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Tomura knew he needed to start heading back. The day had already been cold enough to chap his already dried-out skin on contact, and the impending night promised only to make it worse.
But the idea of going back to the base right now made his skin crawl, in a way that had nothing to do with how cold it was or how thin his jacket was.
He didn’t know if it was the cold or the gloom of winter or boredom or frustration or some unholy combination of all four, but the others were driving him even further out of his mind than he already was. Every little thing they did - from Himiko humming quietly to herself, to Magne and Spinner talking about who cared what, to Twice carrying on a spirited, muttered conversation with himself while Dabi watched, to Compress practicing idiotic card tricks - just drove him up the wall today.
He needed to breathe. He needed to get out.
He hadn’t planned on being out very long. Just an hour or two. He’d even left his phone back at the base, just to further distance himself from the irritation that would come with Kurogiri ringing him up and pestering him about leaving the base in completely inappropriate winter clothes. Even if he himself was starting to think maybe it would have been a good idea to at least put on some socks before he left, he didn’t want to hear an entire lecture about it from Kurogiri.
A stiff, icy breeze slashed right through his hoodie. Yeah, he definitely should have worn socks. Socks and a bigger coat. And maybe some gloves. His fingers were so cold they were starting to hurt. He shoved them deeper in the hoodie pocket, but it did little good.
It was definitely time to get back home. At least he’d have plenty of time to mentally prepare himself for all the bullshit that was awaiting him.
The sharp winter wind picked up again, nearly blowing back his hood. He tucked his head down to keep it in place, then ducked into an alley. Anything to keep this damn chill out. How people could actually enjoy this time of year was beyond him.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t see the girl in the coat standing with her back to him until well after he’d crashed into her, nearly knocking them both to the ground. He had to fling his hands from his pocket to catch and steady himself. He heard something hard clatter to the ground and realized it was the girl’s phone.
“Whoa,” the girl said cheerily from within the coat’s dark hood. “Where’s the fire, mister?”
Tomura didn’t reply, just grumbled slightly. The urge to reduce her to dust where she stood was strong, but his fingers began to ache now that they were out of the minimal warmth of his hoodie provided. He grumbled again as he shoved them back in his pocket. He didn’t have any more energy to deal with this girl than he did with the others back home.
“Sorry about being a roadblock,” the girl said casually, bending to pick her phone up off the ground. She studied the screen with a puzzled expression on her face, and muttered, “I think I’m lost.” She looked up at him and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to the mall from here would you?”
Tomura merely grumbled and tilted his head back to the mouth of the alley, “Try right around that corner.”
The girl laughed. “Are you serious?” she asked. “I’ve been wandering around for ten minutes trying to find it and -”
Tomura was already beginning to elbow his way past her.
“Hey, wait,” the girl said. He heard her footsteps start up behind him. “I really feel like I owe you one. Can I get you a coffee or something? You look like you could use it.”
“Get the hell away from me,” he said bluntly. He didn’t stop walking.
Neither did she. In fact, from the sound of it, she was practically on top of him. Before he could turn around to growl some kind of threat, he felt a hand ghost lightly against the back of his neck.
The world around him was suddenly dark.
“Really, I must insist,” the girl’s voice murmured in his ear, low and far away and decidedly much less casual and cheerful than before.
Tomura no longer felt the cold biting at him through his hoodie, nor did he feel the harsh wind slice across his cheeks. He heard nothing - not the shriek of the wind around him, not the sounds of cars and people on the street. Even taking in a shaky breath felt like filling his lungs with emptiness. It made his heart skip a beat.
This was nothing. He was in an unfeeling void, just blackness surrounding him on all sides.
What was she doing to him?
He wanted to ask, speak the words out loud, to fill this awful, oppressive silence just as much as to actually know. It had to be some kind of quirk, but he couldn’t force his brain to think about it. Unease was slowly overtaking him, nestling in the pit of his stomach and blossoming forth, to his fingers and toes and to the backs of his eyeballs. It was so strong it almost hurt.
Then the unease exploded into full-fledged fear.
It was unlike any fear he’d ever felt. Outside of this black void-
Was there anything outside this black void? He felt as if he’d been here forever...no, it’s only been a few seconds FOCUS GODDAMMIT
Outside of this black void, when he’s faced with fear like this, he usually fights, flinging out his arms and squeezing his hands against that which would do him harm. Rot it away. Save himself. Teach whoever had tried to hurt him what happened if they were careless enough to let him know that’s what they were trying to do.
