Archive of Our Own

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones: a deep, throbbing ache within him making his limbs heavy and distress swell up and spread to every extremity. The epicenter of his pain was positioned right above his eye, every awful feeling radiating out from that focused point. His head spun, rushing through empty thoughts faster than he could process their meaninglessness. The pain meant something; the weight meant something; this terrible, hurried static in his head meant something, but he could not place his finger on it. He was equal parts incoherent and consumed by his blank, dark surroundings and, had he possessed the bodily control to do so, he may have succumbed to nausea. 

Move. Get away. You can’t stay here. You’re not safe. They’re not safe. You need to protect them. It’s too late. 

“ Is he ready, Doctor?”

As quickly as he had been slammed with the storm of overwhelming sensation, it all came to a screeching halt. The discomfort that seemed to reach every last inch of his body vanished in a snap, the agony over his eye fading into absolute nothingness at the sound of that deep, calm voice. It was so foreign, yet so familiar…

...What had he been upset about, again? 

“He is,” another voice confirmed, originating from his other side. Based on sound alone, he could tell that he was flanked by two men who were speaking across his body; who were speaking about him. He felt a slight dip to his right as the speaker applied pressure to the bed he was resting on. “I did the best I could with him. His quirk is no Erasure , but with the modifications I made, he should serve your purpose.”

On his left, the soothing voice hummed. “I understand. I am sorry that we were not able to obtain that for you, but there will be another opportunity in the future,” he assured. “What modifications did you make?”

He could hear the smile in the doctor’s voice as he replied and he listened intently, both out of curiosity and because he couldn’t stand the echoing silence in his own head. “That cloud quirk of his was useless alone, so I took the liberty of adding in Teleportation. The two fused wonderfully,” he commented. “He is a walking Warp Gate.”

“And all of the mist?” the man on his right inquired. 

“A minor side effect,” the doctor answered. “This is the manifestation of his natural quirk after the modifications. He will be able to control the mist that comes off of his body or even change certain parts of himself into it entirely and utilize it to form his portals, but he cannot stop it entirely. It is a part of him now.”

“Very good,” the man on the left mused. “Am I correct to presume that his quirk was not the only thing you altered?” There was no audible response, but the man seemed pleased. “Good. I know that this is not the original idea we had developed, but he will serve young Tomura well.” 

Tomura . He grasped onto the name like a lifeline. It wasn’t his own-- he knew it wasn’t-- but it was the only name he currently knew. The man, the doctor, and young Tomura; all identities with no respect to himself. 

“Can he hear us?” the man asked. 

“It is possible,” the doctor confirmed. “I pulled him out when I heard that you were coming to retrieve him, so it has been a few hours. He may have regained some sense of awareness by now.” Some sense of awareness was putting it lightly. He had felt everything and then nothing all at once. “He belongs to you. You have the power to wake him whenever you please.”

“Ah, yes,” the man replied, his voice sounding just a touch closer than it had before. He felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder, but his arms refused to move. 

“Wake up, Kurogiri .”

Kurogiri. 

Something inside of him clicked at the sound of the name, as if his very soul had been activated after an eternity of dormant rest; as if his very mind had been hardwired to respond to his name like a command. Kurogiri . That is who he was. Even if it wasn’t, it certainly was now .

Kurogiri’s eyes snapped open and he blinked through the initial blue in his vision. The room was poorly lit, casting both men in shadow, but it wasn’t difficult to make out their shapes. Looming over him were two men, one donned in a lab coat and sporting a set of goggles that made his eyes appear far too large and one donned in a sharp suit, eyes obscured in the darkness. His lips were twisted into a satisfied smile and Kurogiri felt a tug of recognition. He knew that face just as he knew that voice, despite not recalling ever experiencing either previously. In a macabre sense, it felt as if he had been programmed to recognize him. 

As quickly as the concerning thought arose, it vanished when the man spoke again, his voice like a balm on Kurogiri’s agitated soul (or, rather, a soul that desperately wanted to be agitated, but lacked the energy to do so). “Hello, Kurogiri. Sit up for me, will you? It is so awkward to speak to someone flat on their back.” There was a certain edge of humor to his voice that implied that he actually had no problem looming over someone, but Kurogiri didn’t mind enough to comment on it. 

Immediately, the body which felt too heavy to move just moments ago became light as a feather. Kurogiri sat up easily, his posture straight as he pulled his legs in for balance. From this angle, he could better make out the face of the man whose influence over him seemed almost innate. He was a handsome man with a crown of white hair, but his eyes were cold and his smile had just enough teeth to tie the edge of being unnerving. Something deep within him-- something struggling and suffocating and desperate-- insisted that this man was not to be trusted, but how was he meant to resist him when his every fiber wanted to obey him? It would have been enough to make his head spin if he had the chance to think too deeply about it. 

Kurogiri had been conscious for less than five minutes and already understood that, to some extent, he was being controlled, and he was okay with it. If that wasn’t frightening, what was?

“Good,” the man praised. “How are you feeling?”

“I am fine,” Kurogiri assured before pulling a face. His voice… It sounded so strange, unlike anything he had expected to come out of his mouth. He was tempted to argue that this wasn’t his voice at all , but such an assertion would be ridiculous. Of course this deep, smooth timbre was his own voice; it had come right from his own mouth, hadn’t it? But even the man seemed surprised at the sound and one glance at the doctor looking a little too pleased with himself made him wonder if this was yet another modification that had been made. 

Recovering quickly from his momentary surprise, the man’s smile returned. “I am glad to hear that,” he replied before gesturing to himself. “My name is All For One, and this is a friend of mine, Dr. Daruma Ujiko,” he introduced.

 Kurogiri looked between them, silently satisfied to be adding to his arsenal of names; All For One and Daruma Ujiko . “It is a pleasure to meet you both,” he assured, bowing his head humbly. 

“I have a special job for you, Kurogiri,” All For One continued. “You see, I have a young protegee--”

“Young Tomura,” Kurogiri muttered, more to himself than to fill in any sort of gap, but the quiet utterance seemed to please All For One.

“Ah, so you could hear us,” he mused. “Yes, my protegee is named Tomura Shigaraki. He has the potential to become something great someday-- something powerful.” He sighed quietly. “Unfortunately, he is currently a small child and I do not have the time to be a full-time parent. That,” he said, gesturing to Kurogiri, “is where you come in.”

“You will be caring for Tomura in my absence. You will provide for him, protect him, and ensure that he grows up properly.” The way he spoke left no room for argument; this was to be Kurogiri’s fate. He would be caring for a child he had never met for arguably the next eighteen years, if not longer. That idea should have bothered him more than it did. If anything, helping a child felt like the most natural thing he could have been asked to do.

You need to protect him. It’s not too late. 

“I am honored,” he stated in lieu of any questions or protests that may have come up. “I will do my best to live up to expectations." From what he understood, parenting was difficult and full of challenges that were unique to each child, but it didn't sound like the worst thing that he could be asked to do. For reasons he couldn't explain, he had a feeling that his fate could have been much worse. 

"Excellent," All For One replied. Pleasing him made Kurogiri feel at ease-- much more pliant and comfortable-- which was a wonderful contrast to the agony and confusion which had consumed him previously. He wanted All For One to be happy with him, despite barely knowing the man. 

All For One pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and offered it to Kurogiri. "I would like to introduce the two of you as soon as possible. If you would?" he prompted, nodding to the paper he was holding out. 

Curious, Kurogiri reached out to take it, only to be startled by the sight of his own hand. Where he had expected to see pale flesh that mirrored the other two men was nothing more than a dark cloud. His heart skipped a couple of beats and his hand hovered in the air. All of the mist. So this was what they had been referring to..? His body was constantly giving off this dark mist, shrouding his skin in the vapor? It appeared to be odorless and he couldn't feel it coming off of him, so he assumed that it was harmless, if not a touch surprising. He took a moment to turn his hand over and examine it, fascinated by the sight. 

After a moment, however, he was pulled out of his own head by All For One clearing his throat. Silently apologetic, Kurogiri took the paper and opened it to see coordinates scribbled onto it. He was meant to take them there..? The doctor's words from earlier echoed in his head: He is a walking Warp Gate. These coordinates… He needed to use his quirk to get them there. Once again, he glanced at his mist-covered hands. He will be able to control the mist that comes off of his body and utilize it to form his portals. A quirk was something that was meant to come naturally, but he found himself uncertain of how to use it. Something that was supposed to be so innate shouldn't be a mystery to him, and yet here he was, mind racing to try and figure out how to spawn his own portals. 

He concentrated on the coordinates. He hadn't the slightest idea what the place they were connected to looked like, so only the numbers could guide him. Had he hesitated for a moment or given up a second sooner, it may never have come to fruition, but after a moment, dark mist began to collect by the foot of the bed. It swirled, the slowly growing larger in size until someone the size of a preteen might be able to walk through without trouble. Kurogiri held his breath and watched, heart hammering in his chest, but the portal did not get any bigger. If he had been a child, it would have been cause for celebration and praise, but as he was, it was nothing impressive. 

