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He sat there, just staring at the table in front of him, and Tenko knew, deep in his bones, that something was wrong. Dad was never quite that out of it, not even when he first woke up in the morning, and half the time he could barely movewhen he first woke up in the morning. That Dad would be that out of it at the breakfast table…
Tenko frowned, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. Should he say something? Draw attention to it? Dad might not like that, but it was more likely to yield results that actually helped him. Yeah… he should probably say something.
But before he could say anything, someone else beat him to it.
"Are you quite alright, Shirakumo? You seem rather lost in thought," Mr. Compress was the one who spoke, a frown on his face and a bite of his breakfast half-way to his mouth. He'd clearly just noticed and gone directly for it, no stopping to think like Tenko had. Well, it was the same result, in the end.
"…I'm tired," Dad said, after a moment. "I don't know why. I slept last night… but I'm still really tired."
The sounds of breakfast stopped, and all eyes turned towards Tenko's father with open worry. Tired? This early in the morning? Tenko knew his dad; he slept like the fucking dead. Because he was dead. He was a Nomu. He shouldn't betired, not physically, that was literally fucking impossible. Which meant… that meant…
Shit.
"Where's the thing?" Oboro shouted out, still facing the Laundry Room.
"Which thing?" one of them yelled back. Twice, it sounded like, especially given that it was followed by another shout, this one of, "You'll never find it!" Very helpful, that.
"The thing!" He called out into the house again, "The cleaning thing! The, the… caboodle! With the cleaning supplies in it?"
"No idea! I have it!" Twice replied.
Okay. Very helpful.
"Oof!" Oboro was suddenly impacted from behind, arms wrapping him in a hug.
"I think I saw Magne get it earlier," Himiko told him, still clinging to him, "But don't tell her I told you that."
"What?" Oboro asked, twisting about to get a better look at her, "Why would Magne — nevermind. Do you need something, Himiko?"
"Nope!" Himiko flounced back as she let go, clasping her hands behind her back and smiling toothily, "Just letting you know that I'm going out for a little bit!"
"Going out?" Oboro frowned, "Himiko, why?"
"Just feel like it!" Himiko shrugged with a chirp, "I'll be back in an hour or two!" she claimed, and then flounced away, down the stairs, and towards the door.
"Make sure you check in every hour!" Oboro called after her. There was no use trying to stop her, even if going out really wasn't very smart.
"I will!" she called back, and then there was the sound of the door opening and closing, and she was gone.
Oboro sighed. Magne had the cleaning supplies? Why? Well, there was nothing for it, so he set off in search of her, and perhaps also some answers.
He found both in the bathroom, where Magne was scrubbing at the sink basin, the smell of window cleaner hovering sharply in the air. He frowned; this had been what he was planning to do once he got the cleaning supplies, yet somehow, seeing it already being done confused him.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice coming out perplexed.
"Cleaning the bathroom," Magne said, "I saw that you planned to do so today, and I could do it myself, so. I did. You need to let us help more, Oboro-san."
"I —" Oboro blinked in surprise. What did she mean by that? "Magne, you don't need to do that, really —"
"Nonsense, Oboro-san," she smiled at him, "You do enough for us already. Let me do this for you."
"Magne, really —" Oboro made a move for the caboodle, reaching out for it, when Magne physically reacted to block him, shifting so that he would have to use his quirk if he wanted to get past her and take the cleaning supplies.
This. Gave him pause.
"You… really don't want me to do this," he said.
"I really don't."
"But… why?"
"You're tired," she smiled as she repeated back to him what he had said at breakfast. "You should rest today."
Oboro just stared at her for a moment, almost incapable of understanding what he'd heard.
And then…
And then…
He let her win, and he walked away.
"Hey, Shirakumo-san!"
Oboro paused, turning towards the voice with a frown. It was Spinner, he knew even before looking, but Oboro was still somewhat unsettled from everything else going on… and how fiercely Magne had defended the cleaning-caboodle. Why was she… he just didn't get it.
Anyhow, he was already somewhat wrong-footed, but he still managed to be further surprised when Spinner held out a slim little controller, around the size of a chocolate bar.
"Want to play with me, Shirakumo-san?"
"Ah… I'd love to, but I really need to —"
"Nope," Spinner shook his head, "Not today. Come play with me, Shirakumo-san."
Oboro did like the idea of playing a game. He knew the game Spinner had pulled up; a racing game that Oboro was actually decently good at. He really enjoyed playing it when he got the chance. Was this really a chance? Even if Magne was doing today's cleaning, there were still meals to be fixed and plans to be made, but… but…
Spinner gave the controller, still held out towards Oboro, a wiggle.
He didn't want to say no.
He reached out and took it.
A pleasant smell wafted up through the house, paprika-spice and pepper-like. Oboro sat straight up when he smelled it, twisting about where he still sat playing with Spinner. How long had they been playing? How many races? He couldn't remember… it had been a while, longer than he'd planned for certain.
"What time is it?" Oboro asked Spinner, "Is it nearing lunchtime? I should go fix lunch."