Now, all urge to fight and survive was gone. This fear was blind, constricting, as oppressive as the inky blackness that seemed to be edging in on him. He couldn’t move. All he found he could do was listen to his heart beat harder and faster.
Then, from the darkness surrounding him, images began to flash. The shapes were somehow familiar, flickering in and out of his vision like a dying heartbeat. Then they formed more fully, and he began to recognize pieces of them. He saw white-blond hair, tied in ribbons. Burnt, rotten flesh. A shock of purple hair. A pair of dark sunglasses. A costume of blue and white stripes. A black and white oval mask. A dapper waistcoat shrouded in black mist.
The images flashed before him again, more clearly than before. The others, his comrades. His friends. Why were they here?
The image was before him again, this time clear as crystal.
They were all dead.
He could see piles of dust scattered about staring bodies. They all had pieces missing - Himiko a leg, Compress an arm, Spinner half his face.
Tomura felt bile rise in his throat. He was going to be sick.
It was all happening again.
He’d killed them. Just like before.
That was all he’d ever be able to do. Create some illusion of family and then destroy it all with one touch of his hand. His eyes stung. The bile was inching further up his throat.
It was all going to happen again and it would all be his fault.
Something struck him hard in the side. The visions of death in front of him were momentarily washed out by white light, and then he was back in the real world. The cold once again leached into his bones through his thin hoodie. The sounds of life erupted to full volume around him. The darkness was gone. He would have been grateful for it if the return to sensation hadn’t brought with it crippling pain.
The sensation of someone holding on to his neck was removed gently, and he fell, like a puppet with cut strings. He hit the concrete ground hard, and that sent another jolt of agony up his side. It was white hot and angry, like some horrible mix of broken glass and a gunshot.
“Nothing, hm?” he heard a woman ask. That couldn’t have been the same girl from before. She sounded completely different.
Something metallic hit the pavement, close to his head. He winced at the sound. Another voice, harsh, tense, masculine, said, “Not a damn thing. Freak doesn’t even have a wallet.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. Look at him. He looks homeless.”
“Tell me you at least saw something good in his head.”
“Oh yes,” the woman replied. Tomura heard the smile in her voice, and the feeling of wanting to vomit curled back into his throat. “So much fear. You should have heard his heartbeat. It was like the fluttering of a baby bird. So beautiful.”
“Well, I’m glad one of us got something out of this,” the man grumbled. Suddenly, there was a boot being pressed dully into Tomura’s side, and he wanted to scream out in agony, but it felt as if his breath was being stolen from his lungs. He merely let out a strangled cry, more tears stinging and threatening to fall.
The man above him chuckled at the pathetic noise. Tomura wanted to reach out and disintegrate the boot and the neanderthal attached to it. But his brain was fogged with pain.
“Might as well do the world a favor and help cut decrease that vagrancy problem,” the man said. Tomura felt two calloused hands grab his wrists. He tried to grab onto the man in some way, but then the man started to pull, and another shot of pain made it impossible to concentrate. His brain only made the connection that he was being dragged somewhere.
The fear was back, and that fighting instinct tried to claw its way to the surface, but the pain dulled everything. Bogged down his thoughts. It was as if he was experiencing the world in slow-motion.
He’d never thought he’d feel this helpless again, and it was more terrifying to him than anything.
Suddenly, the grip was gone, and his back made contact with a few dented trash cans, causing him to land on his injured side. He tried to arch his back and move, away from the cans pressing into his side, away from the hard, cold ground making everything worse, just away from the pain in general that he was sure was going to kill him in a few minutes.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Tomura heard the man say to him through the haze of agony.
Tomura heard them starting to walk away, as leisurely as if they’d just finished a casual conversation with a mutual acquaintance.
“It’s not like anyone will come looking for him,” he heard the woman say. “From what I saw in there, no one would care if he disappeared.”
With those words, Tomura felt the desperate panic drip away. He briefly closed his eyes, and the images from the black void she’d created flashed before him again. His comrades, reduced to dust. Obviously his fault. Again.
He felt something cold land on his cheek, soft and light as a kiss. He opened his eyes, rolled them up and looked to the sky. It was snowing.
He let his eyes drift closed again, and felt his muscles relax. Even the fiery pain in his side seemed to be dulled a little. He was too exhausted to hurt.
He would just go to sleep, right here. The woman was right. It’s not like anyone would care.