Fortunately, rather than scold or push him, All For One took the small portal in stride. “Follow after me,” was his only response before posturing himself to best get through. Under any other circumstances, watching a man of his size try and crawl through a child-sized portal would have been immensely amusing, but it took all of Kurogiri’s willpower to keep the damn thing open. WIth time and practice, he knew that he would be able to make them larger and hold them for longer, but for now, he needed to take advantage of what he could currently do. Sadly, there was no tutorial for being the kind of person he was… whatever he was. 

He was Kurogiri, protector of Young Tomura, but what else..? Hopefully, he would have the chance to figure that out as he went along. For now, he needed to follow in All For One’s footsteps (or, rather, knee crawls). 

“ S-Sensei! There’s someone behind you!”

Before Kurogiri fully processed his instantly new surroundings, that small, worried voice hit his ears. Young Tomura . His portal had worked, taking both himself and All For One directly to the former’s new charge, but the child had obviously not been expecting visitors. As Kurogiri’s mind caught up with the sudden change in scenery, he took it all in; All For One picking himself up off of the ground in what appeared to be a living area and the small child which had run over to his side. The child, who must be Tomura, had a mop of shaggy white hair, red eyes that seemed to bug out of his head, and a defensive posture. He was tiny; there was no way around that. The boy was skinny, short, and small in every visible fashion, making him look something like a distressed rat. Kurogiri didn’t know whether to be concerned or endeared. 

“Don’t worry, Tomura,” All For One replied, taking a moment to beat the invisible dirt off of his pants before resting a hand on top of the boy’s head. “This is the friend I was telling you about. He is going to help me take care of you while I do my work.” Dropping his hand to the boy’s back, he gently turned him to face the mist man. “Tomura, this is Kurogiri. Kurogiri, this is Tomura Shigaraki. You will be spending a lot of time together.” 

A part of Kurogiri had contemplated rising to his own feet, but he thought better of it. Down on his knees like this, he was closer to eye level with Tomura, and for some reason, that just felt right to him. As far as he knew (which, admittedly, wasn’t very much), he had never interacted with kids, so for this response to come so naturally was almost strange… Regardless, he sat back on his heels and extended his hand, smiling all the while. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Tomura Shigaraki.”

Tomura hesitated, a quiet gasp following a vain attempt to step back. All For One kept his hand firmly between his shoulders, however, and spoke up again. “It is alright, Tomura. You can touch his hand,” he promised.

For his part, Tomura didn’t seem too convinced, but it appeared that he had the same kind of innate desire to please All For One as Kurogiri himself did. After a moment of hesitance, he shuffled forward, hand trembling as he reached out and took Kurogiri’s in his own. Immediately, the boy flinched away, but Kurogiri sat still and patient, hand outstretched. 

Tomura gawked, looking between their two hands. “How..?”

“Kurogiri’s quirk is special,” All For One mused. “His body creates a lot of mist, and that mist protects his body. You cannot decay a cloud.”

As per usual, Kurogiri had very little idea of what All For One was talking about (though he could assume that it had something to do with Tomura Shigaraki’s quirk), but he knew that the statement must have been profound based upon the way the child reacted. Once again, he took the offered hand, but he made more certain contact. His hand felt so small in Kurogiri’s own and he had to fight the urge to hold it between both of his own despite the slight tingle where their hands touched. For a moment, everything was still, those red eyes locked on their joined hands, shrouded by dark mist. 

Then the tears came. 

Kurogiri watched as moisture collected in the boy’s eyes and started to spill over without him making a sound. If there had been any doubts about what he felt about the child who would be consuming the next eighteen years of his life, they vanished in an instant. His heart ached , not fully understanding why he was crying but not needing to. With his free hand, Kurogiri reached up to wipe the tears away. Initially, Tomura winced, so he let his hand hover in the air until he relaxed. Interpreting that relaxation as consent, he cupped one side of the boy’s face and wiped away the tears. 

“You do not need to cry. I am here for you, Tomura Shigaraki,” he promised. And there for him he would be. 

As it turned out, Tomura’s tears had everything to do with his quirk. Where he lacked answers regarding himself, there were plenty to be had about his young charge. His quirk was dangerous and deadly; not one suited for a young child. All For One described the trauma he had undergone to him, which only made his heart ache harder . For someone so small to have suffered through so much was unimaginable, but the way in which he interacted with his past was odd. It was clear that he was affected by it, for he was still reluctant to touch Kurogiri without prompting and excessively cautious when handling anything of even the most minor importance, but he didn’t say a word about it. 

The hands, however, were unnerving. All For One had assured him that they were necessary-- that these remaining pieces of his family would help to shape him into the man he was meant to be-- but Kurogiri never failed to startle whenever he saw them, whether in their cases or awkwardly gripping the boy’s body.

Yeah, it wasn’t exactly what Kurogiri would encourage as a parent, but All For One deemed them important, so he couldn’t exactly protest …

Sometimes, Kurogiri was struck with the realization that he understood just about as much of himself as Tomura did. There was plenty of basic, practical knowledge stored within him-- how to operate appliances, knowledge of safety and first aid, a basic understanding of how to interact with the world around him-- that seemed to originate from an untouchable memory bank, but very little of it pertained to himself.He had been so occupied by caring for Tomura and trying to help him become comfortable around him that he failed to realize just how uncomfortable he was with himself. 

A few weeks after their first introduction was the first time since his awakening that he recalled how little he knew about himself. He had been preparing a snack of sliced fruit for Tomura while the boy sat waiting in a nearby chair when he spoke up with a question that had him freezing in place:

“ Kurogiri, what does your face look like?”

He paused, the hand holding the knife freezing in midair. Tomura didn't speak to him much, even after all of these weeks, which he understood; he was a stranger being dropped into his life with a face that was, as had just been pointed out, completely obscured by the same mist that covered his hands. Even the yellow eyes that were visible in the mist weren't the same as the eyes that were in his head. He had worked to make the inflections of his voice more recognizably emotional and put as much expression into his eyes as he could manage, but in the end, Tomura didn't yet know how to read him, which made him reluctant to engage. The fact that he had asked a question like that took him by (pleasant) surprise. 

If only he knew how to answer. 

It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to look. Once he had Tomura finally asleep after All For One's departure, he had taken to the nearest mirror and tried to take himself in. Being greeted by a reflection completely shrouded by dark mist had been disheartening, especially when he couldn't manage to will the cloud away from his face. Curious fingers had traced over his face, but he hadn't managed to form any idea of what his face may look like when he put all of the pieces together. If the roundness of his cheeks were anything to go by, he was on the younger side, but he felt in his bones that he was old enough to be responsible for a child. Whether he was correct in that assumption or not was yet to be determined. Above his right eye was a strange set of bumps-- something that almost felt like stitches--  but touching them threatened a headache, so he pulled his hand away quickly. Despite his efforts, he still hadn't the slightest idea what he looked like. 

Not keen on starting their relationship off with lies, Kurogiri slowly forced himself to return to calmly slicing the fruits. "I'm not certain," he hummed. "I do not remember the last time I saw myself without this mist. If I had to guess, though, I would say that…" He closed his eyes for a brief moment in thought, trying to make some sense of what he had seen. Round face. Stitches-- scars ? 

Blue eyes. Nasal strip. Fluffy hair.  You two have matching smiles.

"...I have blue eyes," he decided. It sounded right. He had no idea why, but something about it just fit . A small smile tugged on his lips at the thought of blue eyes and light fluffy hair and--

"No they're not! They're yellow!" Tomura interjected, a pout souring his expression. 

Kurogiri blinked. 

Oh. Oh . 

Tomura was right; his eyes were yellow. Where this idea of blue eyes came from was beyond him and he didn't understand why he had allowed himself to believe such a thing, even for a second. He'd looked in the mirror and seen those large, wispy yellow eyes looking back at him. What had he been thinking !? 

Rather than show any outward sign of distress,  however, he simply chuckled and nodded. "You're right. I do have yellow eyes, don't I? How silly of me." Finally done slicing up the fruit, he brought the plate over to where Tomura was sitting and placed it in front of him. 

The boy picked up an apple slice with two fingers and held it up so that its red skin was on full display. "If your eyes are blue, then this apple is purple!"

Kurogiri hummed and pretended to examine the apple. "I'm not sure. It looks purple to me." 

"No, it's not!" Tomura protested, pushing the apple further into Kurogiri's face. "It's a red apple!"

"No, I'm certain that it's purple," he joked, a smile blossoming across his face. When he smiled, the only indication of his change in expression came from his eyes pinching and curving. He could only hope that the message got across to onlookers. 

Much to his surprise, Tomura giggled and the sound made his heart swell. This kid was going to be the death of him, and he would be glad for it. "You're being silly!" he exclaimed. "The apple is red!" 

