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Kurogiri was not being paid to think.
Well, Kurogiri wasn’t being paid at all, to be fair. The closest he got to handling any money were the monthly inventory orders. Not even the patrons paid him for the drinks; Those tabs were settled differently. Sometimes, that meant a wire transfer to one of Sensei’s many bank accounts. Sometimes, the payment was a favour or, in extreme cases, the person’s own quirk.
Regardless, thinking was not within the range of Kurogiri’s responsibilities.
And yet, when Master Tomura tried to convince him that yes, it was most definitely fine to go out in the middle of the night - way past his bedtime! - and that such an excursion was definitely approved by Sensei…
“I think not,” Kurogiri said, wiping at a glass which did not need any polishing.
“But Kurogiri!” The child whined, dramatically draping himself all over the counter.
“It’s not safe for a child of your age to wander around at night.”
And keeping Master Tomura safe certainly was Kurogiri’s responsibility. In fact, it was the main purpose of his existence to care for that child.
So far, he’s managed to take care of Master Tomura for nearly five years without the boy incurring any serious damage, and he was determined to keep that streak.
“But if you go with me, I won’t be alone!” Master Tomura argued. “And if anybody is stupid enough to try anything you could just whoosh! Get us away in a second!”
Kurogiri was not supposed to think. But Sensei was away, busy in America; It’s not like Kurogiri could ask him about this. He had to try and think it through himself.
Sensei would not have liked Master Tomura leaving the bar, even if he’d never explicitly forbade him from leaving. But the child did have a point - there was little danger Kurogiri would not be able to protect him from, and the chances of anyone that dangerous being out and about were… null, at best.
And, well.
Sensei wasn’t the one who’d be forced to listen to Master Tomura’s whining for the foreseeable future.
“Why do you wish to leave?” Kurogiri asked, half to stall for time, half in hopes of receiving an answer covered by the rules imparted upon him.
The child sat back on the stool, refusing to meet Kurogiri’s eyes. “Just… There’s someone I wanna see in action.”
“A villain?”
More shifting, followed by an inaudible mumble. Kurogiri paused in his wiping.
“...a vigilante?”
“Something like that,” Master Tomura agreed eagerly, dropping his chin upon his arms, folded atop the counter, fingers kept carefully twisted away. “But tonight’s the last night he’s gonna be here, and he’s so cool! I’m sure I could learn a lot of good moves from him…”
Ah, it was now an educational outing, was it?
Kurogiri put the glass down on the shelf, the entire row in pristine order.
“We will keep our distance,” he said, ignoring the way Master Tomura straightened up immediately. “And you will listen to me; If I say we’re going back, we will go back straight away, understand?”
Tomura nodded vigorously.
…Kurogiri had a weird feeling he was going to regret this.
“Change into warmer clothes and we may leave,” he said despite that.
***
It was a hero.
Master Tomura had been desperate to see a hero in action. It was impossible to even pretend the man was anything but, not with the way he went to drop off a thick folder of papers at the precinct. And then he was held back by another hero, one Kurogiri distinctly remembered Doctor Garaki complaining about for being incorruptible, to discuss something at length.
Sensei would be furious if he ever learned of this.
“We’re leaving,” Kurogiri announced, swiftly retreating away from the edge of the roof across the precinct, opening a portal back to the bar with a wave of his hand.
“But Kurogiri!” Master Tomura protested immediately, as he always did whenever something wasn’t going according to his preferences. “We didn’t even see him do anything cool yet! He’s not going to start patrolling for, like, good ten minutes still!”
Kurogiri elected to ignore the fact that Master Tomura was apparently intimately familiar with a hero’s schedule.
“He’s a hero,” he almost hissed, stepping back to grab Master Tomura under his arm. Not too harshly, never too harshly, just enough to get him standing. “We must leave immediately.”
“But if he’s a hero, that just means I need to watch him!” The child argued, digging his heels in. “To like, learn all his special moves! So that I know how to defeat him in the future! Like the winning combos in my DS!”
With a sigh, Kurogiri raised a hand to his face, even though that gesture did nothing but provide an illusion of comfort for himself.
“Fine,” he conceded. “We will watch him fight. Once! Just once, and then we go back, no complaining.”
