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Atsuhiro Sako sipped his tea and watched the rain fall. He supposed it was a little stereotypical for an old man to sit in his garden pavilion and let the world go by, but with the smell of wisteria and rain in his nose and the gentle tap of raindrops in his ears… He found he didn't really care. It was a beautiful Spring day, warm despite the rain, and it was good for the soul to step away from the world’s cares for a time.
A soft chime interrupted his musings and he picked up his phone. Stepping away from the world’s cares was one thing, ignoring a text from your daughter was another.
Sunshine: Just landed!
Mister Dad: I’m so glad to hear that. How was your flight? Is Eri-chan well?
Sunshine: It was as good as any overseas flight can be. Eri hated every second of it, but she didn’t throw up this time! She’ll want to see you tomorrow. I’m going to go home long enough to get a shower and a snack, then I’ll be over there with the husband and brats for dinner. I have so many pictures to show you! I wish you could’ve been there, Dad.
Mister Dad: So do I. I’m sure you did splendidly in my place.
Atsuhiro scrolled up a bit to view the picture Hinata had sent him two days ago. Standing on the steps of a large building was his daughter, Hinata Sako, pink hair literally glowing in the morning sunshine. Beside her was Eri Aizawa, Izuku Midoriya, and a scattering of other familiar faces. Above them, emblazoned across wide open doors, were the words The League for the Lost. The nonprofit foundation's first international branch. The thought and the photo had him unironically blinking back tears. The last forty years of his life had been devoted to the nonprofit, it was his baby, almost literally, since he was its founder. It had been bittersweet to hand the reins to his daughter, capable and clever a girl as she was. He would've liked to have been there.
The sound of footsteps crunching on wet gravel had him looking up, frowning slightly. Had Hinata’s message been delayed, and her plane arrived earlier than he thought?
But no, the person making their winding way through the flowerbeds was definitely not his daughter, nor anyone he recognized immediately, though they were familiar. Achingly so.
Average height and slender build, wearing a long black coat with the hood up against the rain. They had an umbrella held casually against one shoulder, one of the bubble types, clear except for the decoration of red handprints around the edge. Most unusually, a small brown and white dog frisked at their heels, sniffing at the bushes and leaping to bite playfully at raindrops. The two were a picture that would not be out of place at a park, or even as subjects for a watercolor painting, so it was doubly odd to see them in his private garden.
Finally rounding the last flowering bush, the unexpected visitor came toward the gazebo, allowing Atsuhiro a complete view. His gaze immediately fell to the bright red sneakers, scuffed and soaked, then lifted to meet eyes the color of blood and garnets.
Throat tight, he fumbled for his cane.
Tomura Shigaraki hurried his steps, hand raised in a cautioning gesture. “No, please, Mister, don't get up. Not for me.”
Atsuhiro ignored him and got to his feet, absolutely beaming. “Shigaraki-kun,” he said. "Of course for you.”
Shigaraki stopped just outside the gazebo and shook off his umbrella, leaning it against a wisteria covered post. His little dog shook herself off, then trotted inside as well.
“Who is this?” Atsuhiro asked, his smile growing.
“Her name is Mon. Mon-chan.”
“Mon-chan. How adorable.” He wanted to pet her, even wet she looked soft as could be, but somehow knew that wouldn't be possible at the moment. His attention could only be distracted for a moment before his eyes were drawn again to his leader's face.
Gods, but he was so young, Atsuhiro thought. Another pang in his chest, sharp as a blade. At least he looked healthier than Atsuhiro remembered. There were no scratches on his neck, his lips were smooth and unchapped, and the skin around his eyes didn’t look like dried skin or scars, but more like cracks in pale marble. Best of all, this apparition’s form was the Shigaraki that Atsuhiro had followed and believed in, before All For One and the Doctor had changed him.
“You don't seem too surprised to see me,” Shigaraki said, tilting his head to one side.
“I probably should be, but this seems right for some reason,” he replied, motioning for Shigaraki to sit in the other rocking chair, waiting until he’d sat down before taking his own seat. He watched as Shigaraki pushed back his hood, freeing a cloud of messy, blue-gray hair. The color matched almost perfectly with the thin gray-blue sky. “This weather always reminds me of you.”
“Wet, gray, and a little bit melancholy. Suits me, I suppose. You always had a bit of a poet in you,” Shigaraki commented dryly. His lips twitched. “But more politician and policeman than poet, Mister Former Deputy Head of Heroic Internal Affairs.”
