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The buzz of the electric yellows and blues and greens could barely be heard among the clanging of old machines twisting their parts to contribute to the joyous screams of victory as patrons engaged with both the old and new to pass time between the monotony of work and toil of life beyond the magical space. It might have been thought of as a place for children, but external appearance was only one indicator of youth. Inside, three men gathered around a skeeball machine, the vitality of their hearts evident through their whoops of excitement and intensity at which they engaged with the ancient game of their past.
“You're too far to the left, Hizashi.”
“You're too close to my left, Sho.”
“I'm a barrier so you don't throw the ball into the nearest window.”
“Rude! My aim is impeccable!”
The score on the board hanging above the concentric circles begged to differ with Yamada Hizashi, whose digits hadn't even rounded out of the tens.
Wild black hair tied back to reveal a face which wore an expression that told of the years of exhaustion he'd had at encountering his spunky friend’s inflated sense of confidence, Aizawa Shouta sighed and shook his head, not moving an inch from the spot the other man had insisted was the issue between his wins and losses.
Mostly losses.
Skeeball had always been Yamada's weakest game at the arcade ever since they were 15.
“Forgive me, but where is the ‘skee’?”
An ominous void of black smoke, attached to the body of a dapper looking gentleman, stood close by, the bright yellow mist where his eyes should be wavering as he turned his head back and forth between the machine and the two bickering men.
“Or rather, what is it? For that is the ball, I've gathered.” The void man pointed at the object in Yamada's hand with one covered in the same dark emptiness as his head.
“Oh the ‘skee’ is… uh…”
Yamada stumbled. Aizawa remained quiet, brow furrowing. Both men looked at one another with bewilderment, never having posited the question their friend had offered up.
It felt like another philosophical quandary that Shirakumo Oboro, or rather Kurogiri, the high powered chimeric creation they're old school friend Shirakumo had become, was prone to pulling out of thin air in a place that exuded very little deep thought about naming conventions on the brightly colored machines that whizzed and rang with bells and whistles to make the patrons filled with glee for their small triumphs in life.
Their trip to the arcade, in an attempt to acclimate their altered friend to life beyond war and violence after All For One’s defeat, had not been as successful as they'd hoped.
Yamada had thought this might trigger something in Shirakumo to bring their friend to the forefront of the split personalities inhabiting his body. Half creature of science, half man, Kurogiri was like a child who had yet to be introduced to a world beyond the villainous life he'd been manipulated into serving. Aizawa was still skeptical that they would be doing anything more than babysitting for years to come, their friend inside a mere wisp. He hoped for more; it was easy to with the energy Yamada brought to every new idea they tried; It was just taxing.
Or confusing.
Like now, as Aizawa rubbed at his forehead, once again watching an attempt at socialization and memory extraction flying away in the wind.
Then Kurogiri turned his head and looked beyond the metal circles the balls bounced against after each shot.
“Is it…” his voice rumbled as a smokey hand met that of his face, “The sound you make when you fail to succeed? You've made it quite a lot today.” The void turned.
It wavered.
Behind it, a smile shone against a sunkissed tan, encompassed by hair bright white and as liquid as the mist surrounding his body had become.
Yamada dropped the ball.
Aizawa shouted, holding onto his battered foot.
“Yeah buddy!” Yamada laughed, holding a hand over his stomach while the other wiped a tear away that slipped out.
Relieved.
Heartened.
Aizawa smacked Yamada on the back of the head.
Then laughed.
Smiled.
Tossed the ball up the track until it bounced up and sank into the center most circle, spinning the score board past where it had been.
And Shirakumo was absorbed again amongst a deep chuckle, remembering for a moment what it was like to be human.
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