“Pinky promise!” Master Tomura said, outstretching his arm, the smallest finger pointing up.
Kurogiri had no idea where he got that particular move from, considering the general populace of the bar didn’t have any need for such cutesy gestures. Perhaps it was a remnant of whatever life the boy had led before Sensei brought him into the fold.
Regardless, it would have been rude not to accept the promise.
Linking their pinkies, Master Tomura lasted another few seconds before darting towards the edge of the roof again. “Quick, we gotta follow him!”
With another sigh and a wave, Kurogiri opened a different portal.
***
Kurogiri was not certain if he was capable of having a heart attack, but it certainly felt like one.
The decision to follow that man sounded bad when the only thing Kurogiri had known about him was that he was a hero. Discovering that this was Eraserhead, the one hero capable of erasing quirks-
“We must go back,” Kurogiri insisted, clutching at Master Tomura’s arm more for the feeble comfort of the gesture rather than to drag him in any particular direction. “His quirk is a dangerous one to mess around with!”
“We’re not the ones messing with Eraserhead,” Master Tomura never took his eyes off the incredibly one-sided fight between a single hero and about five thugs. One-sided in the hero’s favour. “It’s those guys down there. And they’re getting their asses handed to them!”
“Language,” Kurogiri said weakly. He would be in enough trouble for this outing alone, he didn’t need Sensei punishing him for Master Tomura contracting swearing, too.
“He’s so cool,” leaning forwards over the edge of the roof--Kurogiri tightened his grip in response--Master Tomura sighed wistfully.
On second thought, Kurogiri would much prefer the punishment for letting Master Tomura swear over whatever price Sensei would put on letting the boy develop hero worship.
“Tomura,” Kurogiri kept tugging on the boy’s arm until he was looking straight at him, even if the child kept trying to sneak glances back into the alley. “Tomura, listen to me. This is dangerous. That’s a hero. We’re villains. If you get too close, he will take you away!”
Tomura blinked, as if that thought had never crossed his mind.
“But… he’s a hero?” He said. “Aren’t heroes supposed to be good? So we can exploit them, right?”
“Heroes save civilians,” Kurogiri stressed. This was Sensei’s conversation to be had, not his, but it couldn’t wait. “They save the innocent. They have no mercy for villains.”
Here came the tears, welling up in Master Tomura’s eyes. Kurogiri was not equipped to deal with that, both emotionally and practically.
With a quick portal to grab tissues, he could fix one of those deficits, dabbing a tissue at Master Tomura’s cheeks gently.
“...And I’m not innocent,” he hiccuped. “That’s why no one but Sensei helped me.”
Kurogiri couldn’t weigh in on that; He was never told how Master Tomura came to live with Sensei. With his quirk…
Kurogiri was not supposed to speculate.
“Let’s just- Let’s just finish watching this fight and then we go back, alright?”
Somewhat appeased, Master Tomura sniffled a few final times, turning back towards the edge of the roof. But…
The fight seemed to be already over, the five thugs knocked out and ziptied to any available surface.
“Ah…” Kurogiri blinked. Well, this wasn’t going to be pleasant…
“Ekhem,” sounded from behind them, and Kurogiri went rigid. “I believe the two of you were tailing me?”
Gasping, Master Tomura swirls around, stars in his eyes; If Kurogiri didn’t know better, he would have guessed those were the effects of a quirk. “Eraserhead!”
Kurogiri refused to turn around just yet. Maybe if he pretended he didn’t hear the hero…
“You’re a child,” Eraserhead said, deadpan. “Is that at least your parent with you?”
Oh no-
“Of course not!” Master Tomura said, as if that was a ridiculous, impossible suggestion. “My parents are dead! Kurogiri just gives me food and makes sure I don’t leave the bar unsupervised.”
“The bar?”
Of course Master Tomura made it sound like a captive situation.
…Of course he did, that’s exactly-
Pressing his palms against his eyes, Kurogiri turned around, words already spilling out of his mouth before he even looked at the hero. “I swear it’s not how it sounds like, I am the boy’s caretaker and we live above the bar I work at-”
Yellow goggles.
He’s opened his eyes, and the first--the only--thing he saw were yellow goggles, thick bars across the lenses.
It feels like looking in a mirror.
