Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The soft light of the moon shone low in the sky as Atsuhiro ran across rooftops, the night’s first find held safely in a marble. It was quite idiotic of people to simply leave their valuables out near their windowsill. The little figurine was practically begging to be snatched up and locks mattered little to a thief as skilled as himself. He chuckled as he recalled the presumed owners of the item obliviously chatting away in the other room, fools.

Once he found himself a safe distance away, he took the marble from his pocket, releasing the item to inspect it closer. A little porcelain lady that reflected the moonlight off her pale skin, arms and legs posed in a graceful dance. Perhaps not his greatest find, the painting in Fukuoka probably took that title, but it was quite the catch. Giran would be able to find a buyer quite easily, especially since this one appeared to lack any particular identifying marks.

He sighed as he compressed the figurine back into a marble. In truth, he had not stolen it for the money, he had no real need of it as his current savings were quite enough to get by. But he would probably have gone mad if he’d sat in that bar any longer, listening to the asinine conflicts that seemed to arise every other hour. And the icy bite of the night air was an old friend, a much welcome respite until he had to return.

The league was never a group Atsuhiro imagined staying in for long, he wasn’t really the kind to do the whole “teamwork” thing. But Giran had called in a favour, and who was he to refuse? Especially when Magne hadn’t.

He supposed he should be heading back, lest the others wonder where he had run off to. But the night was young, and he was never one to bother about other’s opinions, Magne would figure it out as soon as she noticed his absence.

He hadn’t found anything else to steal by the time the moon had risen above his head, a shame really. Oh sure, there were plenty of fools walking around alone, with pockets ripe for picking, but that was simple, there was no risk, no real reward. At this point, he was just going to get back to the bar and try to get some rest, surely everyone would have gone to sleep by now. He stood on a rooftop, scanning the buildings nearby to recognize his location, ah, it seemed he had doubled back somewhere along the way. At least it made less of a walk back to the bar.

He took a slower pace returning to the bar, listening to the sounds of the city at night. The calls of crickets and owls where people had already turned off the lights, and the sound of blaring music as teenagers celebrated the weekend. As he neared the bar, the sounds of the peaceful city were replaced by the unearthly quiet of a place that almost nobody lived in, accented by random clangs and rustles as stray creatures rummaged for food and...

Humming?

Atsuhiro stopped in his tracks, unsure if he had even heard anything at all, but sure enough, if he strained his ears, he could hear a melodic sound coming from the set of roofs ahead of him. Whomever was there was rather clever and clearly didn’t want to be found, three of the buildings had been built taller than the rest, leaving a fourth trapped in by walls on three sides. Atsuhiro started jumping on the windowsills of the one nearest to him, extra careful not to make a sound, it would be a pain to be found by this person when the bar was on the other side of the buildings.

He stepped onto the rooftop and slowly walked forward, using the raised edge of the roof to hide himself from the person below. He could hear the humming more clearly now, it was a slow melody, practiced and gentle. It was beautiful. Atsuhiro’s curiosity quickly outweighed rational thought, he peeked over the edge of the roof, wondering who on earth would come all the way up here just to hum.

A man sat, partially encased in shadow atop a long-broken generator, humming as he stared off in the only open direction. Atsuhiro made to move, curiosity satisfied, when the man sighed and stood up, a black mist covering his features as he dusted off his clothes. Atsuhiro stared, frozen in shock. What on earth was Kurogiri doing up here? Shigaraki’s right-hand man, and, as far as Atsuhiro knew, that was all he was since any attempt at conversation was like talking to the wall. So what could possibly possess him to be on a random rooftop at nearly midnight, humming to himself?

Kurogiri looked around, glowing golden eyes suddenly locking onto where Atsuhiro still peeked over the roof, entirely forgetting to move until it was far too late. He took a deep breath, well, no point in running now. He stood up, hopping down from his rooftop perch.

“Greetings Kurogiri! I didn’t expect to run across you this fine night.” Atsuhiro gave a dramatic curtsy as greeting.

“Sako. How long have you been standing there?” Kurogiri asked. Ah, there was the unflinchingly monotone voice he recognized.

“Oh not long at all darling, I was only just passing by when I heard your melody.” Atsuhiro started looking around the rooftop.

“Oh, I thought you went back to your apartment?”

Atsuhiro shrugged without answering, he’d thought about it, but his apartment was further away, and he wanted sleep. Instead, he pivoted the conversation “what song was that? It sounded lovely.”

Kurogiri was silent for several seconds. “It’s getting late, we should head back” he said eventually. Atsuhiro frowned, surely that was a harmless question? Regardless, despite his profession, he wasn’t one to pry into other’s personal lives. Kurogiri opened a portal back to the bar, a swirling vortex of the same kind of mist that covered his body. On that note.

“So, you aren’t just mist.” Atsuhiro said offhandedly as they entered the bar and Kurogiri turned on the lights. It was a shame he didn’t get a good look at Kurogiri before he covered his face, he’d rather like to know if emotions would show on Kurogiri’s face.

Kurogiri turned suddenly, “what do you mean?” He asked, oddly nonchalantly, expression as unreadable as ever.

Atsuhiro frowned, “earlier, you didn’t have the mist covering-”

He was cut off by a glare and a hand over his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kurogiri grabbed Atsuhiro by the collar, voice raised, and, considering that he was much bigger than Atsuhiro, it was a rather frightening contrast to his normally bland demeanour.

“Oh, alright then.” Atsuhiro gave a shaky smile, hands up in a placating gesture. “I saw nothing.”

Kurogiri took a breath and sighed, “sorry, I,” he shook his head “just, go to bed.”

Atsuhiro took that as his cue to leave, glancing back as Kurogiri took his place behind the bar and turned off the lights. Atsuhiro shook his head “Il est plus effrayant qu’il en a lair” he muttered to himself, making a note of never getting on Kurogiri’s bad side. He didn’t know Kurogiri’s voice could show such emotion, part of him always wondered if Kurogiri even had emotions at all.

Atsuhiro made his way to his room, it was almost completely baren except for the bed and a cupboard which held a first aid kit and a change of clothes. After all, he didn’t stay here most days, unlike the others, so the room was perfectly adequate. He practically flopped into bed after changing out of his costume, too tired to be dreading the chaos the morning would inevitably bring.

But of course, the sun eventually rose and with it came the shouts of delight, anger, and general excitement that seemed to define the league’s communication. Atsuhiro eventually grabbed his mask and joined the rabble for breakfast, and luckily Kurogiri seemed to be less on edge than he’d been last night. Although Atsuhiro was surprised he could keep a level head when Dabi and Shigaraki were squabbling over in the corner, about ten seconds away from using their quirks. Atsuhiro decided that he didn’t want to deal with any of the chaos of half-asleep children and walked over to Magne instead.

She took one look at him and giggled “mornin’ Atsu, you look tired.”

Atsuhiro sighed “peux-tu me le reprocher? It’s so loud in here!”

“They’re young, they’re going to be loud; besides, you can’t be that annoyed, you’re still here after all.” Magne reminded him.

“Only because you’re too stubborn to give up,” he grumbled.

Magne shook her head “maybe.” She grinned “or maybe you’re finally making some friends.”

Atsuhiro started to retort but was interrupted by Toga running up to Magne and dragging her away to show off some new knives, Magne gave him an apologetic glance as she walked away. And there went the only companion Atsuhiro could have a civil conversation with. He resigned himself to suffering through whatever fate threw at him that day, he was going back to his apartment tonight, that was certain.

And certainly the chaos reigned, he was almost relieved when he was sent out to speak with some recruits. Although it was a rather boring process, as most people didn’t appreciate his theatrics nearly as much as they should. Not to mention the prospects weren’t even that powerful, even if they tried very hard to convince him otherwise, and they were quite dull, the league didn’t need people who couldn’t even notice when their pockets were picked. Atsuhiro chuckled to himself as he walked away from the trio of buffoons, a pencil, a set of keys and a few coins in his hands.

He returned to the bar, opening the door to be greeted by a knife flying at his head, luckily, a portal opened in time to stop it from permanently pinning his mask to his face. He looked around to see Spinner and Toga being held back by an exasperated Magne, and Twice was frantically keeping all the knives in the bar away from the pair. Meanwhile Dabi and Shigaraki were trying to murder each other, only stopped by the repeated portals opening to drop them on opposite sides of the room. He ducked behind the bar, partially hiding behind Kurogiri who didn’t seem to be all that perturbed about the situation.

After about two minutes, the children had calmed down and managed to have a civil conversation. Atsuhiro relayed the uneventful meeting and listened half-heartedly to a few of the others recounting a few jobs they’d done. And it seemed that the afternoon fight had drained away all their animosity for the day and allowed him to sit at the corner table with a mystery novel he’d taken with him when he left his apartment yesterday.

After some time, he was snapped away from his reading by the sound of clinking glass. He looked up and found that the only people left in the actual bar were himself and Kurogiri, who was putting away all the glasses and bottles that had been left on the counter. Atsuhiro stretched, taking his legs off the armrest and marbling his novel, he really ought to be heading back to his apartment, unless he wanted to sit through a repeat instance of this morning tomorrow. His eyes landed on a forgotten wine glass on the table, he grabbed it, he might as well assist in cleaning up if it was no inconvenience to him. He walked up to the cupboards, trying to figure out where the wine glasses went, when Kurogiri cleared his throat.

“Here, give it,” Kurogiri held out his hand and Atsuhiro obliged. Kurogiri put the glass back in the cupboard, closing it with a sigh “that better be everything.” He turned to Atsuhiro “why are you still here? Planning to spend the night?”

“Nothing of the sort, I simply lost track of time.” Atsuhiro headed towards the door when Kurogiri spoke again.

“You know, the window opens over the fire escape, much easier to get onto the roof from there.”

Atsuhiro nodded “I suppose you would know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kurogiri asked with fake innocence.

Atsuhiro suddenly remembered what happed the last time he pried too far into this subject, “oh, never mind, I’ll be off now.” He climbed out of the window, scampering away from the bar. He climbed onto the set of three buildings when he heard a faint thud, turning around he noticed that Kurogiri had also climbed out onto the fire escape. He could mind his own business, but he may or may not have walked a bit slower as Kurogiri ran the long way around to the sheltered roof. Atsuhiro raised an eyebrow, for someone whose quirk was basically teleportation, Kurogiri was surprisingly adept at parkour, although perhaps his portals lessened the danger of falling.

When he got to the rooftop he looked around, scanning the buildings above. Atsuhiro figured it was probably a good idea to leave, he hopped down from the rooftop. A portal opened below his feet in mid-air. Oh dear.

