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Tomura leaned back, feet propped up on Dabi’s bed. One of the benefits of being dead was being able to disregard reality to a certain extent. That meant he could play console and pc games on his Switch! And his favorite mobile games now came in high definition! The other benefit was that now he had all the time in the world to play the games he’d always wanted to, but had been too busy with villainy or survival to do it. Frankly, it was kind of awesome. Currently, he was playing his favorite dungeon crawler, one where a young god has to escape the Underworld and their cruel father.
“When you wake up,” he told the unconscious Dabi, “I’m going to make you play this. You’ll like it. You get to kill monsters and sass your dad, then beat the shit out of him later. Oh, and you have a dog!” He reached one hand down to rub Mon-chan’s ears. Mon-chan nuzzled his hand, then her ears perked up, head turning to the door.
He didn’t bother looking up. “Hey Toga. How’s Sako doing? You didn’t leave until Magne got there, right? I don’t want him left alone.”
“Sorry, it’s not Toga,” said an unfamiliar boy’s voice.
Tomura was on his feet and facing the door before the chair had finished tipping over, his body already coiled in a fighting stance. “Back the fuck off!” he snarled. “I don’t give a shit who you are, what you are, or where you came from, but if you take one more step we’ll find out if someone can die twice.” He kept himself deliberately between the newcomer and Dabi, Mon-chan tucked between his legs and the bed, her little body vibrating as she reacted to his anger. Anger, and more than a bit of fear. He and the others had learned not every shade was friendly (or even necessarily human, though he was still figuring that part out).
The boy in the door looked human enough, but… shiny. A little younger than Tomura, he wore a brown aviator jacket over a blue martial arts gi, with a patch emblazoned with “Loud Cloud” on the jacket. He was very tan, and had hair a very pale blue, paler than Tomura’s had been, that stuck up around his head like cotton candy. He’d been in mid-step when Tomura had reacted, a smile frozen on his face.
Slowly, the smile faded, though it didn’t disappear, and the boy held up both hands to show he came peacefully. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I should’ve guessed you’d be on edge, since you’re guarding a friend. I’ve never been very good with thinking before I run into situations. Well, this side of me wasn’t very good, I mean. Um… I’m not doing a very good job with this, am I?” His smile turned awkward, and Tomura let himself relax slightly. This kid had the build and stance of someone who knew how to fight, but not the look of a fighter.
“The fuck are you?” he demanded.
“Oh! Yeah, sorry, I guess you wouldn’t know me, huh?” the kid said, shoulders slumping slightly, a hint of sadness invading his smile. “My name’s Orboro Shirakumo.”
It was moments like this where Tomura didn’t see the point of being dead. He was dead, he shouldn’t have a heartbeat or have to breathe. He should be beyond pain. So why did it feel like some eldritch horror had just sucked the air from his lungs? Why did his chest hurt so much? Why did he want to scratch and scratch and scratch until his fingers turned warm and wet, all in the vain hope he could finally scratch away the part of himself that felt?
Mon-chan whined, pressing her warm body against his leg. Hearing her, feeling her close, brought him back to himself before his hand had moved toward his neck more than a few inches.
Calling on years of training, he shoved the pain away, stuffing it into a corner of his mind. “Fine. You’re Orboro Shirakumo. What do you want?”
Orboro blinked, obviously taken aback by his blunt rudeness. “Tomura… do you not know who else I am?” he asked, sounding confused and slightly hurt.
“Of course I do,” Tomura snapped. “I know you were a hero student who died at age seventeen and your body was turned into Kurogiri. That still doesn’t answer my question. What do you want?”
Now hesitant, Orboro said simply, “I wanted to see you.”
“Why?” Tomura hid his shaking hands by clenching them into fists. “You’re not Kurogiri. Kurogiri was an organic robot, programmed to be my guardian. He… He wasn’t real. There's no reason for you to be here.”
The light suddenly came back into Orboro’s eyes, and it looked uncomfortably like the light of understanding. “Okay. I think I get where this went wrong. Let me start over.” His skin and hair suddenly darkened, his whole body blurring as if he’d stepped behind a fogged up window, then abruptly it was Kurogiri standing there, not Orboro Shirakumo.