-----------------------
Kurogiri paced. It was all he could think to do. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
Four hours. Tomura had been gone for four hours, and no one had heard anything from him in that time. Kurogiri had already tried to call him, only to discover the young fool’s phone sitting off to the side on a crate. That was when Compress and Twice had offered to go find Shigaraki and bring him back, if only, as Twice had so eloquently put it, “to get the stick out of your misty ass”.
He was going to tear into the boy for this when Compress and Twice brought him back. He would tell him he was an idiot for thinking leaving his phone was a good idea. He behaved abhorrently by staying gone for so long when he knew how dangerous it was to be out in the first place. He was a reckless child for thinking that it was wise to go out in the middle of winter in the clothes he’d been in. Did he want to catch his death?
Yes, he would do all that, once the boy was brought back, safe and intact. He knew that Tomura would tell him he was too protective, worried too much, that he wasn’t a child and could take care of himself.
It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had the conversation. Kurogiri knew all the steps, and was willing to go through them as many times as it took to finally get the message through that boy’s stubborn head.
But the righteous indignation came after the worry. And the worry didn’t stop until Tomura was home.
His phone began to buzz in his waistcoat pocket. He pulled it out and answered.
“Compress?” Kurogiri didn’t even bother with a greeting.
“We found him. We’re uptown, near the mall.” The tone was harried, bordering on panic. Kurogiri felt his stomach fall to his shoes. “We need a warp back. Now.”
Kurogiri didn’t respond. He simply hung up the phone and opened the gate. Compress practically jumped through first, his obnoxious orange coat missing. As Twice followed quickly after him, Kurogiri saw why - in Twice’s arms was a bright orange bundle, a tuft of pale blue hair sticking out of the top.
Tomura.
“He’s freezing,” Compress said briskly.
Magne and Spinner needed no more command than that. Both took off to separate corners, Magne to get the two space heaters shoved off to the side, Spinner over to their sleeping area to gather up as many blankets as he could carry.
Kurogiri didn’t miss the way Toga merely stood off to the side, looking out of place and uncharacteristically small. Even Dabi, standing at her side, looked slightly concerned.
Kurogiri would worry about that momentarily. First, he needed answers.
Twice carried Tomura over to where Magne and Spinner were beginning to construct something akin to a nest, piled high with blankets, as close to the space heaters as they could get them without the risk of starting a fire. Kurogiri came to Compress’s side and asked quietly, “What happened?”
“Looks like someone jumped him,” Compress replied. The disgust was thinly-veiled. “We were about to give up when we saw him lying in an alley. He looked like he’d been there for a while. There was a fresh dusting of snow on him. We had to leave his jacket behind because it was sopping wet and would have just made his hypothermia worse.”
Kurogiri made a noise that sounded like a low growl in the back of his throat, but didn’t reply.
Compress continued, “He wouldn’t respond at all at first. Completely out. It was only when we turned him over to check his pulse that he made any kind of noise, and that was in pain.”
Kurogiri turned his head sharply towards Compress. His look alone demanded explanation.
“He’s got a few cracked ribs,” Compress said. “It’s hard to tell how many exactly, but I felt at least two, and cracked is a gentle estimate. From the way he cried out, they might be broken. What do you think? Rival villains?”
“Nothing so dramatic,” Kurogiri replied, fighting to keep his tone even. “A rival wouldn’t have left him alive at all. This was sloppy. I would say they were trying to mug him. There were probably at least two, and as long as they managed to avoid his hands, it wouldn’t have been hard to incapacitate him by himself.”
“And when they realized he didn’t have anything on him, they left him in an alley to freeze,” Compress added. Unlike Kurogiri, he sounded ready to snap.
“At least you found him in time,” Kurogiri said, surprised to find the words coming out in a much gentler tone of voice. The soothing sentiment felt odd coming from him. He’d never, in all his years, have ever suspected that he’d be trying to comfort anyone, in any capacity. How things had changed this year.
“That oughta do it,” Spinner said from the corner where they’d created their nest. He smoothed out one of the blankets with his foot as he stepped out of the way for Twice and Magne to step forward.
Magne reached out her arms to help Twice lower Tomura into the pile. “Okay, go slowly,” she said, touching the orange bundle softly, as if she were handling a precious piece of crystal.
“I believe,” Kurogiri added, “that, when Tomura Shigaraki is well again, a call to Giran might be in order. See if we can’t repay whoever did this in kind.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Compress hissed.
Just as Magne and Twice nearly had Tomura flat on the floor, a weak cry of pain escaped his lips. Everyone jumped a little at the sudden noise, and for a split second, none of them moved.