Atsuhiro dropped face down onto the rooftop, the only thing he could process being the impatient tapping of shoes on concrete. “Sako.” Kurogiri sounded rather annoyed, which was fair enough, Atsuhiro really should have minded his own business.

Atsuhiro stood up, dusting off his clothes “bonsoir mon ami! I was only just leaving.”

“Uh huh.” Kurogiri didn’t sound convinced, “even though you should have been about three rooftops over by the time I got here?”

“So I was taking my time, what’s the harm in that? Besides, you could have waited.” Atsuhiro started walking off.

“Are you going to keep doing this?” Kurogiri asked, slightly exasperated.

“Doing what?” Atsuhiro feigned ignorance.

“Cut the act Sako, you know damn well what I mean,” Kurogiri snapped. And it took Atsuhiro a few seconds to answer, stunned that Kurogiri had cursed, however mild it was.

“Fine, I’ll leave you alone, but, would you allow me one question?”

“That depends on the question.” Kurogiri crossed his arms.

“Why are you up here, because the last time I checked, you barely had a personality outside of helping our dear leader. This seems rather out of character.” Atsuhiro noted, perhaps pressing the issue further than he really should.

“I think you’re imagining things.”

“No I am not, do not try to deceive me.” Atsuhiro was starting to get impatient, “either answer my question or give me a reason why you won’t.”

Kurogiri grumbled, throwing his hands up in frustration, “is it so hard to believe that I would just come out here to enjoy the view?”

“If you were anybody else? No, I’d never give it a second thought. But you’ve shown more expression tonight than I’ve ever seen from you. So what is it about this rooftop that makes you so much more emotional?” Atsuhiro asked, impatiently tapping his foot.

Kurogiri was silent, he turned away, staring out at the city. Atsuhiro looked around, there truly was nothing special about this rooftop, other than its hidden nature. He could not spot anything other than concrete and an old broken generator. “Perhaps, I have asked the wrong question,” he mused out loud, Kurogiri turned to him.

“What?”

“Perhaps, the true question is, why aren’t you this expressive normally? After all, if I had to pick the oddity, it would be your usual behaviour.” Atsuhiro stared at Kurogiri trying to see a difference.

Kurogiri stared at him a bit longer, and Atsuhiro was wondering if he should have just kept his mouth shut. Then, Kurogiri sighed, looking back at the city skyline, “fine, you win, I’ll explain.”

Atsuhiro was shocked, he had half expected Kurogiri to yell at him again, but, he seemed, exhausted.

“You know the nomus?” Kurogiri asked, and while Atsuhiro hadn’t the faintest idea of what those monstrosities had to do with this conversation, he nodded.

“Yes, those brutish creatures Shigaraki likes to send after his enemies.”

“Oh, you’re talking about the lower-tiers but that’s not the only kind. The high-ends are way more advanced, they retain more.” Atsuhiro really had no idea where this was going, weren’t they talking about Kurogiri? Also, what on earth did Kurogiri mean by ‘retaining more’? What were these creatures retaining?

“More advanced how?” Atsuhiro finally asked, hoping that would clear some confusion.

Kurogiri shrugged “they have sentience, thought, reason, unlike the other kinds.”

“This is fascinating and all darling, however I must wonder, why are you telling me this?”

Kurogiri paused “only so that you’d understand when I say, I am a high-end nomu.”

Atsuhiro stared, slowly comprehending the truth of Kurogiri’s words, “so, the reason you’re so devoted to Shigaraki?”

“It’s partially because of my programming, yes.”

“Only partially?”

Kurogiri turned to Atsuhiro, expression still unreadable through the mist “like I said, the high-ends are almost completely sentient. I’m loyal to Tomura because I care for him. If I didn’t, I’d have left years ago.”

“Oh.” Atsuhiro said, “what about your loyalty to All for One?”

Kurogiri paused, “of course, I have my loyalties to him, Tomura is simply my priority.” Atsuhiro stared, Kurogiri’s voice had gone back to being toneless, it was disturbing, now that he knew it wasn’t Kurogiri’s default.

“I think you’re lying to me.” Atsuhiro said.

“I’m not, I am loyal to All for One, why wouldn’t I be?” Kurogiri reasoned, but still, Atsuhiro couldn’t shake the feeling that if he was telling the truth then his voice wouldn’t sound so dead.

“No, you’re not, stop lying.” Atsuhiro repeated.

“I’m not lying!” Kurogiri said firmly, stepping forward menacingly. Atsuhiro stared at him, trying to discern why things felt so off.

There. Kurogiri might be covered in mist, but that couldn’t hide the subtle tremors running through his whole body.

“You’re, scared of him.” Atsuhiro said, not fully processing the realisation until he said the words.

Kurogiri froze, the tremor becoming more noticeable when he wasn’t moving. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do,” Atsuhiro scoffed, “you can hide your voice, but you’re still shaking like a leaf.” He gestured at Kurogiri like it was obvious, “now why would you be scared of him?”

“I think I’ve answered enough of your questions, now leave.” Kurogiri once again opened a portal beneath Atsuhiro’s feet, dropping him on another rooftop.

He had to look around to find his bearings, but once he did, he realised that his apartment wasn’t all that far away.

Atsuhiro dusted himself off, again, and meandered back to his apartment, eyeing a few locked windows as he passed them by. His apartment was by no means fancy, but nobody in the building asked questions and that truly was all he could ask for. He hopped over to his windowsill, which was barely wide enough to crouch on, and unlocked the window. He climbed into his living room, landing softly on the rug he’d snatched from who knows where. He locked the window, turned on the lights and drew the dark curtains back over the glass, obscuring his living room from view.

He let out a sigh as the familiar burgundy that covered the walls welcomed him home. He took off his mask, placing it in a drawer with the others, all neatly lined up in order of favourites, the drawer was reorganized at least once a month. He emptied his coat pockets, putting objects back where they belonged in drawers and on shelves, stumbling upon the marble containing the porcelain figurine. He placed it in a coin purse, with a few other marbles, all containing things he could hand over to Giran for selling. Leaving his hat on the coat rack by the door, he headed to his bedroom, passing by shelves lined with various knick-knacks and curios he’d collected over the years.

After a much-needed shower, he grabbed the most comfortable clothes he owned, a soft grey shirt and lilac trousers. That might not sound like something one would wear at home, but when considering that his wardrobe consisted entirely of clothes that seemed like they belonged at a ren faire or a stage play, it was the most casual set of clothes he could have chosen. He returned to his living room, checking on the few plants scattered around, pruning and watering them as needed. After feeding the plants he began fixing up his own dinner, consisting mostly of whatever he found in his cupboards that could be thrown together into a decent meal. His cooking skills consisted more of making functionally edible food than making anything truly delectable.

As he finished washing the dishes Atsuhiro realised with a sigh that he had not been here for a whole day, and dust had built up on his shelves as a result. He’d have to sweep and dust the whole place in the morning, a task which he was not looking forward to in the slightest. He figured that was a problem for future him and went to bed, burrowing under a soft blanket and drifting off to a slumber half plagued by questions about what he'd learned.

Chapter Text

It was nearly two weeks until Atsuhiro managed to speak with Kurogiri again, it seemed that at every turn Kurogiri had managed to completely evade Atsuhiro. He had not returned to the rooftop once, nor had he allowed himself to be caught alone with Atsuhiro. However, he needn’t have worried, as after the first day Atsuhiro had deemed it a waste of time and decided to leave well enough alone. His curiosity might not be satisfied but he wasn’t going to go out of his way doing something that might not even give him answers. If Kurogiri was going to be stubborn then so be it, Atsuhiro wasn’t going to waste breath to argue. Even if Kurogiri’s toneless voice now sounded uncomfortable to his ears, and even if Atsuhiro could now tell when Kurogiri started being careful with his words. It didn’t matter, Atsuhiro still had duties to carry out for the league, and so he continued dancing around the questions in his mind, resigning himself to the fact that he would never know the answers.

That all changed one night as Atsuhiro returned from meeting with Giran about some new information he’d collected regarding some possible allies. He opened the door to the bar, expecting to find at least Shigaraki still awake so that he could give his report and go home. However, when he stepped through the door he found the bar completely empty, odd, the sun hadn’t even set fully, so where was everyone. Atsuhiro opened his phone, Magne would let him know if something had occurred.

“Hey Atsu! You finished your meeting?” He heard Magne’s cheerful voice surrounded by the sounds of muffled yelling. Well, at least she didn’t seem to be in any danger.

“A while ago actually, I’m at the bar, where are you lot? There’s nobody here!” He asked, now a little impatient.

“Oh, well, me, Toga, Iguchi and Jin are getting ice-cream and cookies,” he could almost see the unworried expression on Magne’s face.

“And you have absolutely no idea where Shigaraki is?” Atsuhiro asked.

Magne hummed without answering.

Atsuhiro sighed “Mags. Magne. Ma chère sœur. I want to go home, where is Shigaraki?”

“I’m pretty sure him and Dabi got into another fight, they’re both off sulking somewhere.” Magne sighed, “wait, gimme a sec. Toga! For the last time, stop trying to bite people! Iguchi give her the cookie before we have to give you stitches.”

Atsuhiro chuckled “I see you have your hands full; I’ll figure something out.”

“Shouldn’t Kurogiri be there?”

Atsuhiro sighed wearily, and he heard Magne huff “yes yes, for some reason, and I will find out why, he’s been avoiding you. Are you sure it’s not because you two-”

“No.” Atsuhiro stopped that train of thought before Magne got any bright ideas, “I told you the first time, we did not sleep together.”

“Just saying, wouldn’t be the first time one of your hook ups got us in trouble.” The worst part was that Atsuhiro couldn’t even rebuke that statement.

“Look, he’s not here either, so unless you have an idea of where he is, I’m hanging up.”

“He left earlier, said something about a meeting. Told me and Jin to keep things running ‘til evening.” A meeting? Of all the different people to be sent to meet with allies or recruits, it had never been Kurogiri. Atsuhiro pushed that thought to the side, perhaps this was different in some way.

”And you’re doing so well,” Atsuhiro said sarcastically, he got some grumbling from Magne for that comment. “Alright then, I’ll stop distracting you, have fun with the demons! À bientôt!”