He couldn’t- He didn’t see anything but the goggles, and what bits he did see beyond them were wrong, so wrong but-
Kurogiri had never worn yellow goggles.
Those were his yellow goggles.
The thoughts battled inside of his head, splintering and breaking apart. Contradictory, yet both true at the same time.
Kurogiri did what he did best: he didn’t think, portalling both himself and Master Tomura back to the bar.
***
Because Kuroiri’s luck seemed to be completely rotten that night, Sensei was in the bar when they portalled in. At least he didn’t seem to have been there long, his expression just slightly confused rather than furious.
“Ah, good, I was just about to call you,” he said, pleasantly, as he moved to sit at the bar. Kurogiri moved to stand behind it automatically, his hands preparing Sensei’s preferred drink even as his mind still reeled.
What did it mean? Why did a pair of simple goggles affect him so much? What was it about Eraserhead-
“Tomura,” Sensei spoke, glass in hand, and Kurogiri couldn’t help but grimace.
Sure enough, Master Tomura was most definitely not in the mood to be polite, not after the disappointment Kurogiri had just dished out.
“Shut up! I hate you!” The boy yelled, stomping his feet as he ran over towards the stairs, leaving Sensei baffled.
“Children,” the man muttered, shaking his head. “Confusing little things.”
A dull thud drifted in from upstairs, followed by a faint “FUCK!”.
Sensei seemingly gave up on trying to savour his drink, throwing the entire glass of whisky down in one go. “Kurogiri, give me the whole damn bottle.”
Kurogiri didn’t dare object.
***
Sensei spent the next three hours complaining about everything that went wrong while he was trying to do business in America. The abysmal quality of their alcohol had been part of the reason for why he decided to come back just for tonight.
Eventually, though--about seven bottles in--he had ran out of complaints. Kurogiri had just finished his second round of polishing all the glassware on the shelves behind him when Sensei decided to switch topics.
“That ungrateful brat,” he slurred, and Kurogiri nearly poked holes in his polishing cloth. “I take him in, I provide for him, and what do I get? Utter disrespect! Highest time for another conditioning session, I recon, maybe I need to erase some more memories…”
The sound of tearing fabric was especially loud in the eerie silence of the bar at the early hours of the morning.
Starting, Sensei turned to look at Kurogiri, his eyes narrowed. Kurogiri couldn’t bring himself to quite meet the man’s gaze, instead staring at the tattered pieces in his hands.
Master Tomura… Had his memories erased? But… He was just a child. He was temperamental, sure, but children were supposed to be, right? There was no need to erase anything out of his mind…
“And a session for you, I suppose,” Sensei mumbled absently, his voice thick. He stood up, swaying in place before finding his footing. “In the morning, though. Need some kind of an anti-drunk quirk already, honestly. Kurogiri, bedroom.”
Kurogiri obediently opened the relevant portal, waiting till Sensei passed through properly.
He didn’t think. He just collected as much of Master Tomura’s clothes as he could carry in a bag, gathered the blanket-wrapped boy in his arms and left.
***
There’s nowhere they could go. It’s something Kurogiri had only realized once they were standing on a rooftop, somewhere in Musutafu--far enough from Sensei, for now--the harsh wind causing Master Tomura to nuzzle deeper into Kurogiri’s arms.
Anywhere would be better than staying at the bar, but they couldn’t live on the streets. It’s not like Kurogiri could ask heroes for help. With his ties to Sensei, there is no doubt they would try to leverage their help in exchange for information--information Kurogiri didn’t have--if they decided to help them in the first place.
There’s a soft thud behind them and Kurogiri tenses, the coordinates for the middle of the ocean running through his mind-
“Didn’t I see you near Kamino ward earlier?”
Eraserhead. Of course.
He wasn’t going to help them, of course--no hero would--but… Kurogiri could at least try. He wanted to try. For some reason, his brain insisted Eraserhead was safe.
Safer than Sensei, for sure.
But first-
“Could you,” he rasped out, pausing to clear his throat. “Could you… Not wear the goggles?”
A moment of silence, the hero clearly hesitating, but eventually Kurogiri heard a soft noise. “They’re off.”
Turning slowly, Kurogiri took in the details he missed last time: the dark jumpsuit, long and surprisingly untangled hair, one hand holding the capture scarf winding around his neck-
The eyes, moving between Master Tomura and Kurogiri’s face.