"No, don't," Spinner reached out, grabbing Oboro by the wrist and preventing him from getting up, "Touya's got it today."
"Touya?" Oboro asked, blinking with surprise, "Touya can cook?"
"Yeah, surprised us too," Spinner shrugged, "But he can, so. Sit down. You don't need to be doing anything just now."
Oboro refrained from pointing out that he'd never gotten up in the first place, but allowed the game to be unpaused. If someone else was handling it today… Was that really such a bad thing?
After lunch, a meal that Touya had been kind enough to prepare and of high-enough quality that Oboro was not despairing for having let him do so, Oboro slipped away at the end of clean-up, fully intent on going up to the War Room and planning out which government office would be their next strike target, how, why, and all those other fiddly details you had to worry about when you were protesting the government through violent means. Big, important matters, and ones that could not wait, not really.
So imagine his surprise when he got there, and found Mr. Compress already puttering around the central table, muttering to himself.
"What are you doing here, Compress?" he asked, brow furrowed and lips pulled into a frown, "You don't need to —"
"Nonsense!" Compress flapped a hand dismissively at Oboro, "You are tired, so today I shall work on the general planning. Tomorrow, you may look at my ideas and review. But really, it's a good idea for us all to make plans anyway! It will make us less predictable."
"I —" Oboro began, only to have Compress begin to physically shove him out of the room.
"Go on, go on now!" Compress said as he pushed Oboro out, "Go and relax today. I know Himiko's gone and gotten something for you, and I think that Twice has as well."
"Himiko and — what?" Oboro protested, but that was as far as he got before the door was slammed in his face. He could just flicker his way back in, but he felt wrong-footed, yet touched at the same time, so he decided to leave it be.
Hadn't Compress said something about Himiko and Twice having things for him…?
"Boss Man! Hey it's this loser!" Twice called out when he saw Oboro approach, "I got something for you! I hate your face!"
"What's the occasion?" Oboro asked with a soft chuckle, "All of you have been weirdly nice today."
"Not really. Yeah you're right. We just realized you do a lot for us, and we decided to help out if we can! You're so lazy!"
"You really don't have to do that…" Oboro waved a hand awkwardly.
"Yeah but we felt like it," Twice shrugged, "We hate you!"
"Oh," Oboro laughed slightly to himself, "Well." How was he supposed to respond to that?
"Anyway, I wasn't sure I'd be much help around headquarters, so I went and got you something!" Twice held something out towards Oboro, something somewhat box-shaped. "I didn't get you anything!"
"Oh, thank you," Oboro said, taking the thing from Twice. It was… a box set of books, spines sun-faded and pages yellowed, and a date on the copyright page that was over three hundred years gone. The covers showed simple pictures of people, clearly once meant to be bright and bold, now dirtied and fading.
"Oh," Oboro's voice came out at barely more than a whisper, "Oh, Twice, these are priceless. How did you —"
"You like romance novels," Twice waved him off, "Romance sucks! So I saw them and thought you'd like them. You'll hate them."
"Twice, these are pre-quirk books, how did you even — thank you."
Twice just smiled and laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, while Oboro moved the books to his room, halfway to reverent.
"So… um… here," Himiko pressed a slim plastic card into Oboro's hands.
"Wh— Himiko, this is my U.A. student ID from literally fourteen years ago? Why did you have this?"
"Because I needed it to get in," Himiko blinked at him, guileless.
"Get in where? To do what?" he asked, incredulous and slightly hysterical.
"U.A.," Himiko shrugged like it was obvious, "And I got you…" she backed up slightly and reached around the corner for something she needed to heft, "This!"
Oboro blinked. He looked away for a moment, and then looked back. What Himiko was holding had not changed.
"Is that…" he pointed to it, still baffled, "Is that Hizashi's guitar?"
"Yep!"
"How did you…"
"Your ID still let me in, and now the teachers live there because of the dorms, so…" Himiko shrugged and stepped forward to hand him the guitar, "I went and got it for you!"
"Oh," Oboro took the guitar gingerly, "Himiko, I — He — He's going to notice it missing, Himiko…"
"Maybe so," Himiko shrugged, "But I know that when I feel sad, I feel better when I have things from people I love! And I know you've never let him go, no matter what you say sometimes. So I got you something of his!"
"Himiko," Oboro swallowed thickly, eyes watering, "Thank you."
Evening came slow and yet quick, a languid yet undeniably forward pace that arrived at sunset still sooner than Oboro would've liked. As dusk fell, he sat in his armchair, one of the pre-quirk romance novels that Twice had gotten him opened to the start, so that he might meet and learn about the leads of this already adorable story.
Tenko curled himself into Oboro's lap, like he was still a tiny, malnourished six year old new to Oboro's care rather than a gangly twenty year old, long limbs hanging over the sides of the chair. Regardless, Oboro made space for him, letting Tenko tuck his head under Oboro's chin, and for a moment, frozen golden in time —
Everything was perfect.