Atsuhiro hung up the phone, it seemed that the best course of action would be to wait for Kurogiri to return. He grabbed a stool and sat at the bar, soon getting bored and deciding it would be harmless enough to snoop around. The warm ceiling lamps glowed dimly, barely lighting up the dark wooden walls and floor with an orange, almost reddish hue. The tables scattered about might have been packed with strangers back when this was a functional business, all drunkenly chattering and fighting and laughing. The bottles lining the cabinet behind the bar were the only new things in the place, evidenced by the lack of stained and cracked age showing all through the rest of the building. The place was devoid of decorations, even those that would be found in a regular old bar, no paintings hung on the walls, no trinkets were laid on the tables, it was like the place had been deliberately stripped away of all its character to be made as depressing as possible. Even the parts that seemed almost like they’d hold some sentiment to them, scratches one of Toga’s knives left carelessly on the counter, a chair that had been scorched after a fight, even one of Atsuhiro’s own marbles lost under a table, they all seemed to lose their meaning under the empty air that surrounded them. The only signs of life being the lack of dust on every surface, and yet even that belied the erasure of an existence, as nobody would know of all the instances when Shigaraki had used his quirk to make a point.

It didn’t take long to search through every cupboard and drawer in the bar, he could look through the others’ rooms, but that would be a bit too far, even for him. So once again, he sat at the bar, incredibly bored. He wondered if Kurogiri would even talk to him, or if he’d notice Atsuhiro sitting alone and immediately warp away to avoid him, it seemed a likely scenario at this point. Contrary to what he’d told Magne, he knew exactly what he’d done wrong, he’d let his curiosity get the better of him and, as always, it didn’t end well for him. Atsuhiro thought he should just write a note and call it a night, there was a pen in one of those drawers, and some paper stuck in the cabinet.

As he dug around the drawers behind the bar, trying to remember exactly where he’d seen that pen, Atsuhiro heard a thud accompanied by the familiar swishing sound of a portal opening. Finally. He looked up, report organized and ready to explain, when instead he held back a gasp.

Kurogiri leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, blood staining his shirt and vest. He clawed at his neck brace, each touch leaving viscous marks of red as he hissed in pain. Atsuhiro stood frozen for far longer than he should have, then, remembering the first-aid kit he found in one of the cupboards, he grabbed it and rushed to Kurogiri’s side.

Kurogiri’s eyes snapped to Atsuhiro the instant he moved, widening when they registered his presence. Kurogiri stumbled backwards, shaking both in fear and pain. Atsuhiro held his hands up, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible as he moved slowly towards Kurogiri. That seemed to be an unhelpful course of action, as Kurogiri attempted to open a portal, only to double over with a pained whine while the misty circle immediately dissipated. Atsuhiro instinctively reached out to steady him, but, given that Kurogiri was much heavier than Atsuhiro could support, that just ended with both of them falling to the floor, thankfully landing away from each other. Atsuhiro scrambled to gather the contents of the first-aid kit which had scattered across the floorboards, keeping an eye on Kurogiri as he curled into himself, hissing and whining as the action stressed whatever injuries he had.

“Hey, Kurogiri? Can you hear me?” Atsuhiro whispered, half afraid to startle him.

Kurogiri looked up ever so slightly, eyes darting around the room, eventually landing on Atsuhiro’s hand, he scrambled backwards, not breaking his gaze. Atsuhiro looked down, he was holding the needle and thread, sealed as it may be, he quickly put it back in the box, holding his hands open to show that he wasn’t hiding anything else. Atsuhiro sighed in relief as he saw Kurogiri’s breathing start to even out.

“Alright, now just stay there.” Atsuhiro inched closer, pausing when Kurogiri flinched, covering his head with his arms. Atsuhiro sighed, this was proving to be far more difficult than he had anticipated, he wondered if he should call Magne, ask her to come back to the bar, she was always much better at this kind of thing than he was. He reached for his phone and heard a sharp bang, he snapped his gaze up to see that Kurogiri had hit his arm on the table leg, he was desperately trying to open a portal, seemingly only managing to injure himself further.

Atsuhiro reluctantly took his hand away from his phone “fine, I won’t call anyone.” Atsuhiro stared at Kurogiri, hoping to figure out a way to approach without sending him into another panic. Kurogiri stared back, eyes locked on Atsuhiro’s face, Atsuhiro paused, wait, no he was wearing one of his masks, Kurogiri was staring at his mask. Atsuhiro took a deep breath, he really didn’t like this, but, not being able to read someone’s emotions would make them more threatening. He slowly reached up, making sure that he wouldn’t startle Kurogiri, taking off his mask and, even more reluctantly, his balaclava. He smiled at Kurogiri, reaching out a hand, offering the roll of gauze from the first-aid kit.

“It’s okay, I’m trying to help you,” Atsuhiro whispered, staring, eyes pleading with Kurogiri to let him help, and finally, finally, Kurogiri relaxed ever so slightly. Atsuhiro took that as a cue to move closer, slowly, carefully, almost stepping on eggshells so as not to shatter the delicate peace he’d found. Eventually, he was close enough to reach out, unsure where to even begin helping. Atsuhiro once again offered the gauze to Kurogiri, hoping that he would take it.

Kurogiri’s hand trembled as he snatched the gauze away, clumsily trying to unroll it, and accidentally dropping it. Atsuhiro caught the gauze before it hit the floor, now stained a dark red where Kurogiri had touched the fabric.

Kurogiri grabbed at his neck brace, hissing when his hands hit the edges of the metal. Atsuhiro reached out a hand, hesitantly hovering over the brace, he looked into Kurogiri’s eyes, silently hoping that he’d understand that Atsuhiro wasn’t going to hurt him.

Kurogiri let his hands drop, leaning forward far enough that Atsuhiro’s hand made contact with the hard metal, warm and coated in a thin layer of blood that seeped into his gloves. Atsuhiro felt around the brace, searching for a release mechanism, he couldn’t see anything odd, the brace had always looked like a solid piece of metal, but that simply couldn’t be the case. Reaching around he felt a minute set of bumps running down the back of the brace, likely the hinges, so that meant the opening seam was around the front. Kurogiri whimpered in pain at the pressure being put on his injuries, and Atsuhiro murmured apologies as he tried to find a way to get rid of the brace.

There. The base of the front had a miniscule set of latches, covered partially by the collar of Kurogiri’s shirt. Atsuhiro deftly opened each of them, the brace splitting along its seam as the last one clicked open. Atsuhiro pried the brace open, tossing it to the floor with a clatter.

Then, the mist surrounding Kurogiri flickered, giving glimpses of skin coated with blood. The golden triangles that shone through the mist disappeared, and the mist itself vanished in the blink of an eye, as if it was barely being held up in the first place. Atsuhiro’s eyes darted around, barely noticing anything beyond the sheer amount of blood before his gaze snapped to Kurogiri’s neck, just above the collar of his shirt was the beginning of a line of stitches, neatly sewn into the skin. It was oddly clean, like whoever had done this had ignored all the rest of the blood and only cleaned the wound itself.

Atsuhiro was at a complete loss, with the amount of blood, he had been expecting to find a gaping wound or two that he’d have to deal with, instead, it seemed that the injury had already been stitched up and the actual bleeding had been mostly stopped, which only raised more questions. Didn’t Kurogiri say he was going to a meeting!?

That didn’t matter, from what little Atsuhiro knew of medicine, he was certain that stitched wounds had to be covered afterwards, and clearly whoever had done this had forgotten, or simply didn’t care enough, to do so. Atsuhiro fiddled with Kurogiri’s vest, quietly apologizing whenever he pulled a bit too hard and caused Kurogiri to cry out in pain. It was a bit difficult trying to pry off the vest, since Kurogiri was now leaning quite a bit of his weight on Atsuhiro, but eventually he managed it, getting rid of what must have been an uncomfortable tightness. Then Atsuhiro began trying to unbutton Kurogiri’s shirt, searching for where the stitches ended, he sighed and eventually took off his gloves, since they’d gotten far too blood soaked to grip onto anything.

At first Atsuhiro thought the stitches would only go to Kurogiri’s collar, then they went to his chest, and through his abdomen, and eventually Atsuhiro just gave up and took Kurogiri’s shirt off completely. He could think of several jokes Magne would be making at his expense right now if she were here. He stared at the stitches running down the entire length of Kurogiri’s torso, little lines of pristine skin in the sea of red, a few seemed to have cut into the skin, likely a result of their flailing around earlier. Atsuhiro sighed and stood up.

“Sako?” Kurogiri’s voice was hoarse and brittle.

“Relax darling, I’ll be right back,” Atsuhiro assured him as he dug through the bar’s drawers and cupboards for a cloth he could use to clean up the blood, eventually he found a handful of small towels, not ideal, but they’d have to do. He took them to the kitchen and ran them under the sink, wringing out the excess water before bringing them back to where Kurogiri still sat on the floor, eyes closed and quietly whimpering.

Atsuhiro kneeled down, “Kurogiri?”

Kurogiri whined in acknowledgment. Atsuhiro gently pressed the wet cloth onto his skin, wiping away the layer of sticky blood, being extra careful going around the stitches. Kurogiri hissed in pain as Atsuhiro went over where one of the torn stitches had started bleeding.

“Tout va bien, tu vas t'en sortir,” Atsuhiro murmured, reassuring Kurogiri as he continued cleaning away the blood.

Slowly, bit by bit, Kurogiri’s skin was starting to be visible, it took many minutes and a few trips back to the kitchen to wash the blood out of the towels, but eventually Kurogiri’s torso and neck were clean enough to apply the gauze. Atsuhiro tried to wipe away the blood on his face as well, but Kurogiri shied away.

“I’ll deal with that later,” he muttered.

“In your current condition?” Atsuhiro asked sceptically as he began to layer the gauze, trying to imitate what he remembered Magne doing whenever he got hurt.

Kurogiri just hummed and Atsuhiro got the sense that he should drop it. He followed the lines of stitching, they seemed to almost form a cross, one vertical line going all the way from Kurogiri’s neck down to the base of his abdomen, and another horizontal line going from shoulder to shoulder. Atsuhiro never paid much attention in school, but he could have sworn he’d seen this pattern in a textbook before. Even more interesting were the pattern of scars scattered across Kurogiri’s skin, while some looked like they were from deliberate incisions, all neat straight lines, the most faded ones looked jagged and rough, like he’d gotten them from a fight or two. And the idea that Kurogiri had gotten into a fight made far more sense than it would have before, now that Atsuhiro could see the defined musculature that certainly didn’t fit on someone who stood in the back lines playing support with portals.

Atsuhiro finished applying the gauze, putting everything back in the first aid-kit. When he got up to put the kit back in the cupboard, he noticed Kurogiri trying to clean up the blood that had smeared onto the floor.

“Leave it. If you’re going to go clean yourself up, I’ll handle the floor,” Atsuhiro called. It would be more trouble for him, but he wasn’t just going to let an injured man mop up bloodstains.

