chan. That’s what it was…’ Hitoshi thought. ‘That’s kind of redundant. Probably no more than Hello Kitty, though… How is that still popular?’
At seven years old, Eri was almost ready to start going to a normal primary school. But until then, the teachers at UA were her teachers in the meantime to help get her caught up. All the other teachers had become pseudo parents to her, which had made learning all the more exciting to her.
“And I colored a picture while we waited! Want to see?”
Leave it to his baby sister to be the biggest ray of sunshine on campus.
“Are you sure you guys are okay, Dad?” Hitoshi asked, gaze instinctively flickering over his mentor turned father for any sign of injury.
However, his dad smiled, gently ruffling fluffy lavender locks. “We’re fine, Hitoshi. I owed you an explanation, right?” he asked, opening the door. “Come on. Upstairs. I’d rather not make a fuss in front of anyone. You’ve got questions, and I have answers, but we’ll need to keep it on the down low for now.”
The pair trudged into the teachers’ dorms, Hitoshi making a bee-line to the elevator for his dad’s sake. They were only on the second floor, thank god, but Shouta rarely took the elevator on his own accord- even after his injury. Hitoshi waited in awkward silence, as the elevator dinged, releasing them to their desired floor. He followed his dad into the apartment, the necessities from home scattered about in Hizashi’s attempt to make it more welcoming. A throw blanket and pillows on the sofa, various family pictures hanging up on the walls, and even black out blinds in case Shouta needed a little extra sleep. The teen watched as the older man sat in the armchair, hands clasped and elbows resting on his thighs before he himself sunk into the couch.
“Alright, ‘Toshi. Ask away.”
“Are you sure you and Pops are alright?” Hitoshi asked, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “What happened this afternoon? You really scared all of us today.”
By ‘all of us’, his class had broke out in pandemonium upon hearing that their teacher had suddenly been called in to Musutafu General with no further explanation other than “He’ll be back in class tomorrow.”
So with all due respect, Hitoshi’s panicked call while they were in the hospital wasn’t exactly an overreaction.
Shouta sighed, looking down at the floor before looking back at his eldest.
“Hitoshi, do you remember how Hizashi and I got called away back in November? How Detective Tsukauchi needed to talk to us?”
Hitoshi nodded.
“Well, it turned out that the villain Kurogiri is actually a nomu of a very good friend of ours. A friend that died while we were on our summer internships in our 2nd year.” Shouta explained. “After the first war, he was shipped off to Musutafu General with some other nomus in hopes to recover them to at least bring closure to their families. Today, I got a call from the long term care unit, letting us know that Hizashi and I could come visit him.”
“Wait!” The teen cut in, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. “So you and Pops spent all afternoon visiting a villain?!” Hitoshi hadn’t been involved with everything that had happened, but his father had.
And it made his blood boil.
“Shirakumo Oboro and Kurogiri are two different beings with completely different quirks.” The homeroom teacher countered. “While Kurugiri’s Quirk was Warp Gate, Oboro’s was that he could make clouds. He has had a psychological evaluation as well as been questioned by Tsukauchi. Nothing indicates villainous intent or any sort of memory from his time as Kurogiri, but that later is to be determined.”
“Evaluated by Tsukauchi my ass!” Hitoshi snarked. “Haven’t you always said that it’s not the Quirk that is inherently evil, but what you do with it?”
“Shirakumo didn’t do anything.”
“Kurogiri,” The teen corrected, “is a villain!”
Shouta stared down his adopted son. His stare was unnerving as it was, but the recent addition of the eyepatch made it all the more terrifying.
“Shirakumo Oboro is innocent. He hasn’t done anything.”
“Hasn’t done anything?!” Exasperation crossed Hitoshi’s face as he sprang to his feet. A gray tuxedo with a missing eye immediately hopped up onto the couch to take advantage of the open space blatantly ignoring the conversation. “Did you get your memory wiped? Have you forgotten everything from the past year?!”
“Forgotten- Hitoshi!” The older man protested. “My memory is fine! I was there. For all of it!”
“Look at yourself, Dad!” Hitoshi yelled, vision starting to blur. “Do yourself a god-damned favor and look in a mirror for once! That scar under your eye? Kurogiri warped over 70 villains into the USJ. You and 13 almost died. He brought the Vangaurd Action Squad to the training camp last year. He gave Compress a way out. He helped kidnap Bakugou!”
“Shirakumo is Quirkless!”
“Bullshit!” The teen spat. “Kurogiri’s part of the League of Villains! Warping everyone in and out as needed and playing babysitter to Shigaraki. Remember him? That guy who almost destroyed all of Japan? Successor to All for One?”
“Hitoshi-”
“You said yourself that he was a Nomu!” He continued. “You know… Like the thing that smashed your face on pure concrete? Amalgamations of twisted souls and mangled bodies! They’re monsters. Puppets! Kurogiri shouldn’t be sitting in a local hospital, but in one of the lowest levels of Tartarus! Surely they have facilities there where they could restore him-”
“BUT HE WAS IN TARTARUS!”
“Daddy?”
The pair whirled around to find Hizashi standing in an open doorway with Eri in his arms, both of them sharing the same worried look.
“‘Toshi?” The small voice piped up again. “Why are you yelling? What’s wrong?”
Hitoshi scowled, his dad looking at him sternly- the wordless exchange speaking volumes on the subject matter.
Hizashi sighed, breaking the terse silence. “If I knew the two of you would be laying down dis tracks on each other, I would be here to judge.” He announced. “But apparently the two of you decided to have your own battle of the bands! I think we all would know who would win if I entered.” The blond grinned, emerald eyes swirling dangerously.
Hitoshi looked back and forth between his new adoptive parents, watching as his little sister wriggled out of Hizashi’s grasp and immediately snuggled up with their dad in the armchair. He felt his feet making an immediate bee-line for the door, but Hizashi spun him back around to the living room- closing the door and quickly taking up space in the miniature living room.
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Eri asked, eyes wide as she further climbed into the injured pro’s lap. Aizawa nodded quietly, face stoney as he wrapped his arms around the little girl in reassurance.
“I’m alright, kitten.”
“Hitoshi, with me!” The Voice Hero insisted, pulling up a chair with ease. “Since the two of you seem to be so keen on remixing vocal tracks, let’s rewind and workshop this jam! Now, who wants the mic first? And remember: If anyone’s going to be yelling, it’s gonna be me.”
The teen’s gaze flashed towards Aizawa before glaring daggers at his pops. “Is it true?”
“Is what true, little listener?”
“When I called earlier.” He explained. “And you guys were at the hospital. Were… were you there visiting a villain?”
Hizashi did a rather excellent impression of a fish, looking back and forth between the pair for confirmation. When neither said a word, the blond turned back to the boy. “‘Toshi… What gave you that idea?”
“I think that was my mistake.”
All eyes fell to Shouta, who reached up with one hand to scratch a gray tabby resting on top of the arm chair, who seemed offended that this was the first time she had gotten attention since everyone had come home.
“I tried to explain to Hitoshi where we ran off to this afternoon.” The pro told him. “But it didn’t go as planned.”
“If something during a performance can go wrong, it will.” Hizashi told him. “And in this case, your audience didn’t understand your set. Now I’d discourage delaying a performance, but its already late and our little rockstars need some grub- as do we.. I know it’s just curry night, but you’re still banned from the kitchen, Shou! Come on, ‘Toshi! You and Eri are going to be the backing track to my lead vocals, ya’ dig?”
Hitoshi watched as his little sister immediately ran to the kitchen, hastily wiping his eyes before he trailed in behind her. It didn’t make sense! Why was his pops so on board with everything?
It wasn’t right.
He quickly washed his hands, moving towards the counter top to help Eri measure out for the rice and water- dumping everything into the rice cooker. Their parents hung back in the living room, if only for a moment. Speaking in hushed tones that even he couldn’t quite hear despite the situational awareness training with his dad.
“Mrrow?”
Hitoshi looked down, the grey tuxedo had abandoned her place from the couch and had rushed to the kitchenette with her cohort, a small brown and white tiger cat that had seemingly come out of the woodwork. Both of them were staring at him like those eels from a pre-quirk kids film about mermaids. Eri had a whole stack sitting by the tv.
“No, Echo. You and Treble already ate, remember?”
Echo gave the teen another incessant “mrrow”, flicking her tail back and forth in her attempt for more food. Treble trilled happily, rubbing back and forth against Hitoshi’s pant leg and purring all the while. The two of them were a matching set, and throw his dad’s recent injuries in the mix, and you’ve got three of a kind.
“Murrp!”
As Hitoshi bent down to pet Treble, Echo seized the opportunity to give the teen what was more of an eager headbutt than a kiss.
“Do you want treats?” Eri giggled, scooping Treble in her arms. Through being considerably smaller than the other two, his long slinky body made him resemble an oversized ferret.
“Not too many.” Hitoshi reminded. Echo purred loudly, eagerly following Eri where the cat treats were kept. It wasn’t until the jar was opened that Diva abandoned all the affection she had been receiving. After all, a cat was a cat.
“Okay, listeners. Let’s get this party STARTED!!” It was a miracle all the cats didn’t scatter in different directions as Hizashi entered their tiny kitchen. Though, Hitoshi supposed that if he and Eri could get used to it, the cats that had been living with them for much longer could as well.
Dinner, had (thankfully) gone without incident, though his pops had done more talking than usual in an attempt to ease the tense atmosphere from earlier. Radio show stories, teacher’s lounge antics, anything try and keep the rest of the evening lighter than it had been for now. Of course, Hitoshi had excused himself from the table as soon as he had finished, washing his dishes in the sink before putting them away.
“Hitoshi, where do you think you’re going?”
The teen looked up, his dad giving him the same stern stare that he had earlier.
“I was going back to the student dorms.” He explained. “It’s a school night.”
“Little listener, those eyebags don’t lie.” Hizashi chided. “Come on. You’ll be fine for a few minutes longer, and it’s only a 5 minute walk from here anyway.” He abandoned the remaining dishes on the table, plopping down on the sofa and patting the cushion next to him.
Eri squealed in delight, immediately getting comfortable on the couch as the teen trudged back across the small apartment.
“So, what’s going on?” Hitoshi asked flatly.
“The show must go on, ‘Toshi.” The blond explained. “We’re finishing out what you and your father started before we can call it a night.”
As if on cue, his dad rounded the corner, a small photo album in hand.
“I owed you an explanation.” Aizawa explained, squeezing himself in between the loud blond and begrudging teen. “And I’m sticking to it.”
Upon closer inspection, the edges of the cover were worn with wear and tear, but the pages were still as crisp as ever like it hadn’t been opened much. The picture on the cover featured three boys eating lunch on a roof in UA uniform, two of which were smiling and laughing in the summer sun while the third seemed to just eat his meal in silence.
“Who’s that?” Eri asked, climbing over their pops to point at the picture.
Hizashi laughed, longing and nostalgic. “That’s me,” He explained, pointing at the figures. “And that’s Shou. This is all from when we went to school here.”
“But who’s that?” The little girl asked, pointing at a boy with fluffy blue hair grinning from ear to ear with a bandage across his nose.
“This is who we wanted to talk to you two about.” Shouta explained, giving Hitoshi a pointed look before continuing. “This is Shirakumo Oboro. He was a very good friend of ours and was in our class. This picture was taken the summer of our second year- the same age as Hitoshi is now.”
The pictures continued, more lunch outings up on the roof, arcade trips, frequent sleepovers- there was even a page dedicated to their first year training camp in the middle of nowhere with Aizawa in an obnoxious yellow sleeping bag. A few subsequent pictures even had a cat, that Hitoshi assumed to be just a stray.
“Was?”
“You know how ‘Toshi has his work studies this year?” Hizashi asked. Eri answered with an eager nod. “Well, we all had ours that year, too. Shouta and Shirakumo both got accepted by the same agency.”
“There was a villain.” Aizawa told her. “It was rampaging the streets while we were on patrol. Shirakumo got hurt really bad. We… We weren't really able to see him after that.”
The implication of what happened made Hitoshi’s stomach churn. 17 years old. 17 years old when he had been taken from them. The insomniac knew he didn’t have any close-knit friends (yet), but the entirety of 2-A had essentially adopted him as their own immediately. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if any of them-
“And that’s where we were today.” His dad’s voice brought Hitoshi back to the present. “I got a call this afternoon, and Papa and I were able to go and visit. He looks pretty different than he did then, but it’s okay.”
“Can I come visit with you?” Eri asked eagerly, eyes wide with anticipation.
