Work Text:
16 Years Ago
“Take that,'' Oboro said before bringing his staff hard on top of Akihiro ’ s head.
They had been doing training sessions between 1-A and 1-B. That meant the energy between the two classes was heightened more than usual. Which meant certain students gave it, even more, their all. A few select students stood out among the others in terms of passion and drive.
Plus Ultra and all that.
Specifically going on was the sparring session between Oboro and Class 1-B’s prodigy Akihiro. Everyone had assumed Akihiro would win, having the better grades and higher quirk technical scores. Nothing was accounting for the fierceness Oboro brought to the table.
Oboro was one of those who always seemed to shine a little brighter in the light of competition. Always getting a big grin at the idea of a planned smackdown. When Oboro got in the mood he was a force to be reckoned with. Terror and passion all in one. It was infectious. Soon the rest of the class was falling way into that same reckless insanity.
Akihiro had almost landed a defeating punch headed towards Oboro’s head. Oboro had just barely scraped by, thanks to his slight shift to the left last minute. Shota was impressed, even a mere second behind would have meant Oboro would have been out for the count. Luckily his friend didn’t seem to focus on that, rather his only reaction was showing a big open grin on his face. Shota knew from experience with their own sparring that meant they were most likely laughing the attack off. In the next split second, Oboro had flipped Akihiro over their shoulder before pinning them down signaling the end of sparring.
Brutal and efficient in the final blow. Oboro was smiling as their teacher called the time, giving laughs and compliments as they helped their sparring partner up. Akihiro looked a bit nervous before they hesitantly took up the offer of Oboro’s hand. It stayed for barely a moment before the infection smiles and laughter had caught up and suddenly both sparring partners were laughing as they ran through the other’s moves during their fight.
Like Shota said, infectious and insane.
Shota took a glance over to where Hizashi was. His other best friend seemed to turn up his own volume in response to the increasing energy. So long as he watched his max output, Shota didn’t see anything wrong with it, though their teachers would probably discuss it with him later.
Their teachers would always converse with each other before giving the students their feedback. Checking in with the other to see where they aligned, where their views differed.
But Shota had to give them credit, every piece of advice given was always constructive. Aimed towards their support and improvement. Though they would probably be annoyed to have to give Hizashi the same note about tuning down his quirk lest he hurt people.
Aizawa was particularly nebby enough to want to know what was said in those meetings, always making an effort to be a little slower in gathering his items. Aizawa heard the teachers talk as he walked back to the gym locker rooms.
“What do you think of Shirakumo?” Aizawa’s ears perked up. He pretended to drop his capture scarf, taking a slow time to gather it up in his arms. It wasn’t his best work, luckily both teachers seemed too engrossed in their conversation to care.
“Insane, the kid bastard is smiling as he’s hitting them” The teacher for 1-B sounded incredulous.
They did a quite bit more than that, Shota thought. Oboro did have a tendency to smirk and grin as he delivered his blows, it had been a bit getting used to. Then came getting used to the laughter that was always present around his friend. Even when it didn’t seem appropriate. Like sparring. Aizawa remembers giving him the oddest looks during their first year.
It certainly did explain a little why Oboro seemed to be just as much of a social outcast as him. Still even Shota didn’t grin as he got right-hooked in the face. There were a few moments where Shota found himself concerned for the type of friends he made. By the time they had hit the beginning of their second year all that concern had gone away, Shota just saw it as a part of Oboro. A part he didn’t particularly want to change.
“He’ll certainly be a good marketable hero”
It was one of the more positive things that Gushiken-sensei had said about his friend. Shota had the suspicion that their teacher didn’t always appreciate their classroom antics so he was a bit surprised when he managed to say something nice about them.
Loud Cloud the hero would be a wonderful joy for many kids. The sunny smile demeanor, the palpable quirk that parents would approve of. Just the right mix of kid-friendly and dependability. Yeah, Shota thought with a sense of pride. Oboro would be an amazing hero, a role model for kids and adults alike.
Shota shook himself out of his thoughts and tried to tune back into their teacher’s conversation but realized they had moved on to talk about their other classmates. He gathered the rest of his capture scarf and made his way to the locker rooms.
—-
One Year Ago
Kurogiri had confounded him from the start.
The man stared down at his students long ago at the USJ. Threatened them, before scattering them and leaving them to die. Laughing at their demise.
Although granted, the threat he had been concerned about was mainly small-time villains, ones Aizawa had no trouble wrangling them up with his capture weapon. No, the concern was in the sheer amount of them. At one point nearly 30 just in his eyesight alone were down in the center of the USJ. How many more were in the entire ordeal. The thought they would cause harm to his students brought him pause.
And his students, oh his amazing students, had fought beautifully. They had kept themselves and others as safe as they could.