“Left that bar in a hurry, huh?” Eraserhead raised an eyebrow.
“I… I need help,” Kurogiri said. He couldn’t get into too many details but- “My… My employer admitted to erasing Ma- Tomura’s memories. He… He may have erased mine, too, at some point. I don’t know, but I couldn’t let him keep doing that.”
The hero nodded, taking a small step closer. “You’re right. It must have taken a lot of courage to leave.”
Kurogiri would have furrowed his brows if he could, stepping back. What was the hero playing at? “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not,” Eraserhead paused in his approach. “It’s always difficult to speak up against abusers-”
“It’s not- I wasn’t abused! Sensei wouldn’t have- The memory thing- He probably had a reason…” Sensei always had a reason for everything he did. This was exactly why Kurogiri wasn’t supposed to be thinking on his own; How could he decide what’s best for Tomura when he hasn’t the faintest clue what memories Sensei erased? “I should go back-”
Eraserhead didn’t move, not even a fraction of an inch closer, but there was something very careful in the way he shifted his bodyweight. “It’s quite late,” he said. “Why don’t you come with me? You can rest for a bit, I’ll eventreat you and your kid to breakfast tomorrow, and then you can make up your mind if you want to leave or not, yeah?”
There was a part of him yearning to take Eraserhead up on that offer. A part of him yearning to trust the hero.
But the years spent with Sensei taught him better.
He raised his free hand slightly, just the barest flick of his wrist, when the hero spoke again.
“Please,” he said thickly. “At least- For the kid? Doesn’t he deserve better than what’s waiting for him back at the bar?”
Kurogiri hesitated.
Master Tomura… He did deserve all the best. Kurogiri had spent his entire life--that he could remember--making sure Master Tomura’s life was as pleasant as he could make it.
If he had a chance to improve it, even if it came at the cost of getting punished, shouldn’t he take that chance?
Glancing down at the boy sleeping in his arms, Kurogiri raised a hand to shift the bangs away from his eyes. How many times did he wish to do something about the dryness of his skin, about the itchiness of his neck, only to be told it was a necessary part of his upbringing?
“...No police,” he said, the warning clear in his tone. “And if you try anything, I will drop you in the middle of the ocean.”
“Sounds fair,” Eraserhead seemed more relaxed, a hint of amusement in his voice. Should Kurogiri stress how serious this threat was? “Come on. We’re right on top of my apartment building, so…”
“Ah,” Kurogiri shifted. “I was not aware…”
“I figured.”
***
Kurogiri wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, exactly, but this wasn’t it. The apartment was quite large--larger than he would have expected to see from a single hero living on his own--and filled to the brim with mismatched furniture and various knick-knacks.
There was a spare room even, which was quite luxurious by Musutafu real estate standards, and Eraserhead stripped and redressed the guest bed with ruthless efficiency in record time.
“It’s… Master Tomura hasn’t exactly had a chance to wash up recently…”
“He still deserves clean sheets,” Eraserhead shrugged, dragging the covers over the boy’s frame before gathering the old bedding in his arms. “Besides, I can put this in the washing, and change it again in the morning, it’s no big deal.”
Kurogiri, who had only been allowed to change Master Tomura’s bedding if it had been decayed, couldn’t quite wrap his head around that idea.
Speaking of which-
“There… There might not be anything to put in the wash tomorrow,” Kurogiri trailed behind the hero, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom as he loaded the washing machine.
Eraserhead glanced back at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“His quirk…”
“Ah,” nodding, Eraserhead finished setting up the machine, letting it start the cycle. Straightening out from his crouch, he turned to face Kurogiri. “Any particular conditions? Not a problem if it’s inevitable, he’s just a kid, but we can try and figure something out-”
“Anything he touches with all five fingers turns to dust.”
Eraserhead blinked.
Kurogiri swallowed thickly, bracing himself for the inevitable rejection. No one ever reacted kindly to learning about Master Tomura’s quirk, and especially not someone on the side of the heroes-
“Well, that’s easy then,” the hero snorted, moving to grab something from underneath the sink. “Five-point touch quirks are easy. A band-aid on a finger or two and we’re good.”