Atsuhiro groaned, throwing his head back. Of course his villain boss would bring that up. “I am quite sure you're aware that a position in the new government was a requirement for my early parole and rehabilitation, and an officer for the HIA was the least repugnant option!”
“I know, but it’s still fun to tease you. Especially considering you were so good at it they eventually promoted you almost all the way up the ladder.” Shigaraki paused and cleared his throat. “We were all really proud of you, you know.”
Atsuhiro blinked. “We?”
“Yeah. The League. All of us.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Did you really think we wouldn't keep an eye on our last party member?” A sudden, sly smile broke out across his face. “Especially after you managed to convince Lady Nagant to date you!”
Atsuhiro should be too old to blush, but his cheeks heated up nonetheless. “It was mutual convincing.”
Shigaraki deliberately glanced at Atsuhiro’s left hand and the wedding band he wore, gleaming gold against the silver of his prosthetic. “So we saw.” Shigaraki’s sly smile grew. “We also saw your daughter. She took after you in everything but looks. How did Nagant handle having such a little thief as her child?”
“Thief?” Atsuhiro gasped in mock offense, putting a hand to his breast. “Unsubstantiated rumors! My Hinata would never engage in such naughtiness.”
“Uh huh. Sure. We laughed ourselves sick when you found out about her quirk, you know.”
Atsuhiro chuckled. “So did I.” It was one of his favorite memories. He and Nagant had been on the verge of calling a quirk specialist to verify Hinata's quirkless status, when Atsuhiro had walked in on his darling daughter shoving the cookie jar— not a cookie, but the entire jar— into her glowing pink hair. Nagant had answered his joyful shouts for assistance by running into the room, gun at the ready, only to find him holding a rebellious Hinata upside-down as trinket after trinket fell out of her glowing hair. To this day, Hinata had a habit of storing random things in her hair… Including cookies.
Tomura's smile warmed into something less teasing and more genuine. “Fuck, Compress, you are so cool. Out of all of us, you did it. You really did it. Wanted to throw a party every time we checked in on you.”
Baffled, he stared at Shigaraki. “Did what? What did I do that made you so happy?”
“You lived. You didn't let your pain drown you. You grabbed every lifeline that was offered and pulled yourself up to heights we pretended not to dream about. More than that, you did what we couldn't! You made the League’s dreams come true! The foundation you started, the one you named for us… it’s changed everything.” He waved his hands, expression lighting up. “Every day it’s making a difference. You probably don’t realize how far it’s going to go, but it’s everything we wanted deep down. And you named each part for us. You fuckin’ made Dabi cry when you put his name on your campaign against domestic abuse, and we all cheered you when you tossed the Todorokis out on their ass when they tried to protest your name choice.” Tomura’s eyes were shining as he named off the League’s subsidiaries:
“Dabi’s Fire, for the campaign against domestic abuse and protection for the abused. Himiko’s Hope, assistance for so-called villainous and other maligned quirks, with a special emphasis on blood quirks and others with unique dietary requirements. Spinner’s Stories, support for mutation quirks and heteromorphs. Jin’s Friends, for free access to mental health resources. Big Sis’s House, safe spaces for queer youth and adults.” His voice turned almost shy, “Tomura’s Soldiers, for the fight against the trafficking of children with powerful quirks. You're our hero, Atsuhiro Sako, Mister Chairman for the League of the Lost.”
Atsuhiro was speechless. He was certain he made for an amusing sight, mouth hanging open, eyes bugged out– and it was confirmed a moment later when Shigaraki burst out laughing. Monchan leapt to her feet and barked, stubby tail wagging furiously. After a moment, Shigaraki’s laughter turned to chuckles, and then into a comfortable silence as they both listened to the rain. Slowly, the smile faded from Shigaraki’s face and his expression turned solemn.
“Shigaraki-kun? Is something wrong?”
“Yes and no.” Shigaraki turned back to him, then to Atsuhiro’s horror, slid out of his chair and onto his knees in front of Atsuhiro. “I owe you an apology, Mister Compress. You believed in me. You almost died for me, you gave yourself up to the heroes for me, because you truly thought I could rebuild a better world from the dust of the old. Not only did I fail to do that, but I lost myself so completely that I forgot about rebuilding and only wanted to destroy.” He bowed low enough his forehead touched the ground. “I failed you as a leader, and as a friend, and I am so sorry, Sako.”
It took a full ten seconds for Atsuhiro to unfreeze. When he did, he reached down without thinking and hauled the young man up. “Tomura, please don’t!” Completely forgetting himself, he kept hold of Shigaraki’s arms and gave him a little shake, the same way he’d give his hyperactive daughter a little shake to make sure she was paying attention. Shigaraki blinked surprised red eyes at him, and Atsuhiro felt a little silly, but he was an old man and a father, so he could be forgiven.