Hizashi couldn’t help but laugh. “Not right now little listener!” He told her, scooping her up into his arms as he stood. “The doctors don’t think he’s quite ready for additional visitors yet. Maybe someday! Besides, it’s getting late, and somebody should be getting ready for bed. But in the meantime, I’ll tell you more stories.” The DJ smiled fondly, carrying Eri into her room. “So, there was that one time we went to the arcade and I tried to win a cat plush for Daddy….”
Hitoshi was quiet, purple eyes shifting from the other half of their family to the small photo album on the coffee table.
“So… What actually happened.” He could piece two and two together, but he wanted to hear it for himself.
Aizawa sighed. “Like Hizashi said. We were on our summer work study during our second year. We were helping a bunch of nursery students cross the street when a monster of a villain came plowing through. A nearby building collapsed. Oboro was reckless. He threw himself in the way to protect them and… he was crushed. I didn’t know that he had died until after the fight. Until after I took down the villain myself and Hizashi and I saw the medics bagging his body.”
He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the strain in his voice. “And that’s how it was for fourteen years. Just the two of us. Back in November was when they made the discovery Kurogiri was actually Shirakumo. It was a shock to everyone. We didn’t know that much about Nomu’s as it was. So to have one that had intelligence and wasn’t an abomination like at the USJ was unheard of. Tsukauchi called us, Hizashi and I met him at Tartarus, and we were able to reawaken Shirakumo, if only for a few minutes. Completely shut down after that.”
“So… That’s why they were able to transport him to the hospital.”
Aizawa nodded. “It wasn’t until after the war against the Metal Liberation Front,” He explained. “But doctors and researchers had been working on him since as well as a few other nomu.” The injured pro paused, turning to look at his adopted son. “We’re not telling you that you have to like it. But Shirakumo Oboro isn’t a villain, Hitoshi. He is a friend we’ve missed dearly for almost 15 years. And the fact Hizashi and I get to see him again is more than the two of us could have asked for.”
Hitoshi couldn’t help but huff. “Is he the reason why you’ve become such a hard-ass?”
“Another comment like that, and you’ll be running extra laps. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Notes:
Thank you so much for my beta reader to make sure everything felt natural- especially that argument because I definitely didn't do it justice the first time around.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Summary:
Oboro is thankful for a visitor.
Notes:
Finally! Chapter 4! I had about one third of this written, and then I had writers block on this for over almost 2 months! 😭 Be prepared for more frequent updates, though! It should be some pretty smooth sailing for a while.
Chapter Text
Nothing.
Why can’t I remember?
Blank.
Static.
Pins and needles, starting with the bottoms of my feet and working their way up my body like a bolt of electricity.
Why?
Why can’t I think?
Why is it so hard to breathe? Am I suffocating?
Drowning?
No… that’s not it. A heavy weight on my chest.
Why can’t I move?
A force against my head.
Hard.
Sudden.
Pounding.
My head hurts. Why does my head hurt?
Everything is too bright!
My ears are ringing. It’s loud. Everything’s else is just white noise.
Why can’t I hear anything?
I need to call a nurse. Ask what’s up.
I’m locked. I can’t move.
WHY CAN’T I MOVE?!
“Oboro?”
Oboro suddenly felt the oxygen rush into his lungs, his mind racing as he struggled to catch up. The stark white of the hospital walls were blinding, the bright sunlight reflecting every which way. He was here. He was here. The starchy sheets, the hustle and bustle of the nurse’s station down the hall. His breathing was still quicker than he would have liked, but he was at least aware.
“Are you okay?”
With a binding smile, he looked towards the door to find one of his best friends standing in the door.
“Shouta! Good to see ya!” He greeted. “Physical Therapy just took a lot out of me today. No Hizashi?”
“After school tutoring.” The pro hero explained, settling in the chair. “He’s helping some students review for their English finals this term. According to him, some of them really need it.”
“Yikes!” Oboro laughed, running a hand through the fluffy strands of hair that had fallen around his face. Ever since Hizashi had offered him a hair tie, He continued to keep it pulled back so he could see better.
He hated the feeling of his hair against the back of his neck, and he didn’t know why.
And not knowing why bothered him.
Why did it bother him?!
“Sounds a lot like me, actually!” The man explained, relieved that his breathing had regulated without issue. Now to try and stop his heart from destroying his ribcage. “He’s got his radio show tonight, right?”
Shouta nodded. “Yeah. He’s going from the school straight to the station, going to pick up dinner on the way and get ready there. Does that now and then if his time is tight. He kept coming home before, but I just told him to go straight to the station so he doesn’t cut it so close.”
“That’s Yamada for you!”
Another laugh, loud and boisterous- brain firing on all cylinders to convince himself its all normal. That it’s okay.
That he is okay.
“So, you said PT was rough, then?” Shouta asked, leaning forward. “What are they having you do?”
“Lifting weights, walk around, pretty much anything I can do that isn’t too strenuous that will help me get used to moving around again.” Shirakumo explained. “They’ve increased my sessions again today, so I’m making good progress. My dietician comes in every morning before breakfast to make sure I’m getting what I need to improve. Therapy is good, keeping me in check. He comes up every day before lunch to do a daily check in.”
Shouta rolled his eyes. “Right before lunch?” He asked, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’d probably talk his ears off.”
He paused. “Actually, there isn’t a lot for me to talk about.”
“Oh?”
Apparently, this was news to Shouta.
“Yeah…” Oboro explained. “I mean, I know why he’s there, but I feel like I’m wasting his time. Except for you two now that you’ve stopped by, most everything is the same every day. The general monotony is killing me . Everyone tells me just how much I’m improving. I’m super stoked to get discharged, but it hasn’t been discussed at all, so I guess I’ve still got a ways to go yet.”
Shouta nodded, giving his old friend a rare, reassuring smile.
“Progress isn’t linear.” He explained. “It's a journey. You can get ahead of yourself, and even back track. It doesn’t mean that you’re not improving. It just means that you’re still growing and learning things about yourself.”
Oh…
“We’re not giving up on you, okay? We never have.” Shouta continued quietly. “Just don’t give up on yourself.”
“You sound like you’ve been talking to a life coach or something!”
“Nope.” The homeroom teacher replied, popping the ‘p’. “Just a really good friend.”
That look…
Shouta knows something.
Did I do something?
What did I do?”
“Oboro?”
“Huh?”
Shouta furrowed a brow, looking his friend up and down. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Positive!”
“Oboro…”
“Never better! Honest!” Oboro insisted with a chuckle. “Look, Shouta. I appreciate the concern. It means a lot! But I promise I’m okay. I just kinda zone out now and then with the memory gaps. My brain probably keeps freezing and decides it’s time for another reboot!”
The rumble of distant thunder could be heard across the cityscape, dark clouds rolling in like a curtain. Something stirred inside Oboro. His mind was starting to feel a bit hazy with his stomach performing an acrobatic routine, but he quickly pushed it down.
“Looks like it’s gonna be a bad one. Hope you brought an umbrella with you today!” He quipped cheerfully, mismatched eyes lingering out the window before turning his attention back to his friend. “And don’t leave it out in the rain this time, Shouta!”
“Woah, there, Hizashi! Got yer hands all over Shouta, so you?” Oboro beemed, hovering on a cloud in the pouring rain as he watched his two best friends fight it out. Or rather the loud blond convincing their gloomy friend to get out of his head for once.
“Outrageous! Scandalous! Shameful! LET ME IN ON IT!” The teen cackled excitedly, preparing to cross the threshold into the classroom.
“Damn it, Shirakumo! Is that any way to enter a classroom?”
“Yes, straight through the third-floor window!” Oboro answered, already climbing in through the window. “My cloud Quirk is SUPER handy for getting around!”
“I don’t give a damn about that!” Their homeroom teacher reprimanded. “Just use the door like everyone else!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“In your seat.” Their teacher announced. “It’s time for roll call!”
Wet sneakers squished as Oboro walked across the classroom floor, puddles trailing behind as he did. Despite coming inside from a rainstorm, his hair still seemed to defy the laws of physics and looked as fluffy as ever.
“Yo!” The boy called out, looking across the room. “Anybody got a towel! I’m soaked to the bone!”
Walking up the aisle furthest away from the window, Oboro stopped his wandering around the classroom- flashing his grumpy friend a dazzling grin, who was also soaking wet from the storm. “Oh yeah, Shouta!”
“Hm?”
He pulled off his backpack, unhooking a lone umbrella and holding it out to him. “This is your umbrella, yeah? You must’ve dropped it back there!”
Once Shouta had taken it, Obro continued his trek to the back of the classroom, dropping his backpack haphazardly onto the floor and began to pull off his wet uniform.
“Shirakumo, was there anything under this?”
Blazer, tie, socks, shoes, shirt, all of it lay in a small pile next to his backpack.
“Hey, hey, hey, Oboro!” Hizashi yelled, noticing the situation at hand. “Who said you could take it all off?!”
Shirakumo looked back at his friends, sky blue boxers with clouds hanging off his one remaining ankle with his backside towards the rest of the class for preservation's sake.
More for the class rather than himself.
“Have you tried wearing wet underpants?” Oboro countered matter of factly. “It’s gross.” He twisted his torso, keeping his lower half exactly how it was sans boxer shorts before giving his classmates a suave smile.
“No need to fear, friends! Sit back and observe.” He explained, turning his back to them completely as a small cloud covered his rear. “This fabulous application of my Quirk creates an aesthetic that’s censored just enough.”
The class erupted in chatter over the disruption.
Oboro turned around to face his peers, a blush forming on his cheeks. “And inside this cloud is this charming little creature!” He announced, reaching inside and rummaging around. The chatter took a sudden turn to rage and disgust, the commotion only increasing in volume.
“You’re going waaay too far, man! There’s girls here!”
“You suck, Shirakumo!”
“Go to hell!”
Finding what he was looking for, Oboro pulled out a tiny tabby kitten, holding the ball of fluff in his palm as it mewed. Immediately the atmosphere changed, the students now fawning over 2-A’s new visitor.
“The forecast didn’t call for rain, so I didn’t bring one.” Shouta explained, sitting back in the uncomfortable hospital chair. “But I’ll survive the walk to the train. Over a decade of late night patrols will help condition you to deal with the elements.”
The mention caught Oboro’s interest. “So, tell me, Shouta! What’s it like being a pro hero?” He asked. “Is it everything we thought it would be?”
Shouta gave him a small smile.
“It’s paperwork.” He told him. “Mountains and mountains of paperwork.”
There was a pause before the pair erupted into laughter.
“See, Shouta! I knew you’d be good at it!”
“Shame, shame.” Hizashi bemoaned. “Me, having to give up my trademark shades!”
The three of them sat in their usual lunch spot on top of the roof. Just that morning, Oboro and Shouta won against Sensoji from 2-B; a simple minded brute that really seemed to have it out for the later. Winning during training, of course, meant the pair for to keep their goggles while Sensoji and by extension Hizashi (whom he was paired up with) had to ditch their glasses (that he proceeded to copy from the loud blond).
“But how about this? Perfect fit, yeah?” Hizashi had thrown on a pair of Oboro’s spare goggles, grinning from ear to ear and giving his friends a double thumbs up.
“You’re wearing goggles too, now?” Shouta asked deadpan, looking up from his lunch with his own newly gifted goggles hanging from around his neck. “Why?”
Oboro laughed, throwing a long arm around the newest member of the goggles gang. “We can sell ourselves as a trio!”
“Is Yamada coming to Purple Agency?” Shouta asked. “That’s sudden.”
“Nah!” Oboro dismissed eagerly. “I’m talking in the future! Our boss takes on newbies in hopes of steering them to go independent someday, right? So after our time there… the three of us should start our own agency! That’s the plan, anyway.”
“Eh…”
“I think we work well together!” The taller teen insisted, bright blue eyes shining. “Take you for example, Shouta! You’re not the type to get the action started on your own, but you’re great at sweating the small stuff! You’ll add a layer of polish to everything we do. ‘Cuz me and Hizashi suck at that!”
Hizashi collapsed in another fit of loud, contagious laughter, leaving Oboro chuckling as he beamed.
“Yeah, I guess so…” Shouta mused. “You two share the same two brain cells.”.
“Plus, your Erasure Quirk… is lacking in finishing power.” Oboro explained, recounting the events from their internship with His Purple Highness as well as the team up fight against Sensoji. “But, once you take the wind outta the bad guys’ sails, it’s our turn! We can finish ‘em off! Like with some killer combo action!”