"Well, if you're sure, then you had better eat it all up," Kurogiri said. " I can only eat purple apples." 

"The purple apples are for you and the red apples are for me!" Tomura agreed decisively, taking a bite from the crisp slice. 

In the end, it didn't really matter what Kurogiri's face looked like under all of that mist. As long as Tomura could tell when he was smiling, he was satisfied.

The more time that passed, the louder the voice in his head became. It was the same one that pleaded with him to escape upon first waking up; the same one which insisted that, despite all physical evidence otherwise, his eyes were blue . Most of the time, the voice was harmless, guiding him through the rougher patches in life and navigating his relationship with Tomura. It helped him remember how to nurture and lead and have patience with even the most difficult of people he crossed paths with. He hadn't dared to say a thing about it to All For One or the doctor, for he feared that it may be taken away from him. For the most part, it was good.

Then there were times that it made him want to claw straight through his skull. 

Whenever he was asked to do something villainous, it ached. Whenever he was alone and the room was too quiet, he couldn't reflect on himself without the storm returning. Being mindlessly obedient kept him safe from himself, but did he want that? It had been years since he had last asked himself who he was and genuinely sought out an answer, far too occupied by caring for Tomura to think anything of himself, but that hadn't stopped the urges buried in his soul from crying out on occasion. 

Sometimes, there were faces. He would see them in people on the street who, upon closer observation, did not resemble the person that the flash of recognition insisted was there. People with blond or long black hair were the usual targets, but he couldn't fathom why. As far as he knew, he had never met anyone who fit those descriptions, but he found his heart skipping beats whenever he crossed paths with someone who looked even vaguely like… like… 

….Like who?  

Comfort came from the strangest of sources and stumbling upon it had been an accident. One night, after a struggle to put Tomura to bed, Kurogiri found himself starting to drown in his own head and took to the radio for assistance. Sometimes, all he needed was background  noise to help drown out the insistence that something was wrong and he needed to do something about it. Samples of an assortment of music and voices filled the night as he flipped through channels to find something he could listen to when a certain voice hit him like a slap straight to the face.   

"-- Aaaand that was the top hit of the week, listeners! Hope you enjoyed it! Next up is a song I'm dedicating to my sweetheart out working this fine Friday night. Here's to you, sunshine! Remember to call in your requests and give your shoutouts!" 

As the station went off to play some new pop track all about sex and love (which, to be honest, didn't differentiate it much from every other song on the radio), Kurogiri was left stunned speechless. That voice… It resonated with something deep within him; something that excited him in a way that he couldn't describe. He sat deathly still, back ramrod straight and eyes wide as he let it all was over him. 

Blond hair. Loud. Louder than you. You two have matching smiles. Come on, Oboro !

Kurogiri gasped, hand shooting up to rest over his heart as it raced. Oboro. That name didn't give him nearly as much ease and comfort as All For One's utterance of Kurogiri , but it was equally as powerful. The name gripped him by the throat and squeezed; dug its nails into his mind and sank its teeth in as deep as it possibly could; held his heart and stopped its beating; grabbed him by the wrists and threw him head first back into that storm. He wanted it to stop while simultaneously craving more. As upsetting and frightening as it was, he found that it was almost… soothing at the same time. Beyond the storm was the calm, and Kurogiri had settled himself in the eye. Oboro was a nudge encouraging him to brave it after all of these years, but it would ultimately be up to him to decide how far he would pursue it. 

For now, he was content simply accepting that there was something-- some one? -- waiting for him where the sky was clear. 

Thus began his nightly routine of putting Tomura to sleep and indulging in an hour or two of Put Your Hands Up Radio. The more he listened, the less the sound of the host's -- Pro Hero Present Mic-- voice made his heart race. If anything, it was a comfort to hear him ramble on about nonsense-- his sweetheart often gained a shoutout-- and play whatever music his heart desired. A voice that was known to make the ground shake and deafen those who stood too close shouldn't have been so soothing, but he regularly found himself falling asleep to the sound and waking up to the sound of someone else entirely droning on about something that he couldn't care less about. 

Oboro joined him. He always did, without fail. When Present Mic's voice came on, Oboro woke up and hummed along to his presence. What had originally been a terrifying, violent ordeal within his own head had become something almost pleasant. There was so little that he knew about this Oboro and why his name existed in his mind, but he seemed equally as pleased with the sound of Present Mic's voice as Kurogiri was. If listening to the radio at night was enough to calm them both, then why wouldn't he? Tomura was always asleep by the time the show started, so he thought it would be harmless to have a few moments of time with himself. Himself and Oboro. 

That night wasn't meant to be any different. After ensuring that Tomura was safe in bed, Kurogiri traveled back out to the main living area and sank down on the couch. The radio needed no adjustment, countless nights of waiting on the same station making it so that with a single touch of his finger, music filled his ears. It was some nameless, mainstream pop song that he had memorized purely through exposure, and he had caught the tail end of it. Absently, he hummed through the last verse and smiled to himself. The music he chose reflected a lot about himself; it was all upbeat and energetic, much like the hero himself. As a general rule, heroes were to be despised rather than admired, but Kurogiri thought that someone who doubled as a radio DJ was a fine exception. 

As the song ended and Present Mic started rambling over the airwaves to his listeners, Kurogiri closed his eyes. His voice was so loud and easily annoying, and he couldn't explain why but he loved hearing him speak. He melted into the couch and listened to him as he started gushing over his boyfriend, unable to help but fantasize about possibly having someone like that of his own someday. Whoever this sunshine was, Present Mic certainly loved him. Dedicating all of his time to caring for Tomura left very little room for Kurogiri to search for such a romance himself, leaving him curious about what such deep romantic love may feel like. He loved Tomura to death, of course, but he thought that having a partner might feel different…

" Why are you listening to Present Mic's show ?" 

Speaking of Tomura, his voice cut through Kurogiri's peaceful thoughts like a butter knife. Internally, he bit back a sigh. Yes, he loved the boy like nothing else, but there was no denying that he had the worst timing. 

Opening his eyes, Kurogiri saw his son charge standing in front of him, red eyes raw and heavy with exhaustion. He rubbed at them, obviously struggling to keep them open. His pajamas were baggy-- everything was baggy on him, despite how he had started filling out under Kurogiri's care-- and that made him look younger than his age.

Kurogiri sat up, making his posture a little more proper. "Tomura Shigaraki. What are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

"I can't sleep," he mumbled. He didn't need to say anything more. Tomura had always been a light sleeper, and despite insisting that he was 'too old' for nightmares at a hearty ten years old, his caretaker had plenty of evidence to prove otherwise. Despite this, not a word was said about it. “I heard music, so I knew that you were still awake.” He pulled a slight face. “But why are you listening to Present Mic? Don’t you think he’s annoying?”

It was bound to happen eventually. If there was one thing that he had learned over the past handful of years, it was that keeping secrets from someone who was as naturally inquisitive as Tomura was all but impossible, given that he was willing to believe what he discovered. Some things were possible to explain away easily, such as the headaches he sometimes got ( I just didn’t get enough sleep, Tomura Shigaraki ) or why he couldn’t tell him his full name ( This was the name given to me by your sensei, just like yours) , but there was nothing that could be done to remove the sound of Put Your Hands Up Radio from the air around them. Rather than fight against it, he decided to be as honest as he could without raising red flags. 

“He can be a little loud sometimes, yes, but I like listening to him talk,” he confessed. His voice makes me feel normal. “It helps me to fall asleep. It’s like background noise.” It was so much more than that, but he couldn’t expect Tomura to understand something like that. Not when he barely understood it himself. Besides, the boy was still too young to understand the importance of biting his tongue and keeping secrets from All For One. Kurogiri had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly who Oboro was and that finding out that Kurogiri had encountered the name would end in disaster.

No, for now, Oboro, whoever he was or had been, existed only in his mind and it was vital that it remained that way. 

At the mention of improving sleep, Tomura seemed to perk up a bit. “Listening to his annoying voice helps you sleep..?”

“It does.”

Tomura went silent for a moment, brow creasing in contemplation before he spoke up again. “...Can I listen with you?”

That request had Kurogiri’s heart swelling as he opened his arm to offer him a place by his side. Tomura was quick to settle beside him, leaning into his torso as an arm wrapped gently around him. It took all but a handful of seconds for red eyes to slip shut and a few minutes for his breathing to even out, telling Kurogiri that he had, in fact, fallen asleep. He glanced down at the child, noticing how peaceful he looked. Having witnessed him suffer through countless nightmares, seeing him sleep with this kind of comfort and ease warmed his heart.  The option of using his quirk to place the sleeping boy back in bed was there, but… No. Not tonight.

With a small smile on his face, he cuddled Tomura a little closer and allowed himself to fall into that same trance. When they woke up to the sound of someone else entirely droning on about something that they couldn't care less about, he prompted Tomura to stir and started making breakfast for them both. 