“Now, you listen to me, Leader. Even if I had known what would happen, I would still have done what I did that day. I didn’t just believe in your dream back then; I believe in it still. It was not your fault that All For One lied to you all your life, that he took over your body and twisted your mind like he did! You loved us, as best as you were capable of love after being raised by that monster. You wanted a world where everyone could live freely, unbound by the labels of heroes and villains, where everyday people understood that they had an obligation to help each other! It was a noble dream, a good dream. And you wanted us to have whatever made us happy, I know you did. I have never doubted that, not for a single day! If you had been able, you would’ve reshaped the world to make your friends happy, and it would have been wonderful.”
Tomura swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, then lost the fight as those bright red eyes filled with tears and spilled over.
Once again, Atsuhiro could be forgiven for acting on instinct as he pulled his leader into a tight hug. Tomura wrapped his arms around Atsuhiro’s neck and buried his face against his shoulder. Without a pause, he shifted their position so Tomura could sit more comfortably against him, practically holding him in his lap, gently smoothing down that familiar, cloud-colored hair as the boy wept.
Oh, my poor leader. So old and so young, even now.
He wondered if Tomura had ever had someone tell him that it wasn’t his fault, even after the peace and understanding death supposedly brought. Well, if that was the case, then the telling and these tears were very overdue.
Time had become increasingly unimportant to Atsuhiro over the past few years, and that didn’t change as he patiently waited for Tomura’s tears to dry. If anything, time seemed even more unimportant, like this moment could stretch without effort into peaceful eternity. There was just the sound of rain, the sight of raindrops rippling in puddles and sliding off the wisteria, and the boy in his arms. Holding him felt like having a warm shadow beneath his hands, somehow solid and yet not here, but by the time Tomura stirred and began to sit up, he felt nearly present and wholly solid.
Sniffling, Tomura scrubbed his face with his sleeve. “Sorry,” he croaked. “I came here because I’m supposed to be your leader, and I ended up crying all over you.”
“Don’t apologize for crying,” Atsuhiro told him warmly. “It’s just another type of rain.”
Tomura laughed wetly, then knelt again, but this time so he could hug a worried Monchan. She whined and licked the tears off his face, getting a real smile out of him. Atsuhiro leaned down and stroked Mon-chan’s head. Her fur was soft and thick as the fluffiest baby blanket. Tomura watched his hand in surprise, then looked up at his face, eyes wide. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Atsuhiro inquired.
An almost sad smile pulled on Tomura’s lips. “Atsuhiro… would you follow me again, if I asked you to come?”
“Of course I would!” Atsuhiro said. It wasn’t even a question.
“Would you come now?”
Atsuhiro frowned, just a little. “Now?”
Tomura nodded. “It’s why I came today. Because I’m the leader, and you’re a member of my League. I… I wanted to ask you to come with me. The others are all waiting too. We’ve… We’ve missed you. The League doesn’t feel right without you.”
His heart felt like it might burst. “I thought Death was supposed to come in the form of a cloaked figure bearing a scythe, or something of that type.”
“I'm not Death, old man,” Tomura said, voice very dry. “I just came to ask you, same as I did the others.” A thread of grief mixed with hope in his voice, “You're a little different. The others… they had a choice whether to come with me or stay. Your choice is whether to follow me, or take a different path to… to somewhere brighter.”
Before Tomura had even finished talking, Atsuhiro was flapping a hand at the notion, shooing it away. “Somewhere brighter? Nonsense! I am a magician and gentleman thief! I do my best work in the twilight hours!” More seriously, he asked, “May I have a moment longer? I need to make a call.”
Tomura nodded. “Yeah, I think you have time. Just make it quick as you can, so you don’t get cut off in the middle.”
“Goodness. The gods of death are that nitpicky? As if they don’t have all the time in the world.” Atsuhiro harrumphed in his best old man fashion, but turned his attention to picking up his phone from the table. For some reason, the wretched thing seemed abominably heavy. In the end, he gave up lifting it and instead dialed Hinata and used the speaker. The phone rang out and he heard his daughter’s bright voice telling him to leave a message. He was a little disappointed not to talk to her in person, but perhaps this was better. “Hinata, sweetheart,” he said, leaning in to make sure the phone caught his voice, “an old friend has come to pay me a visit and I’ll be going on a bit of a wander with him.” Tomura chuckled at his phrasing, resting his chin on Mon-chan’s head. “Before I go, though, I just wanted to let you know again how proud I am of you. Your mother and I named you Hinata because we hoped your life would always be a brightly lit path beneath the sun, and for the light you gave to our lives. Dearest, I love you so much. Give my love to your husband and children.” He glanced sidelong at Tomura, then added, “Tomura-kun sends his regards to all of you as well. Adieu, sunshine.”