Shouta, on the other hand, seemed more apprehensive.
“Me not being able to get the action started, and lacking in finishing power… isn’t that just another way of saying I can’t do anything in my own?” He asked dejectedly.
“I’m saying you’re suited for teamwork!”
“Yeah!” Hizashi joined in. “We’ll raise and close the curtain on stuff…”
“And you just have to handle everything else!” Oboro finished.
“By that logic, it sounds like I’m doing most of the work.” The shorter grumbled. “Besides! I never agreed to this team-up with you two!”
“Eh? Got something against us?”
“Aizawa’s gotta keep up the broody act.”Hizashi supplied.
“Yeah.” Oboro admitted. “Shouta’s a tough nut to crack.”
“Cut it out!”
“It’s obnoxious and tedious.” Shouta corrected, shaking his head. “The amount of paperwork has only increased since we started teaching. I tend to stay out of the spotlight as an underground pro. Can’t be bothered with the media. They’re too annoying.”
“Still being the dark broody one I see!” Oboro grinned. “Is that why you chose underground work- to feel more dark and angst like an orphaned vigilante?”
“If you weren’t sitting in a hospital bed right now, I’d whack you.”
“Only if you can catch me!”
God, he missed manifesting clouds and zipping around on them like Lakitu.
“And Hizashi?”
Shouta scoffed. “He’ll happily take up almost any interview and talk their ears off.” He explained. “Or about anything to anyone who will listen for that matter. Hizashi’s got the biggest mouth of anyone I know. Most think he never shuts up, which is true most of the time, but he’s quiet when it really counts. Been married to the man for 8 years now, and I still don’t know how he does it.”
Oboro mindlessly fidgeted with the forever starchy hospital sheets- a minor habit he’d picked up during his hospital stay.
“I know Hizashi had been pining after you since you kicked his ass during the last fight in the sports fest our first year.” He recalled with a laugh. “But how come it took so long for you two to finally get together?”
His head was pounding, the bright fluorescent light bulbs bore into his brain- now at even greater contrast since the sky had darkened. Everything was too loud all at once with no volume dial in sight. Shouta talking, the usual shuffle feet out in the halls. Oboro’s attention kept bouncing back and forth between the two. His vision suddenly blurred, unable to refocus, but he kept talking.
He couldn’t tell if the rumbling in his ears were just the muscles he was unconsciously contracting or the storm outside. It wasn’t until the sky lit up accompanied by a deafening ‘CRACK’ that he got his answer.
Thank whatever god was out there that he was no longer required to be hooked up to the heart monitor.
“… You’ve done a lot, and I never would have taken it without you.”
Oboro blinked, his surroundings pushing themselves to the forefront and bringing him back to the present. Shouta had moved from the rigid hospital chairs to the edge of the hospital bed he was in.
“What?”
He watched as Shouta sighed, digging around in the plethora of pockets on his jumpsuit, let alone his utility belt. The man gave him a questioning look before continuing.
“I wanted to thank you.” He explained. “For pushing me to be a teacher all those years ago. It took longer than you’d expect and even longer for me to give in and accept the position. Granted, there was some… meddling, but I don’t think I would have ever accepted it without your encouragement 15 years ago. So, thank you.”
“You’d be pretty good working with kids.” Oboro grinned, walking with Shouta across the street with a cloud loaded up with the day’s nursery brigade. “Like at a daycare or as a school teacher-”
“Me?” The shorter teen gave him an incredulous look. “No. You… Maybe.” He huffed, scowling as they walked. “What could children possibly like about me?”
They reached the end of the intersection where the day care worker was already waiting for them. Unfortunately, this was the part of their patrol where they had to let the kiddos go on their way.
“Bye bye, Loud!”
“See ya!” Oboro beamed, waving eagerly to the kids.
“Bye bye!”
“Goodbye, Eraserhead!”
Oboro chuckled, watching his friend light up at the recognition by a small child. It was a small smile, but a genuine one nonetheless- unlike the god awful smiles he tried to give when forced by His Purple Highness.
“See?!” He insisted as Shouta quickly wiped the grin off his face. “It’s cuz you’re so observant that you overthink stuff. Like, you psych yourself out and convince yourself you can’t.” But you could do just about anything if you put your mind to it.”
“Anything?” Shouta repeated flatly. “Like run a daycare? Or be a teacher?”
“Yep! Exactly!”
The other teen rolled his eyes as he continued walking down their patrol route. “Try thinking before you speak.”
“Naw! I’m serious!”
Shouta reached into a pocket of his utility belt, pulling out a small hardcover notebook with soft billowy clouds against a cerulean sky.
“I figured you’d want something to get all your thoughts out.” He offered. “I know you’ve got a therapist, but it helps to get out the things you’d rather not share- even if no one sees.”
“Full of all sorts of helpful hints, aren’t you?” Oboro laughed. He reached out to take the notebook, feeling the smooth matching pen in his hands. “You’re not secretly a therapist on the side, are you?”
Aizawa shook his head. “Just… experience.” he replied, leaning back a little. “Give it a try. It helps more than you would think. Just my recommendation, but you can use it for whatever you’d like.”
Oboro smiled, staring down at the bright cover as the rain beat down on the windows of the hospital room.
“Thanks, Shouta.”
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Summary:
Shouta and Hizashi reminisce on the past and have regrets.
Chapter Text
Shouta sat on the sofa this time, on the verge of closing his eyes as Hizashi ran long, nimble fingers through his thick locks.
“Sounds like you had a good visit.” The blond mused, looking down at his husband with a smile. He had already taken a shower, his hair pulled in a half-up style just to keep it off his face and his usual tinted lenses were replaced by his more domestic tortoiseshell wire-rimmed frames. “Sorry I couldn't be there. With finals coming up, rescheduling would be impossible.
“Don't worry about it.” Shouta told him. “Our schedules are hectic enough as it is.” He sighed, taking a moment to process. “What are we going to do, ‘Zashi?”
“What do you mean, Shou?”
“Oboro.” He explained. “I feel like we’re stuck. I know we’re taking it one day at a time. Hell, we don’t even know when he’ll be released, if he’ll be released at all. And if he does, then what? He’s legally dead. Hell, he was dead! The paperwork is going to be hell, even if that rat can pull the necessary strings.” Shouta scrubbed at his face, letting out a frustrated groan. “You saw him! You know his parents aren’t going to accept this. Especially since they’re under the impression that their only child was crushed by a falling building at seventeen!”
Hizashi looked out the window, watching as a flock of birds flew over the treetops of the forest behind them. “Do you remember how you tried to micro-analyze everything when we were in school, and it wouldn’t get you anywhere? And when we were talking about our agency one day, Oboro just told you to forget the logistics and just roll with it?”
God, how could he forget? He had printed off a stack of documents on what it takes to run an agency (purely for research purposes), and Oboro had just waived it off like it was no big deal.
“Well?”
“He told me not to worry about it until the time comes…”
“And have you had to worry about it since?”
“No.”
The Voice Hero beamed. “Exactly!” He explained. “That’s exactly what he’ll want us to do now! Sure, we don’t know what we need to do or what will happen. We won’t know until it does. So, we have two options, Grumpy Cat. We can sit here and think about all the possible outcomes and try to plan ahead with all the possible options. Or, we can do what we can, keep visiting our best friend outside of school, and plan our attack once we’ve been given a battle plan. Planning is all well and good for a show. Every good show stoppin’ performance needs detail work! But sometimes, things go wrong when you least expect them to. Equipment breaks, cues fail, there’s a wardrobe malfunction, someone gets sick or hurt. But the show’s gotta go on, and you have to make it work and keep that party rockin’!”
Hizashi’s smile softened, his hero persona dropping in the moment. “We’ll make it work, Shou. We’re just going to wait on standby until we’re given our cue. What do we when there’s a big mission that we need to execute? A complicated one we don’t know all the details on?”
Shouta paused, thinking for a moment before looking up at his husband. “We gather information. Data. Go out into the field if we have to. And once we’ve gathered our research, we act accordingly- whether it's to attack now or lie and wait until the perfect moment to strike.”
“Exactly!” The blond bent over, planting a kiss on his husband’s forehead. “We’re waiting. Gathering our intel. Waiting until we get a bigger picture of what’s going on. Keeping Oboro company in the hospital until further notice, and then we come up with a rockin’ set to turn this new chapter into a real crowd pleaser- even if it’s only for us.”
“I’m just worried about him.” The homeroom teacher explained, dark eyes fluttering shut. “He seemed off when I came in today. A little jumpy, more distant, and a bit distracted.”
“Do you think he’s remembering things?”
“I don’t know.” Shouta told him. “He obviously didn’t want to tell me, and I didn’t want to press it. Of course, the storm we got didn’t help things either.”
Though the thunder and lightning had subsided, it was still raining steadily outside.
“Do you think it’s a trigger?”
“Could be. Hard to tell.”
That day had been all blue skies and sunshine until that villain had gone on the rampage. As the kaiju sized monster approached, so did the bad weather.
Mud stained hero costume, dark hair plastered to his face, Oboro’s spare goggles the only thing keeping the rain out of his eyes.
Pools of blood mixing with mud and rain at the scene- even after the body had been removed.
Standing in the rain biting back tears before deciding to let them fall. Who would notice?
Standing in the rain until their costumes were finally soaked through, only leaving so they could report back to their respective agencies and make it home before dark.
It was as if the sky itself was grieving, too.
“Kami, I was an idiot.”
Shouta looked up, finally registering that his husband’s ministrations had ceased.
“That thing .” Hizashi spat, somber expression twisting into disgust. “It used my Voice. That’s why the building collapsed. I should have thought things through.”
Shouta was taken aback.
“Hizashi, you were in the top of our class. Hell- top of our year .” He told him, sitting upright on the sofa. “You were 17, surrounded by a team of pros. No one knew what that thing’s Quirk was when it started rampaging. Not to mention you were on the other side of town. You couldn’t have known. Besides, it wasn't just you.”
“But you figured it out. Sensoji's an idiot. I should have known better.”
“I only figured it out because I saw it use other Quirks. Familiar Quirks. I was there. I could have done something to save everyone. Anything. But I was too slow.”
“But you did save everyone!” Hizashi insisted. “If it wasn’t for your Quirk, who KNOWS what could have happened!”
“Not everyone.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the small living room.
How could they forget? They both grieved in their own ways, but Shouta’s was a bit extreme. Distancing himself from his peers (all of them), training every spare moment he had to better utilize his capture scarf. Training until he was covered in bruises and his hands were rubbed raw with calluses quickly taking over.
Training until his hands were wrapped on a regular basis.
Training until their friendship was almost ruined.
It wasn’t until graduation that their friendship finally resumed.
A restored friendship and unexpected rainfall.
Almost as if Oboro was right there after the ceremony congratulating them.
“Oboro would be proud if he knew, ya’ know.” Hizashi finally piped up. “That you took on that villain all by yourself. No one else was able to handle it- not even the pros.”
Shouta nodded. The monster in question absorbed the Quirks used on it and fired them back at its enemies. The sole reason for Oboro’s untimely death and the same reason why he had been able to stop it in the first place as well as some quick thinking.
“He would, wouldn’t he?”
The blond laughed. “Are you kidding? He’d say something along the lines of how you finally stopped overthinking long enough to reach your potential- after going on and on about how cool you were, of course.”
Shouta raised a brow. “I know I’ve suffered more concussions than I’d care to admit, but you weren’t there either if my memory serves me right…”
“News coverage.” Hizashi shrugged. “I never saw the full fight, but I did see bits and pieces. You gotta admit it, though- you were pretty badass for a 16 year old.”
The injured pro chuckled fondly at the thought. Using his capture weapon to give the beast a taste of its own medicine- combusting from the excess energy before collapsing onto the city streets into a gelatinous heap.
“Yeah.” He mused, relaxing against the back of the couch. “I guess I was, wasn’t I?”
The two sat in more comfortable silence, the soft sound of the rain hitting the windows.
“Do you remember graduation?” Hizashi asked, briefly glancing out the window.
Shouta raised a brow. “Like… the ceremony or..?”
“Well, there’s that.” The DJ gave in. “But I was talking about after the ceremony.”
“Right.”
It was a bright spring day in mid March- the cherry blossoms on the school grounds in full bloom. A swarm of now former students in full hero costume with their families flooded the sidewalk outside of UA High.
Graduation Day.
The new heroes were grinning from ear to ear. Pictures were taken, tears were shed. The commotion in the spring air felt victorious.
