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He was frozen, the cooling mist of his clouds hanging low over his head while the dust settled on his feet. The cracks of the falling building were still ringing around him and the smokey gray haze sat in the most disturbing silence he had ever heard.
They were fine just a moment ago, the villain was nothing against them. They were winning, the thug was cornered, everything was fine and they would regroup with their peers and move on.
But the building next to them shook, and cracks appeared in the walls as everything started to crumble. A scream came from within the walls, and Shouta started running towards it instinctually until Shirakumo caught his arm.
“Shouta it’s not safe” he said quickly, panic flashing every alarm bell in his gut. It's as if something was pulling him away from the site, but something was pulling Shouta towards it as they fought against his grip.
“I can take care of myself Oboro” they gritted before wrenching their arm from his grip and racing into the building before he had time to stop it.
“Shouta NO” he had screamed out while the ebony suit slipped away, chasing the sound of someone in need as if entering the crumbling concrete wouldn’t mean certain dangerous consequences.
He started to run forward as well, but large chunks of concrete and rebar fell in front of him, as if it were raining from the sky.
Screams from inside the building were muffled but still painful to listen to. His heart panged and throbbed in his head but he had to turn away, he had to run and save himself.
You have enough time his subconscious told him quietly You can get in and out in enough time, you can save them both
He was just watching the building fall now, seconds passing by in yearning crestfalls and the countdown began.
He wanted to chase after him, but reality kept him planted where he was. If he went in he would die.
Shouta was going to die.
The cackle of the man they had been chasing rang into his ears, but he couldn’t look away to pursue him. The screams from inside cut off but the earth was shaking under his feet and the top floors were already dropping rubble down.
Damn idiots and their fucking bombs, but there was nothing he could do.
“SHOUTA” he screamed at the building as the clouds grew larger and he sent bits of the mist off to ward away other passing civilians.
Don’t forget your job, don’t forget your job.
But in the blink of an eye, the whole thing was just a pile of dust beneath his feet, and the booming of its collapse was ringing in his ears. Civilians were screaming, and their group was creeping closer and yelling his name but he didn’t care.
His legs moved before his brain could catch up, and he was stumbling over the rubble and trying to force air into his lungs. He was still frozen in time, even as he drew closer in and scanned the rubble meticulously.
“Shouta” he called to the thick air, heart hammering in his head. But there was still nothing. He kept stumbling and looking around, choking and coughing on the sediment settling over his shoulder like the boulder that was dropping on his heart.
His stomach felt like a black hole ready to suck him in at a moment's notice as each second ticked by without a response.
It was too quiet.
A cry broke though his lips and his legs started to feel weak while the dizzying motion of running in circles caught up to him.
And then he saw something. An arm, sticking out of the stone and metal, wrapped in blood as if it were a delicate ornament trying to be protected.
In an instant, his own hands were digging across the stone and his vision was growing blurry while his skin burned. Time stopped and the pounding in his temples grew tenth fold as his hands scraped against the sides until he unearthed the bloody mass underneath.
His own fingers were painted red as hot guilt poured from the black hole until he felt like he was going to burst.
Their scarf was gone, probably stuck somewhere on the unfortunate individual who would also probably be dead.
And it was for nothing. His friend was lying here and it was for nothing.
Two shaky fingers reached down towards where the boy’s neck should be, blood covering their face in a rusty ash.
No pulse.
Two tears slipped from his eyes and onto the corpse as his breathing returned and everything felt like it was caving in. No he wasn’t dead he wasn’t dead.
He kept digging at the rubble, searching for a sign of life as muffled screams were barely caught behind his lips. The sediment was falling heavy in his lungs, and even heavier on his chest.
And without warning, the black hole shattered, and he screamed with sobs of a broken boy, drowning in the grief he couldn’t recognize yet as he gave a feeble attempt at CPR.
There wasn’t a mouth left to breathe into, but the hot and sticky blood coated his hands as each push of his body weight rebounded from the resistance of flesh.
He was sobbing into the air as his friend slipped away, but they couldn’t slip away.
They were already gone.
“Come back” he screamed, “Shouta come back, Don’t leave me don’t leave me.”
And then he collapsed face first into the concave chest, the sediment on the air choking him from the inside out until he felt his own will slipping further and further away-
This isn’t real this isn’t real it’s not real, wake up, WAKE UP.
His eyes bolted open, small tracks of tears running down the creases. He was slouched over at his desk, laptop open to the news playing nonstop.