He closed out the call and grinned at Tomura, who looked very amused. “That was very nearly against the rules, name dropping me like that.”
Atsuhiro stood up, feeling more energetic than he had in years. In growing delight, he removed his gloves and spent a long moment examining his hands— both hands! What a marvel! He held them up to show a grinning Tomura, teasing as he did, “Against the rules? Are we not villains? After all…” He grabbed his top hat from the tabletop and put it on with a flourish, “Where does sending a dream telling me how to access All For One’s legal and illegal accounts fall in these The Rules?”
Tomura’s cheeks went pink. “It was for a good cause,” he muttered.
“You sent it seven nights in a row, Tomura-kun.”
“Well! You kept ignoring me!” Tomura sputtered.
Atsuhiro laughed and smoothed down his vest. It was his old favorite, a lovely silk-wool blend. He’d worn it on many a heist. His mask sat beside the table, and he marbled it for later. There was no need to hide his face now.
Tomura was clambering to his feet when a familiar voice shouted, “Oi! Boss! You got him yet, or you want a real negotiator to come in there?!”
“I already brought Mon-chan with me, you dick!” Tomura retorted. “Who else would I bring? Sure as hell not sending you, you deep fried dumbass!”
Atsuhiro dashed out of the gazebo, barely noticing that the rain had stopped, too caught up in his delight at seeing his old companions waiting for him. “Oh my! You’re all here!”
“Where else would we be, Mister?!” Toga cried, then threw herself at him. “We missed you!”
He caught her up in a tight hug, spinning her around. “Oh, I missed you too, you delightful little monster!”
Jin followed Toga’s example, attack-hugging him and nearly sending him onto the gravel— instead only his top hat went flying. Magne planted a big kiss on his cheek, and he gallantly marveled at her beauty and kissed her hand. Even Spinner shyly came up for a hug. Then it was just Dabi.
Not Toya, Atsuhiro was smug to see. Take that, you swine, he thought at Endeavor. The smugness faded quickly and turned to pain. He reached out for his friend, stopping an inch away, too afraid to make contact. “D-Dabi… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there! I wanted to be there with you. They wouldn’t let me. They didn’t… They didn’t even tell me until it was too late!”
Dabi tilted his head. “You mean when they pulled the plug on me?”
“I would never put it so coarsely…”
Bright blue eyes regarded him, then Dabi yanked him into a too-tight hug. “Aw, Mister, you been holdin’ onto that all this time?” Despite the teasing words, his tone was surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay. I’m glad you weren’t there. It was a big fuckin’ mess from start to finish. If you’d been there, I might’a stayed, and I needed to go. Duster was with me, and my dumbass family was there. I wasn’t alone. It’s okay, Sako, I promise. I was okay.”
It was Atsuhiro’s turn to weep into someone’s shoulder, because he had been holding onto that grief and guilt. Toga, Spinner, and Tomura had all died in the war, as had Kurogiri by all accounts— only Dabi had been left to linger beyond those final days. Atsuhiro had begged to go see him, begged and begged until it was too late. He’d never forgiven the Todoroki family for that, had enjoyed every second of rubbing his non-profit in their faces, and was villain enough to hold onto that grudge even in the afterlife… but with Dabi's forgiveness, he could let go of the guilt and grief.
When he’d managed to get ahold of himself, Dabi gave him a playful squeeze, then let him step back. Sniffling slightly, Atsuhiro unmarbled a handkerchief to wipe his face. Looking around, he commented lightly, “There is a person missing from this reunion. I was hoping to give Kurogiri my gratitude for all his assistance in our escapes… and for making an excellent martini at four AM without a single complaint.”
“He prefers Shirakumo,” Tomura said, coming to stand beside him.
“Shirakumo? What— Oh, I see.” He’d almost forgotten the truth of Kurogiri’s existence. He doubted a hero student turned nomu would want to hang around villains, even deceased. Disappointment lay heavy on his chest. "I suppose he has other… obligations now.”