If Tomura occasionally joined him on the couch at night rather than sleeping in his own bed, Kurogiri certainly wouldn’t complain. 

Tomura's debut had been a long time coming. Nearly fifteen years of training and priming had led them to this moment; the moment in which all of his dreams would come to fruition. With his band of assorted angry thugs, villains, and a bloodthirsty gift from All For One himself, Tomura Shigaraki would go down in history as the man who killed All Might. 

The hatred had been boiling within him over the course of his entire life, but it had become exaggerated and extreme over the past seven. He could still see Tomura's face when he ushered him to All For One's bedside after his fateful confrontation with the Number One Hero; how heartbroken and devastated he had been. Kurogiri felt similar pains to see his master so broken and defeated, but what hurt him more was the emotional agony that cut deep into Tomura's heart and left him scarred in ways that no mortal eye could see. What was once a boy full of curiosity and brightness was dulled, fashioned by hatred into a weapon of All For One's own design. 

He had no proof, but it would not have surprised Kurogiri in the slightest if this had  been intentional. The more Tomura trained, the more potent a weapon he became and the darker his heart was tainted. He had trained in the past, but never to this extreme. Kurogiri could count on one hand the number of times he smiled over the span of a month, and they were never full smiles; they were twisted and tortured and demented in ways he hated seeing on his face. He wanted to be the best-- wanted to avenge All For One and become better than he ever was-- but every step he took made Kurogiri's heart break more. Maybe he was sentimental from raising him for so many years, but it pained him to see the rapid disappearance of the boy he thought he knew. 

All For One and All Might may have failed to kill each other, but they had destroyed young Tomura Shigaraki in the crossfire. 

Gone was the little boy who would argue with him about the color of apples or curl up with him on the couch at night. In his place stood something that any villain should be proud of. Kurogiri was, of course, a villain, and a proud one at that, so why wasn't he thrilled to see this dark turn in Tomura's life? 

Deep within him, he knew the answer-- a name which started with 'O' that never quite left him alone-- but he didn't dare press. Regardless of his own personal feelings on Tomura's transformation, he would be there to support him just as he had been before. He helped him stretch and ice before and after training, provided him with plenty of targets on which to exercise his quirk, and was there to ensure that he didn't run himself into the ground with his hatred. Time and time again, he listened to Tomura insist that it was his destiny to destroy; time and time again, he had to pretend that he still didn't look at his face and try to find that tiny, traumatized boy he had been commanded to raise and learned to love. 

He was nowhere to be found. 

No matter how much he trained, it seemed impossible for Tomura to collect any muscle mass. No matter how old he became, he never quite hit that growth spurt, so Kurogiri still towered over him at twenty years of age. He still had nightmares, but the content had changed and matured as he had. But even if he was still small, he was quick and agile and knew where to aim a punch to make it hurt. Rather than soak his pillows in tears at night, he used his own terrors to fuel him and drive him further into the darkness to become a better villain. 

Kurogiri should have been proud. This is what All For One meant by raising him properly . So, why did he feel so hollow instead..? 

For the longest time, killing All Might had seemed like a pipe dream. The man appeared untouchable, and he recovered from his injuries much more quickly and wholly than All For One had, despite the assurances otherwise. There was no way of knowing where he was and no way of isolating him to keep other heroes out of the way. It seemed hopeless.

...Until the announcement was made, that is. 

Number One at Number One: All Might Begins Teaching Career at UA High School

It was perfect, as if the universe had taken pity on Tomura and his childish, angry delusions and planted the opportunity right into his lap. Infiltrating the school would be easy. The heroes had grown careless under All Might, the lack of any powerful criminal organization making them weak and susceptible to any well-targeted attack. Once they knew how to isolate their target, it would simply be a matter of collecting the right quirks to see it through. Kurogiri could get through security easily, but they would need someone to cut connections and communications… 

It wound up being much easier than Kurogiri had anticipated. There were plenty of angry, outcast people who were just itching to take a bite out of the Symbol of Peace. Tomura and Kurogiri were the only ones who knew of All Might’s weakness, so all of the villains who were eager to join them were prepared to jump at the Number One Hero at full strength. Never doubt the will of the scorned, he supposed. By a stroke of luck, one of the irate roughians they had conscripted to their cause had the perfect quirk for jamming UA’s communications. One far too easy infiltration into the school and one obtained schedule later, the game was set, and they had the advantage of making the first move. With the gift of a beast that All For One had given Tomura, it should have been a certain fight.

Kurogiri hadn’t expected to recognize anyone. 

Recognize was a strong word and he knew it, but he didn’t know how else to describe it. From a distance, it was difficult to make anything certain out, but his heart started to race for reasons that had nothing to do with the invasion. 

Long black hair. Long black hair. Long black hair. 

Along with the usual target of fleeting recognition came another, compounding his reaction into something stronger than it had been while passing strangers on the street.

Yellow goggles. Yellow goggles. Yellow goggles. 

Long black hair. Yellow goggles. Long black hair and yellow goggles. Longblackhairandyellowgoggles--

He knew him. He knew him. He knew him . 

Kurogiri looked away. There were more important things to worry about in that moment, such as the Space Hero, Thirteen, who was protecting the students just as he protected Tomura himself. Ignoring the screaming and pleading deep in his soul was difficult, but for Tomura Shigaraki, he would never hesitate to take that and countless other steps away from himself. 

In the end, protecting Tomura Shigaraki was, and always would be, his highest priority. It came before any fight or foe he may have already been engaged with, even going as far as putting his own life in the back seat. He may not have always reacted on time to prevent injury (the scars littering the young man's body from encounters past proved that well enough), but he would never fail to protect him when it mattered. They had been seconds away from eliminating a nuisance of a student when a bullet shot straight through Tomura's hand. It nearly made Kurogiri's heart stop. 

The Pros had arrived, and they weren't messing around. 

In hindsight, he should have taken the initiative, scooped Tomura up in his warp gates and dealt with the whining himself, but he had been far too stunned to think properly. He wasn't in his right head. From the way something deep within him cried out for the fallen hero, Eraserhead, to how he had allowed one student to escape and another to pin him, that much was obvious. The implications of Tomura's wound took a moment longer to process than he had anticipated and it was that moment of hesitation that allowed for three more bullets to fly through the air and bury themselves into each of his limbs. Yanked gracelessly back into the moment, he shielded his charge from the storm of bullets that followed, each one fired with deadly intent. He didn't know exactly where the bullets went or what they hit; the only thing that was important was that they weren't in Tomura. After that, he didn't hesitate to bring him straight home, silently hoping that nothing vital had been hit. 

When the returned, All For One wasted no time in expressing his disappointment with Tomura and promising second chances while the man was bleeding out on the floor. He tried his hardest to listen to his words and explain their situation, but his thoughts kept jumping back to Tomura's wounds. Whereas the young villain seemed to revere his sensei more than anyone else, Kurogiri's own regard for the man had become more compulsory and obligatory rather than natural and comforting over the years. As pooling blood started sticking to his shoe, however, he understood perfectly why that enchantment had faded into awed respect that remained. All For One, even in his current condition, was a formidable villain and leader that lived up to his moniker as the Symbol of Evil, but his skills in prioritizing the health and safety of his subordinates was lacking. 

Though, he supposed that he had passed that responsibility onto Kurogiri nearly fifteen years ago. Why would he need to worry about caring for someone personally when he had delegated that task to someone else? The more he thought about it, the more he felt like a single parent whose partner was only in their child's life through child support payments and the occasional weekend trip. But that idea suggested that he and his boss had once been together, which didn't feel right, so he shook the thought away immediately. That wasn't something he wanted to think about. 

The moment he was free to, he started tending to Tomura's wounds. A bullet in each limb made it painful for him to move, but the most reaction he got out of him was the occasional hiss or wince whenever Kurogiri pressed down too hard. In his opinion, he was far too accustomed to pain for his age. Someone could blast his fingers right off and he wouldn't make a sound. 

"I'll kill him, Kurogiri," Tomura swore. "I'm going to destroy that heroic piece of trash if it's the last thing I do."

"I don't doubt that, Tomura Shigaraki," he assured, tying off and taping up the gauze wrapped around the last wound. Fortunately, they were little more than flesh wounds and would not cause any permanent damage. Still, there were still certain precautions that needed to be taken for the next time they went after the Symbol of Peace. They needed better allies; allies that they could rely on to have their backs (or Tomura's, at the very least). Unfortunately, his charge didn't have much experience with things like teamwork or interacting with people his own age, so seeking out such allies would prove to be an interesting experience… But it was one they needed to undergo. 

"If you would listen to my suggestion, I believe I know a way to improve our chances of success…"

As expected, the encounter with Stain was a disaster and Kurogiri wound up tending to Tomura's injuries in the aftermath. The things that man could do with a knife were incredible, if not unsettling, and he was a dangerous enemy to have. A part of him wondered if he would be equally as dangerous an ally… Stain had not set himself as either upon his departure, but in all of his naive overconfidence, Tomura decided that he needed to be taken out of the spotlight to make room for himself. It wasn't the move that Kurogiri would have made, personally, but he was nothing if not compliant and supportive. 