But the warp-man, only learned after the fact with the name Kurogiri, had planned to harm his kids. Warped them with the idea that those kids would die. If they did, their blood would be on Kurogiri’s hands. He probably smiled as Shigaraki had reached for Asui’s face.
Luckily Shota had just the barest amount of energy left and had put an end to that. The image of what would have been, had Shota not looked up through blood dripping eyes, seared the back of his mind.
The nightmares had continued for weeks. Images of black hair crumbling away as her head gave out. The possible death of his student. He had barely gotten to know them a week.
All Might came, got them all out safely, with a slight cost in his time limit. But Aizawa could relax at least for a little.
Then his students were accosted at the mall. Midoriya had that creep’s hands on his throat. Apparently threatened to use all 5 fingers which would have decimated his student’s throat with barely a thought.
Crumbling decaying flesh haunted his dreams.
Then new nightmares had appeared with the terror and intensity of blue flames. The absolute clusterfuck that was the failed training camp. Aizawa hadn’t gotten to see the moment of the league taking his students away but none of the profiles he had received had any sort of transport quirk. Aside from one.
Another student Kurogiri had directly threatened. The difference was this time he was successful.
The teacher wasn’t allowed on the raid when the plans came together. But Shota was a vengeful man. And someday he swore he’d make all the people who hurt his loved ones pay.
That he was sure of.
—
15 Years Ago
They had just begun eating lunch, using their typical setup on the roof as their eating area.
Hizashi was off at a meeting, hopefully about a successful work studies place. Nemuri was already in the main swing of her work-study with His Purple Highness. Both of their group being out meant it was the rare occasion that Shota and Oboro found themselves alone. Which gave Shota a perfect time to inquire about something that had been plaguing his mind for a while.
“Oboro” Shota started, “why do you always laugh in our sparring sessions?”
Oboro who had been enthusiastically eating his bento looked up and seemed to contemplate what was being asked. Shota appreciated that his friend took the time to seriously answer his questions and care. It was one of the main reasons he stopped being as afraid of talking with his friends as he had been initially that first year.
“I’m not really sure” Oboro started. “It's just like my gut reaction. Like you feel yourself getting ramped up and the adrenaline is flowing.
He set aside his bento, laying down and looking at the sky, “It’s like I’m flying so high and no one can take me down. I don’t know what it is but it feels like everything’s aligned when I’m fighting.” Oboro’s voice got a bit quieter even as his voice held more conviction. “It’s powerful. Like you just land a hit right on someone and it’s powerful. Knowing that you have the ability to take down an opponent, that you’ve progressed so far that you are comfortable doing that.”
Oboro stood up and gave a mock punch to the air before relaxing, “Of course, there’s this whole other thing when civilians are involved when you arrive on the scene and you’re smiling. I think back to the top 10 now. All Might always comes in with a smile just the same as a lot of heroes. I think it helps to comfort some people. Not everyone, mind you, but it can be a bit of comfort to see someone’s smiling face when the world is falling apart.”
They sat up looking at Shota, “But I guess the main reason I laugh is well,” Oboro said, showing off Shota’s favorite smile of the hero-in-training. “I’m having fun.”
Shota put his hand up to his face and turned away, it was like trying to block out the sun. It wasn’t successful, Shota could still feel the warmth of Oboro’s smile heating his own face-up. “Yeah beat to hell and back, I’m sure it’s just a blast.”
Oboro just laughed at him and turned back to the sky. “Don’t worry, someday Shota you’ll understand.”
Shota kept watching his friend. He wasn’t sure he’d ever fully understood what went through their head. But sitting out here on the roof, with the sun shining down on them, it was enough.
---
Present Day
It had been years later, in one of the worst fights of being a hero was when he realized. A war that would push him and his students to the test. Shota lost a lot to that war, an eye, a leg.
It was also the war that saw Hizashi unleash his quirk at full volume. Karaoke contest indeed. His longest-living friend had never looked so beautiful and so terrifying at that moment. Like a vengeful angel, powerful and ethereal.
He and Hizashi had been a wonderful team. They had found that wretched doctor. The doctor
who used his friend’s corpse as a plaything. Nothing more than a science experiment, torn apart and stitched together in all the wrong places. Not even wholly their friend, a Frankenstein-like menagerie of gore. That monster of a doctor would rot in hell. Someone who took a high school kid and turned him into a walking pawn. A ghost of Oboro’s smiling face burned the back of his mind.
Shota could never feel himself grow more hysterical as he thought of the pain his friend must have gone through. He and Hizashi had done a brilliant takedown. Throughout it he had met his friend’s eyes a few times, Hizashi’s smile in those moments was all the motivation he needed to power through. And in the end, the doctor was stopped by a wave of voice and a strand of a captured weapon. He had stood no chance.
After landing the final blow on the monster who mangled his friend, Shota couldn’t help but let out a series of laughs. He could finally say for certain that he understood what his late friend had said all those years ago. Shota was having fun.