It was Kurogiri.
Tomura felt his eyes go wide, one hand flew up to his mouth, trying to stifle any words before they escaped, while the other fisted in his shirt. He wanted it to be a lie, an illusion, some quirk that could mess with the dead… but he knew better. Every shade he'd met had the same feeling, the feeling of truth, of all the detritus of life scrubbed away to reveal the true person beneath. This was Kurogiri, a man made of black and purple fog, his gold eyes glowing, dressed in his usual button down shirt, gray slacks, and a dark blue vest with subtle, shiny patterns.
He always liked the blue vests better, Tomura thought frantically, mind whirling. I was angry at Sensei, when he made Kurogiri only wear green at the bar. Kurogiri never said anything, but I knew he was upset, and I was angry at Sensei. I… I got Kurogiri that vest, and told him that he could wear it when he wasn't on duty behind the bar. He was so happy, and it felt good.
Why was he remembering that now?
“Tomura,” and the voice, it was his voice, the voice Tomura had known meant 'safe’ since age five. The sound of it almost broke him. He’d missed it so much after Kurogiri had left.
Carefully, slowly, as though Tomura were some frightened animal, Kurogiri approached him. He even moved the same way, slow and slightly stiff, as if unused to walking. “I have come to tell you something very important.”
“O-Oh yeah?” Tomura asked, realizing that he’d unthinkingly backed himself up almost into Dabi’s bed. Kurogiri was right in front of him… “What’s th-that?”
Telegraphing his movements, Kurogiri raised his hands and put them on either side of Tomura’s face. His hands felt the same: cool and soft, like the cold side of a pillow. Yellow gold eyes gazed into his, and he couldn’t look away.
“I love you, Tomura Shigaraki. For all the times I couldn’t say it back to you because of my programing: I love you. I couldn’t have loved you more if you were my son by blood, and I love you still, so much.”
It would've hurt less if Kurogiri had hit him. “Y-You don’t mean that,” he said, voice cracking. “You can’t. Sensei made you my guardian. It-It wasn’t r-real. Y-You didn’t h-have a choice.”
“I did,” Kurogiri corrected, and for the first time, Tomura heard real, thick emotion in his guardian’s deep voice. “I did choose, Tomura. I saw you for the first time behind one way glass. You were playing by yourself and I could see how alone you were. Your clothes were a mess, your face was dirty, and it looked as if your hair hadn’t been brushed in days.” He ran cool fingers through Tomura’s long hair, gently untangling some of the knots. It was such a familiar gesture it made him ache. “You were so small back then, I could hold you tucked in one arm. And you had the biggest, saddest eyes I'd ever seen, and the cutest face.” He squished Tomura’s cheeks, eyes curving up into a smile at Tomura’s instinctive scowl at the motion. “I was not yet complete, I was not even sure who I was, but I decided that no matter what else happened, I would take care of you. I would love you and protect you for as long as I could. You’re right that the programming muted my emotions and kept me from telling you everything I wanted to, but I loved you so much, Tomura. I still love you. If anything, dying and having my emotions freed just lets me love you more.” His fingers tightened, just a little, the yellow of his eyes going soft. “All For One thought he was manufacturing a bond, but that's because only a selfish, blind bastard like him could meet you and not love you.”
Tomura’s hands rose, wrapping around Kurogiri’s wrists, wanting to keep them in place, wanting to shove them away. “Stop, please,” he begged. He was made of glass, the wrong touch would break him into a thousand pieces. “Please don’t do this to me. You can’t stay. You’re not a member of my League. You’re a hero.”
Gently but firmly, Kurogiri corrected him, “No. I am the protector of Tomura Shigaraki.”
Tomura shattered.
He didn’t know when he went from standing to on his knees, but there he was, sobbing into his guardian’s shoulder while Kurogiri held him tight. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, ‘Giri. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”
“My boy,” Kurogiri whispered, rocking Tomura like he was a little kid again. “My boy, my boy. My precious boy. You don’t have to apologize, not ever. I love you so much!”