Shit- when had he fallen asleep?
Fuck what time was it-.
The image quickly turned to a picture of Bakugou from the sports festival, and the headline spouted “Hero Student Missing.”
Oh wait yeah oh shit.
Shirakumo wiped the tears from his eyes and set his face back in stone. He was going to be damned if he lost another student, and it seemed that rest time was up.
The sky was still dark as he slid outside to the dark hallways of an uninhabited UA.
He had already failed the kids once, he wasn’t going to fail them again.
His body was still half asleep from the accidental nap, and he really needed to shed that layer if their plan was going to work. Nedzu had set up enough of a distraction, and they would be in and out with Bakugou with all of the League detained within the hour that they set their attack.
Hell, All Might was gonna be there. And as many qualms that he had with All Might's way of teaching, it did work on teenagers to some extent. They were still learning about basic safety, though not as much as he would have liked.
And being overly cautious gets you killed just as quickly as being reckless does, something he was very, very guilty of.
And now this-
Before he could finish his thought, his hands were already poised at Nedzu’s door and ready to knock.
You can do this Shirakumo, you can save them this time.
--------------------------
Bakugou was shaking in his arms but it didn’t matter. Fire raged all around them and he was helpless to do anything but try his best to get his student out of here while the rest of the heroes on the mission fought back the league, who was too suspiciously powerful to be normal.
Maybe he should have let Midoriya- No.
No.
Students do not get dragged into war zones, it was bad enough they had to drag a student out of one.
The ground trembled beneath his feet while he and Bakugou ran for the street, the clouds acting as their shield. Rubble was still flying but after the loud rumble, the fighting seemed to have stopped.
Both of them were catching their breath until a booming voice called out with laughter, and his student trembled even more in his arms, coughing up slime as he did so-
Wait fuck shit no-
The liquid pouring from Bakugou’s mouth expanded over their skin until it looked like it was swallowing him whole, and as much as he tried to keep the kid together they were disappearing by the second.
Hero's were yelling, and he let the clouds dissipate enough to see the rest of the League disappearing in the same way Bakugou had.
All Might was already off flying in a different direction and his comns were panging. Damn maybe he shouldn’t have silenced them. His hand flew up to his ear and the panicked voices of a dozen heroes that were meant to be watching over the other location.
“We need backup, there's Nomu-”
Are you shitting me?
Shirakumo’s legs moved before his brain fully caught up, sprinting down the blocks to try and find his student. They couldn’t have gone far, long distance teleportation quirks just didn’t exist, something about the movement of matter being unattainable, but god dammit he wasn’t leaving without his student.
But when he finally got there, he was met with something that looked akin to a war zone, All Might and a faceless man staring each other down while the rest of the league waited behind The league- who had Bakugou.
His legs continued to move as clouds formed steps up to the roof of the building, arcing over the fight until he was able to snag the collar of his students shirt, carefully dodging the fire and knives that started flying his way.
The pillowy mist continued to step up, and his arm strained a little as he carried the full weight of a terrified Bakugou up against gravity, running from the fight as fast as the clouds would form under his feet.
“I got you kid” he gritted through his teeth, stopping for just a moment to readjust his grip on them, slinging their body over his shoulder as the clouds started to bring them down.
Some smaller sidekick was on the ground as he reached the concrete, and started to take the student off his back. Bakugou had practically thrown himself to the ground before they could even try and help, eyes narrowed instead of wide with fear. No that angry bite he knew and didn’t know he could miss was back.
“Get him away from here” Shirakumo ordered with a snap, and the poor sidekick just nodded as the adrenaline started to catch up to him.
“I can take care of myself Sensei” his student said with a familiar aggression, but he wasn’t having it.
“I can take care of myself Oboro”
“No you can’t, not yet” he snapped a little too harshly, seeing as Bakugou backed up slightly at his words. At least he would take them to heart.
thump.
thump.
thump
His heart was beating in his head and something was telling him to turn around, to go back to the war zone he had just left behind.
“Go Bakugou, I’ll see you in a while.” he said quickly, trying to soften his tone a little bit before nodding and leaping back up his cloud steps and back into the action.
As much as he wanted to stay with Bakugou, make it back to the rest of his students, he had ignored his gut once before, he never did it again.
The fighting ensuing under him was something out of one of those old time movies. Even in hero society, where powers raged all around and destruction was common, half of the block had been totally leveled and All Might was exchanging blow after blow with the faceless man, and they were evenly matched.