Kurogiri stood there, frozen in the doorway, even as Eraserhead left the room.
He should have followed. No matter how much his gut insisted to trust Eraserhead, his mind still refused to trust him alone with Master Tomura.
He should have followed, had he not been so busy repeating the words over and over and over again.
Five-point touch quirks are easy.
If it’s always been so simple, if a random hero could come up with a solution in a minute flat-
Why had Sensei never done so?
***
Kurogiri couldn’t sleep.
There was nothing wrong with the spot he had been given--the couch was quite comfortable, and the blanket was just fluffy enough for his tastes--but the sleep just… wouldn’t come.
Not with Eraserhead also wide awake, hunched over the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop.
Kurogiri just sat on the sofa, ramrod straight, a cup of tea slowly cooling down in front of him.
He’s made it just to have something to do with his hands, flitting around the kitchen the second Eraserhead invited him to “feel at home”.
The task helped him remain calm when the hero casually mentioned having roommates.
“But they’re both out for now,” he had said in the same breath. “Nemuri’s in Hokkaido for a week still, and Hizashi’s overnighting at the radio station. No matter how diligently you keep records, tax season’s a bitch, y’know?.”
Kurogiri didn’t, not with the bar employing their own money-laundering tax accountant, but he’s heard enough complaints while serving drinks. He could emphasize with that struggle.
So there he was. Anxiously waiting for the morning to come, sneaking glances at the hero when he thought the man wouldn’t notice.
“Hizashi has subscriptions to several streaming services,” Eraserhead said, a weird non-sequitur that had Kurogiri baffled until he continued. “Why don’t you put something on? There’s got to be something more interesting than the back of my head there.”
“Ah, apologies-”
“Don’t sweat it,” Eraserhead shrugged. “It’s-”
“I am incapable of sweating,” Kurogiri interrupted, immediately regretting it.
Eraserhead blinked. “...Quirk complication?”
Kurogiri, refusing to overshare even more, simply made the see-saw motion with his hand.
“Either way,” Eraserhead sighed, rolling his shoulders. “You’ll feel better if you try to take your mind off of things. Mindlessly watching reality tv usually does the trick.”
Kurogiri eyed the remote. He could probably figure out how to work it, but…
“I… would rather not,” he said. “I’ve spent far too long in a mindless haze.”
Eraserhead titled his head consideringly, staring at Kurogiri so intensely he couldn’t help but clutch at the blanket covering his knees.
“Give me a second,” the hero said, standing up. He grabbed his now-closed laptop, stuffing it under his arm as he walked out of the kitchen.
Kurogiri turned back to staring at his tea, the liquid having now cooled down to the point where it didn’t even steam anymore.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Long enough to think through his choices one more time, coming to a final decision: They wouldn’t leave.
Even if they were offered another place, Kurogiri would insist they stay close to Eraserhead. The hero was kinder to Master Tomura (...and Kurogiri himself) than Sensei ever was, and his quirk would give them a chance to protect themselves against Sensei if he had ever managed to locate them.
Staying was in Master Tomura’s best interest, and his best interest was Kurogiri’s main purpose in life.
Where Master Tomura was, Kurogiri would join him.
The hero finally returned, just before Kurogiri could decide the “one second” request had been an awkward attempt at a goodbye.
“I forgot where we stuffed it,” Eraserhead offered as the only explanation, passing over a small book of brain teasers and a pencil. “A friend of ours used to solve those all the time. Should last you a good few hours.”
Kurogiri hesitated, his hands half-outstretched in an automatic reflex to accept what was being given to him.
“Are you sure your friend won’t mind?” He asked.
Eraserhead breathed out through his nose, a faint sound which could generously be called a chuckle. “He would have liked to see it finally finished. He went through those like water, but none of us were ever much fond of crosswords and such. Really, you’d be doing me a favour.”
Taking the small book, Kurogiri was very eager to finish this clearly emotionally charged conversation.
“Thank you,” he said.
The hero nodded. “Try to rest, even if you can’t sleep.” He didn’t wait for a response, leaving the room again.
Watching the book in his hands for a long moment, Kurogiri finally gathered enough courage to crack it open, the pages easily falling open on the last, half-filled crossword.
He wasn’t supposed to think…
But there was nothing stopping him now.