By some miracle, losing that battle helped them take one step further towards winning the war. Erroneously or not, people began to associate Hero Killer Stain with the infamous League of Villains , which drew the attention of all of the right people. Giran brought them catch after catch, even if Tomura did not immediately recognize them as such. Moonfish and Muscular were both violent and unstable, but they knew how to channel their energy in ways that made them powerful attackers and almost guaranteed their victories. Magne was violent, too, with a history of assaults and robberies, but she had a head on her shoulders that Kurogiri could respect. Brutality and intelligence combined would make for a good ally. Mustard’s presence conflicted him, for he thought that the boy was far too young to be participating in such dangerous things, but to say so aloud would make him a hypocrite. Spinner was the epitome of a Stain fanboy, which he knew would get under Tomura’s skin, but he was confident and determined to see his idol’s will through. They could use that. Twice was kind for a man who had been scorned so many times and Kurogiri could tell from their first introduction that the man had a good heart (and that he and Giran were a little more fond of each other than they originally let on). Not only was his quirk useful, but it appeared that he might be the relief that they would need as things grew more serious. Himiko Toga, while admittedly unhinged, possessed a unique quirk and a seemingly boundless amount of vicious energy and passion. She seemed like the kind of person who couldn’t be held back or told no, which would make her relationship with Tomura interesting.

Then there was Dabi. 

Dabi, who had pushed Tomura’s buttons just a little too hard and almost died for his efforts. Dabi, who was secretive and aloof and possessed a stubbornness that rivaled Tomura’s own. Dabi, who… somehow wound up with a nomu who answered solely to him. Dabi, who, against all odds, was selected as Tomura’s right hand man and the leader of the Vanguard Action Squad. 

Dabi, who he noticed Tomura’s gaze lingering on for a few beats longer than necessary when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Kurogiri didn’t know how to deal with this. Since he had known him, Tomura hadn’t really interacted with children his own age and had never formed any sort of amicable relationship before. The closest thing he had to a friend was Giran, and even they tended to be strictly professional in their interactions (or as professional as someone like Tomura could be). Never before had he witnessed his young charge regard someone with such favor. Should he be pleased that he was starting to expand his social and emotional horizons or protective over him as he did so? At the very least, Kurogiri knew that he would need to learn a lot more about Dabi.

Strangely enough, Tomura’s own heart wasn’t the only one experiencing new things with the addition of all of these new faces around and Kurogiri was even less prepared for that . For years, he had wondered what it would feel like to have a love that mirrored Present Mic and his sunshine , but he had never thought it was possible. He was far too occupied with raising Tomura and, if he were being honest with himself, every last one of his features was completely obscured by mist. To any random person walking by, Kurogiri was not desirable or attractive by any means, no matter how gentle or polite he tried to be; no, he was dark and intimidating and dangerous. Over time, he had convinced himself that he was fine with that and tried not to think too much about it. 

Then came Atsuhiro Sako, alias Mr. Compress . He was, without a doubt, the most charming of the new recruits. He was well-spoken with impeccable manners and a mature-yet-playful energy that Kurogiri could only hope to engage. There was a certain sort of mystery about him as well, for he covered himself from head to toe and showed as little skin as possible. He had yet to remove his ever-changing masks in the company of others, leaving only his voice to give ideas of what he may look like. In this way, he was not unlike Kurogiri himself…

What caught his attention even more was the fact that Mr. Compress was just as willing to get Kurogiri’s attention as he was to get Tomura’s, if not more. The rest of the team seemed to center around their self-proclaimed leader, and rightfully so. Truthfully, Kurogiri himself wielded very little power in this, his influence essentially isolated to ensuring that Tomura did not make decisions he would regret or get himself killed. Mr. Compress continually taking the time to come and speak with him or get his opinion was enough to make him look forward to seeing him again. It was possible that this was all due to being of a similar age and sensibility, but he liked to think (hope) that his interest was indicative of something else. 

When he seated himself on one of the bar stools while Kurogiri was cleaning the glasses used earlier that night, the mist man couldn’t help but smile. The mask disguised any expression, but his voice was as expressive as Kurogiri’s eyes in that regard. They communicated perfectly without the need for facial expressions, which he appreciated, especially since his new friend never seemed to be anything but pleased to speak with him. 

“Good evening, Mr. Compress,” he hummed, his eyes curving into a warm smile as he regarded him. “Are you here for another drink?” The rest of the team had gone their separate ways for the night, but this man almost always found himself coming right back out into the bar. 

Compress shook his head. “No, dear Kurogiri,” he replied-- dear; why did he always call him dear ?-- before leaning onto the bar. “I wouldn’t want to create more work for you. And, please, call me Sako.”

Kurogiri’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, heart hammering in his chest as he watched one gloved hand reach up to pull off that monochrome mask. Hardly any of his face was revealed, a balaclava obscuring the majority of his features, but his eyes stood out instantly. They were a beautiful, warm brown color and they shone with the kind of attentiveness that threatened to make him blush. 

“Sako,” he corrected, enjoying the way his name rolled off of his tongue. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known Sako’s name-- they all knew each other’s names, with a few important exceptions-- but to be given permission to use it over his villainous alias felt significant. “I insist. One glass won’t hurt either of us.”

There was something almost expectant in Sako’s gaze that Kurogiri couldn’t put his finger on. All he knew was that it flickered and died in a moment of hesitation so brief that, had he not been looking directly into his newly revealed eyes, he would have never noticed it. Sako smiled. “Ah, well, if you’re going to twist my arm about it, then a glass of your favorite white wine would be wonderful.”

Immediately, Kurogiri went about pouring his companion a glass of wine and passed it over to him. He found his gaze drifting down to his lips as he took a sip and quickly averted his eyes. There were plenty of signs that such behavior would be welcome, but the majority of his exposure to romance had been through listening to a one-sided story of the relationship between Present Mic and his sunshine , so he could just as easily be misinterpreting everything. Sako could just be acting friendly, but he kept calling him dear …

“So, Kurogiri,” Sako started, studying the mist man with curiosity as he swirled his wine lazily. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is under all of this mist?”

Kurogiri paused, gripping the glass he was shining just a little tighter. That was a question he hadn’t heard in years. He had tried to find the answer to that question many times since the first time he was asked, but failed to develop a full profile in his mind. The roundness of his face had faded with age, which made him wonder just how young he had been when Tomura was first placed under his care, and the strange bumps over his eye never went away, but that didn’t give him much to work off of. If he had the power to, he would have willed the mist away from his face to give them both a proper look, but trial after trial proved that to be a vain effort. 

Blue eyes. Nasal strip. Fluffy hair. You two have matching smiles .

He didn’t know why those ideas of himself kept popping into his head, but he wished that they wouldn’t. They had already been proven wrong or lacked any means of verification, so why did they keep coming back? What was he meant to do with the description of someone who was not himself?

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” he confessed. “I don’t recall the last time I saw my bare face. What I look like is as much a mystery to me as it is to anyone else.” It was an unfortunate truth, but a truth all the same. He didn’t tend to think about it much anymore, and overseeing Tomura’s development into a proper villain consumed most of his energy and prevented his thoughts from drifting somewhere so trivial in the first place.

Sako appeared surprised. “Is that so?” he questioned, taking another sip of his drink before placing the glass down on the table. Those lovely brown eyes stared into Kurogiri’s soul for another moment, nearly making him squirm before Sako spoke up again. “Would it bother you if I tried to get an idea of it myself?”

Kurogiri blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I am asking if I can touch your face, dear.” There he went with dear again, making Kurogiri’s heart do something strangely pleasant. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and invade your space without permission, but I am rather curious. I normally wouldn’t ask, but…” Sako trailed off, leaving Kurogiri to fill in the blanks in his head.

The thought of Sako touching his face like that was equal parts enticing and anxiety-inducing. He couldn’t recall a time in which someone other than himself had made it past the shroud of mist to touch the skin of his face. Even when Tomura would brave touching him as a child, it was almost always his hands and arms, and no one else got close enough to try. Could he be considered starved for touch? It was certainly possible. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt anything for you to try,” he relented. “I should warn you that I have been trying to do this for many years and have not come up with anything useful, but perhaps you are better at visualizing than myself.” And if that wasn't an exciting thought, he didn't know what was. If, by some miracle, Sako could determine what he looked like, it would answer some old questions he'd forced himself to stop asking. 