Very few people were evenly matched with All Might, and they were all supposed to be in Tartarus.
And he was back to that one moment, watching from afar, wishing there was something he could do, but the wisps of his clouds couldn’t compete with the carnage going on under him. But he was stuck here, something in his consciousness told him not to leave.
He was one with the world as they all waited with bated breath, watching as both men lost their masks, and showed their withered old frames, holding their breath while bubbles formed and refused to burst.
And the final blow was struck, leaving both Hero and Villain laying in the wreckage.
He slid down as the fighting was over, slipping out his own quirk restraining cuffs, sliding them on the faceless man, blood oozing from ancient flesh while others started to tend to All Might. As another hero took the hero from his arms, a small green glow caught his eye.
But instead of ignoring it like he probably should have, he was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.
Stumbling steps brought him to the detritus left of the lab where the Nomu apparently came from.
Sirens buzzed around behind him, but his eyes couldn’t help but wander around, smashed glass tanks and mangled bodies everywhere, lime green liquid spilt all over the crumbling concrete. And stairs, still standing and unblocked, somehow.
His stomach started to flip unpromptedly, a chill running down his spine.
More heroes had appeared and started to explore what he had already shuffled through, admittedly more carefully and analytical.
But in standing silently, he wasn’t subject to miss the small “help” coming from down the stairs.
His legs rushed to the hole in the floor, and flew down the steps, revealing rows of doors, each bolted shut.
“Hello?” he called, but was met with nothing but silence.
Each of the locks was external, so he wasted no time in flicking all of them open, but just found an empty cell, bloodstained and disgusting, but still disturbingly empty.
Until the last one.
A lanky mass sat hunched over in the corner, trembling slightly as the door creaked open and shouts from above started trickling down the cavernous hall.
He stepped lightly, trying not to spook the pitiful creature starting to push itself smaller against the wall.
Dull and lifeless eyes looked up at him, hidden behind matted and overgrown hair, and they flashed red in an instant, hair raising just slightly.
“Who are you?” they croaked with a voice quiet from disuse, the crimson glare both intimidating and somehow pathetic at the same time.
As clouds slipped from his face and he felt the power dissolving from his veins in a feeling he had all but forgotten, his stomach turned and twisted while they waited with utter astonishment.
His stomach twisted uncomfortably as the gears started to turn in his own head. The frightened creature in front of him held their gaze, and Shirikumo just stared back.
He’s dead
There’s no way.
But the eyes told no lie, the drumming and buzzing red slipping his veins to cold was a distant memory, but a memory all the same.
His world softened just a little as he crouched down, softly trying to drop his hard expression and pull the goggles up from his face, letting blue eyes stare into black. The stench was worse down here, but he still moved as gently as the wings of a bird, and reached out a calloused hand.
There’s no way
“Hey Shouta.” he whispered lightly, grimacing as the man flinched back, staring even wider, the red hue never leaving. The crack of the skull hitting the concrete resounded around him with a sharp pang.
“Who are you-” they demanded again, louder, and much more panicked. But before Shirakumo could respond, the sickening hacks of empty coughing echoed around them.
The rattle of chains sharply cut through the coughing while the situation finally settled on Shirakumo’s shoulders.
“You can’t be alive” he said simply, reaching out a hand as the coughing finally died down.
“They don’t let me die” the rasp of his old friend, and the pain in their voice caused his heart to crack.
Shirakumo slowly reached his hand up, pulling the goggles off his head, the heavy gaze of those flaming eyes following his every movement.
“I can help you” he said softly, almost small enough that a sound didn’t even exist. The goggles slid across the floor with a light push until they were right by Shouta’s feet.
But he was dead, how could this be real. Maybe he was hallucinating, maybe it wasn’t Shouta and someone else miraculously had the same quirk.
After a moment, his quirk came back to him, meaning the eye gaze dropped, they were still staring at each other, but after a few moments of silence, a chained hand reached down and grabbed the goggles hesitantly. The bright yellow plastic turned in their bony hands a few times before the man dared to look down at them. The dull nature of them hurt his conscience in a way only losing people did. There wasn’t much shine when they were kids, but it's as if it were a breathing corpse in the corner instead of his old friend.
Maybe this was Shouta, but he was already lost.
He lost him again.
It was too late.
It took a little while longer, Shirakumo sitting in silent anticipation while the creature turned the plastic in his hands all around until a gasp fell from their lips.