Kurogiri opened his mouth, then sighed and shook his head, perhaps sensing that he wasn’t going to argue his way out of this one, “the mop is in the closet over there,” Kurogiri pointed it out before walking away.

Atsuhiro picked up everything that had been left on the floor, compressing all of the bloodstained clothing to worry about later.

About ten minutes later, Atsuhiro was finally done with the floors, and he was sure that nobody would be able to tell that the place had looked like a crime scene just minutes prior. Just as he finished drying off the water, Kurogiri walked back in the room, wearing a new outfit that looked basically identical to his previous one. Although, now Atsuhiro actually had a clear look at his face, and what first struck him was Kurogiri’s hair. It seemed to be made of a denser version of the same mist that he summoned with his quirk, swirling upwards in a gravity defying puff, with a pair of long bangs framing his face. Perhaps it was not entirely made of mist, as the slight scruff of a beard on his chin seemed to just be normal hair. But the most startling part was the colour, sure most of it was dark purple as one would expect, however it was streaked with swirls of a pale blue that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the hair.

Kurogiri seemed to have noticed his staring “uh, Sako?”

Atsuhiro let out a startled yelp, “ack, forgive me, I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just,” he gestured at Kurogiri, “that’s not quite what I expected.”

Kurogiri looked at him for a while, “I could say the same thing about you.”

It was then that Atsuhiro remembered that he still hadn’t put his mask back on, he reached for the marble containing his spare, before deciding otherwise “well, fair’s fair I suppose.”

Kurogiri chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that startled Atsuhiro until he realised who it was coming from. Atsuhiro couldn’t help but laugh as well, the sheer joy of the sound being practically infectious.

Kurogiri walked over to the bar, and Atsuhiro tossed a marble at him. He decompressed it to reveal Kurogiri’s neck brace, now washed of blood. Kurogiri stared at it, several emotions flashing across his face before settling on a soft smile of gratitude, “huh, thanks buddy.”

Atsuhiro turned to stare, wholly unused to such an informal attitude from anyone other than Magne, and this was Kurogiri of all people, “oh, well, I supposed that, if the others showed up it wouldn’t do to have them ask questions, now would it?”

“I guess not, but, I also guess I’m gonna have to trust you to keep all of this quiet?” Kurogiri asked, a grim expression on his face as he clicked his neck brace back in place, although not summoning any mist to cover his form as he leaned on the counter.

“I suppose you do.” Atsuhiro agreed, looking a bit closer at Kurogiri’s face, there was another thing he had missed, the large jagged scar running from the top of Kurogiri’s forehead through his right eye.

“Where did you get that?” He asked.

Kurogiri stared at him for a second, confusion obvious on his face before his expression quickly turned to realisation, “oh, the scar? I got it a long time ago.”

That wasn’t what he was asking, but Atsuhiro could tell when a conversation was being shut down. So instead, he asked a different question “what happened earlier?”

“Oh, that, I, uh, got into a fight,” Kurogiri said, giving a sheepish grin.

“Tu es un très mauvais menteur,” Atsuhiro deadpanned.

“What does that mean?” Kurogiri asked, confusion colouring his face.

“Never mind that. You had stitches I don’t recall a time when an opponent was courteous enough to help me dress my wounds” Atsuhiro pointed out.

Kurogiri sighed, expression morphing into pure exhaustion, “clever bastard” he muttered. “Alright, so here’s the thing,” Kurogiri looked around, as if he was afraid that someone was listening, before leaning in to whisper, “you know how you called me out that night for being scared to death of All for One?”

Atsuhiro’s eyes widened “ah, I see.”

“Well, technically it wasn’t him, but it was Garaki, his second in command, and the creator of the nomus, my creator.”

“Some kind of mad scientist then?” Atsuhiro asked loudly, before his mouth was covered by Kurogiri’s hand.

“Shh, you never know who’s listening,” Kurogiri warned.

Atsuhiro immediately lowered his voice, eyes darting around as if he could miraculously spot a hidden microphone somewhere, “my apologies.”

“Yeah, well, I got in trouble for letting Tomura get into a fight with a recruit, and, well, Garaki decided I needed, reprograming.” Kurogiri shuddered just saying the word and Atsuhiro couldn’t help but be horrified.

“That, seems utterly inhumane,” Atsuhiro pointed out.

“They’re villains Sako.” Kurogiri said, as if it was the most obvious connection in the world.

“Well so are we, and I know for certain I would never do that to someone even if I had that power,” Atsuhiro wasn’t sure what to make of the pained expression that flashed across Kurogiri’s face.

“Look, just, keep quiet okay? I’m only telling you this because you kind of deserve answers after going out of your way to help me.”

Atsuhiro nodded, if saying something would result in something like this happening again, then, “my lips are sealed.”

Kurogiri’s expression turned to relief, like he hadn’t expected Atsuhiro to agree so quickly. The two of them stood around in companionable silence for a while, Kurogiri cleaned up the counter that had been thoroughly neglected while he was gone, and Atsuhiro watched in amusement as his face scrunched up every time a particularly stubborn spot refused to be cleaned. Eventually, Kurogiri gave up on the counter and started putting away the glasses that were scattered around the bar, Atsuhiro stared at the counter, grabbing the cloth and scrubbing away at the stains, humming a tune to himself.

“That’s weird,” Kurogiri remarked.

“Hmm?” Atsuhiro looked up from a spot he wasn’t sure was wine and not an accident with one of Toga’s knives.

“No, sorry, it’s just, I didn’t think you were the type to like pop songs.”

Atsuhiro chuckled “non, c'est ma sœur qui aime cette chanson.”

“Again, what?” Kurogiri asked amusedly.

“Magne is the one who likes that song, I prefer classical.”

“Of course you do,” Kurogiri shook his head, “dramatic bitch.”

Once again, it took Atsuhiro a moment to recognise that, yes, Kurogiri had cursed. After his brain caught up to his ears, he laughed it off and continued humming as he helped clean up the place.

They had just gotten the bar cleaned up when the door swung open, and a chorus of loudness signalled that the others had returned. Atsuhiro ducked behind the counter just long enough to put the missing parts of his costume back on before dashing to the other end of the bar and acting as if he was simply practicing a magic trick. Kurogiri visibly stiffened up and mist swirled around him to cover his face.

“Hey! We’re back!!” Toga exclaimed as she rushed into the bar, followed by Spinner who was dragging a very disgruntled Shigaraki away from an equally upset looking Dabi. Magne and Twice walked in last. Magne locked eyes with Atsuhiro, who was very glad that she had at least some difficulty reading his emotions through his mask.

The next hour was a bout of endless chatter as everyone, mostly Toga and Twice, recounted their day. Kurogiri stood mostly silent in the corner except to chastise them when they mentioned something rather dangerous they did. Atsuhiro on the other hand had to deal with Magne subtly interrogating him about what happened.

“Je promets que tout va bien maintenant,” Atsuhiro assured her, hoping she’d stop asking questions.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Magne asked.

“Oui.”

“You’re not 'forgetting' to tell me something, are you?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Tu sais que je te le dirais si quelque chose arrivait, n'est-ce pas?” Atsuhiro felt incredibly guilty for lying to her, but the image of bloody skin and pained crying kept his mouth shut.

After everyone else went to bed, Atsuhiro opened the window. He paused, taking off his mask and turning to face Kurogiri, “are you sure you’ll be alright? I’m not even sure how you’ve been standing around without crying.”

Kurogiri sighed, letting the mist fade away, he smiled tiredly, “I’ll be fine Sako, I’m used to it.” That statement really didn’t sit right with Atsuhiro, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“Alright then, I’ll be off.” He hopped onto the fire escape and started climbing the stairs.

“Wait!”

Atsuhiro turned back to the bar, seeing Kurogiri stick his head out of the window. “Thank you,” Kurogiri smiled, it was so genuinely grateful that it almost hurt to look at.

“For what?”

“You really didn’t have to help me, with any of this, I could have handled it.”

Atsuhiro rolled his eyes, “ne sois pa stupide.”

Kurogiri chuckled, “alright, that I understood loud and clear.”

Atsuhiro smiled, putting his mask back on, “good night Kurogiri, I’ll see you tomorrow, try not to rip your stitches while I’m gone.”

“I’ll do my best, ‘night Sako.”

Chapter Text

Atsuhiro sat on the windowsill of his apartment, staring up into a sunny sky with a sandwich in his mouth. He sighed and hopped back into his living room, he really should get going, Shigaraki had a tendency to threaten people who showed up late. He watered his plants, grabbed his costume, with some useful marbles stashed safely in the many hidden pockets, and skipped onto the rooftops.

The walk to the bar was nowhere near as interesting during the mornings. Whereas the nighttime was filled with stars, sounds, and some poorly locked windows, the perfect atmosphere for a show, the daytime was just, less exciting. Not to say it wasn’t still a beautiful walk, with random birds flitting about overhead and clear views of the city itself, and the bustling streets below made for fun people watching. Atsuhiro always took a moment to observe the thoroughly memorized routines of his neighbours as they ran off to their own jobs. He hummed a tune to himself as he leisurely made his way to the league, in no particular rush to speak with the little ruffians he was calling his teammates. Although perhaps he ought to show himself before Magne started complaining about him leaving her without anyone to talk to besides Twice.

He jumped down to street level a few metres before the bar, landing on the lid of a dumpster with a metallic thud and accidentally spooking a few rats that had been hiding inside. “Toutes mes excuses, mes amis!” He placed down some crackers as an offering of peace, backing off and observing quietly for a moment as they sniffed it for a second before each began scrabbling to claim one before the others.

He sighed and walked the few paces to the bar, opening the door and almost getting knocked over as Toga hugged him. “Oh, bonjour Toga, how are you doing today?” He asked, gently prying her off of him so that he could breath.

Toga giggled, flashing a toothy smile at him, “I’m doing great Mister! Now come on!”

Atsuhiro blinked at her, a little confused, allowing her to take his hand and lead him into the bar where, as usual, there seemed to be something going on. This time it seemed to be relatively peaceful, with the only notable commotion coming from Dabi and Twice playing cards in the corner. He caught Magne’s eye, questioning her on what Toga was up to, however she seemed to be just as lost as he was.

Toga dragged him in front of a target she’d taped to the wall and handed him a knife. Oh, he had a rough idea of where this was going, but still no concrete answers. Until Toga grabbed her own knife and started speaking.

“Can you teach me to throw knives? Magne said you were good at that stuff.” Again, Atsuhiro glanced at Magne, who seemed thoroughly confused as to when she’s let that little bit of information slip.