“Rain?
One student looked up at the sky, a few stray drops beginning to fall.
“Seriously?!” Another cried. “On today of all days?:
“Let’s get in some group shots before the weather really turns!” A girl from their class offered, waving a group of students over. “Huddle up!”
“YEEEAAAH! KILLER IDEA!” Hizashi could be heard well above the crowd thanks to his Quirk. He flashed a classic mega-watt smile before searching the mob. “HEY, AIZA-”
“My voice?” The blond coughed, Quirk suddenly pulled out from underneath him. Immediately, he scanned the area, confused gaze landing on a lone figure itching to stay as far away from the crowd as possible. Dark hair levitating, upgraded goggles covering his eyes. One hand was shoved firmly in his pockets while the other was holding an unopened umbrella despite the rain.
And for the first time in what seemed like ages, he was smiling.
“I don’t know about you…” he continued. “But it kinda felt like Oboro was there, ya’ know? Like, we had literally just started actually being friends again, and then the rain started after everything was over even though it was supposed to be clear skies all week. But.. it just felt like he was there giving his approval. Telling us congrats and that it’s about time we made up already.”
Shouta gave a low hum, reaching out to scratch Diva behind the ears. He was obsessed with training after Oboro’s passing, constantly trying to get better and move faster. Working with his capture weapon to increase dexterity and flexibility. Using the support item as a climbing rope until his hands were rubbed raw and calluses replaced blisters as he got stronger.
All the while, abandoning his only friend left.
“It wasn’t fair of me.” Shouta finally spoke up, trying to ignore the cat’s claws as she kneaded into his thigh. “And most importantly, it wasn’t fair to you. I blamed myself to the point of ignoring you entirely.”
It wasn’t an apology. He had already formally apologized to his best friend turned husband years ago.
But he still felt guilty about it every now and then.
“You needed time.” Hizashi assured, pulling the other man close. “We were both grieving. We just did it in different ways. In my case, it was shoving it all down to be there for everyone else. For you, you just needed the time and space to be able to process and move on.”
“Still…” Shouta lingered. “It was pretty shitty of me.”
“Kind of.” The blond shrugged. “But it was how you dealt with it. But it doesn’t matter anymore. We found each other in the end.”
“Yeah… I guess we did.”
“Daddy?”
The pair looked over towards the kitchen, only to find Eri padding over to them in a pink cat kigurumi.
“Eri?”
“Sweetheart, it’s ten.” Hizashi noted, glancing at tree pop his watch. “Two hours past your bedtime. What on earth are you still doing up?”
“Can’t sleep.” She answered, immediately crawling onto the couch and squeezing between both of her dads.
“Have another nightmare?” Shouta asked,gently pulling Diva off his leg and setting her on the arm of the couch so she wouldn’t maul his leg while getting comfortable. She didn’t get them as much anymore, but their little girl ways came to find them if she had a nightmare from her time with Overhaul.
Eri shook her head. “No. I was just thinking ‘bout Ob’ro, that’s all.”
“Oh?” This caught the pair off guard. It had been a few nights since Shouta and Hizashi had first visited Oboro and had to explain themselves to Hitoshi (and by extension Eri).
“Uh, huh!” She answered. “You said he had a Quirk, but he doesn’t have one anymore. Kind of like Lemillion! So I want to use Rewind so he can have a Quirk again and be a hero!”
Eri successfully using Rewind on Mirio had been her crowning achievement. The victory of using her Quirk without backlash after only months of training was a feat in itself. It had made her more confident and even decided to be a hero herself.
Shouta looked to Hizashi, who shared the same shocked expression before pulling the little girl into his lap. “Eri, you want to rewind Shirakumo so he can have his Quirk back?”
“Yeah!” Eri cheered, nodding eagerly.
The homeroom teacher sighed. “Eri, sweetheart, do you know why you can’t use rewind on me?”
The little girl thought hard for a moment. “Because you can’t Rewind something that’s not there.” She recited, recalling what her dad had told her while he was in recovery.
“Exactly.” Shouta explained, ruffling her hair. “Lemillion still had his Quirk in a way. He just couldn’t use it until you used Rewind on him. It brought him back before his Quirk was erased. Your Rewind is kind of like my Erasure when it comes to Quirks. In the way it was being used before, it was keeping people from using their Quirks. Like Lemillion. But the Quirk was still a part of them. Unfortunately with Shirakumo, his Quirk was taken from him. It’s not a part of him anymore.”
Eri stared at him with wide red eyes. “Like how you don’t have a leg or an eye anymore?” She asked anxiously.
“Yes. Just like that. We can’t use Rewind because he doesn’t have a Quirk that’s part of him.”
“Oh…” Eri looked down at the ground rather disappointed before turning her attention back to her dads. “But what happened to his Quirk? Can we give it back to him if we find it?”
This time, it was Hizashi who broke the silence.
“Actually…” He answered regretfully. “We can’t do that either. When Daddy and I went to go fight the Villains with all those heroes, we found his Quirk. But with all the fighting, the small bottle it was in broke, so we can’t get it back.”
The blond wasn’t going to advertise that it was his fault the vial shattered. He was devastated when he realized, and Shouta had taken it just as hard. But in the grand scheme of things, hundreds, if not thousands of lives were on the line that day. But as a hero, it was unspoken in crisis like these where the lives of the many outweighed the lives of the few. And in most cases, the lives of the civilians outweighed the lives of the hero. There was no need to share that information with their little girl who just wanted to help.
“So… Ob’ro won’t get his Quirk back?”
Shouta shook his head. “I’m sorry, Eri- Berry.” He told her, pulling their daughter in for a hug.
“But Shirakumo will be okay.” Hizashi explained. “He knows he doesn’t have a Quirk anymore. He’s sad that he won’t get to be a hero like Daddy and me, but that’s okay. We’re still happy to see him.”
“Your Papa’s right.” Shouta told her. “Quirk or not, Shirakumo is a really good friend of ours. And that is something that will never change.” He hoisted her up, carefully getting to his feet and carrying Eri back to her room.
The blond smiled. “It’s still nice that you want to help, though.” He encouraged. “If we can think of anything, we’ll let you know, okay lil’ listener?”
Eri nodded eagerly. “Okay, Papa.”
“Good.” Shouta answered, smiling as the girl crawled into bed before starting to tuck her in all over again. Eri’s room was just like any little girl’s room- lots of pink and plushies galore. However, a good portion of said plushies consisted of cats, but that fact remains unsaid. “Now get to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”
He turned, heading back out of the room to join Hizashi back on the couch. Maybe tonight he could get some decent sleep-
“Daddy?”
The semi-retired pro turned around, looking back at Eri.
“Hmm?”
“When will I be able to see Ob’ro?” Eri asked, a yawn finally escaping her.
Shouta paused, looking out the window for a moment towards the 2-A dorms before giving her his attention. “Well, for now, only Papa and I can visit Shirakumo.” He explained. “That’s why we’re trying to visit as much as we can. But when the day comes that we’re allowed to bring you, we’ll let you know.”
It wasn’t the ideal explanation for her, but enough to satisfy Eri’s curiosity- which was more than enough for the injured pro.
“Promise?” Eri yawned again, wide curious eyes growing heavy before finally slipping shut.
Shouta smiled softly, making sure she was sound asleep before turning off the light.
“I promise.”
UPDATE: @lunas_henkn_shit on TikTok made some fanart as well! He looks so huggable and I love it!
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Summary:
A glimpse into Oboro as he tries to figure things out.
Chapter Text
“How has your week been?”
Oboro sat in a plush armchair, the large windows in the office letting in plenty of natural light to counter the hospital’s harsh fluorescent lighting. There was a rug on the floor, shelves lined with books and other resources. There was a sofa against one wall that was an option, too, but the chair just felt more… personal.
More secure.
“Feels good to be more active, being able to come down here.” He admitted. “I think I was going stir crazy in that hospital room.”
“I see your friends have been visiting you.” Dr. Chinen Hajime reminded, observing the notations in Oboro’s chart. “How have they been?”
Oboro paused for a moment, his brain trying to process the question.
“The visits or my friends?”
“Whatever you wish to share.” Dr. Chinen prompted. “Catch me up! I missed a lot.” The psychiatrist had been out at a conference earlier that week, having received the news that Shirakumo’s contacts had been visiting him through his chart. The man was short in stature, thin frames perched on the end of his nose and copper eyes constantly looking over them.
“It’s surreal, really.” Oboro explained. “Seeing the three of us all grown up. They've done so well for themselves. Their careers are flourishing, hell- they even have kids! I couldn’t be more excited for them!”
“And the visits?”
“They’ve been great!” The taller told him “It hasn’t been every day that they both show. They’ve got their own lives together, responsibilities, and sometimes their schedules are too full now that finals are so close. But they really try to come as often as they can.”
Dr. Chinen scribbled a few things down on a pad before refocusing the conversation.
“How do you feel about your friends coming over to visit?”
“It’s great!” Oboro told him, relaxing a bit in the chair. “It’s like I haven’t talked to them in ages! I’ve missed them a lot since I’ve been here, so it’s nice that I finally get to see them again.”
“How so?”
“Well… I don’t know…” He admitted. “It’s like things are finally how they should be- like how they finally fall back in place. Like… Like that feeling you have when you go on a long vacation. You’re enjoying yourself and everything’s great. You’re too excited and forget all about home, and then after a while, you start to miss the familiar and continue exploring the unknown because there’s just so much you want to see! The trip home is exhausting, and you’re filled with anticipation. You’re impatient and just itching to get home already. And when you finally get back, everything just feels… right. ”
“So… Your friends are like home to you?”
“Yes?” Oboro was hesitant, wracking his brain to try and place how he was feeling. “Maybe..? I don’t know. We always hung out when we were in high school together- eating lunch up on the roof, study sessions, trips to the arcade… There was never a dull moment between the three of us. No matter what, you just knew things were going to be okay.”
Dr. Chinen hummed, looking over at his patient in curiosity. “So… Your friends were a comfort to you?” He clarified, watching as the former Nomu nodded in confirmation. “How was your home-life growing up?”
“Oboro! What are you doing?
Oboro stood in the kitchen, rice flour covering every surface and still lingering in the air like one of his own clouds. Just like the rest of the room, the seven year old was coated in the white powder.
“Making mochi.”
Oboro watched as his mother’s shocked expression bubbled into laughter.
“How many times have I told you, Little Cloud?” She asked, tossing a broom and dustpan to the boy. “Just ask me next time, and we’ll make some together.”
“Too many.” Oboro reached out, catching it and twirling it around before beginning to sweep up the rice flour on the floor. They’d run the vacuum later to pick up what was left behind. His mother had grabbed a spare cleaning rag, starting to make quick work of the mess. “Hey, Mom?”
“What is it, Little Cloud?”
“Do you think I could be a hero someday?”
His mother smiled, bright blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun. “I think…” She started, reaching into the cupboards and pulling out the rest of the ingredients. “That you can be anything that you want to be. And if you want to be a hero, then go out there and be the best hero you can be.”
Oboro beamed, staring at his mother in awe. His eager gaze momentarily fell on the broom before turning back to his mom.
“I’m gonna be a hero!” He finalized, a determined look flashing across his features. “I’m gonna be the best hero ever, and save a lot of people! And you and Dad are gonna be so proud of me!”
“We already are, Little Cloud.” His mother laughed, ruffling his fluffy silvery-blue locks. “Now, come on. Bring the stool up and wash your hands so we can get started.”
“Okay!”
“Are we there, yet?”
A ten year old Oboro trudged behind his father, a built man with wild blue hair and a little bit of scruff. Twigs and leaves snapped beneath their feet, rays of sunshine breaking through the leaves and bringing warmth to the otherwise cool forest floor.
“Not yet!” His father answered as they continued down the trail. “Almost though.”
The pair had woken up early, leaving the house just before dawn and driving even further into the countryside to get to their favorite trails. However, they were taking a different path this time. It clearly had traffic, as it was accessible to the public, but it wasn’t nearly as worn down as the others.
Oboro shifted his pack, filled with basic supplies, some snacks, and the lunch his mother packed. “But you said “almost” over an hour ago!” He pointed out, climbing over a large fallen log that his father was merely able to step over. “And the time I asked before that, and the time I asked before THAT-”
“Easy, Squirt.” His dad joked. “I get it, I get it. But we’re almost there. I mean it this time. I promise. And do I break my promises?”
The boy furrowed his brow deep in thought before finally shaking his head with finality. “Never, Dad!” Oboro announced. “You never break your promises!”