When another whimper came from the bundle, Kurogiri and Compress finally moved forward. Magne and Twice had gotten Tomura on the floor, and began slowly peeling back the protective layer of Compress’s coat. As soon as Tomura’s rail-thin body came into view, Twice started pulling the blankets they’d gathered up around him, bundling him as tightly as he could without jostling his ribs. Such a task was obviously easier said than done, as now that he was at least semi-conscious, Tomura seemed to have become all too aware of the broken bones pressing down against his lungs. Every breath he took was sharp and shallow, full of fear that the next one would bring another blinding bolt of pain. The shivering that now racked the boy’s body seemed not to be helping in the slightest. He simply curled in on himself, his limbs looking at stiff as a newborn foal.
Much to his own shock, the sight pained Kurogiri. As much as he’d begrudged his position as Tomura’s handler when this was all first arranged by All for One, how irritated he’d been at the prospect of playing nursemaid to this overgrown, incorrigible child, this feeling now, this pain at seeing Tomura brought so low, obviously having been brutalized for a reason as paltry as money, it made him feel...protective. Perhaps even paternal was the word to use.
He didn’t have time to dwell on these feelings for much longer though. Tomura let out another gasp of pain, this one sounding strangled and raw, as he jerked away from the beings he believed to be causing him his suffering. His eyes were open in slits now, unfocused and dazed and not showing a hint of recognition for anyone around him. Kurogiri had read about the effects of hypothermia. In later stages, it caused disorientation. They needed to warm him up faster.
Fortunately, he’d also read about an effective way of warming a suffering person up.
“Stand aside, please,” Kurogiri said to Magne and Spinner. They didn’t argue, but did give him a quizzical look as he moved closer to Tomura, until he was at his side. He peeled away the large comforter that had been draped over the boy’s shoulders, doing his best not to feel awful at the yelp of discomfort he gave. Kurogiri slung the blanket around his own shoulders like a quilted cape, then sat himself on the floor, directly behind Tomura. Then he brought the comforter around Tomura again, until only his head was sticking out the top. He gently leaned the boy back, until his back was flush against Kurogiri’s chest. It was like pressing a slab of ice directly against his body, and he had to fight to not pull himself away.
Tomura whimpered again, and Kurogiri curled his arm up at the boy’s side, as if attempting to soothe the pain away until his misty hand. “It’s alright,” he heard himself say. “You’re home. You’re safe.”
The others stared down at the spectacle in astonishment. Kurogiri could hardly blame them. To anyone else, this would have seemed incredibly ridiculous.
Which is why he was quite shocked himself when Toga broke from the group, grabbing up a blanket herself, and curling up on Tomura’s legs, like a contented cat. She wrapped the blanket around herself, being sure to get Tomura’s feet under it as well. Kurogiri heard her make a contented noise as she burrowed her face into Tumora’s skeletal leg.
The others picked up her cue quickly. Compress pulled his coat around his shoulders and came to Kurogiri’s left, managing to curl up to Tomura’s injured side, and offered his own arm against the broken ribs. Magne took to Kurogiri’s left with a large sheet, sitting in such a way that it was quite easy for her to run a caressing hand through Tomura’s hair. Spinner and Twice split another large down comforter, taking the space on the other side of Tomura’s legs. Spinner didn’t even complain when Twice started to spoon him slightly.
Finally, Dabi let out a small sigh, and took a spot next to Toga. He didn’t bother to grab a blanket, just laying languidly on his back. He muttered, “I’m basically a big space heater. The little idiot will be fine.”
They were certainly a sight to behold. Kurogiri would have laughed if this massive puddle of body heat didn’t actually seem to be doing the trick. Tomura’s shivering increased, but Kurogiri knew that was a good sign. It meant the boy’s body sensed heat, and was trying to warm itself back up.
It wasn’t long before the warmth started getting to everyone else as well. One by one, the team of villains, wanted for their many crimes and murders and evil deeds, began to drift off to sleep.
Twice and Spinner were out first, now fully cuddling under their comforter. Compress was next, his hat pulled down over his face, snoring lightly. Magne’s deeper snoring followed shortly after. Toga let out a squeaky, kitten-like yawn before finally shutting her eyes. Kurogiri didn’t notice when Dabi fell asleep. He just happened to look in his direction and he was out.
Kurogiri chanced one more looked down at Tomura. He still shivered, but nowhere near as hard as before. Not that anyone would have been able to tell, but Kurogiri smiled a bit.
He supposed it wouldn’t if he rested his eyes for a moment as well.