Pleased by the approval, Sako smiled and peeled his gloves off. There was nothing scandalous about it-- they were just hands, after all-- but it was yet another piece of him that had been previously covered that he decided to share with Kurogiri. A part of himself scolded his heart for looking too deeply into such innocent gestures, but he kept calling him de ar…

Kurogiri leaned onto the bar top to meet Sako halfway and held his breath. He tried to keep his eyes open as his companion reached forward, but wound up closing them once skin made contact with skin. His breath caught in his throat and his shoulders stiffened slightly as every nerve on his face lit up. Every little point of contact was as intense as the next to the point that it was almost overwhelming. Sako's hands were warm and soft and gentle and Kurogiri was almost dizzy and--

"Are you alright?" Sako asked, drawing Kurogiri back to the moment. His hands were bracing either side of Kurogiri's face, hidden under the mist that intimidated so many, but his concern appeared to be directed out rather than inward. He couldn't remember the last time someone had been concerned about him .

"I'm fine," he assured, taking a moment to remind himself how to breathe. "I am just unaccustomed to this kind of nonviolent contact."

"Is that so? What a shame," Sako replied. "I was under the impression that you and Shigaraki were close. Is that not the case?"

"I raised Tomura Shigaraki, yes, but he has not sought out very much physical contact or comfort in me for many years." It was a shame, wasn't it? He could still remember the little boy who would take his hand or curl up against him when he had nightmares. The man who stood in his place was unlike the light he remembered, but he supposed that innocence was fleeting. There was no such thing as an innocent villain. 

Sako's hands started traveling over his face, fingers tracing the curve of his nose and thumbs running over his lips. "I see. And there has been no one else? No friends? No lovers..?" He pressed down lightly on Kurogiri's lower lip to make it pout slightly before releasing it. 

"Ah, no," Kurogiri admitted. "I have been far too busy with Tomura Shigaraki to even consider such a thing." It wasn't entirel y a lie; he had been very busy, but that didn't mean that certain thoughts hadn't drifted through his head during those late nights when he would listen to Put Your Hands Up Radio and fantasize about his own sunshine.

"Understandable. I can imagine that he was a handful," Sako joked before humming quietly. "Your skin is cool to the touch." 

"Sorry."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," Sako assured. He traced over his brow with inquisitive fingers, the tips of which ran over the scarred bumps above his eye. "Are these scars?"

Kurogiri hummed in confirmation. "Yes. I don't remember how I got them, but they hurt sometimes."

Sako's touch hesitated. "My apologies."

"No, you did nothing wrong. I am fine right now," Kurogiri promised. For reasons he couldn't explain, having Sako touch those mysterious bumps over his eye didn't bother him nearly as much as when he touched them himself. When his own fingers brushed over them, they were a threat; when his companion did so, they were just a part of him to be touched. 

All too soon, Sako drew his hands away and Kurogiri managed to open his eyes once again. There was a warm, easy smile gracing Sako's lips that made Kurogiri want to melt. A few beats of silence passed as they held each other's gaze before Kurogiri cleared his throat. "Well?"

"Well, I would say that you are very handsome under all of that mist," Sako decided, a playful light glinting in his eye. "In fact, I would go as far as to say that you are handsome even with all of that mist." The wink that he tacked onto that statement made Kurogiri's stomach flip. 

Oh. There was really no way of denying or working around it. Sako was flirting with him; there was nothing else this could be. Even without having been on the receiving end of such flirtations before, he could recognize such an obvious move. Between the endearments and the compliments and the wink , how was he meant to interpret it as anything else!? Rather than straighten his posture and return to his work, he remained leaning over the bar top to indulge his racing heart. 

"You flatter me," he replied, a small smile tugging on his own lips, tinged with a pinch of disbelief. "I had a feeling that you were rather handsome yourself before you ever removed your mask. It seems I was right," he mused, hoping that he was choosing his words correctly to make Sako feel good rather than awkward. "Your eyes especially." 

"My eyes, hm?" Sako replied, resting his covered cheek in his hand as he took Kurogiri in with those aforementioned beautiful eyes. "You're quite the charmer yourself, aren't you?" 

"Am I?" Kurogiri mused, tipping his head inquiringly. "I'm only saying the truth."

"If that is your truth, then I might be inclined to kiss you," Sako prompted. That expectant shine was back in his eyes, but it seemed a little more confident than it had previously. This time, it was no mystery as to why. 

Sako wanted to kiss him. If Kurogiri was correct, then the man had been flirting with him since their first meeting, and now he was making his move. Silently thankful that it was all but impossible for others to see him blush, his eyes pinched in a smile. 

"I might be inclined to let you," he answered, not making any move to straighten up or back away. He wasn't sure that he could initiate, but he was more than willing to accept. Before he knew what was happening, there were warm hands bracing his face again. Sako's thumbs rested on either corner of his mouth, marking his target before leaning in and pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss that threatened to take Kurogiri's breath away. 

He'd heard of fireworks. He'd heard that a first kiss was meant to knock him right off of his feet and make him want to drop to the ground and melt away. This kiss didn't affect him quite that much, but he definitely felt warm. His heart felt like it was trying to burst straight out of his chest as he lost himself in the sensation of soft, plush lips against his own. He tried his hand at kissing back, moving his lips to mimic Sako's, but didn't know how well he did given his lack of experience. 

There may not have been fireworks, but there sure as hell were butterflies. Truthfully, Kurogiri preferred that immensely. 

Sako broke the kiss with a breathless laugh. "You weren't lying about not having any lovers," he teased. 

Kurogiri's eyes widened and his hidden blush darkened. "Ah, sorry--"

"Stop apologizing, my dear Kurogiri," he insisted. "You have done nothing wrong. I don't mind at all." Mischief joined affection in his gaze as he added, "Besides, this way I get to teach you all that I know." Another wink was tacked onto the end of his statement that made Kurogiri's stomach flip. All that he knows, hm?

"They do say that practice makes perfect," he mused, meeting and holding Sako's eyes. "If I am to learn, then the best course of action would be for me to try again."

Sako beamed. Whatever had briefly gutted his confidence earlier had vanished. "I couldn't agree more." 

Their agreement was sealed by another kiss, followed by another and another until Kurogiri lost his night to the feeling of Sako's lips against his own. They spent every following night like that, chatting away over a drink that Sako never finished and taking advantage of the solitude of night to teach Kurogiri everything he had been missing. Listening to the radio to bring himself to sleep quickly became a thing of the past. 

For the first time in years, Oboro was completely silent. 

Things went well in the beginning. The mission of the Vanguard Action Squad was a rousing success, achieving their goal with the smallest number of casualties experienced thus far. Selecting a small group of highly capable individuals had served them well over their random assortment of wannabe villains that had joined them at the USJ. If Kurogiri was personally pleased by the ones who made it back, he would keep that to himself. How this mission turned out proved in his eyes that Tomura was starting to mature a little more as a leader and villain, learning how to properly use the pieces at his disposal to get what he wanted.

If only it lasted. 

The first sign that something was going to go wrong came from the boy himself. Katsuki Bakugou was loud, rude, crude, and stubborn; more stubborn than even Tomura himself. Even beyond that, he was sharp. This was the boy who had managed to figure out the trick behind Kurogiri’s neck armor and pin him to the ground, blasting his solid body and leaving aching bruises behind. If they lost control of him, he would not only be a liability, but he could cause a lot of damage before they would manage to subdue him. 

Then there was the fact that he was so young. Perhaps it was the parental side of him that refused to fully fade away, but looking at his soft, young face twisted in anger and fear made him hesitate. Toga was the youngest remaining member with just a couple of years on their captured prize and even she still showed signs of youth. Fortunately (or unfortunately , depending on one’s perspective), she was just on the right side of unhinged to make up for it. Bakugou… was not. As abrasive and aggressive as he appeared to be, he was, for all intents and purposes, a kid, and he looked like one. Silently, he wondered if any of the others saw it or if Kurogiri was getting stuck inside of his own head again. 

Finally, they lost control at the most vital moment. Kurogiri didn’t speak up in time and the order was given to release the boy from his restraints under the guise of being welcoming. Unfortunately, when it came to someone as clearly obstinate as Katsuki Bakugou, simply putting forth a friendly face would not be enough. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest when, upon receiving his freedom, the teen lashed out against his captors, but it did make his heart skip a few vital beats. 

Father fell to the floor and the room stood still. Kurogiri held his breath. From the moment those abominations hands had been gifted to him, Tomura had been immensely protective over each of them. Especially Father. The fact that this teen had landed such a precise blow that Father was knocked right off of Tomura’s face didn’t bode well for his fate. 

When Tomura started lifting his hand, Kurogiri panicked-- No, Tomura Shigaraki! Be calm! -- but it wound up being a needless rise in tension. Just as he had noticed before, his charge was growing better at recognizing the value of the pieces he had to play with. Good . The tension in the air was suffocating and showed no signs of going down, but at least he knew that Tomura would not do something rash. 

When he and Sako were called upon to regain control of the situation, Kurogiri didn’t move, instead watching as his partner walked confidently forward to encase the teen in one of his marbles yet again. He didn’t move; couldn’t move. Something felt wrong, and with every step forward Sako took, the unease within him built. 

Move. Get away. You can’t stay here. You’re not safe. They’re not safe. You need to protect them.