Something wet fell against his neck, and Tomura forced himself to look up at Kurogiri’s face. Kurogiri was crying. Tears dripped from those glowing gold eyes, the droplets rising up with the rest of his mist and evaporating.
He’d never seen Kurogiri cry. He hadn’t even known Kurogiri could cry. “Are you crying?” he stammered, stunned twice over. What he wanted to ask was, ‘ how are you crying?’ but that seemed insensitive even to him.
Kurogiri gave a wet little chuckle, futilely wiping at the tears. “It seems I am. I have a lot of built up tears.”
Tomura nodded, acutely aware of his own wet cheeks. If there was one universal effect death had on a person, he’d decided, it was to turn everyone into crybabies. “It seems to be a common affliction,” he muttered, looking away, unable to look at Kurogiri’s face, scared of what he’d see there. He didn’t want to hope, even now. Swallowing hard, he tried to clear his throat, but his voice still cracked as he asked, “What now? Now that we’ve cried all over each other.”
Kurogiri laughed and Tomura bristled as his hair was ruffled. “Still not comfortable with displays of emotion?” he teased gently.
“They keep getting shoved down my throat whether I’m comfortable or not,” Tomura grumbled, then yelped as a cold nose was pressed against his arm. He’d forgotten about Mon-chan! Instantly contrite, he turned and held out his arms for her. Whining, she climbed into his lap, nuzzling against his face. He might still be uncomfortable with overtly showing emotion, but Mon-chan was the exception.
“Who’s this little cutie pie?” Kurogiri asked, voice suddenly bright and young. Mon turned her head, sniffing in his direction. Kurogirii's eyes thinned in the way Tomura knew meant that he was smiling, and offered his hand for Mon to sniff. She did so, then shoved her head beneath his hand. “Aw! So soft!” he cooed, and some of the purple mist cleared away from his face, showing the big smile and bright blue eyes beneath.
Tomura went from being unable to look at his face, to unable to look away. “Her name is Mon-chan. She was my dog from Before, and she’s one of us now.”
Sensing another admirer, Mon moved over to Kurogiri’s lap and licked his face, removing even more of the mist. He laughed, and Tomura realized he'd never heard Kurogiri laugh before, not like this, an unrestrained, too loud, joyful laugh that lit up his face and actually made some of Dabi’s monitors beep. “She’s so cute, Tomura!”
Tomura smiled. How could he not, after a laugh like that? “You sound like Spinner. He got all squeally too.”
“Spinner?” Kurogiri (Orboro?) asked, his eyes, one blue as the sky and the other a golden curve, widening. “He's with you?”
“They all are. Or, almost all of them.” Tomura turned and looked up at Dabi. From this angle, all he could see was one hand, too thin and trailing tubes and wires. It hurt to see, but not as badly as it could. Dabi would have his chance to choose soon enough. Compress’s situation was far more worrying. “Sako's still on this side too, in prison. Toga's with him right now.” He smiled at Kurogiri, his chest aching with something that was half pain and half gratitude. “But you already knew that my League was waiting for me, or a part of you knew. You helped the heroes reach me in that last fight, because you knew my friends were waiting for me. Mon came to get me,” he stroked her gently, making her tail wag, “and Magne showed up almost as soon as I found my perfect place. I went and got the rest of them myself.”
Kurogiri sagged in obvious relief, more tears escaping to join the fog, though a few dripped from his cheek. “I… My memories are foggy, especially at the end. I'm so glad they were there for you, Tomura. So glad.”
“They're my family,” Tomura said simply. His eyes flicked to Kurogiri's, to the blue and gold, proof of Kurogiri’s opposing natures of hero and villain. Which was he? Hero or villain? Did it matter? He was here, sitting on the floor with Tomura and his dog, smiling at Tomura as if this was exactly where he wanted to be.
“Please come home with me. It's not home without you. I never should've let you leave the first time, I regretted it the second you stepped through the portal. Gigantomachi and the doctor weren't worth losing you. I want to know you, I want to get to know the real you. Kurogiri or Orboro, I don’t care, just stay with me!”
The words got trapped somewhere between his brain and his tongue. He choked on them, desperate to say them, to beg if he had to.