“Cloud.” they muttered before looking up to Shirakumo’s eyes, still dull and lifeless, but there was something brewing behind the gray.
“Yeah, I’m a cloud.” He said with a smile, ignoring how the painful heat was growing behind his eyes and his lips trembled. A steady hand reached out once more.
“You don’t look like a cloud.” they grunted lightly, the goggles still turning over and over in his hands, and that earned a light chuckle from Shirakumo. And in return, a husky giggle from Shouta fell across the room, although it just ended in another coughing fit.
“Let’s get out of here, Shouta.” he said slowly once the coughing died down.
Every so slowly, a thin arm reached up, unsure and hesitant, but eventually connected with Shirakumo’s own palm, and the cold flesh wrapped around his palm.
With the new invitation, he scooted forward and slowly detached the shackles with a lock pick, only letting go of Shouta’s hand so that the heavy metal didn’t fall directly on their skin.
He gathered the man up in his arms, noting how they curled into his neck just the slightest bit. They were no lighter than a child, and no larger than when they were 15, so it really was as if he were carrying a child.
The tension never died from their body, but the arms wrapping around him as if he were a lifeline wasn’t a thing he ignored while quickly exiting the cavernous hall, and ignoring the comments of the other pro heroes as he dodged around the rubbled and started sprinting for an ambulance.
His surroundings fell away in a blur, necessity and pained anxiety taking over as he fought to get Shouta as far from there as possible.
It was only after he was stopped by a paramedic did he realize how undone he was becoming, heart beating in his ears and breathing rapidly growing more unstable. As Shouta was taken from his arms, he knew it was for the best but something told him to hold on tighter, not wanting them to disappear again.
He loaded the man, eyes closed and their breathing more shallow than before, onto a stretcher after a few moments of coaxing, and the weight of their body lifting from his body, as cold as it was, felt like they were being ripped away from him once more. As if the metal box meant to save people would just be driving him to his death.
And he had just gotten him back.
Sounds roared around him as the shouts of citizens filled the streets, but he felt no victory, although it was certain they had won this fight.
And as the metal box turned around the corner, all resolve he had been keeping up crumbled, and tears finally slipped down his face. He went to go get his student back not to find the ghosts of his past as near corpses in basements.
He expected a physical fight, tooth and nail and blow for blow, but this pain cut deeper than the knives he would have prepared for. Hands raked through his hair while he tried to force air into his lungs.
This is not the time for a panic attack Shiarkumo, it’s not the fucking time-
Distract yourself, go get Bakugou.
Bakugou, right.
======================
The beeping of machines hooked up to Shouta was pretty much all he could focus on until the door swung open with a distinct creak.
“Can I come in?” Hizashi said quietly, their own grief and disbelief still painted across their expression. Their eyes puffy and face still bright pink. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was still longing for the past.
Shirakumo just nodded and the door shut with a click. The doctors sheared off all of the matted hair that had been concealing Shouta’s gaunt and skeletal face. In the bright lights of a hospital, their skin was almost translucent, and ghostly pale.
The rest of the world was dealing with the aftermath of Kamino Ward, and the fight between All Might and a now named All for One, who was now locked behind the walls of Tartarus, as were most of the League of Villains.
Lord knows he wouldn’t forget that day, the cracks in the ceiling and the raining glass while villains poured in from all sides.
And apparently All for One was behind it all, and they were behind this. They were the reason that Shouta was missing for 15 long years.
The steady drip of IV and panging of a heart monitor was keeping him from going crazy. The doctors said it could be days until they woke up, the adrenaline rush of the attack being detrimental to their already weak body. They were never in a coma state, their breathing and heartbeat steady and normal. Apparently it was just pure exhaustion.
It had been three days, and due to them not being able to officially identify him yet (damn blood tests took forever). Neither Shirakumo nor Hizashi had been told anything, in fact it was only the flash of hero licenses that let them into this room at all.
Hizashi walked over next to the bed before situating himself on the side. Their hand reached over and grazed Shouta’s forehead tracing the hollow face with a touch lighter than Shirakumo thought possible.
“The uh- the police just confirmed that his body was never officially recovered, despite what they told us. They said it was very likely that it really is him” they said in a whisper, glancing over at Shirakumo before looking back down at Shouta.
The next few minutes passed in silence before Hizashi finally stood up and walked over to him.
“You should get sleep Oboro, you look like shit.” they said, half jokingly.