It’s too late. 

There was a knock on the door that had them all freezing in their tracks, all eyes turning toward the door before none other than All Might himself smashed through the wall. Kurogiri tried his hardest to summon up a gate to get his companions to safety (at least Tomura, please Tomura) but he may as well have been waking up on that laboratory bed for the first time for all of the success he experienced. Another hero had him in his grasp within seconds, killing the gate before conception.

He hadn’t been fast enough. It’s too late.

Everything was a bit of a blur after that point. The wood wrapped around his body made it difficult to summon up warp gates, which didn’t seem to matter anyways; the nomu were completely out of his reach. Dabi, the member best suited to get out of this, was knocked completely unconscious, and Kurogiri was left helplessly seeing the terror in all of his companion’s faces. Magne was the one closest to him and he could see her expression twisted in fear in his peripherals. Spinner was pleading with the Symbol of Peace for a taste of mercy that would never be bestowed upon any of them. Tomura, as stubborn as he was, summoned up the strength to rise to his feet despite the restrictive binding. 

“Kurogiri--!”

His name was the last thing he heard before darkness claimed him. There was a pinch in his abdomen that was the only warning he got before his body failed him and his vision turned black. For all he had known, he had died at the hands of the nation’s best heroes, body slumped over the bar without a shred of dignity remaining.

But dead men didn’t wake up. 

The next thing he was coherent enough to process was that they were all settled in one of All For One’s many safe houses. It was one that Tomura and himself found themselves at on occasion, so a fair portion of their belongings were already present at this hideout. He was resting on the bed that he had claimed as his own many years ago, sheets pulled up to his chin. When he sat up, he noticed that his vest and shirt had been undone, likely in some vain attempt to search for any entry or exit wound. He ran a hand over his torso and was surprised to feel a bandage  over a small wound. They had managed to find it. Impressive. 

It had probably been Sako.

It didn’t take but a handful of minutes for him to be caught up on everything that had happened while he had been unconscious for the past two days.  From All For One’s rescue to the loss of Bakugou and their master’s defeat, Kurogiri decided that saying that he missed a lot was a shameful understatement. To think that he had been put out of commission so easily and failed to be there when it mattered…

He was the protector of Tomura Shigaraki, yet he had been rendered helpless and useless when he needed him most. Now, he was struggling with the loss of the master he revered and the failure of his recruitment attempt. He wanted to track the young man down and apologize, but Sako insisted that Tomura was being taken care of elsewhere and that it would be best to let him come to him. 

Kurogiri wasn’t sure what that meant, but something about Sako’s words and the unnerving absence of Tomura and Dabi (who he was told had made it to the safe house with the rest of them) rubbed him the wrong way. Once again, he was left wondering how he was meant to respond to this…

Beyond the most important pieces of information-- All Might had shown his true colors and All For One had been taken away to Tartarus, opening up a large gap in the underworld for Tomura to fill-- something almost trivial occupied space in his mind.

They called them each by name. After Kurogiri was rendered unconscious, the heroes had listed off the civilian names of nearly every member of this team. Himiko Toga, Shuichi Iguchi, Kenji Hikiishi, Atsuhiro Sako, Jin Bubaigawara… But had that been it? No one knew Tomura Shigaraki’s birth name and Dabi had neglected to share his own with anyone, but he was less concerned about them and more about himself.

Did they know his name..?

He had nearly fifteen years to come to terms with being Kurogiri and those kinds of questions rarely crossed his mind anymore, but now that he knew that the heroes had managed to dig up so much information in such little time, he had to wonder… 

But you already know the answer to that, don’t you?

There was no bar in this safe house, so when nighttime fell, Kurogiri guided Sako back to his own bedroom. They had yet to go beyond a few passionate kisses and touches, so it was likely that his partner’s mind was going in a very different direction than what he intended. There would be ample opportunity for that , should the night be that way inclined, but first…

“Sako?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking curiously at his still-standing companion. Sako had removed his mask and gloves, but his balaclava still covered the majority of his face. 

Even so, he smiled. “Yes, dear?”

“Were there any… other names said by the heroes?” Kurogiri’s voice was smaller than he would have liked and, truth be told, he wasn’t sure which answer he would prefer. On one hand, if they knew his name, then he could start to look into his own past and figure out who the hell Oboro was even if he already had a feeling about that . On the other hand, if they didn’t, he would be forced to reject these ideas of ever having been someone else and focus fully on being Kurogiri . 

Confusion flashed across Sako’s features before he shook his head with an easy smile. “No, Kurogiri. You don’t need to worry about that. Your and Dabi’s identities are still just as mysterious as they had been before.”

Kurogiri tensed. Oh. He knew that was an option, but he hadn’t expected the confirmation to be as… disappointing as it proved to be. It was a natural response to hope for something which could clarify a lifetime’s worth of confusion, but far too much to ask for. “I see.”

His upset must have been detectable, for Sako’s easy smile faded into an expression of minor concern. “Kurogiri? Is there a problem?”

A problem . Oh, if only he knew… The only thing preventing him from knowing was Kurogiri’s own reluctance to admit that the problem was something necessary to address. Under All For One’s surveillance, he feared speaking up about the storm that would sometimes rage within him, but now that his master had been taken away to Tartarus, it might be safer.

After a brief beat of silence, Kurogiri sighed. “Not wrong , necessarily. I had just hoped that they may have found something,” he confessed. “You see, I am… uncertain of what my real name is-- or, was, I suppose.”

Sako blinked. “You don’t recall your own name..?”

“I’m afraid that I don’t recall anything before…” he trailed off, brow furrowing as he tried to think of how old he must have been back then. His face had still felt so youthful. “...my late teens, I believe,” he guessed. “If the heroes had somehow managed to come across my name, I had hoped to learn a bit more about myself.”

For a moment, Sako stared at him before a soft, breathless laugh passed his lips. Immediately, a hand came up to cover his mouth. “Apologies. This isn’t a humorous situation. It is just that, when I first gave you permission to use my name, I had been disappointed that you did not return the gesture. I feared that I may have overestimated your interest,” he explained, dropping his hand from his lips.  “Now, I understand why.”

Kurogiri’s eyes widened in understanding. The expectant confidence that had died so quickly-- how had he not understood that before? Sharing his name was a rather intimate gesture, but Kurogiri hadn’t even thought of returning it; such a thing wasn’t even possible for him! But how had Sako been meant to know that?

“No, that was not an indication of lack of interest. I’m sure you realized that very quickly,” he replied quickly, referencing how they had proceeded to kissing just moments afterward. “ Kurogiri is the only name I have; it’s the only name I know.” Liar. “It was not my intention to upset you. I had nothing else to offer.”

“I know, dear. Thank you for the clarification,” Sako hummed, looking Kurogiri over for a moment before taking a step forward. “I’m afraid that there is not much I can do to help you with your memory, but understand that this does not change my regard for you at all. In fact--” He settled himself into Kurogiri’s lap, legs bracing either side of the mist man’s hips. Bare hands cupped his face, thumbs tracing over his lips in a gesture he had long since memorized. “--Since you have given my everything you have, I suppose that I should do the same.”

Sako leaned forward until his lips were just a breath away from Kurogiri’s own. “If you are going to take me to bed, then you should call me Atsuhiro .” 

Kurogiri gasped quietly, his hands coming to grasp Sako’s-- Atsuhiro’s -- hips with equal parts possessiveness and reverence. Atsuhiro stole a quick kiss before pulling away enough to look Kurogiri in the eye. That same expectant gaze met his own and he felt like he could just melt under them.

“ Atsuhiro ,” Kurogiri echoed, awe and desire mingling in his voice until it sounded almost unrecognizable. 

Beaming, Atsuhiro didn’t hesitate to lean back in, claiming a kiss which was much more heated than its predecessor. Kurogiri responded in kind, tightening his grip around his partner as if he were the last thing keeping him grounded to the earth. 

That night, he ran his fingers through Atsuhiro’s hair for the first time; let his lips travel and taste new skin for the first time; allowed himself to be vulnerable and learn new ways to pleasure his partner for the first time; managed to pull a symphony out of him that no composer could ever hope to write for the first time. 

That morning, when he woke up to the sun creating a halo around the man sleeping beside him, auburn hair all tousled and a series of love bites littering pale skin, Kurogiri felt himself fall in love for the first time. 

My sunshine . 

If Kurogiri pulled his lover just a little closer and stayed in bed just a little longer than normal, who would blame him? Certainly not Tomura, whose own throat bore evidence of a nighttime romp of his own. 

In the end, he decided that he would be happy for them. If Dabi was for Tomura what Atsuhiro was for him, then he didn’t need to be concerned. No matter the tragedy they had been through just previously, things were starting to look up for them both. 

This time, it had to last.

