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Tomura flopped over onto his stomach, sighing. The seven-year-old hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and he was tired. He rubbed his eyes, kicking the blankets away as they twisted around his legs. He grumbled, hopping out of bed and debating taking his gloves off. No, not yet. Maybe Kurogiri could help him sleep?
He grabbed the blanket off of the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, yawning. He opened the door carefully and wandered down the hallway, pushing away the red curtains that led to the bar. He opened his mouth to call for his guardian, but he stopped, eyes landing on an odd sight.
The man in front of him was wearing a familiar green suit, and his hair was a familiar purple, but his skin was showing. Or at least the hands. Everything else was hidden because of the way he was leaning over on the counter. Tomura bit his lip, reaching up to his neck to scratch.
The sound of nails on rough skin was loud in the empty room, and the man turned around. He had dark and ashen skin and three scars above one of his blue, yellow-rimmed eyes. “Ah-” in an instant, the man changed, purple mist swallowing the little skin that showed, and Kurogiri was standing before him. “Tomura Shigaraki. Did you need something?”
Tomura frowned. Kurogiri’s voice was shaking, and his hands were doing the same before he hid them behind his back. Forgetting his reason for coming, Tomura walked forward, “Are you sick?”
Kurogiri’s eyes widened slightly, “I am fine, little one. Why are you out of bed? You should be asleep.”
“Couldn’t.” Tomura tugged on Kurogiri’s vest, “sit down.”
Kurogiri hesitated, but complied, slowly bending his knees until he was crouched on the ground, at eye-level with the child. “What-” Tomura’s small hand went through the mist, landing squarely on his forehead. “Child, what are you doing?”
“I’m checking to see if you have a fever.” Tomura stated matter-of-factly. “You’re cold.”
“I’m feeling quite alright, Tomura.” Kurogiri placed his own hand on Tomura’s, pushing it down.
“Where did your fog go?” Tomura asked, tilting his head. “I didn't know you could take it away.”
“It…” Kurogiri trailed away.
“Giri?” Tomura shook his shoulder, “Giri, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Kurogiri stood, putting a hand on Tomura’s shoulder, “Why don’t we go sit down?”
“Okay.” Tomura followed Kurogiri around the counter and clambered onto the barstool. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Can you take away the mist again? I want to see your face. I didn't know you had one.”
Kurogiri looked slightly uncomfortable, twisting his sleeve collar around his hand, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“You see my face all the time.” Tomura pointed to his eyes, “And you don’t have ugly skin like I do, so you shouldn’t be embarrassed.”
Kurogiri’s eyes turned down slightly, and Tomura wondered what he’d said to make him sad. “Child, your skin isn’t ugly. And I’m not...well, here.” he thinned his eyes, straightening his back. As Tomura watched, the fog around him swirled, thinning out before dissipating altogether, revealing that tired, ashen face. “You see? I’ve got scars too.” Kurogiri pointed to the three deep scars over his eye.
Tomura reached out and touched his face, not fearful of his quirk because of his gloves. He traced the lines, and then touched his guardian’s nose. “You’ve got a band aid on your nose.”
Kurogiri chuckled, closing those strange blue-yellow eyes as he let the little boy explore his face. “It’s not a bandaid.” he said, finally pulling the child’s hands away, “My quirk gives me a stuffy nose, so this helps.”
Tomura giggled, “Both our quirks give us problems, huh.”
“Indeed.” Kurogiri sat down on the stool opposite the boy.
“Is your quirk just a lot of your hair all over you?” Tomura pointed to the floating purple mass around his head.
“Ah, not quite.” Kurogiri shook his head, “it’s a little complicated.” he looked out the window, and his face lit up, “Here, you’ll like this. Come here.” he held out his hand and helped Tomura down. They crossed the room to the door and stepped outside. The sun was just starting to rise. “Watch my hair. It does something odd.”
Tomura nodded, and set his eyes on his guardian’s hair. As the sun began to rise, he saw the tips begin to lighten, turning a pinkish-red color. He gasped, “It’s a sunset!”
“Sunrise.” Kurogiri corrected, “it seems it matches the sky.”