“Well, I can’t imagine why you’d want to learn, but sure,” Atsuhiro nudged her away from the target, casually flicking the knife in his hand just right so that it hit a bullseye, earning him an awed gasp from Toga.

Magne giggled, “show off” she muttered.

Atsuhiro smirked at her, “when you’ve got the skills, why not?”

Toga grumbled impatiently “come on, how did you do it?” She tried to copy his movements, resulting in the knife flying directly at the wall beside the target, only to be caught by a portal, moving it to hit the target instead. Atsuhiro glanced at the counter where Kurogiri was speaking with Shigaraki, occasionally scanning over everyone else in the bar to make sure that nothing was going awry.

Atsuhiro sighed, quietly instructing Toga on knife throwing for a few hours until eventually Magne pulled her away, giving Atsuhiro a sympathetic glance. He gave her a grateful smile under his mask, while he absolutely adored Toga, she could stand to warn people before dragging them into her antics. On the other hand, at least she was actually hitting the target now, Atsuhiro silently apologized to Kurogiri for all the knives he had to catch with his portals.

Speaking of Kurogiri, Atsuhiro walked up to the bar, “hello, how are you doing today?” He took a seat and tried to strike up a conversation.

Kurogiri glanced at him, the façade of mist as unreadable as ever, “Sako, I believe you forgot to give me that report on your meeting with Giran yesterday.”

Ah, right, Atsuhiro supposed that he wouldn’t be straying far from his, act, with so many people around. Either way, it was true, Atsuhiro had forgotten the reason he was even at the bar last night in the midst of everything else. He shrugged, his well thought out report didn’t seem to matter all that much, he gave a brief summary of what happened at the meeting. But truly his eyes were scanning Kurogiri, checking for any signs of remaining injury, although he doubted that Kurogiri would allow such weakness to be even remotely visible. Still, Atsuhiro had been unable to rid himself of the memory, even after he had returned to his apartment and thoroughly washed the blood from his gloves, and anything else that could have even remotely gotten stained. The sensation of blood on his hands was never something he had gotten used to, and certainly never the blood of another. No matter who it was, it simply wasn’t right for someone to have to pretend to be something they weren’t out of fear for their safety.

Atsuhiro eventually sighed and stood up, walking away and finding a quiet corner of the bar where he was sure the others wouldn’t disturb him. He could ask about it after the others had gone to bed, when Kurogiri might speak with him normally. Perhaps he was being too hopeful, perhaps Kurogiri would go right back to ignoring him, or simply refuse to acknowledge that the previous night had happened at all.

Scanning his surroundings, he slid easily into his second favourite pastime, people watching, it paid off well when you were a thief aiming for targets as high status as his. He watched with mild concern as the three young adults in the league appeared to be in a heated discussion about the most efficient way to commit arson, Dabi was clearly getting the most frustrated with the others’ lack of knowledge. Twice was braiding Toga’s hair, Atsuhiro really thought that he could stand to make a decision on what kind of braid he was doing, but knowing Twice, he probably never would.

Magne leaned against the wall next to Atsuhiro, he glanced up at her, “finally got away from our darling little bat did you?” He asked, grinning under the mask, an expression which he had no doubt that Magne would be able to pick up on.

“She’s trying to show off what you taught her to everyone she sees,” she shook her head, “I don’t know how you tolerated that kind of energy for that long.”

“Well, I’m not going to refuse a lady’s humble request now am I?” He asked fidgeting with one of his marbles, careful not to decompress this particular one, as it had about a dozen cans of gasoline inside which would cause quite the mess.

Magne scoffed, looking over at the bar, “so, you two are back on speaking terms?”

“Come on Mags, it wasn’t exactly like we weren’t.”

Magne raised an eyebrow, “oh really? Because I remember somebody complaining about how it was making his job twice as hard.”

“Well, alright, you have me there, but, I did manage to fix it, so you don’t have to worry about any more long-winded rants.” Atsuhiro chuckled.

Magne rolled her eyes, “oh please, you’ll find something else to talk my ear off about, probably before the end of the week.”

Atsuhiro smirked, “ferme-la, you make me sound like a gossiping old lady.”

“The truth hurts doesn’t it,” Magne giggled.

Atsuhiro quietly gasped, fighting to keep a smile off his face, “quelle cruauté, ma propre sœur me trahit.”

The two of them talked for a while, various topics came and went, with the conversation flowing like a river without a destination. Atsuhiro found something still a bit, off, but that was likely his own fault, as Magne appeared to be behaving perfectly normally. She must have picked up on it, as she suggested that they take a walk, to which Atsuhiro politely declined, it wasn’t that he wouldn’t like to, it was just that he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to slip up. Magne gave him a weird look that he knew meant that she was concerned about him, but unwilling to pressure him. He lifted his mask just enough to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She sighed and left him alone, giving him one last glance as Toga bounded up to her, pulling Magne towards the rest of the group.

Atsuhiro wished he could tell her what had happened, she would certainly be able to keep the secret, and it would be nice to have someone else helping him keep an eye on Kurogiri. But, he glanced at Kurogiri, who had so quickly gone quiet when faced with the league, voice switching on a dime to something much colder and far more detached. No, he could ask permission later, but this was not his secret to tell, not his wellbeing at risk, he would not tell a single soul as long as there was still danger lurking.

As the night fell outside the bar’s window and everyone returned to their rooms, some far more eager to sleep than others, Atsuhiro stayed seated in the corner table. He stayed a minute, then two, then ten, then half an hour. He could feel Kurogiri’s eyes boring into him, but he just ignored it, instead preferring to spin a knife in his fingers, focusing on not dropping it. He counted the seconds in his mind, and once he was certain that everyone must be asleep, he met Kurogiri’s curious gaze.

“Care for a game of cards darling?” Atsuhiro pulled a full deck from his sleeves, strolling up to the bar counter and taking a seat, he pushed the deck over towards Kurogiri.

Kurogiri chuckled, letting the mist fall from his body and taking off his neck brace, “if this is your way of striking up conversation, sure, although I gotta warn you, I’m absolute shit at poker.”

Atsuhiro smiled sharply, marbling away his mask and balaclava, “I was going to let you pick actually.”

Kurogiri suddenly looked a bit sheepish, “well, I, um, I really only know blackjack, and I’ve only played once.” He laughed nervously, “just don’t completely humiliate me, please?”

Atsuhiro shrugged he was honestly a bit surprised that Kurogiri had played at all, “I wasn’t planning on taking this seriously anyways, if I was, you’d stand no chance no matter how lucky you got.” He shuffled the deck, smothering a laugh at Kurogiri’s awed expression, it was always entertaining to see normal people’s reactions to anything that wasn’t an overhand shuffle. He might have done a little flourish at the end, just to see complete childlike wonder grace Kurogiri’s expression. He laid the deck back down and Kurogiri simply took two cards from the top, Atsuhiro gave him a look, alright then, it seemed that they were going to forgo the usual formalities.

Kurogiri glanced up at him “best of three?” That, was nowhere near how this usually worked, but it was only a friendly game, so he’d be fine with an unorthodox win condition.

Atsuhiro checked his cards, a two and a five, not the worst he could have drawn, he looked up to see Kurogiri making a face at his cards. He smiled “so, I see you’re doing much better than yesterday.”

Kurogiri shrugged, poorly hiding a smile as he reached for the deck, eyes flicking between the cards in his hand and the one he’d drawn, “yeah, I didn’t rip any stitches, I guess that’s something.”

Atsuhiro also drew a card, a six. “Well that’s good to hear, I was afraid you’d go and get yourself in more trouble with how much time you spend dealing with our lovely teammates.” He didn’t bring up the number of portals he’d seen Kurogiri summon today, not mentioning what had happened when he’d tried to summon even one last night.

Kurogiri stared at his hand, then drew one more, muttering a curse under his breath and setting down a seven, three, four, and eight. He sighed as Atsuhiro reshuffled the cards, each of them drawing two. “What are you actually asking me Sako?” He asked, drawing a card.

“I was simply worried, who wouldn’t be?” Atsuhiro also drew a card, a nine, he set it down with his two and seven, no point in going for anything riskier.

Kurogiri set down a five, four, and a king, a triumphant grin flashing across his face, quickly soured by whatever expression Atsuhiro was wearing.

Atsuhiro looked away, fidgeting with his cards awkwardly, “about last night, does that, I mean, do you,” he waved his hand, unsure of how to phrase the question politely.

“You can just say it you know,” Kurogiri levelled an unimpressed stare at him, “does what happened last night happen often, that’s what you were going to ask, yeah?”

Atsuhiro cringed, this was not going well, “well, yes, I apologize if it’s, not something you’d like to answer.”

Kurogiri stared at him and sighed, “I don’t know, it happens whenever I act outside of my orders, counting last night, that’s three times since the league’s been formed.”

Atsuhiro winced sympathetically, “that’s,” he trailed off, unsure how to sufficiently express how horrifying that was.

Kurogiri looked at the counter, “hey, we still have another round to play.” Atsuhiro sighed and reluctantly dealt out the cards again, adding a few flourishes to see if he could lighten Kurogiri’s mood, but to no avail.

Atsuhiro won the last round, which was played in complete silence, every time he thought he should say something, the faraway look on Kurogiri’s face made him reconsider. He felt awful for bringing it up.

The pair was surrounded by a still silence, Atsuhiro stared at the deck of cards with two hands laid out on either side, unwilling to meet Kurogiri’s gaze. “I’m sorry.” He finally said, for what else could he possibly say, other than an apology that felt far too simple for the hurt.

Kurogiri shook his head “you’re fine, I, I don’t know why I was being so dramatic.” Mist flickered back over his features for a second.

Atsuhiro simply looked at him, “je ne sais pas, mon ami, I know dramatics and this isn’t it.”

Kurogiri sighed, exhaustion seeping into every inch of his expression, “it doesn’t make a difference.”

“Yes it does.” Atsuhiro insisted, “I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

Kurogiri stared at him like he’d suddenly grown two heads. “Oh, thank you,” Kurogiri finally said, giving Atsuhiro a hesitant smile.

Atsuhiro smiled back, standing up and pocketing the deck of cards, “I’m sure you would like to get some sleep now, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He barely took a step towards the door before a portal blocked his path.

“Wait,” Kurogiri paused, “um, do, you mind sticking around a bit longer?” He asked, giving a nervous grin, “I, I mean, you don’t have to, I’m sure you want to go home, and you’re probably tired, actually never mind, forget I said anything.” The portal in front of Atsuhiro disappeared with Kurogiri’s rambling, but he made no move to walk away, watching in slight amusement and waiting for a second to speak. Finally, Kurogiri paused for breath and Atsuhiro quickly answered before he could start talking again.