“That’s because I make promises I know I can keep.”
“But…” Oboro thought for a moment. “What if you can’t keep a promise?” He asked. “Would that be lying? You and Mom always told me that it’s not good to lie. So, is not keeping a promise bad, then?”
His father smiled. “Always asking the big questions, aren’t you, Squirt?” He asked, setting his own pack down on a large boulder as he sat down. “Most of the time, it can be. But there are exceptions.”
“Exceptions?”
“Exactly.” Oboro suddenly felt two hands on his waist, looking down in surprise as his father lifted him up onto the boulder as well. “Sometimes, lying can be good, but only when its necessary or for something good. Can you think of a time your mother or I lied to you?”
“There…” The gears in his head started turning, and Oboro’s face lit up as soon as he remembered “Like that time you and mom said we were going to run some errands, but you just said that because we were going to Zoo Dreamland!”
Zoo Dreamland was a jungle-themed amusement park that was extremely popular among the younger population, but it was enjoyable for families and people of all ages just the same.
“That’s right! It was a surprise. And if we had told you ahead of time, it wouldn’t be as big of a surprise.” His dad explained. “But sometimes, you don’t want to tell the truth if it’s going to be unkind. We all need to hear it, even if it’s not what we we want to hear sometimes, but you shouldn’t tell the truth if you plan to hurt someone with your words.”
Oboro smiled, sipping at his water as they took a break. “Like when you tell mom that she looks beautiful whenever she puts on that dress?”
“Hey. I’ll have you know that your mother looks breathtaking in that dress.”
“It was fine.” He shrugged. “Mom and Dad were always supportive, never went hungry, and I always had a roof over my head. They were more traditional- not that there’s anything wrong with it. Mom would always let me help in the kitchen, even if I made a mess; and Dad would always take me out on adventures like hiking trails and trips to the beach.”
“Are those activities you would like to be able to do again?”
Oboro nodded eagerly. “Yeah.” he answered excitedly. “You could always plan a day around them, letting you get more out of your trip. New trails are always fun to explore, so it can stay interesting. It’d be nice to get out and about again someday.”
“You mentioned earlier that your friends can’t stop by every day…” Dr. Chinen observed. “But when they are able to visit, how do they go for you?”
“I really look forward to them.” He told him. “On the days neither of them can make it, they’ll let the nurses know so they can tell me. That way I’m not waiting all day and get disappointed later. We’ve mainly been talking about our time in school together and what they’ve been up to.”
The psychiatrist raised a brow. “You keep the focus on your friends, if not the three of you together. Do you not like talking about yourself?”
“It’s not that!” Oboro insisted, frantically waving his hands in front of him. “Nothing all that interesting has really happened to me. I’ve just been here in recovery. Breaking it all down everyday leaves a stale taste after a while. But Shouta and Hizashi have fifteen years worth of their lives to catch me up on! In comparison, I don’t think they’d want to hear the same boring routine every day.”
“Do you believe they find you boring?”
“No! Not at all!” The taller explained. “I mean, its been fifteen years! So much has happened. Their lives have been so much more interesting than mine from just being… here…”
“I see.” Dr. Chinen murmured, making a few more notes. “You’re invested more in your friends since it’s been so long. But what if the reverse was true?” He offered. “What if your friends are just as invested in you as you are in them? Wouldn’t they want to know about your day?”
Oboro shrugged. “I don’t know… Maybe.” He admitted. “But they already have enough on their plates though! I don’t want to give them more to worry about.
“Tell me, Oboro. When your friends came to you with their problems, did that ever bother you?”
“Not really, no.”
“And why not?”
“Because they’re my friends.” He answered.
“Did you ever think that they feel the same way?” Chinen asked. “Because you’re their friend.”
Oboro paused, thinking for a moment. The clock on the wall ticked on, causing the taller man to bounce his leg in anticipation. “Probably not. They’re usually the ones having a crisis, not me. I’m usually the problem solver for that kind of thing.
Dr. Chinen wrote a few things down. “Right…” He replied, making a few additional notes. “We’re going to try something here. I would like for you to think of a time when your friends needed some support from you.”
“Well…”
“Yes?”
“There was a time when Shouta and I were on work study, and he was getting really discouraged. A villain got away because it had an advantage over his Quirk.”
“And what did you do?”
“I offered him a spare pair of my goggles at the time.” Oboro explained. “Since the villain’s Quirk bothered his eyes. And then the next time we encountered him, the two of us were able to take him down.”
‘The two of you combined could make a full pro hero.’
“But…”
Oboro looked up across the room at Dr. Chinen’s prompting, failing to have noticed that he trailed off during his explanation.
“Well, we did take him down- with teamwork, I mean.” He explained, fiddling a bit with the hem of his sleeve. “And even though one of my friends was always getting discouraged about being a hero, always coming to me for advice even though my grades were a mess, I realized I was thinking the same things. Most of the advice I was giving him was advice that I’d give myself. Words of encouragement, affirmations, my ‘wisdom on another level’... There wasn’t anything that I’d say to them that I didn’t think myself.”
“Okay, okay!” Dr. Chinen assured, looking Oboro up and down. “And this was when you were in high school, correct?”
“Of course.”
“And now?”
“I…” Oboro hesitated. “I don’t know. Not a clue, if I’m perfectly honest. I mean, I still struggle now with… all of that. All of that on top of readjusting. We’ve all changed! Not to mention it’s been so long, so I don’t know what to say most of the time.”
The psychiatrist mulled it over for a moment. “Did your friends ever know about how you felt?”
The dreaded question.
“Then or now?”
“Both.”
Shit.
“Well, um… No?” The former Nomu offered. “Not really. I mean, I never really said anything on the matter. Even though my grades sucked, especially at first, my attitude was still positive. I don’t think they ever picked up on it. I was really the one that was behind between the three of us. It’s just who I was. Am? I don’t know.” He frustratedly scrubbed at his face, wanting nothing more to untangle the knot that was keeping him tongue-tied.
“I mean, I could have died the other day!” He paled, immediately realizing the implications as Dr. Chinen gave him a look. “No! Not like that! I haven’t had any… thoughts. Thoughts like that , I mean. I never had. But I guess from embarrassment? Panic? I had another episode while one of my friends was here, and he caught me falling into another one. I told him I was fine, but he didn’t believe me, and-”
“You weren’t.” Dr. Chinen cut in before softening his tone. “Oboro, I understand you’re used to telling yourself that everything is okay, but it’s okay to get help, yeah? I mean, you’re here, in my office, talking with me. Were you willing to come down?”
“Yeah…”
“And that’s all I ask of you.” He explained. “You do a wonderful job talking to me and telling me what goes on in your life and the lives of everyone around you, but you’re forgetting the most important person right now: you.”
“Oh…” Oboro tore his hand away, realizing that he hadn’t stopped fiddling with the hem of his sleeve until now.
“So, what happened when you had your episode, Oboro?” The psychiatrist questioned. “What was that like for you?”
Darkness.
Light.
Pressure.
Pain.
“Well, I’d just kind of space out, and just become hyper aware of everything. Noises, how bright the lights are… I’d get migraines sometimes.” Oboro told him, starting to feel lost without the sensation of the fabric between his fingers. “I can feel my joints lock up, and then I just freeze- or even a pins and needles feeling through my body. Sometimes I feel a pressure on my chest like a weight, and I feel like I’m suffocating, even though I’m probably hyperventilating.”
“Sounds like your symptoms haven’t changed.” Dr. Chinen noted, jotting a few notes to insert in his patient’s chart. “Not always a bad thing, don’t worry. So tell me, how did your friend react when you had another episode?”
“He was talking to me…” Oboro elaborated. “Asking if I was okay. We talked for a while, And then I slipped into another one. I don’t know everything he said, but he was talking to me the whole time. Still asking if I was okay.”
“You slipped into your default again, didn’t you?”
“So what if I fell back into my ‘factory settings’? It was a good visit.” He insisted. “I didn’t want to weigh him down. He already has enough on his plate!”
Dr. Chinen sighed. “Oboro, if one of your friends or even a stranger who came up to you with the same problem that you’re having, what would you do?”
Oboro took the question into consideration. “I would sit with them. Talk with them.” He answered,. “Maybe do some breathing exercises. Figure out what they need and help them. Let them know that they’re not alone.”
“So, let me get this straight.” The shorter man summarized. “You’d limit your support system for yourself, but try to create better ones for your friends or for people you don’t even know?”
"Well…”
“Its okay to accept help from your friends. “Dr. Chinen told him. “But it’s okay to let them help you, too. Did your friend tell you he had a full plate?”
“He never said anything about it. Just that things were busy…”
“And did he still help you- even if he didn’t know what was going on?”
Oboro hesitated. “Yeah….”
Dr. Chinen smiled. “I have some homework for you, Oboro. I want you to keep a journal - document your feelings, any victories or struggles no matter how small. But most importantly, I want you to be honest with yourself and what’s going on. Identify where your problems lie and those exercises we’ve tried in the past. I also want you to start opening up more to your friends. Allow them to help you if you need it. You’re just as worthy of it as they are, alright?”
The former Nomu paused, trying to keep the unfathomable thought in mind.
“I’ll try.”
Chapter Text
Shouta and Hizashi finally arrived at Musutafu General’s rehabilitation ward. Class 2-A had been in the middle of a hostage simulation out on ground Alpha, when Shouta had received a frantic flurry of texts from his husband regarding Oboro’s situation. One of the nurses had let them know that he had been moved to the rehabilitation ward in Musutafu General to allow for some further adjustment in his current state. However, no answer had been given in regards to when Oboro would be released.
If he would be released.
So the pair had brought with them a large duffle bag filled with clothes and goodies they had bought for Oboro the previous day. The two of them had spent the previous night meticulously ensuring everything they bought would fit inside. The rehabilitation unit was homey- looking more like a shared space with the large common area than the blank sterility of the rest of the hospital.
Arriving gave the pair a sense of deja vu in comparison to previous visits- especially their first. However, the initial anxiety had turned into eagerness; something the two of them could look forward to one way or another.
This time, there were no racing thoughts or lingering dread as they opened the door.
Only anticipation.
Oboro’s new room very much felt like the teacher dorms at UA, if not a little smaller. There was a loveseat, an armchair, a tv, and a coffee table in the living room, which ran into a tiny kitchenette that contained a tiny oven, a microwave, a rice cooker, and a mini-fridge. There was a door that led apparently to the bathroom, and another door that was left open, revealing a small bedroom as far as they could see.
“Shouta? Hizashi?”
The two men looked around, caught off guard. A tall figure with broad shoulders stepped out from the bathroom, face practically glowing as he broke out in a grin. As he approached, it became more apparent just how much taller Oboro really was compared to the two of them.
Despite his lean frame, he looked absolutely massive . After all, they could only gauge so much while he was stuck in the hospital bed.
“Come on, now! Don’t be shy!” He laughed, flopping down in the armchair in a mess of long limbs. Oboro was still wearing hospital-issued clothes, complete with neon grippy socks and a pair of slippers. “Make yourself at home! Well, it’s technically still the hospital, but I’d say it’s home for now!”
Hizashi and Shouta exchanged glances before closing the door behind them and settling on the love seat.
“Well… Actually Oboro-”
“Here.” Shouta shoved the oversized duffle at their friend, getting straight to the point- which was immediately followed by a resounding ‘oof’.
The former nomu looked between his two friends, glancing down at the bag before looking up at them again. “Wha- What’s this?”
“Well, my dear listener,” Hizshi started. “We don’t know what the future’s gonna bring, but we all know that you can’t be wearing hospital-issued clothes forever. We would have brought it all in sooner, but it’s been one hell of a week. Go on. Open up ‘er up, and let’s get this party STARTED!”
Oboro furrowed his brow, carefully examining the bag before unzipping the main compartment of the duffle, only to find his name neatly scrawled on the front. Messily tearing the envelope, he pulled out a cartoon of a fat tuxedo cat with a glare to rival Shouta’s. However, his confusion soon turned to excitement as he read the front of the card.
‘A little birdie told me you were feeling under the weather. So I ate it.’
His grin turned into laughter, but it was all short lived as he opened the card. The inside was filled with handwritten messages as the inside had originally been completely blank.