God, he wanted to ask Kurogiri to come home with him so badly.
But he couldn't. He wouldn’t. He believed what Kurogiri had told him. He believed that Kurogiri loved him, as impossible and astonishing as it was. He didn’t really have a choice; Death made it all but impossible to lie. (Other than small, stupid lies like “No Tomura, I definitely didn't bring a bottle of ghost whiskey to pour on Dabi to see if he'd taste it and wake up.” Or, “I was in my room the whole time! I don't know why the forks are stuck in the ceiling. Maybe they're angelic and were trying to ascend!” His friends were idiots.)
Tomura believed that the bond had been real, was real, but it still never should've happened. Orboro Shirakumo had died, and his soul should've found its Perfect Place or been reborn. The horror of having that peaceful end forcibly ripped away had really only hit after Tomura had died himself. He'd nearly convinced himself that his new home had been a clerical error, and would be taken away. The despair he'd felt only had an equal in All For One's complete betrayal, and had actually been worse in some ways. All For One had never made him happy, had never felt like home. Tomura didn’t believe in Heaven or Paradise or Nirvana, but he believed in the weird little apartment building with its attached bar, filled with his friends and the promise of memories to come.
“You could visit them,” he croaked trying to hide his desperation. “They’d love to see you. Toga asked me when Mamagiri was coming, and Spinner keeps referring to you as Shadow Dad.”
“Mamagiri?” repeated Kurogiri, laughing again
Tomura felt his ears turn pink. “You know I can’t stop her from saying whatever the hell she wants.”
Eyes dancing, Kurogiri grinned. “What about Shadow Dad?”
Sighing, Tomura leaned back against Dabi’s bed. “That was Spinner, Twice, and Dabi’s name for you. Sako and Magne are actual, functional adults and weren’t looking for a surrogate father figure.”
“And what do you call me?”
Tomura frowned at him, confused. “Kurogiri. Just Kurogiri. Do you… want me to call you something else?” A thought occurred to him. “Do you want me to call you Orboro?”
Kurogiri blinked at him, then smiled and shook his head. “No. It means a lot to me that you’d ask, more than you might realize, but I like being Kurogiri to you. And… I'd like to see them again.”
“You're welcome, any time, for as long as you want,” Tomura said in a rush. “You can fuckin’ move next door if you want! Crash at three a.m., stay for a week, stay long enough to have a drink, whatever you want. You… You can choose whatever you want.” Suddenly embarrassed, he focused on giving Mon attention, rubbing her ears and scratching under her chin. Kurogiri’s hands joined his, much to Mon’s delight. With a happy sigh, she flopped down and rolled on her back for bellyrubs.
“What if I wanted to stay for longer?”
“I said as long as you wanted.”
Gently, hands framed his face, turning it back up to Kurogiri’s. “Tomura, can I join the League again?”
Tomura tried to fight the impulse to throw himself at his dad, and lost. Mon barely managed to keep from getting squished between them as Tomura clutched at Kurogiri, pressing his face against his father’s chest. “Please. Please stay with me. Please be one of my League.”
Kurogiri laughed, and hugged him again. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Hell yes!”
Another bright laugh, which Mon joined in with this time, pawing at them both until they separated and got to their feet. Beyond eager, Tomura grabbed Kurogiri’s hand and towed him to the door that was always there. “Mon, stay here,” he ordered the dog. “I’ll be right back, but come get me if anything changes.”
“Why leave Mon behind?” Kurogiri asked.
“I promised Dabi I wouldn’t leave again. Last time I did, everything went to shit, so I’m staying on this side until he’s ready to come with me,” Tomura explained. “I’m also keeping an eye on Sako. He’s the last, and I won’t have him be alone. Mon stays with Dabi whenever I have to check up on the others.”
Kurogiri beamed at him. “You are a good leader, Tomura. I knew you would be, once you had something worth fighting for. All For One could never understand that about you, that it wouldn’t be a need for power that motivated you, but people to fight for. I’m so proud of you!”
Tomura blushed as he opened the door. “Shut up. And… And welcome home, Orboro Shirakumo. I think you’ll like the changes we made.”