“I’ll stay.”

Kurogiri looked stunned, then relieved, “oh, uh, you will?”

Atsuhiro smiled, “why not? Besides, I could always sleep here if it gets too late.” He turned back to the bar,

Kurogiri grinned and stepped out from behind the counter, now leaning against it casually. “Well, that’s great,” it looked like he hadn’t expected Atsuhiro to actually stick around.

Atsuhiro chuckled, fidgeting with the deck of cards, “so, you’ve played blackjack before? Not something I would have predicted.”

Kurogiri laughed, “like I said, only once, and that was, like, fifteen years ago.”

Atsuhiro raised an eyebrow, “fifteen years? So you where, what? In your twenties?”

Kurogiri stared at him, “what, wait, twenties!? How old do you think I am!?”

Atsuhiro shrugged, “older than Magne?”

Kurogiri stared at him for a second before he burst out laughing, “dude! I’m barely thirty-one.”

Atsuhiro stared at Kurogiri, “you’re a year younger than me? Wait, you’re younger than Twice!?”

Kurogiri could barely compose a sentence with how hard he was laughing, “you’ve gotta be, kidding me,” he held his head in his hands in a fruitless attempt to stop laughing, “did you all just assume I was older than you?”

“Yes?” Atsuhiro said, although it came out as more of a question, he was having trouble not being sent into a giggling fit with how contagious Kurogiri’s laughter sounded.

Kurogiri took a deep breath, finally being able to calm down, “that’s fucking hilarious.” He gave Atsuhiro a crooked grin, “you’re worse than cat at guessing ages.”

Atsuhiro tilted his head, amused, “I don’t see how any animal would be good judge of age, but I see your point.”

Kurogiri blinked at him, confused “what animal?” Then realization washed over him and he shook his head, returning to that silly grin, “oh, yeah, a cat, never mind then.”

Atsuhiro stared at him, something about Kurogiri’s smile was now off, but, it looked similar enough, he shook it off as his mind playing tricks on him. He leaned against the wall, absentmindedly doing tricks with the cards in his hands, watching with glee when Kurogiri’s face scrunched up as he tried to figure out how Atsuhiro was doing any of that. Just for fun, Atsuhiro slowed down how he did the tricks, just enough to give Kurogiri a chance

“Hey Sako?” Kurogiri asked, and Atsuhiro hummed in response. “You’re a lot nicer than I thought you’d be.”

Atsuhiro paused mid-trick, “I haven’t done anything unusual, have I?” He certainly couldn’t think of anything.

“You’re talking to me, aren’t you?” Kurogiri pointed out, and Atsuhiro still couldn’t see what he was going on about.

“You asked me to stay, and besides, I was worried about you, after last night, what sane person wouldn’t try to speak with you?”

Kurogiri smiled, “I guess you’re right, but I’ve seen how you, how we villains act, I was half expecting you to go and tell Tomura about it.”

Atsuhiro was taken aback, “I would never! Even if Shigaraki didn’t know I’d keep my mouth shut.”

Kurogiri laughed sharply, and a sinking feeling that Atsuhiro was growing far too familiar with ran down his spine.

“Shigaraki does know, right?” He asked.

“Nope!” Kurogiri said with far too much glee, “as far as he’s concerned, I’m just a plain old nomu that Garaki sometimes has to do a ‘checkup’ on.”

Atsuhiro frowned, “aren’t you his caretaker? How does he not realise?”

“The same way none of you did.” Kurogiri said it flippantly, but Atsuhiro couldn’t help the guilt creeping into his throat, they should have noticed, there were seven people on the team who should have noticed their teammate being hurt much, much sooner.

Kurogiri must have noticed his expression, because he shook his head, “don’t worry about it Sako, there’s nothing you could have done about it anyways.”

Atsuhiro stared at Kurogiri, taking in the now dulled smile on his face, almost turning to a frown, he sighed “how on earth are you still functional after all that? I think I’d have gone mad waiting for someone to help me.”

A flash of something flickered across Kurogiri’s face, before bouncing back to a smile, small and brittle, but a smile nonetheless, “well, I have my ways, and it’s going to be a lot easier with,” he paused, “a friend?” He asked, looking at Atsuhiro, tentative hope shimmering in his eyes. Atsuhiro got the sense he’d been waiting to ask that for a while.

He smiled softly back at Kurogiri, “if that’s what you’d like, then yes, a friend.”

Atsuhiro was quickly pulled into a tight hug, one that made it feel like his ribs were creaking under the pressure as his face was practically smushed into Kurogiri’s chest. He did his best to return the hug, and although he was almost completely unable to move his arms, he somehow managed to get them wrapped a bit awkwardly around Kurogiri. Then he felt soft sobs pulse through Kurogiri’s chest as the man practically melted into the hug, nearly throwing Atsuhiro off balance. He was a bit unsure of what to do, resorting to the same half-mumbled assurances he’d said the previous night. He looked up to see tears running down Kurogiri’s face, he smiled in what he hoped was a warm way, which was slowly mirrored in Kurogiri’s expression.

“Ne t'inquiète pas mon ami, je suis là,” he murmured as he reached up to wipe the tears away.

Kurogiri leaned into his hand, smiling just a little bit more, a warm, glowing smile that should never have been dimmed.

Chapter Text

The sounds of crackling fire echoed behind Atsuhiro as he practically sprinted away from the commotion, dragging an enraged Dabi behind him, silently panicking about the curses being thrown their way, this was far above his skillset. When Shigaraki said that their resident arsonist had skulked off somewhere, Atsuhiro had been expecting to find him brooding on a rooftop smoking a cigarette, not picking fights with random criminals!

“Oi! Compress! I had it under control!” Dabi said before cursing him out as Atsuhiro yanked on his jacket to get him to move faster.

“Darling, I assure you that you most certainly did not,” Atsuhiro eyed the purple and red now blooming over Dabi’s cheek, he knew they had ice packs back at the bar, but that was still going to be a nasty bruise.

“Those dickheads were about to get fried!” Yes, it did appear that way, Atsuhiro couldn’t say he didn’t giggle when faced with the sight of several intimidatingly large men panicking and throwing all they had at someone much smaller than them. Although, it was still a four against one, even with the odd intimidation advantage, Dabi had no chance in actually winning that altercation, not without serious injury to himself.

Atsuhiro sighed wearily, sometimes he had to remind himself that, yes, he did care about these children, and no, he wasn’t going to let them reap the consequences of their actions if it meant injury. He also had to remind himself why he had a strict policy against compressing someone who was still conscious, because Dabi’s constant taunting of the people chasing after them wasn’t making it easy to get him to safety. If Atsuhiro didn’t know better, he’d have thought the imbecile was trying to cause a ruckus. Oh who was he kidding, that was exactly what Dabi was trying to do, irrespective of the trouble that would bring to the league. He’d have to let Shigaraki know that they might have to watch out for some vengeful people looking for them around town. Then he glanced again at the bruise slowly appearing on Dabi’s face and the few grazes on his skin, on second thought Atsuhiro would just tell Kurogiri, telling Shigaraki might as well be signing the poor fellows’ death warrants.

Atsuhiro spied a dumpster just around the corner and, making a decision he was absolutely going to regret later, shoved Dabi and himself inside before shutting the lid. He put a hand over Dabi’s mouth to shut him up as the sounds of footsteps and yelling faded into the distance.

Once the sound was far enough away Atsuhiro released Dabi’s jacket and hopped out of the dumpster, silently thankful because frankly, for all the grumbling, Atsuhiro knew he wasn’t strong enough to drag Dabi away from anything unwillingly. He looked around, trying to find his bearings before setting off in the direction that he was fairly sure the bar was in.

“Well, that was reckless of you,” Atsuhiro crossed his arms as he stared at Dabi.

“Fuck off, I do what I want.” But there was barely any strength behind those words, Atsuhiro chuckled.

“Come on, we should return lest the others begin to worry that we met our demise.”

Dabi muttered under his breath, “always with the Shakespearian bullshit.”

“Trust me mon ami, that was far from true Shakespeare, I could demonstrate the difference if you-”

“Nope!” Dabi cut him off mid-sentence, speed-walking away, “let’s go.” Atsuhiro smirked under his mask, it worked every time.

When they returned the bar was filled with chatter that ceased the moment they stepped over the threshold, all eyes turned to Dabi, and Atsuhiro saw Kurogiri silently pull out the first aid kit. Atsuhiro deemed his role in this done and retreated to what had quickly become his corner of the bar, watching amusedly as Dabi tried unsuccessfully to stave off the worried fussing from some of the others.

As the bar settled, Atsuhiro flitted between conversations, not staying on any one thing for too long. When the league first formed and gotten comfortable with each other’s presences, Atsuhiro had found himself developing a new routine, making conversation, running errands, and somehow landing himself the role of unwitting babysitter to four deranged children. But over the last week or so, he’d made a change to that routine, and he found himself staying much later than usual each day, listening to whatever train of thought happened across Kurogiri’s mind, often going on about the same thing for hours. Still, he couldn’t say it wasn’t entertaining to listen to an entire day’s worth of conversation in such a short span of time, if only because of the drastic mood changes that resulted from the topic changing from frustrations to delights.

And as night fell, he found himself still standing around the bar, waiting for the final rustlings of sound to quiet. He glanced over at Kurogiri, who had begun humming to himself as he tidied up the last few glasses scattered about, Atsuhiro still hadn’t found out the name of that song, it was the same one he’d first heard Kurogiri humming on the rooftop. And despite not knowing the words, Atsuhiro had gotten used to the melody, unconsciously humming along in tandem as he did a few magic tricks, quietly, as if anyone were to hear the humming they’d surely come downstairs to investigate.

And at some point, Kurogiri had left the counter and sat beside Atsuhiro, watching entranced as cards seemed to appear and disappear, shuffling around at will.

“Hey Sako? How are you doing that?” He asked, leaning forward to try and spot the trick, but Atsuhiro disappeared all the cards before he could get a good look.

“Aucune chance, mon ami. A magician never reveals their secrets,” Atsuhiro smirked, “if you want, figure it out yourself.”

Kurogiri pouted, and Atsuhiro had never known that a grown man could look so childish until now, “come on Sako, can’t you even give me a hint?”