‘Recovery isn’t easy, but you’ve probably figured that out- even with your low IQ. I can’t even begin to tell you how much you’ve helped with mine. Now it’s my time to help you. Hopefully you can put some of this to good use. Work hard in your therapies. We can’t wait to see you as a hero. -Shouta’
‘Feel better soon, man! Gotta get some of that R&R so you can work hard and play hard! Listen to yourself and don’t over do it! Don’t wanna override all the progress you’ve made so far, so make sure you take 5 every once in a while. Also, we know how terrible you can get, so make sure you use this time to take care of yourself! Keep the party going and rock on! -Hizashi’
‘I don’t really know you, but Dad and Pops told me to write something. Get better soon, I guess. -Hitoshi’
‘Daddy and Papa said that you weren’t feeling good and that this card will help make you feel better! I know they visit you a lot! Daddy made me feel better when he visited me, but he wasn’t my Daddy yet then. We went shopping and got you a whole bunch of stuff! And I helped! I want you to feel better so I can come visit you someday too! -Eri”
The last was written in large, messy scrawl- a few of the words misspelled. There were doodles and stickers here, there, and everywhere to the point where the other messages were strategically placed so they were legible.
“You guys really don’t need to do all this…” Oboro protested, wiping a tear but trying to play it as exhaustion.
“Are you kidding?! We’re your best friends!” Hizashi exclaimed, about to get up only to be yanked back down on the loveseat by his husband. “We’d do anything for you! And believe me when I say anything-”
“Just open the damn bag already.” Shouta answered, a rare smile spreading across his face. “The kids even came along to help. I know they’ll want to hear everything as soon as we get back.”
“So just dive right in!” Hizashi insisted. “There isn’t anything in there that you can hurt. We made sure of that.”
Oboro nodded, setting the card aside and began digging through the bag. There were sweatpants, shorts, t-shirts and hoodies. Hizashi had insisted on a few more street appropriate clothes as opposed to loungewear, but Shouta insisted that since Oboro wouldn’t really be going anywhere (at least any time soon), street clothes weren't really a priority.
The sweat pants were rather basic. But one of the hoodies was soft sky blue with clouds sewn on that had a fuzzy texture to them. There was a blue and white loungewear set in marble tye dye that was particularly soft but lightweight. Not to mention there were more than enough graphic tee’s to last a week.
“And there’s more in here?” Oboro gaped, staring at the pile of clothes. He reached in, pulling out a black tee with a cartoon cat. “Kami, this is great! This is one I probably would have gotten for you, Shouta! Did you pick it out?”
The homeroom teacher shook his head. “Eri did.” He explained. “Found it as soon as we walked into our first store. She insisted on getting it for you.”
“Remind me why we’re here again..?”
Shouta glanced back at his son who stood in the middle of the shopping mall, arms folded across his chest as he glowered at his parents. He knew the last thing the teen wanted was to be dragged to their local shopping center on a perfectly good Sunday (something the pro could agree on). But the reason for their family excursion was the reason why Hitoshi was in such a mood.
“Because,” Shouta answered. “Hizashi got a call while we were all out training yesterday saying that Shirakumo has been moved to a different room. So, we’re getting him a few things.”
He shook his head as Hitoshi scoffed in annoyance.
“He doesn’t really have much of anything.” Hizashi offered, grinning as he hoisted Eri up onto his back as they trudged through the mall. “His parents are unable to bring him clothes and other belongings, and even if they could, none of it would fit him anymore. I’m sure it would be nice to at least give him a few sets of clothes that fit and a few things to help keep him busy”
“Why not just let him borrow your clothes?” Hitoshi countered bitterly. “With as much as the two of you see him, I don’t really see it being an issue.”
“Some things, sure.” The DJ answered. “But they would have to be loose enough on us in order for them to fit. Sure, his build is in our range, but we've gotta factor in the height. Ya’ see, when we were your age, Shouta was only about as tall as Midoriya or Kaminari.. I was just a taaaaaaaaad shorter than you are. But Shirakumo then was the same height that I am now! Slightly taller, even- if you can believe that! You would think he would be about our height, but there’s still a height difference.”
“Look. I know you don’t like him. Or at least, the idea of him…” Shouta continued. “But Shirakumo would really like to meet the two of you someday. Hizashi and I kind of figured this could be the next best thing for now and let you two help pick some things out. It would be more comfortable for him to have his own. It would be less stressful for anyone since he wouldn’t have to worry about returning it or we wouldn’t have to worry about getting it back. ”
Eri sqirmed out of Hizashi’s grasp, sliding down like a champ and rushing inside one of the many clothing stores. She ran up to a display in the front- eagerly pulling out a black t-shirt with a little cartoon cat wearing an astronaut helmet and holding a ball of yarn. In the galaxy background behind it, blue bubbly text simply read “I need some space”.
“Would Uncle Oboro like this?” She asked, holding up the shirt. It had only been just over a week, and Eri continued to refer to their “injured friend” as “Uncle Oboro” despite her parents’ protests.
Shouta gave a soft chuckle while Hizashi grinned brightly. “You know what, little listener?” The blond laughed. “I think he’ll love it. We gotta find one in his size, though…”
“Shou has one you could match with!” Hizashi grinned, pulling out his phone and swiping through his photos at rapid fire. He finally stopped, reaching over to show their friend. On the screen was a candid photo of Shouta sprawled out on their couch at home a few years ago, a fuzzy blanket pulled up over his legs and a baby Treble curled up between his legs. The underground hero was wearing a simply black t-shirt with a brown tabby with large red letters in a heavy metal font that read “Hug Dealer”.
“Kami, that’s brilliant!” Oboro laughed, looking down at his own. Some day. Some day they would match and he would ensure it. “I’m gonna go change!” he declared suddenly, plucking the space shirt, the cloud hoodie, and one pair of sweatpants from the pile of clothes and immediately began to pull off a spare t-shirt he was given from the hospital. However, he was met with immediate protests from the other two men in the room.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“I know you don’t share a room, but not here!”
The former nomu paused, giving his friends a sheepish grin and pulling the shirt back down. “Right. Sorry…”
Shouta could only shake his head as his husband took the lead on the situation.
“Look. Oboro. I know you’re excited.” Hizashi explained. “But let’s finish opening everything first and then you can go change.”
Underneath were some snacks, drinks, and pre-packaged meals that took almost no preparation that Oboro could eat if he wanted something more than hospital food or just got hungry between meals. A fuzzy blue throw blanket had been stuffed in there somehow, which was wildly impressive. One side pocket simply contained a package each of socks and underwear accompanied by a stuffed orange tabby cat.
“It looks just like Sushi!” Oboro exclaimed, lifting it out of the bag. The kitten had been a pivotal memory during their time at UA, despite the chaos and him not knowing how to take care of a cat.
“We figured you needed a snuggle buddy. Ya know? Since we can’t bring our cats here to visit.”
Just for a moment, Shouta could have sworn Oboro looked like his 17 year old self; blue hair and all.
The next few minutes consisted of Oboro opening up the rest of the duffle’s contents: basic toiletries of his own as well as some dry shampoo, (“It really comes in handy in a pinch!” Hizashi told him). A package of his own hair ties just in case, some pens, a spare notepad, a few puzzle books, some colored pencils and a coloring book (“stress relief, and helps work on fine motor skills.” Shouta recommended), and a few compact puzzle games with pieces that could also train up his fine motor skills. All in all, it looked like Christmas had come early.
“ Now, I’m gonna go change.” Oboro insisted, immediately disappearing into the bathroom with a bundle of clothes.
And just like a cloud, he vanished just as quickly as he appeared.
As soon as the bathroom door closed, Shouta and Hizashi immediately scooped up the food items and disappeared into the kitchenette.
“Eager, isn’t he?” Hizashi quickly signed, tearing open the case of water and loading the drinks into the fridge.
“A bit.”
Given his quirk, it was no surprise that the famous Present Mic had hearing loss. People were always just surprised because they assumed his headphones to act as protection when in fact the damage was already done as an infant. Upon finally being wrangled into their little group, Shouta had dedicated additional time out of class learning how to sign in secret until Hizashi finally caught him and insisted he teach his buddy himself. After all, the blond was already teaching Oboro, who was catching up pretty quickly.
And needless to say, learning went much quicker with the immediate feedback.
In addition to any hearing breaks or when Hizashi’s hearing aids were charging, signing was a FANTASTIC means of communication if they didn’t want to be heard. Shouta would have to admit it even saved them on a couple of stealth missions.
Shouta opened a cupboard, loading up the shelf-stable meals they had bought.
“Did Oboro seem off to you?”
Hizashi furrowed a brow, pausing for a moment before answering.
“In what way?”
“He’s cautious.” Shouta pointed out. “Normally he’d open it all up without a second thought.”
The blond quickly finished putting all the drinks away, quietly closing the door to the mini fridge to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
“He did seem a little hesitant.” He noted. “Maybe the listener needs a little jam session to get back into the groove.”
“He…” The homeroom teacher hesitated. “He doesn’t remember anything, does he?”
“I-”
The sound of a handle turning cut their conversation short as Oboro emerged in what must be his new favorite t-shirt and a light pair of lounge pants given the summer heat.
“Do you realize how GOOD it feels to be wearing regular clothes again?” He asked, entirely unaware of the conversation his friends just had. “You guys did far too much. Honest!”
Shouta did, in fact, knew how good it felt to be wearing something comfortable and familiar… Or at least out of anything that didn’t smell so sterile.
“Anything for our favorite listener!” Hizashi beamed. “Shou and I are almost finished in here. Why don’t you grab the rest of your clothes, and we can help you take care of them.”
“It's okay!” Oboro reassured with the confidence of a 17 year old. Although Shouta wasn’t very convinced. “I’ve got it!” He scooped up the pile of clothes by the armchair and wandered back into the bedroom.
The pair exchanged a look as a dulled ‘thump’ could be heard from the bedroom as Oboro came back out all but 5 seconds later.
“There!”
“But… you didn’t put anything away..” Shouta told him pointedly.
Oboro merely waved a hand in dismissal.. “It's fine!” He answered, smile spreading across his face. “I can always take care of it later! Right now, I want to spend time with my two best friends!”
The three eventually settled back in their spots in the living room, long limbs spread out this way and that. Shouta simply turned on the television to try to find something for the three of them while Hizashi stayed in the kitchen to make some tea. The show they settled on, much to Oboro’s delight, had been one of his favorite pre-Quirk series.
“Oh!” Hizashi smiled, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Good choice. I thought they stopped airing this one years ago!”
“Me, too…” Shouta answered before turning to their friend’s shocked expression. “It hasn’t been on in a decade.”
“They stopped airing it?!” Oboro exclaimed, reaching out for his tea. His hands were a little shaky yet but his grip was secure enough to avoid dropping the cup. “Why?”
“Who knows, ‘Boro!” The blond answered, settling with his mug next to his husband and taking a sip. “But it’s nice to watch it again.”
Shouta hummed in agreement. He and Hizashi would watch reruns all the time after Oboro’s passing, especially after they the made up at the end of their high school career.
The only light in the room was the brightly lit laptop screen and the streetlights outside. The group was all huddled in blankets as the snow fell outside. With no school the following day, the trio seized the opportunity to binge a pre-Quirk show Oboro and Hizashi had been dying to see.
Right now, the three of them sat wide-eyed- watching a male character with red hair on the screen.
“You gave me a reason to live. Once I found it, I died while working towards my dream. I died before accomplishing anything.”
Shouta stared at the screen with wide eyes. Hizashi looked choked while Oboro seemed pale at the thought.
“What?! NO!” Oboro protested. “Not his sister! She had to go, too?!”
“This show’s playing dirty!” Hizashi insisted. “But this was uncalled for!”
The shorter teen rolled his eyes, trying to stave off the gut punch they were just delivered. “This show is about teens in the afterlife.” He snorted. “What did you expect? Rainbows and sunshine?”
“You know what, Shouta?!” Oboro insisted, launching a pillow towards him. “If you have a problem with the show, then I have a problem with your taste!”
“You know we’re lucky this show’s only one season, right?” The bond pointed out. “I’d never hear the end of it from the two of you.”
“Fine. After we finish this show, I’m choosing the next one.” Shouta answered.
Hizashi quirked a brow. “ Which one?”
“This one won’t make us cry either, will it?”
Shouta shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s about a bunch of kids learning to be assassins or something. It looked like the kind of thing you two would like.”
Oboro immediately lit up. “OH! You mean the one with the alien teacher with all the tentacles?! That show looks awesome!.
“Kami, I swear if it’s about the hentai…”
“IT’S NOT! I SWEAR!!!!!”