“Yeah, but he hasn't ditched us or anything. He just has other friends,” Tomura’s smile was fond. “He's missed you too, and he wanted to be here for you, I promise. There was something he had to take care of, but I'm willing to bet anything that he'll have beaten us back and already have set things up for your welcome home party. But, there is something else important you should know. We have a new member!”
“Other than Mon-chan?” he asked, amused. Mon-chan barked at the sound of her name, tail wagging furiously. All the rest of the League were starting to get a mischievous edge to their smiles that Atsuhiro found very suspicious.
“Other than Mon-chan,” Tomura confirmed, and spun Atsuhiro around.
He wasn't sure who he was expecting to see, but his wife was not on that list. Yet there she was, looking as she had in her hero prime, but so much happier than he'd seen her in any pictures. “K-Kaina?”
She laughed at him, and he was surprised how that sound rang through him like a silver bell. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her!
“I know, right? Lady Nagant hanging out with the League of Villains? Seems ridiculous, but after all the things you told me, I had to meet them for myself!” She gave him one of her all too rare, all too sweet smiles. “They're a bunch of loons, just like you, Atsuhiro.”
“She mother hens us worse than Kurogiri ever did,” Tomura muttered in his ear, startling a chuckle out of him. That made sense, considering her personality. But he was still stunned that she was here. He’d expected to meet her sometime, somewhere, but not with his League.
His and Kaina's relationship had always been one of deep friendship and shared experiences. They were two relics of the past tossed into the new world to sink or swim. While Kaina was a hero to the bone, she still had innocent blood on her hands and had been labeled a ‘villain’. He hadn't been imprisoned in Tartarus, but he knew the dehumanizing indignity of villain prison. They’d both had to go through the same “villain rehabilitation program,” and had chosen the same branch of government to serve because of their mutual hatred of corrupt leadership. He admired her dedication, she appreciated his intelligence, both valued loyalty, and both had been terribly lonely. That, and a hundred other, smaller things, had been enough of a foundation to build a partnership lasting forty years. Even so, he had never expected her to seek out his villain comrades-- much less join them-- and that, he realized, had been a disservice to the amazing woman he'd married.
Before his brain had caught up with the rest of him, he had his arms around her, lowering her into a dip so he could give her the sort of kiss usually reserved for sappy stage romances. He meant every second of it, though, and he rather thought Kaina knew he did, because she was still smiling as she kissed him back.
Whoever said that the temperate flame of a hearthfire couldn't be kindled into something hotter?
They straightened up to squeals of glee, various versions of “AWWW!!!”, Mon-chan’s happy barking, and a chorus of exaggerated gagging noises. Dabi’s exclamation of, “There’s a fucking rainbow! An actual goddamn rainbow! The universe has no fucking taste. That's it. I'm gonna hurl.” carried over the rest.
“They are literally children,” Kaina whispered, rolling her eyes.
“They most definitely are,” he agreed. “I am so very happy to see you, my love. Thank you for looking after them.”
“It’s actually been a lot of fun. They’re a lot of fun. I can see why you loved them.” She kissed his cheek, then his lips again. “And it’s good to see you too, love.”
Arm in arm, they returned to the group. “So, what next?” Atsuhiro asked.
Tomura stopped pretending to gag and straightened up, all business. “About that–”
“Please tell me we're finally going to invade Hell, Duster,” Dabi begged. “I'm so bored.”
“We know,” Spinner said, rolling his eyes. “Every time you open your mouth, we know. ”
“Would you both shut up?” Tomura said, voice very patient. “Thank you. As I was saying, we have a job offer.”
“A job offer?” Atsuhiro repeated, startled. “From whom?”
“I can't say. No, Toga, I mean it literally, so shut your mouth. Suffice to say, they're trustworthy, and the job itself is… very interesting.” From the devious, slightly unhinged grin in his face, the offer was one he liked.
“Well, color me intrigued,” Dabi drawled, pulling out a cigarette. The second he lit up, Kaina shot the end off. “You cotton candy colored bitch,” he grumbled, glaring at the stub in his hand, then at the smug ex-hero.
Magne high-fived Kaina. “I’m so glad you came to liven up this sausage fest!” she said, which was apparently an inside joke between the two women and Toga, who was giggling.
“Come on, you psychos, let’s go home,” Tomura said, this time sounding fondly indulgent. “We can go over details after the party.”
“Home,” Atsuhiro sighed, leaning against Kaina as they followed Tomura Shigaraki.
Kaina glanced up, then cackled and pointed. He looked up as well and choked on a laugh. They were taking a path directly beneath a spectacular double-rainbow. It was like Dabi had said: Sometimes, the universe really had no taste.