Atsuhiro chuckled, making some cards appear in his hand, “oh alright fine, there’s no need to look so forlorn, it’s all in the wrist.” He demonstrated again by making the cards disappear back to their hiding place in his sleeve. Still it seemed that Kurogiri simply couldn’t grasp it, and perhaps Atsuhiro was being a bit unfair, he’d mastered these tricks years ago and now left no hint of hesitation in his movements, nor any errors that might clue someone in on the actual mechanics of the display. Kurogiri didn’t seem too annoyed about it however, as he just stared in wonder at the simple tricks.

Kurogiri hadn’t talked much, Atsuhiro looked over at him, prepared for long tangents of words to begin pouring out of his mouth at any moment, and yet, he seemed oddly content with quietly watching Atsuhiro perform tricks. Alright, that was fine by Atsuhiro, he’d take any opportunity to show off his talents; he switched from playing cards to string tricks and then to using his marbles as props, he didn’t use them to hide anything of course, he couldn’t exactly call himself a proper magician if he had to resort to using his quirk after all.

After a little while, Atsuhiro was beginning to get concerned, “Kurogiri? Is something troubling you? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

Kurogiri looked at him, a tiredness in his gaze, “am I that obvious?” He sighed, “it’s nothing really, I just,” he looked around, “look, can we just do something else?”

Atsuhiro raised an eyebrow, “of course, but, what?” He got his answer when Kurogiri wordlessly pulled him through a portal, and he found himself stepping on the concrete of a rooftop. He looked around, oh, of course it would be here.

Kurogiri looked up, smiling sombrely, “well, the stars sure look lovely tonight.” Atsuhiro had to agree, tonight was surprisingly clear of clouds, and with how little light illuminated the streets around them, it looked like the sky was littered with pinpricks of white, shining from billions of miles away.

“What’s wrong darling?” Atsuhiro asked, laying a hand on Kurogiri’s arm, not missing the way he, as he always did, tensed for a moment before leaning into the touch.

“Why are you here?” Kurogiri asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.

“What?” Atsuhiro couldn’t even fathom where on earth this line of thinking might be headed.

He sighed, turning to Atsuhiro, staring at him as if having found a puzzle piece that didn’t seem to fit anywhere in the picture, “everyone who joined the league has their reasons, revenge, purpose, acceptance; what’s yours?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was a favour?” Atsuhiro asked, putting on his most charming smile.

Kurogiri chuckled “maybe, who the hell did you owe?”

“Giran.”

Kurogiri let out a snort, “that smarmy bastard?”

Atsuhiro tried to put on a scolding expression while holding back his own laughter, “that’s the league’s main informant you’re disparaging! Have some manners!”

“Nope! Maybe when he gets the boot out of his mouth I’ll respect him more,” Kurogiri crossed his arms stubbornly. “But, last time I checked the guy doesn’t do deals in favours, so how?”

Atsuhiro sighed wearily, “he’s been holding onto it for literal years, I was in a bit of, shall we say, trouble, and he bailed me out.”

“Must have been a lot of trouble if this is the kind of thing you owed him,” Kurogiri observed, and Atsuhiro couldn’t quite understand if he meant working with a team, or working for All For One, neither of which he thought to be particularly awful. Although, given the apparent experiments being conducted regarding the nomus, Atsuhiro was starting to reconsider that second point, if only for Kurogiri’s sake.

Atsuhiro turned away, “we’re getting off topic, I want to know what’s bothering you,” he said, shutting down the implicit question.

Kurogiri went silent, and Atsuhiro got the idea that he had gotten as far as he’d get with this line of questioning, instead he looked out from the one side of the roof that wasn’t walled away. The city truly was gorgeous at night, dancing lights in the distance almost looking like the stars above them, and the full moon cast silhouettes of the buildings around them, forming pillars of shadows that made the skyline stand out that much more against the deep blues and purples of the night. An idea popped into his head, partially curiosity as to what Kurogiri would do, and partially an attempt to perhaps brighten Kurogiri’s mood, but Atsuhiro found himself grinning as he glanced over to make sure Kurogiri was distracted.

He slowly backed away from the ledge, gauging the distance like second nature, and then took a running leap to the next rooftop over, startling Kurogiri as he rushed past him. Atsuhiro landed with grace, boots thumping on the concrete, coat fluttering a moment as it caught up with gravity. Atsuhiro turned and smirked, “your turn mon ami!” from what he remembered of the last time he’d seen Kurogiri parkour, the jump shouldn’t be much trouble at all.

Kurogiri tilted his head, then a slow smile grew on his face as he understood what Atsuhiro was suggesting, and he didn’t even bother with a running start, just taking a powerful leap from the edge of the rooftop and landing heavily beside Atsuhiro. “Lead the way,” he grinned excitedly, clearly ready to take off running at a moment’s notice.

Atsuhiro nodded, and then bolted away, not needing to turn around to know that Kurogiri had not wasted any time running after him, as he heard footsteps thudding on the rooftops not far behind his own. He grinned, there were few things he considered more entertaining than a run through the city, it certainly worked whenever he needed to take his mind off of his troubles, just letting the cold night air embrace him as the moon lit his way. And when he had all the best routes memorized and barely had to think about his footing as he ran, it let his thoughts wander as they so often liked to do, but today his mind seemed unable to focus on anything at all. He glanced behind him, at least Kurogiri looked to have forgotten whatever was worrying him, for now.

All of a sudden, Atsuhiro felt a rush of motion beside him and was startled to see that Kurogiri had somehow gotten ahead of him, looking back just long enough to stick his tongue out at Atsuhiro in the most childish display of smugness imaginable. Atsuhiro rolled his eyes, speeding up just enough to catch up, hearing a quiet scoff from Kurogiri as he took the lead once again.

Yet after a few moments, Kurogiri had caught up and was now keeping pace beside Atsuhiro, sending him a challenging grin, well, perhaps he had underestimated Kurogiri just a bit. Atsuhiro sent back an equally competitive smirk and took a sharp turn, veering off to a different path that he knew was much trickier to navigate. The open expanses of nearly even rooftops quickly giving way to much more variance in building height, with roofs that sloped and roofs that curved and roofs with uneven tiling, while generators and water tanks turned into obstacles that had to be avoided. All the while Atsuhiro could feel the wind buffeting him, catching in his coat and making it billow out behind him like a cape.

He wasn’t sure when this had turned from a simple run to clear their minds, to a race across the city, the pair of them leaping between buildings with barely a few seconds between jumps. Atsuhiro was clearly at an advantage in more difficult terrain, having a smaller frame, something which he had no issue utilizing to get as far ahead as possible. Was it entirely fair? No. Was it equal parts hilarious and ego boosting to see Kurogiri occasionally bump into something which Atsuhiro had effortlessly dodged? Very.

“Are you kidding me!?” Kurogiri exclaimed as he managed to nearly trip over a pipe, “where the hell did that come from!?” He glared back at the offending piece of metal as he ran.

Atsuhiro laughed “the poor pipe did nothing wrong! That was your own fault!”

“Easy for you to say! You haven’t even touched anything but the ground!”

“Il suffit de ne pas se heurter à des choses!” Atsuhiro spun to face Kurogiri as he stepped backwards over a random can and backflipped onto a raised part of the roof.

“Oh you dramatic bastard,” Kurogiri grumbled as he tried to catch up. Atsuhiro just giggled before sprinting away, perhaps doing a bit more acrobatics than he really needed to.

At some point, Atsuhiro ended up stopping, both to catch his breath since he’d been running across the city for an hour, and because he wanted to get his bearings before he got both of them lost. Kurogiri slowed to a stop as well, landing on the rooftop with a heavy thud, halting his momentum; and much to Atsuhiro’s envy, he didn’t seem to be all that tired, just stretching his arms with a sigh as he looked up at the sky. At least he was smiling again, even if his eyes still seemed sad, and if Atsuhiro would dare, he might even call it wistful.

And then, a soft, rumbling laugh spilled from Kurogiri’s lips, he opened his arms to the sky and just spun around, lightness filling his face, as if it was the first time he’d done something like this. Atsuhiro couldn’t help but wonder if it was, or perhaps, given Kurogiri’s surprising agility, it was the first in a long, long while. Atsuhiro doubted he had much free time between raising Shigaraki and being under the watchful eye of All For One.

Atsuhiro was quickly swept up in a bone crushing embrace, something he’d gotten startingly used to with Kurogiri, it seemed to just be his way of greeting people, well it would be, if he was allowed. Atsuhiro laughed “well, someone’s feeling better I see,” his legs were no longer touching the ground, and he was fully suspended by this bear hug he was trapped in.

Kurogiri laughed as well, putting Atsuhiro back down on solid ground. “Yeah, thanks to you,” he looked over the buildings, “the city really does look pretty at night.”

Atsuhiro stared out in the same direction, a quiet yawn escaping him, Kurogiri looked over at him with concern, “oh, it’s getting late, isn’t it?”

Atsuhiro waved his hand, “oh, don’t worry about it, I’ll make my way home, I’m not that tired.” Well, that might have been only half true, he certainly could get home without tripping over his own feet, but the exhaustion creeping into his flesh was starting to make him want to fall asleep on the spot.

Still, he was a good enough liar that Kurogiri was none the wiser, “oh, alright, I could always portal you to your apartment,” he offered.

Atsuhiro frowned, “do you know where that is, exactly?” He knew how Kurogiri’s quirk worked, he needed to know where an area was in relation to himself to make a portal there, one of the reasons that the League didn’t simply use his portals to break into wherever they liked.

Kurogiri shrugged, “I’ll figure it out.”

Atsuhiro shook his head, “I’ll be fine mon ami, je ne tomberai pas d'un immeuble, if that’s what you’re worried about.” With the way Kurogiri was looking at him, Atsuhiro suspected he might have slipped into French at, some point, in that sentence, perhaps he was more tired than he thought.

Kurogiri huffed, “alright, well if you’re going to be stubborn, I have no choice.” Before Atsuhiro could even ask what he meant he found himself being scooped off the ground and carried through a portal onto the roof of his apartment building. He tried to retain some kind of dignity by wriggling his way out of this, but he was outmatched by pure strength and soon gave up.

“Honestly, this was unnecessary.”

Kurogiri glanced at him with an unimpressed look, “I’m used to idiots who refuse to acknowledge when they need sleep instead of yet another bout of research on the history of the English language, even though he’d be completely fine on his assignment if he just got some god damn sleep,” now that was a story Atsuhiro almost wanted to hear.

Kurogiri cleared his throat, “anyways, as I was saying, which window leads to your apartment?”

Atsuhiro chuckled, pointing at his window and immediately, Kurogiri warped them both into his living room. And after Atsuhiro gave him a pointed jab with his elbow, Kurogiri put him down, instead preoccupying himself with the room itself.