Notes:
Sorry about the wait, everyone! It's been one heck of a time! I've had writer's block, knocked out 2/3 of this chapter, and then had writer's block on how to FINISH! Not to mention I had my birthday, surgery to get my wisdom teeth removed, and then it was SERIOUS crunch time to get some Christmas gifts finished. Anyways, thank you all so much for putting up with it. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Happy 2023 if I don't get a new chapter up by then!
Also, bonus points if you can guess the animes the are referenced . One of my follower's gave me the idea for the first one and it BROKE me because it was too perfect.
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Notes:
I just want to shout out all of you for being amazing during my hiatus. Writer's block is a pain, and then I had to prep for vacation, where I spent 10 days in Colorado. Not to mention we hit the 1 year anniversary of this fic 3 months ago. And as a thank you, this chapter is going to be extra long! It was originally going to be two separate chapters, but the first one only came out to 1K words before I got stuck and couldn't move on any further. I didn't like the idea of multiple POV's in a chapter with this fic, but combining everything was the best solution I could come up without banging my head against the proverbial wall.
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A weight on his chest.
A force around his neck, like someone choking him.
All the air being forced out of his lungs, drowning in nothingness.
Pins and needles shooting through his limbs, the sensation urging him to move but being unable to.
The visceral ringing in his ears only seemed to grow louder.
A deep throbbing in his head, the pain radiating through his skull but somehow worse on the right side.
Oboro gasped, taking in the precious oxygen his body thought it was deprived of. He stumbled to his feet, shutting off the light in his bedroom and shutting the door- stuffing a blanket along the bottom to block out any stray rays pouring underneath. In utter silence, the former nomu crawled back into bed, proceeding to pull the plush blanket Shouta and Hizashi got him over his head for good measure. He craved the silence of darkened bliss, but it quickly became suffocating. Peaking his head out after a moment, Oboro glanced at the side table, a familiar notebook and pen laying there untouched since he moved in.
“I know you’ve got a therapist, but it helps to get out the things you’d rather not share- even if no one sees.”
“Give it a try. It helps more than you would think. Just my recommendation, but you can use it for whatever you’d like.”
Oboro sighed, one lanky arm reaching out and blindly fumbling for his target until his fingers managed to latch on. He practically rolled out of bed, sluggishly shuffling to open the curtains to let in minimal light- just enough to vaguely let him see what he was doing.
XXXX June 23
It still feels hard to breathe, even with the exercises Dr. Chinen suggested. It’s like something is squeezing me too tight and won’t let go. Unless there’s an invisible boa constrictor around me at all times, I don’t know what it is. Like a heavy weight on my chest, but that can’t be it because I don’t know what it is… right?
It hurts. All the doctors say I’m fine, though. That there’s nothing wrong with my lungs and that everything sounds good. I don’t doubt them, but it feels like I can’t get a full breath at times- like I’m gulping for air like a goldfish out of water. One moment I’m fine and the next I can’t seem to get enough air in my lungs.
Sometimes, it feels like I have to remind myself to physically breathe- like my brain has forgotten how in the first place.
Some days… I’m worried that I’ll forget completely.
XXXX June 30
It’s been a week. I know. I’ll get better at it…
I hope.
PT is going good. Exhausting as ever. Even though the therapists say that I’m improving, some days feel like I’m not getting anywhere. I know things like this take time, and it’s common to regress, but I don’t like it. It’s frustrating.
I’m surprised I’m able to keep writing in this thing. Shouta’s idea of course, but I could barely remember to finish my homework for school, let alone write on my own accord. I don’t know what made him think I could actually do this. He and Hizashi seem to have too much faith in me right now. It’s like they know something that I don’t.
But I don’t know what, and it’s driving me mad.
I wonder if Shouta felt like this when he was recovering. He was always training much harder than any of us in class. They said his leg injury was recent. Don’t blame them for not giving me more information. Shouta never liked it when people made a fuss over him. And to be honest, I can’t blame him.
It’s exhausting.
People never leave you alone or give you peace. They want to know how you are every second of every day, treating you like you’re made of glass.
No wonder Shouta has always downplayed his injuries.
XXXX July 2
Stupid migraines are the worst. I don’t get how some people can say “It’s just a headache”.
Lights are dumb, noises are stupid. I wish the world was just nothing but darkness and silence so I can live out my life in peace.
Not really. That’s stupid.
But apparently they happen because my brain decides the hospital lights are too bright and the typical noise is too much and wants to rebel like an angsty teen.
My head wants to explode and my eyes hurt. I feel nauseated to the point where I can not keep it down if I so much as move.
Is this what it’s like to drink? Is this what if feels like to be hungover?
I have never been more grateful to have never drank alcohol in my life.
At this rate, I don’t think I plan to.
XXXX July 3
Shouta and Hizashi visited again today. They’ve been coming over multiple times a week- almost every day. I just don’t mention it every time because I think it’d be a bit weird. Found myself spacing out again…. I’ve been doing that a lot, especially lately. Its like my brain is trying to reboot after being frozen for so long. Although… That’s kind of what happened- if we want to be honest.
They say that first term finals are rapidly approaching. It’s just a matter of weeks now. Crunch time for both teachers and students to prep material and study up. I was never good at studying. I don’t think I did that well for my finals my second year either. Hizashi and Shouta always had to help me out. It doesn’t surprise me at all that they’d become teachers. Hizashi has always been so smart, and Shouta was always a godsend if I didn’t get the material. I’d love to see them in the classroom some day.
I always knew Shouta would be a teacher one day. He’s always been so good with kids even if he doesn’t admit it. I’m just surprised it’s with a bunch of high schoolers instead of primary kids.
I’ll have to ask how he got roped into it some day.
Oboro sat in a familiar armchair, the ticking of the wall clock ringing too loudly on his ears. White knuckles gripped the notebook, which looked almost miniature in his hands. The summer heat was sweltering, leaving him in track pants and a t-shirt.
“You said you had a development?”
The taller man jumped, heart slamming against his chest. His hands gripped tighter on the journal, if that was even possible.
“I- um… yes?” Oboro supplied, hoping to try slow down the rapid beating. “I think so. I definitely don’t remember any of it.”
Dr. Chinen nodded, steeping his fingers and resting his chin on them in interest. “Elaborate.”
“I’ve had dreams where I’m in a fog. Or in a room filled with smoke. A mist, maybe?.” The former explained. “It’s weird because I feel like I can breathe. Like, I almost belong there. I don’t know why. And it’s just calm and quiet. Like I’m at peace.”
“I see….” Dr. Chinen furrowed his brow, quietly taking a few notes in a notepad, pausing briefly before jotting something else down. “Has this one happened often?”
Oboro shook his head. “No, not at all.” He answered. “Once or twice, really. I don’t get it, but it’s a nice change of pace rather than the feeling of being crushed.”
The shorter nodded understandingly. “Of course.” He replied, face settling into a blank resolve. “How have your breathing exercises been treating you?”
“They help.” The former nomu confirmed. “Sometimes. I mean, I do better if I don’t already feel short of breath or can pick up on a panic attack before it sets in fully.”
“I do see that your test results have come back negative.” Dr. Chinen explained. “Which is a double edged sword. It’s nothing physical that needs to be treated, but we do need to work on your control. How are your panic attacks?”
The taller man shrugged. “I get them. Not as often, though.” He replied. “So I think the meds are helping. It’s all a bit of a blur, really, so I’m not really sure.”
Dr. Chinen nodded. “Alright, let’s take a look.” He supplied, typing a few things on his computer and pulling up a few charts. “You said that you weren’t getting them as often? How many times a week would you say you experience a panic attack?”
Oboro thought for a minute. ”Couple times a week, maybe? I still space out a lot, though…”
“No physical symptoms accompanying it?”
“I feel okay.”
“That’s fair.” Dr. Chinen told him, looking at the screen. “Could be anxiety related or trauma based. In your case, it’s certainly probable. I’ll talk to the doctor in charge of your case, and she may be able to adjust the dose for you. If you experience any side effects, let her know and we can knock it back down for you. Now, at the very beginning about 2 months ago, you were having them daily on the low end and several times a day on the high end. Between your therapy sessions, the exercises you’ve been given, and your medication, we’re certainly trending in the right detection.”
Mismatched eyes widened. “That often?” His words were barely a whisper from the shock. “I’ve improved that much?”
The shorter man chuckled. “Indeed you have, Oboro. I see you have a journal with you. Have you been writing in it?”
Oboro nodded. “I’ve had it for a while, but I started over a week ago.”
“Care to share?”
“Migraines, panic attacks, visits from my friends… nothing too extreme.”
Dr. Chinen jotted down a few more notes. “Does it help you?”
Oboro paused before nodding again. “I think so.” He answered. “It feels good to get all that out when I need it. Even if I feel like no one gets it, I can still tell someone… or something.”
“I’m glad. You’re certainly improving, Shirakumo Oboro.”
“So that concludes our plans for the second year hero students final exams.” Nezu announced, hopping down from his place on the podium at the front of the conference room. “Are there any questions?”
With finals for the first term less than a week away, both students and teachers were stressing to prepare. Aside from the general courses, the Hero Course students in particular needed a new plan with how to handle their practical exams- especially now that there were changes in staff. Any new hires wouldn’t come in until second term at the earliest.
Just over a month.
Aside from some murmuring among the UA teachers, no one seemed to have any questions regarding this term’s finals. After a moment of hesitation, Shouta watched as his husband raise a tentative hand.
“Um, Principal Nezu?”
“Yes, Yamada!”
Aizawa resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The pint-sized mouse, bear, rat thing was as pleasant and chipper as always as long as he didn’t have the opportunity to unleash his rage on the Humans.
“So, the plan for finals sounds like quite a jam session! I’m eager to get them out of the way as much as anyone else, but um….” The blond flashed an awkward smile. “Is there any reason why Shouta and I won’t be involved with the practical exams this year?”
It was odd, of course. Normally, the various teachers through UA helped with the final exams for the Hero Course students, as all of them were pro heroes themselves. Shouta now classified as a semi-retired pro, acting as a strategist and only called in if necessary due to his injuries. However, he could still call the shots from the sidelines if things got out of hand and proctor the written exam.
“Ah! Of course, Yamada.” The principal smiled, striding across the conference room and seemingly producing a manilla folder from out of mid-air. “I have a special project in mind for the two of you. Unfortunately, it’s going to require extra time from the two of you that would normally be dedicated to finals. You’ll still be grading your respective exams, of course, but the practical was designed with your absence in mind, and I’ve arranged for coverage to proctor the written test.”
“WHAT?!”
“You can’t kick us out of our own exams!!”
“Ah! But I can .” Nezu answered, dropping the folder on the table in front of the two men. “I know how much you care about your students, Aizawa, but I believe this assignment is high priority for both of you. Not to mention us teachers have to work extra hard to make it a challenge for your students this year. Remember that.”
Shouta stared at the folder, sharing a glance with the blond before reluctantly accepting the folder. He was about to give the small mammal a piece of his mind as all the other teachers filed out of the conference room, but a sudden ‘thud’ quickly brought his attention to the situation at hand.
The chair Hizashi had been sitting in was tipped over and lying on the floor, the blond now on his feet with his mouth agape- green eyes transfixed on the cover sheet of the case they were assigned to.
“‘Zashi, what the hell are you doing?” Shouta insisted, pulling the folder closer. “We’re heroes! Close your mouth before something crawls in there and…” He trailed off, eyes immediately flickering over the page.
PERSONAL LEAVE REQUEST
Temporary Family Leave has been granted to Aizawa “Eraserhead” Shouta and Yamada “Present Mic” Hizashi for an allotted seven (7) days. Leave begins on XXXX July XX and ends on XXXX July XX. Requestees are expected to fulfill their teaching duties as needed throughout summer break and will continue teaching at the start of the second term.
Any questions regarding the requested leave of absence, please call (XXX) XXX-XXXX.
“Hizashi…” Shouta asked, flipping through the paperwork and rereading the cover letter. “Did you put in for time of during finals?”
“What?!” The Voice hero countered. “Are you kidding? I was looking to see the rest of the term through! We’ve only got a week left!”
“Then why did Nezu…”
The pair looked at each other before Shouta hastily pulled out his phone, scrolling through the flurry of contacts from over the past month before dialing the number he was looking for and setting his phone on speaker.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three-
“Hello! This is Fujiwara Susumu from Musutafu General’s long term care ward. How may I help you?”