“I want my hair to do that!”
“I don’t know about that. But maybe we could dye it someday. With Sensei’s permission, of course.” Kurogiri ruffled his hair, “But it matches the sky on blue days anyways.”
“Yeah...I guess.” Tomura reached up, “can I touch?”
“I suppose.” Kurogiri smiled, kneeling down.
Tomura ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s soft.”
Kurogiri nodded, “Yes. I’m not entirely sure what it’s even made of.”
“Clouds.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Clouds are made of water. They’re wet.”
“Funny clouds then.” Tomura nodded, like he’d solved it, “Yeah. Kurogiri-clouds, not normal clouds.”
“If you insist.” Tomura stepped back, and Kurogiri sat down, crossing his legs. The two of them watched people go by, and Tomura rested his head on his guardian’s arm. “Ah, right. You didn't sleep too well last night, did you?”
“Not a lot.” Tomura shook his head, yawning.
“Do you want to go back to bed?”
“No. I’ll sleep here.” Tomura patted Kurogiri’s knee and moved so that he was resting his head on the other’s lap.
Kurogiri chuckled, putting his hand in Tomura’s hair. “By all means.”
“Goodnight, sunrise head.” Tomura giggled, closing his eyes.
He felt Kurogiri sigh, “Good morning, sky head.”
“Sir, please-”
Tomura woke up when he felt Kurogiri jostle unnaturally. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, “Giri, what-oh. Hi Sensei.” Sensei was standing in front of them, his arms crossed and a quickly covered look of rage on his face. Tomura wondered what they’d done wrong. “Sensei?”
“Go inside, Tomura.” Sensei said, moving forward to grip Kurogiri’s arm, pulling him upright. Tomura watched the purple fog cover his guardian again, his yellow eyes appearing once more. He looked frightened.
“But-”
“Inside. Now.”
Tomura swallowed, nodding. He scampered inside, wracking his brain to try and figure out what they did wrong.
Tomura didn't see Kurogiri for a while after that, and Sensei wouldn’t give him a straight answer when he asked about him. When Kurogiri finally came back, he would just say that he had become ill, and didn’t want to spread it to Tomura. Tomura didn’t really believe him, but it was the closest thing to an answer he had gotten so far.
One night, the power went out for the whole block. He didn't like it, it was too dark, and he kept bumping into things, accidentally decaying what he couldn’t see. But when he looked outside the window, trying to gauge the time based on the light of the sky, he noticed stars. Bright lights that had always been hidden by the light pollution of the city. The fear of the night was chased away as he stared in awe. They were so pretty.
He had an idea. “Kurogiri!” he called, stepping down from the windowsill.
“Yes, Tomura?” Kurogiri’s eyes were the only light in the room besides a few candles and lamps they had lit and placed on the bar.
“Show me your hair!”
Kurogiri tilted his head, “My hair? I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tomura rolled his eyes, “Your face without the fog, remember? You said it matched the sky sometimes, so maybe you have stars in it!”
“Tomura, what are you talking about?” Kurogiri squinted his eyes, “Are you feeling well?”
“C’mon, you just showed me a few days ago!”
Kurogiri just looked at him, “I did no such thing. I don’t have a face under the fog. This is my face.”
“But-”
“Perhaps you should go to bed.” Kurogiri sighed, warping behind the child and putting a hand to his back, “You seem to be confusing dreams with reality.”
“No, you had hair! It was sunrise hair, remember?”
“I assure you, I didn't.” Kurogiri’s voice hardened, “Do I have to tell Sensei that you are having trouble with dreams again?”
“No! No, I...I just…” Tomura’s lip wobbled, “I thought…”
“Don’t cry.” Kurogiri knelt down, cupping his face. “It’s alright. But none of what you described happened.”
Tomura sniffled, wondering what was going on. “But you have…” Not wanting Kurogiri to tell Sensei something was wrong, he trailed off. “...okay. I’m sorry.”
“It’s quite alright.” Kurogiri stood, hands behind his back once again, “But please do try not to confuse reality with dreams.”
“...okay, Giri.”