“Do you wanna know the first thing he said to me?” Shirakumo said through his hands, hunched over with legs bouncing out of control, “He asked who I was, and he didn’t remember my name.” His breath hitched slightly as he fought off the crushing wave of anxiety, “what if he doesn’t remember me, or you, or us.”
Hizashi crouched down and put his hand on Shirakumo’s knee, before just giving up and pulling him into a hug.
“It’s gonna be ok.” they said softly, “if he forgot, then we can do it again, like old times.”
Heat started pooling behind Shirakumo’s eyes again, and he just held on to Hizashi tighter, and they stayed that way as he eventually broke down into sobs.
God dammit this is what he gets for never fully trying to process Shouta’s death, no matter how much everyone pushed him to. And he was paying the price for it now
“Ow” muttered a rough voice through plastic from the bed, and both of the men turned around to see the once peaceful Shouta furrowed with their eyes open as slits.
He and Hizashi just looked at each other before Hizashi finally had the common sense to hit the call button.
Mere seconds later, one of the doctors came rushing in, and went over to the bedside.
“Hello sir, glad to see you awake” they coaxed the still half conscious Shouta, whose eyes were slowly opening by the minute.
“Bright” he muttered as the oxygen mask was taken off before closing their eyes again.
“I’m sorry it’s bright sir, but you are in a hospital, and I need to check a few things to make sure you are alright.” they said evenly, slowly sitting the bed up and pulling a small side table closer.
All they got in response was a grunt, and that seemed to be all they needed before running their tests, flashing lights in the man’s eyes and other such probably normal medical procedures.
“Can I have your name sir, we haven't been able to identify you yet-” they asked after everything else was done, and Shouta didn’t answer for a few seconds before firmly responding “006”
“Sir, do you remember your birth name?” they asked, and Shouta just shook his head.
He didn’t know how he ended up in the hallways after that, Hizashi in front of him trying to control his breathing, but there he was, rocking against the wall with hands covered over his ears.
He doesn't remember his fucking name .
What the hell did those people do to him?
Why didn’t you save him?
“Oboro come back to me” finally brought him back, and he stared up into Hizashi’s eyes. “Go home Oboro” they said quietly, “get some sleep.”
“But-”
“No buts, go home”
But right then, the doctor poked his head out the door. “He’s asking for a cloud-” he said briefly to a nurse, “I think he might be insane-”
“He’s not” Shirakumo cut in harshly, “He wants-”
“He wants me,” he said after a deeper breath, pushing himself off the ground.
“Oboro are you sure-”
“I’m not losing him again Hizashi”
He opened the door with a firm hand and slipped inside to see Shouta staring blankly at the wall.
“Who am I?” Shouta said simply after the door clicked shut, hands fidgeting with each other. “All I remember is that place, I feel like I’m awake but I don’t know” their voice cracked against the weight of the words, and Shirakumo just took a few steps towards the bed and sank onto it. Their gaze never moved, but the way they flinched away from his presence made Shirakumo’s heart sick.
“You are Shouta Aizawa” he said softly, resting a hand onto Shouta’s, grasping the ice cold skin in his own warm palm. “You were my best friend for 3 years at a school for heroes, we trained together and you kept me from falling behind. You were the hero in training Eraserhead, your favorite food was packaged ramen, although you would never admit that to anyone.” He said lightly, but Shouta just gripped his hand harder.
“I didn’t ask who I was” they said stiffly,
“I asked who I am.”
“You are Shouta Aizawa,” Shiarkumo said, voice cracking a bit, “You are a patient right now, we just rescued you-”
“How do you know who I am when I don’t know who I am?”
“Circumstance” he said, trying to ignore the way his heart was splintering, the door creaked again and in his peripheral vision he saw Hizashi slowly creeping into the room.
“Are they dead?” Shouta asked, and after a head shake from both pros, they stiffened, and the already dead stare went even blanker.
“Shouta-”
“Kill me” they said shakily, “This is my chance.”
“We can’t let you do that” Hizashi spoke before Shirikumo could even speak, stunned into silence. Hizashi grabbed his arm while he just stared at Shouta, empty and a husk of what they knew.
He really was gone .
“Shouta what did they do to you-” Shirakumo muttered as he was dragged from the room, and a single tear went down the corpse's face, and the fluorescent lights made them look less than a ghost.
“I should have been asleep a long time ago.” they whispered before the door to their room shut with a click.