Shouta cleared his throat, placing the phone on the conference table in front of them. “Ah, yes. Um, this is Aizawa Shouta. I'm an emergency contact of Shirakumo Oboro. He’s been getting rather restless lately when we’ve come to visit. I don’t know if he’s expressed it with you, but he was wondering when he’ll be able to get discharged…”
“Mr. Aizawa! Good afternoon!” Fujiwara greeted from the other end. “We haven’t got in touch with you yet as the doctors are still working out a final determination. But if Shirakumo’s progress continues, we may be able to discharge him by Thursday if arrangements can be made given his situation.”
The homeroom teacher looked up from the phone at his husband, both of them wearing the same shocked expression before Hizashi frantically gestured for him to continue.
“Oh! Well, I live with Yamada Hizashi, his other emergency contact, and the two of us would be more than happy to have him stay with us indefinitely-”
“That will be perfect!” The nurse answered from the other end. “He talks about you two all the time when you’re not here. I’m sure he will be thrilled! Just as a reminder, Kurogiri’s Quirk has been removed, so he will essentially be Quirkless. Shirakumo doesn’t require any sort of mobility aid and can handle stairs and inclines well. Fine motor skills are sufficient and improving… Oh! It looks like they’ve been working on his stamina in PT, so he’ll need breaks from moving around from time to time. The biggest issue is that he can’t be left home alone until he’s had time to readjust since it’s been so long. Would either of you be able to stay home with him?”
“Actually, summer break is coming up.” Shouta explained. “We both teach, primarily, so at least one of us should be able to stay with him at all times.”
“Excellent! I’ll be sure to forward that information to his providers.” Fujiwara told them. “ Someone should be getting in touch with you within the next few days to confirm a discharge date.”
“Yes, thank you. We’ll be keeping an eye out for that phone call.”
Shouta promptly hung up the call, realizing for the first time that his hands were shaking. This wasn’t real, right? There was no way. He had to be dreaming. It was irrational to think that-
“Shou?”
“He’s coming home, ‘Zashi.” The Erasure Hero said dumbly, his brain frantically trying to play catch up. “Oboro’s finally coming home.”
A plan was quickly set in motion between the pair. Use their first couple days to prep the house by the time Oboro was discharged. They were still waiting on the hospital to get back to them with a date, but hopefully that would give their old friend at least a couple days before Hitoshi and Eri came into the equation.
Which really left them with one problem.
The four of them were sat around the small table in their suite in the teachers dorms the following night, as it quickly became customary on Friday nights so they could all eat together as a family. Hitoshi had his friends back at the 2-A dorms, of course, but he was agreeable to spare one day a week to eat with his adoptive family. Otherwise, it was usually just the tree of them.
“I can’t wait to see what you have planned for finals, Dad.” Hitoshi commented, taking a bite of his rice. “I mean, I know it’s now unfair if I fight you or Pops for the practical, but there’s always another element to it, right?”
“There is.” Shouta answered after a moment, nearly choking on his tea as Hizashi gave their eldest a glance. “But you know that I won’t be fighting students this year.”
“I know.” The seventeen year old answered. “But I can’t wait to see what you all have planned!”
A heavy silence fell over the table as Shouta and Hizashi exchanged a glance.
“Actually, little listener,” The blond began. “Shouta and I won’t be working the practical this year.”
Hitoshi narrowed his eyes, looking between his adoptive parents. “What do you mean?”
Shouta sighed. “Nezu has granted Hizashi and I time off, inconveniently during finals.” He held up a hand as the teen opened his mouth to protest. “We didn’t request it, as we didn’t know. However, the two of us got a call today that Shirakumo will be released from the hospital some time next week.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“We’re gonna see Uncle Oboro?!”
Hizashi laughed at Eri’s excitement. “We still need to figure out the details.” He explained. “But the plan is that he should have a few days to acclimate before I pick you two up from UA on Saturday.”
“Can’t I see him when he comes home?”
“Remember when you were in the hospital, Eri?” Shouta reminded. She nodded. “You could only be seen by a couple people at a time, and it took you a while to get used to all the people at UA. This is going to be kind of like that. Only a couple of people could see Shirakumo, and he needs to get used to living on the big world again, kind of like you. So we’re starting him off at home, and he’ll slowly get used to more and more people for longer periods of time.”
“With that said,” Hizashi chimed in, there’s going to be a few ground rules. Just like you and the two of us, Oboro needs his own space, too. He’ll have the spare room down the hall. So don’t wander in there without his permission unless it’s an emergency.”
Shinsou rolled his eyes. “Don’t you still need to clean that room out?”
The spare room in question had held a lot of boxes and items that hadn’t quite found homes when the couple bought the house upon taking in Eri. They needed the extra room for school breaks, since they were fostering Shinsou simultaneously. But of course, moving was always an endeavor, and not spending much time at the house meant they didn’t get many chances to find homes for the extra clutter.
“We’re working on it.” Shouta replied. “That’s what we will be doing the first couple of days.”
The purple haired teen glared at the two adults across from him. “He’s staying, then.” He assessed. “He’s actually staying.”
“Hitoshi-”
“How long?”
His voice was low and decisive with a frigid quality to it. The kind of voice Shouta often used against villains or when he needed to defend his students. The semi-retired hero squared his shoulders, moving to stand. However, Hizashi placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, urging him to remain seated.
“Indefinitely.” The blond took over with finality. “As long as he needs to. There’s nowhere else for him to go.”
“Tartarus is always an option!”
“Hitoshi, we’ve been over this-”
“We’re not sending Shirakumo to a maximum security prison!”
“He’s a villain, isn’t he?”
“What about us?!”
Three sets of eyes turned towards Eri, who had stood up as well, looking as intimidating as she could despite her small frame. “What about us, ‘Toshi! We were told we were bad, and Daddy and Papa took us in! They love us! They love Uncle Oboro, too, so why is he any different?”
“Because Kurogiri has done a lot of bad things.” Hitoshi growled, sending a pointed look towards the injured hero.
“You were always called a villain!” Eri insisted. “And I’m the reason why I didn’t have a daddy when Daddy, Deku, and Lemillion saved me! Uncle Oboro deserves what we have, too!”
“Don’t call him that!” The teen insisted, immediately leaving the table and slipping on his shoes at the genkin before slamming the door behind him.
Eri stared at the door, tears welling up in her ruby red eyes as her new big brother left without another word.
“Eri,” Hizashi spoke softly. “Come here, Princess.” The little girl padded around to the table and crawled into the DJ’s lap. “You did a good thing. It was hard, but you did the right thing by standing up for someone else. You’re gonna be an awesome hero some day.”
“I am?”
Shouta nodded, reaching out and gently wiping a stray tear that had fallen down her cheek. “You are. Just like Deku and Lemillion. And part of being a hero isn’t running into danger. It’s acting and helping others. Standing up for those who aren’t there or can’t speak for themselves.” He sighed, immediately making a move to stand. “Speaking of which-”
“Oh, no you’re not.” Hizashi insisted, gently pulling his husband back down and depositing Eri into his lap. “I got it this time! You and Eri go and have a snuggle session with the cats. I’ll hunt down Hitoshi to try to explain things.”
Tracking down the angry teen wasn’t difficult. It was merely a process of elimination. The Voice Hero had stopped by the 2-A dorms, asking the class if Hitoshi had been around, only to be answered with a series of confused “no’s”. Though knowing the teen, he walked around the side of the building, picking out which window was his, and searched for any sign that he’d used the window instead. Hizashi had known what to look for. After all, Shouta had done it on many occasion while they were in school, and it was a habit he had yet to drop as an adult. Barely cracked window, footprints up the side of the building, the barest end of a capture scarf sticking out were the more obvious ones, and they were ones his husband had learned to cover with time. Knowing Shouta, he’d probably passed that knowledge to their adopted son as well.
No light could be spotted, no faint blaring of music. The window, even from three stories up, looked immaculate.
With the dorms eliminated, Hizashi knew there was one possible place where the teen could be. He made the trek across campus to the school’s fitness center where students of all tracks could utilize it if desired. Shouta had often brought Hitoshi there for strength training and fundamentals, and he had often returned to keep himself in check. Just like the two of them, having a quirk that didn’t enhance your physical body could put one in a bind if their hand to hand wasn’t up to snuff. Though Hizashi had been blessed with a quirk that required very little physical combat, and could knock villains out at a distance if need be, Shouta and Hitoshi weren’t so lucky.
As the loud blond suspected, the purple haired teen was furiously taking it out on a punching bag he had decided to spar with on the other side of the room. Over and over he hit the sandbag, every punch precise and calculated. The boy’s hands were sufficiently, yet hastily wrapped as a means of protection, and his discarded sneakers lay forlorn under a bench. As loud as Hizashi was known to be, he knew when to be quiet when it counted. The taller man silently watched near the door, thankful that he and Shouta had already changed out of their hero costumes. He could only imagine trying to stealth the near empty fitness room wearing combat boots and leather. He helped many students train before, Hitioshi included. But there was something about how he furiously laned each relentless blow on the sandbag that pained him.
That look was an all too familiar one.
The blond quietly making his way towards the other side of the room. Hitoshi’s repeated punches and the swinging of the sandbag drowned out the sound of his own footsteps.
“I hope you realize training like that is going to blindside you. What happened to situational awareness?”
Hitoshi whipped around in surprise, fist cutting through the air. Hizashi immediately reached up to grab his wrist just before an angry punch connected with his face. He didn’t need to explain to his beloved husband how he ended up with a bruised jaw. The teen’s eyes widened with surprise only to settle back into the anger they held before.
“I don’t care.”
“Shou would have my head if I let you do that.” Hizashi warned, tone firm but even. “Not that I ever would. I’ve been through it before with your father, and I’m not going to go through it with you.”
That was enough to peak the teen’s interest.
“We were young.” The Voice Hero explained, taking a seat on the closest bench to give Hitoshi the higher ground. “And because we were young, inexperienced. I didn’t know how to handle the situation. Unfortunately, I couldn’t handle the situation because I was going through it, too. We were your age, and it was after Shirakumo had died. I was grieving, but I put on a smile to save face around others. Your father on the other hand…”
“What happened?”
“Your father didn’t have many positive influences on his life. Shirakumo was like a brother to us both. I was nearby, but Shouta was on site when it happened. And even though he took down a villain none of us were able to, the loss was too great.” Hizashi let out a shuddering breath, the memories beginning to flood back like blood oozing from a picked scab.
“From that day forward, your father bottled everything up and shut everyone out. I was popular, but I wouldn’t call most of our class my friends. Nemuri was working hard, being a year above us. And after she left, it was just me.”
Hitoshi testily stared at his dad.
“How long did it last?”
The blond looked back up at him. “Nearly two full years. From Shirakumo’s death right up until graduation, your father trained obsessively- entirely taking the blame of what happened onto his shoulders. Our friendship nearly crumbled starting that day. We almost lost each other, and we don’t want to lose you.”
“You’re not going lose me.”
“We may if you continue to train like you were tonight, kiddo.” Hizashi explained. He got up for a moment, making his way over to the vending machines. “I take it this is about Shirakumo staying with us?”
The purple haired teen rolled his eyes. “How’d you guess?”
“Care to talk about it?” He asked, ignoring the blatant attitude as he pulled out his wallet.
“I know he’s a villain, the two of you do, too!” Hitoshi snapped. “So why are the two of you so insistent that he stay with us!?”
“Eri was right, you know…” Hizashi reminded him. “The two of you were always thought of as dangerous or villainous until you were shown differently. At the hospital, the doctors removed as much of Kurogiri as they could. But because Shirakumo’s Quirk was destroyed in the war… He’s basically Quirkless.”
A ‘thud; could be heard as plastic hit the metal interior of the vending machine
“But neither of us have actually done anything!” Hitoshi protested. “At least not on purpose! Kurogiri worked directly with the League!”
“IF it helps…” Hizashi suggested, walking back over and offering the teen a bottle of water. “Shirakumo currently looks wildly different than he did as Kurogiri. Look. We’re not expecting you to be best friends with him. We just want you to be civil. Now come on, get your shoes back on. It’s going to be curfew soon, and I’m sure your father is wondering where we are.”
Notes:
YAY!!!! IT'S HAPPENING! Oboro's finally coming home! *insert the Michael Scott "It's Happening" meme here*. Hopefully the wait was worth it! Writing out the back and forth (especially Oboro's time in the hospital) was A STRUGGLE!!! But now he's coming home, and all the chaos, fluff, angst, and general shenanigans can finally begin! Hopefully it will be much easier for me to write in the meantime, which will mean more frequent updates.
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fandom_fiction on Chapter 7 Mon 26 Jun 2023 10:36PM UTC
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