This whole affair was utterly ridiculous.
And as he drifted off, Kurogiri realized he didn’t want it any other way.
--------------------
Something was pressed up against his back. And his sides. And on his legs.
He almost would have been drawn back into that paralyzing fear if he weren’t so exhausted. Every muscle in his body felt like it was made out of a stone. Even the mere act of opening his eyelids felt positively herculean.
But when he did finally get them open, a wave of unanticipated relief washed over him. On his legs were friends he recognized - Toga, Dabi, Twice, and Spinner - fast asleep and looking like they wouldn’t want to be anywhere but there. Although his neck was too stiff to turn to look to either, he recognized a pair of black and white boots on his left, and a pair of scuffed up brown ones to his right. Compress and Magne. He could only assume that the strong support at his back was Kurogiri.
They were here. They were with him They weren’t dead.
He felt Kurogiri shift behind him. His chest rumbled with his deep bass as he said softly, “You’re awake, Tomura Shigaraki.”
He merely nodded. He would work his way up to speech.
Kurogiri gave his right side a gentle squeeze.
Nothing more was said for a while, the only sounds filling the room the deep breathing and occasional snores of the other sleeping villains.
Finally, Tomura spoke up. His voice was even softer and wavering than usual. “How did I get here?”
“Compress and Twice found you in an alley, and I warped you back” Kurogiri replied softly. “You had been there for quite some time. You were hypothermic and injured. Someone attacked you.”
A pain that had nothing to do with the ache in his side flashed through Tomura. He didn’t want to think about those people in the alley. The ones who’d probed his head and laid him bare, then left him like garbage.
“I know they hurt you,” Kurogiri said, as if he were reading Tomura’s mind. “And you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just tell us what they looked like, and we’ll have Giran and his people looking for them to properly punish them. No one can hurt you and not suffer for it.”
Those words were almost enough to chase the pain inside him away completely, and Tomura sighed silently with relief. He was sure Kurogiri could feel the muscles in his back loosening. He hoped that told the older man how grateful he was to him.
A misty right hand moved down, on top of Tomura’s, and gave it a squeeze.
Kurogiri knew.
“There were two of them, a man and a woman,” Tomura muttered. He closed his eyes again, trying to picture them both. “I didn’t see much of the man. I was only aware he was there after he’d struck me and I was on the ground. He…”
Tomura stopped himself. He was not going to repeat the vile words the man had said. There was no reason to upset Kurogiri.
“I saw a bit of the woman. She was small, unassuming. She was wearing a hood, so all I could see was that she was young. I think she was a kind of bait. To lure people in. She had this quirk…”
He stopped himself again, ready to gloss over it, ready to never, ever bring up what he’d seen in that blackness ever again. Just the thought of it made his heart rate pick up a bit. The familiar sting was back in his eyes.
He didn’t want to cry. Not now. He was too tired to cry. But he was also too tired to hold it in.
“Tomura?”
Hearing just his first name, said so softly and so worriedly, broke him. The tears came, and he didn’t do a damn thing to stop them. The mistly hand on his squeeze harder.
“She had this quirk,” Tomura continued, his already weak voice wavering, “that made me see things. See you. All of you. And I had...hurt you...just like the last time. Just like them.”
Kurogiri didn’t press for further details.
“And I was afraid,” Tomura said. “I was afraid, but I didn’t fight back. I couldn’t. Her quirk wouldn’t let me. It just made me freeze up. I was afraid because I’d made it happen again and I was going to be alone…”
The rest of his words were swallowed up by a rattling sob.
He felt Kurogiri’s chin rest against his head. He’d moved his hand from Tomura’s and placed it on his back, rubbing gently in circles. “Hush,” he said soothingly. “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again. We’re right here. We won’t leave you. I promise.”
Kurogiri didn’t stop shushing and rubbing his back until Tomura’s tears had finally ceased, and he had leaned back against his chest, more exhausted than ever.
Another comforting silence filled the small space. It made Tomura feel safe in a way all the blankets and space heaters never could.
“Rest now, Tomura Shigaraki,” Kurogiri said. “Your ribs may be broken, and they’ll need time to heal. When the others wake up, I’ll send someone off for some painkillers. That will help them not hurt when you breathe. But for now, just rest.”
Tomura didn’t answer. He merely nodded, nestled his head back against Kurogiri’s chest again, and closed his eyes.
He was safe.
He wasn’t alone.
He would never be alone again.
Kurogiri promised he wouldn’t.
Not even his nightmares could take this away from him.