Allies, as it turned out, continued to not be Tomura’s strongest suit. He may have found a group of strong fighters that he was allowing himself to get close to, but further recruitment had sputtered and stalled since the Kamino incident. First and foremost, they had to be careful who they allowed into their ranks; there were plenty of spies being sent out and they had caught a couple of them already. Not all of them were sent by heroes. There were plenty of villains who wanted a taste of the power that All For One had left behind and would go after the one most likely to obtain it. For the most part, they had managed to take care of every tiny, insignificant threat, but it hadn’t helped their numbers. There was one person he knew that he could rely on, however, and he was set on tracking him down.

Kurogiri hadn’t anticipated the Yakuza getting involved. 

He had spoken to a handful of them in the past, but they tended to be on a different (lower) level than All For One enjoyed dealing with, so his interactions with this breed of criminal were limited. Based on what he understood about them, however, they tended to be immensely loyal and subscribed to a certain perspective on honor that could be admirable at times. When he heard that Twice had possibly recruited a member of the Yakuza to their cause, he was impressed, but saw no need to be concerned. Tomura would not be meeting him alone and Kurogiri had work to do. Everything would be fine.

Well, it should have been fine. As they struggled through event after event, Kurogiri was quickly coming to understand that things that should have worked out in their favor rarely actually did. 

Kurogiri had been in the middle of gathering information to pinpoint the location of their gigantic potential ally when he got the call. 

“ Kurogiri. Come get us. Mr. Compress needs medical attention, and… we lost Magne.”

He nearly dropped his phone as Tomura spoke. They had lost Magne-- How? In what way? He feared the answer-- and Mr. Compress-- his Atsuhiro-- had been injured. What should have been a peaceful (though perhaps not polite ) conversation between potential allies had ended in bloodshed and Kurogiri hadn’t been there to save them. He had made the mistake of trusting this mysterious Yakuza man and prioritized his own mission and they had lost Magne and Atsuhiro had been hurt …

He wasted no time in warping over to the meeting point, stomach churning when the first thing that his senses processed was the stinging stench of blood. It was everywhere , spattered across the floor and walls, soaking every breath red. Off to the side, he saw Toga and Twice hovering around his lover, and on the floor-- legs. 

There were legs on the floor; legs that completely lacked a torso or head or arms. 

We lost Magne.

Kurogiri was going to be sick . 

As Twice stepped aside to carefully collect what remained of their friend, Kurogiri caught a glimpse of what had happened to his beloved. Toga was desperately tying a cloth around Atsuhiro’s arm but the majority of his arm was missing . The stub that remained was bleeding profusely through the fabric, the sight nearly making Kurogiri’s heart stop. 

Atsuhiro’s arm was gone. Just that morning, that hand had been on his face; those fingers had been laced with his own. Now, it was nothing but a memory. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should be thankful that he hadn’t joined Magne as a stain on the floor, but seeing the man he loved-- his sunshine -- injured and bleeding like that didn’t fail to send him into a panic. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he had warped faster.

It didn’t take long to get Atsuhiro’s wound under control once they were around the proper equipment to do so. There would be no salvaging Toga’s handkerchief, so once things had calmed down enough for him to think, he used his gate to snag a new one from the store. The bandages would need regular changing in order to avoid infection, and while Kurogiri had never dealt with a wound this severe on Tomura before, he was confident in his abilities to keep his sunshine from dying. One call to Giran later and he knew that they would have a state of the art prosthetic on the way for him as well. It had been a tragic scare, but Atsuhiro would ultimately survive. 

Still, the thought that he might not have lingered in Kurogiri’s head. He could have lost his first love and not been any the wiser until it was far too late. His heart broke for Magne and he knew that her absence would be an open wound in his chest for some time to come, but he was selfishly glad that Atsuhiro was alive. 

If he had known that this morning could have been the last time he held him, would he have held on tighter? Kissed him harder? Told him the truth?

That was the thought that took his breath away. It was something that he had been deliberating for a short while now; something that had been putting an unnecessary weight on his shoulders. While he hadn’t necessarily lied to Atsuhiro about his name, he hadn’t been completely honest with him either. 

Kurogiri may have been the only name that he knew for a fact was his own, but it wasn’t the only one he had. No matter what he did, Oboro continued to haunt him. Normally, when he was with his lover, he could get the storm to quiet down, but recently, even his lovely voice hadn’t been enough to put Kurogiri at ease. There was no telling who this Oboro was or why he was stuck inside of his head, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was important. Perhaps now, when he had someone to back him up, was the time to move forward. 

When he went to change Atsuhiro’s bandages that night, he was careful as could be, but even then there was only so much pain that he could spare him. Deft fingers tended to the wound and ensured that there would be no infection, but needles stabbed at his heart every time Atsuhiro hissed or winced. Apologies flew off of his tongue, and even though each one was dismissed-- It’s not your fault, dear. -- he couldn’t help but feel like they were necessary. 

Eventually, he tied off the new gauze and drew back to look at his work. Seeing his lover without his arm was a sympathetic pain that had yet to fully process, but he didn’t comment on that. Making this about himself would be awful. “There. How does that feel?”

“You did a wonderful job, Kurogiri,” Atsuhiro promised, brushing his own fingers over the bandages. He winced and pulled his hand away, but his smile returned as he looked at Kurogiri. “Thank you.”

Kurogiri hummed. “Of course. I’m glad that I’m able to help.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay and watch you heal. I have a mission I need to complete for Tomura Shigaraki that cannot wait,” he lamented. “I spoke with Giran and he should have a prosthetic arm ready to be fitted for you in a day or two. Until then, make sure that someone changes your bandages twice daily.”

Some of the light left Atsuhiro’s eyes at the statement of Kurogiri’s impending departure, but they had both known it was coming. He had been meant to depart that evening, but for obvious reasons was delaying until the following morning. It was all he could do. 

“I understand. I’ll be sure to take care of myself,” he promised, reaching out to place one gloved hand on Kurogiri’s cheek. “You’ll need something to look forward to when you come back, after all,” he teased with a playful, halfhearted wink. 

Kurogiri placed his hand on top of Atsuhiro’s own and leaned into it affectionately, trapping his hand between his own and his cheek. For a moment, he was silent, eyes closed as he savored his lover’s touch. 

“...When I return, there is something else I would like to try as well,” he confessed, opening his eyes again.

Intrigue blossomed across Atsuhiro’s face. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“A new name.” The words felt strange on his tongue, like the confession was never meant to pass his lips. Could he even say the name aloud? Oboro Oboro Oboro Oboro…

“A new name?” Atsuhiro echoed, leaning forward slightly. “Do you mean that you have remembered your name?”

“Not quite,” he confessed, hesitating slightly. Breathe in. Breathe out. You can trust him . This was not All For One, who he feared would try and steal this strange mystery from him. This was not Tomura, who he knew would not understand. This was Atsuhiro, the man who had so effortlessly stolen his heart and gifted him his own in return. If there was anyone he could tell about Oboro , it was him. 

“There is a name that has been stuck in my head for many years now,” he started, holding Atsuhiro’s gaze as best he could. “I am not sure who the name belongs to. It may be mine, or it may not. I don’t know.” Underneath the mist, he bit his lip for a moment before continuing. “But I would like to try it, just between the two of us. I want to know for certain.” 

Atsuhiro pressed his lips together and nodded solemnly. “Of course. I would be honored to help you with something like this,” he assured. “May I know the name?”

Another stretch of silence followed as Kurogiri wrestled with the name on his tongue, but his partner was as patient as ever. He had never actually said the name aloud before, forcing it to exist only in his head, heart, and soul. Once he said it, someone else would know and this would not be only his burden to carry. Even if this failed and he wasn’t Oboro, it would be a great relief to share him with someone he trusted. 

“...Oboro.” Kurogiri finally forced the name out. His heart started racing and he studied Atsuhiro’s face carefully. The name should mean nothing to him, but there was always a chance…

“Oboro,” Atsuhiro echoed, testing out the feeling of the name on his tongue. A small smile broke across his face. “Oboro Kurogiri. It has a nice ring to it. I like it.”

“There is a chance that it is wrong,” he warned. “It may not be my name at all, but…” But there was no denying the way that hearing it said in Atsuhiro’s voice made something pleasant flutter deep within him. A part of him that had been untouchable for so long was starting to wake up and was happy about it. Kurogiri’s eyes pinched in a small smile of his own. “You are right. It does sound nice.”

“When you know, makes sure to tell me,” he mused. “Until then, I am more than happy to call you my Oboro .” He leaned in and stole a chaste kiss from Kurogiri’s lips, making the latter nearly melt. 

For the first time, Oboro felt less like a guest in his head that he needed to tame and entertain and more like something that, if given the chance, could become part of him. 

When he left the following morning to search for All For One’s most loyal follower, he planted a kiss on Atsuhiro’s forehead and warped away with a smile. Once he found the man, he would return with the ally Tomura Shigaraki needed and the chance to take his own step forward. With Atsuhiro there to share the burden, he knew that he could brave the second half of this storm.

He was looking forward to becoming Oboro Kurogiri.