“Woah, this is a lovely apartment you’ve got,” he remarked, examining the neat shelves filled with books and trinkets.

Atsuhiro chuckled, slightly uncomfortably, “it’s not all that grand really, I just take good care of the place.”

“Maybe, but that’s not what I meant,” Kurogiri had moved on to poking at the potted fern in the corner of the room, and Atsuhiro felt compelled to tell him to stop, “it looks exactly like I’d expect your apartment to look.”

Atsuhiro wasn’t entirely sure how to take that remark, but figured it was probably a compliment. He chuckled at Kurogiri’s curiosity at some of the decorations scattered around the apartment, as if trying to figure out the rhyme or reason behind such odd placements. In truth, Atsuhiro had just put whatever he thought looked good in random places where he wouldn’t absentmindedly bump into them.

Atsuhiro cleared his throat, “well, don’t you have somewhere to be? Get some rest before the others find you missing?” He suggested, feeling rather uncomfortable at the uninvited intrusion into his home.

Perhaps getting the hint, Kurogiri’s face turned flustered and embarrassed, “oh, right, sorry, I’ll be off.” He opened a portal, pausing for a moment.

“Hey Sako?”

Atsuhiro hummed.

Kurogiri smiled, “thanks, for the distraction, we should do that again some time.”

Atsuhiro returned the smile, “of course, I certainly had fun, although next time I won’t underestimate you, so be warned I won’t go as easy on you.” Well, easy in the first half at least, his aching muscles begged to differ about the second.

Kurogiri laughed, “oh yeah, sure, you were totally going easy on me, and definitely weren’t just barely keeping yourself ahead.”

Atsuhiro glared for a moment, although his attempt seemed to just make Kurogiri laugh, “alright shoo, off with you, before I put you in a marble!”

Kurogiri stepped through the portal, still laughing to himself, Atsuhiro hoped that he’d wouldn’t raise any suspicions with the rest of the league. But truly he was much too tired to truly think of any scenario in which he did. Atsuhiro sighed, barely making it to his couch before falling asleep, quietly dreading the soreness he’d be feeling in the morning after such a long run, perhaps he should learn to get used to it, if this was going to be a regular occurrence.

Chapter Text

Atsuhiro wasn’t expecting much to happen today, the morning had been surprisingly relaxed, as had the evening. He sighed, perhaps he should be grateful for the quiet, it wasn’t often this rowdy bunch allowed him a peaceful retreat from the near-death experiences that came from merely existing near some of these people. He’d taken the long route back to his apartment, enjoying the scenery as he hopped around, wandering in a meandering path as the sun set over the horizon, yellows fading to pinks fading to blues as the sky darkened to welcome the moon. He frowned, he almost never caught the sunset these days, but, Kurogiri hadn’t been at the bar today to talk to, Atsuhiro hoped he was alright, the last time he’d been missing hadn’t been good for anyone. He shook his head, as much as he worried he knew he couldn’t change the outcome, whatever it was, he just hoped he wouldn’t regret leaving early today.

He hopped into his apartment and stretched lazily, planning to relax for once, maybe just stay indoors, read a book, get eight hours of sleep for the first time this week. The emerging moonlight shone through his window, barely illuminating his living room in a soft blue. He sighed as he flopped onto the couch, closing his eyes for a moment before realising that he was still wearing his costume, and while it was plenty comfortable, it wasn’t exactly ideal. He had a shower and changed before rummaging through his kitchen cabinets for anything he could make into a decent meal, humming to himself as he did so.

His phone began buzzing and he smiled, recognising the ringtone, he snatched it off the counter as he put a pot of water on the stove, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear, “bonsoir Mags!”

“Hey Atsu,” it sounded like Magne was outside, Atsuhiro couldn’t hear the normal sound of the bar at night.

“Shouldn’t you have gone to bed by now?” He asked, knowing the reaction it would get.

He could almost hear her offended look, “it’s only nine-thirty, who do you think I am? Dabi?”

Atsuhiro chuckled, “je plaisante! I’m sure you’re having fun, with whatever you’re doing.”

He heard Magne sigh and realised that this was going to be a lovely story to hold over someone’s head later, “did you have to leave early? I’m the only sane adult supervision here!”

“What about Twice?” He asked, putting some noodles to boil.

“I said sane adult supervision,” she huffed, “and are you still doing that?”

“Well unlike some people who see fit to go around using names casually, I have professional boundaries.”

“Professional boundaries my ass, we both know you’re only doing it to stop them from asking questions,” if she could see him, Atsuhiro had no doubt that she’d be giving him a glare.

“Wouldn’t you, if you were in my shoes?” Atsuhiro muttered.

“...”

He sighed, “never mind, how’s the rab ble?”

“Iguchi bit Dabi after the idiot stepped on his tail, and now they’re trying to figure out if geckos can be venomous,” and this kind of nonsense was why Atsuhiro was shocked any of these people survived to adulthood.

“Aren’t you helping them?” He asked, grabbing some leftover chicken from his fridge and tossing it in the pot.

“They’re in no danger, geckos are harmless, they just haven’t remembered that google exists yet,” he heard Magne let out a chuckle, “I’m just standing outside cause I’m not sure I can keep a straight face in front of them.”

Atsuhiro hummed, “well, I suppose you want some company then? Or did you simply call to inform me of our teammates’ buffoonery?”

“Oh no, I’m getting bored to death waiting for these kids to form a rational thought, so, did you swipe anything interesting lately?”

Atsuhiro thought about it for a moment as he set his dinner down on the counter, “not much, been too busy keeping the children from getting themselves killed, although I did hear of a little high-class event going on in a few weeks, I might try and drop by, see if there are any sparkles that catch my eye.”

He heard Magne laugh, “well be careful there isn’t a hero in attendance,” she said, with a joking caution to her tone.

“Je ne suis pas si stupide, I’ve checked the guest list, it’s just some average stuffy rich people get together,” Atsuhiro retorted, then, “although, perhaps if it was only one hero...”

“No.”

“Well someone needs to take those fools down a peg.”

“No.”

Atsuhiro laughed, Magne knew he wouldn’t risk something like that, he might not like them, but he knew better than to mess with heroes, for all their sanctimonious arrogance, most of them had the power to kill him if they wished it. He’d be walking into a lion’s den, and for what? The slim chance that he’d be able to do something, to challenge the system? As much as he hated the commission, he wasn’t fool enough to incur their wrath.

“Well it doesn’t matter, there isn’t one, and I’ve got free reign of those poor saps’ pockets,” Atsuhiro smirked.

“Well then, you need any help with that?” Magne offered, although he was certain she was only offering because otherwise she’d be driven mad by the tomfoolery that the league got up to while they waited to make their next big move. And he did wonder when they’d be able to do anything, the eight of them formed the core of the league and yet, with the exception of Shigaraki and Kurogiri, they had been made to lie low during the first series of attacks. And safe to say their younger members were getting a little stir crazy about it.

“Don’t bother, this won’t be much of a hassle, there isn’t going to be much that could give a thief as skilled as me any problems!” Atsuhiro heard a muffled groan from the other end of the phone.

“Yeah yeah, just don’t get too cocky, cause I’m not going to come bail you out of trouble, got it?” Magne tried to sound scolding, but they both knew she didn’t mean that threat.

Atsuhiro was just about to retort when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eyes, going quiet he dashed off into the nearest room, which just so happened to be his bedroom, ignoring Magne repeatedly asking if something was wrong.

He stared at the swirl of dark mist that manifested in the middle of his living room, barely being able to process its appearance before Kurogiri stumbled through, closing the portal behind him so quickly that, for a moment, Atsuhiro thought that he was running from something. Well whatever it was could surely wait, from a glance, Kurogiri didn’t seem injured, and the rest of the league were safe and sound back at the bar. And Atsuhiro was rather miffed at the unexpected intrusion, the two of them might be friends, but this was his apartment, and he wasn’t prepared to just let someone barge in unannounced and uninvited.

Atsuhiro was jolted out of his thoughts by yet another concerned question from Magne, he shook his head, “sorry Mags, false alarm, but I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait what happe-”

Atsuhiro hung up the phone, he’d give her an excuse tomorrow, right now he had something to deal with, that hopefully wouldn’t end with him scrubbing bloodstains out of his carpet.

“Kurogiri, what on earth are you doing here!?” Atsuhiro asked, perhaps a bit too curtly, as he stepped into the living room.

Kurogiri looked around for a moment, as if startled by Atsuhiro’s voice, but then his gaze landed on Atsuhiro, who had now closed his bedroom door and was marching over to him. And then Atsuhiro froze, because Kurogiri’s expression was one of pure terror. Not once had he seen this, sure he’d seen Kurogiri be scared before, fearful even, but this was raw, the kind of emotion that could only be felt on an instinctual level.

“Mon ami? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas? Are you alright?” Atsuhiro automatically got closer, expecting that Kurogiri would attempt to hug him, but instead he saw the poor man try his best to scramble away.

Atsuhiro stopped walking, just observing, waiting for Kurogiri to calm down. But that didn’t seem to be happening too quickly, still, eventually Kurogiri seemed to muster the courage to speak, “w-who are you?”

Atsuhiro’s eyes widened, surely not, surely Kurogiri was simply kidding, even if it was the worst scenario to do so, “what are you talking about Kurogiri? Do not joke around like that!” Atsuhiro searched through Kurogiri’s blank stare, scanning for the slightest hint of recognition, but he knew he wouldn’t find it, if anything was there it would have been written all over his face like a neon sign.

Kurogiri stared at the floor, still deathly afraid, “I’m sorry sir.” Atsuhiro really didn’t like that, it was the tone of voice he used when he was pretending, but this time it had no hint of truth underneath it.

Atsuhiro sighed, “no need to apologise, just, listen, can you tell me what the first thing you remember is?” Atsuhiro had a suspicion that this had something to do with Kurogiri’s absence, he just needed to know what that something was.

Kurogiri shook his head, his vacant eyes darting around the room as if hoping something would make sense, “I think, I woke up in a lab, and there was a man there, with a creepy voice, and then, I don’t know,” Atsuhiro had to assume he was talking about one of the labs used by Garaki, and that just painted an even worse scenario for how this happened.

Atsuhiro inched closer, “Kurogiri?” He tentatively reached out, stopping before Kurogiri could recoil again.

Kurogiri frowned, “is that my name? The man called me that too.” Oh, this was so much worse than Atsuhiro had thought.

“Yes, that’s your name,” Atsuhiro hoped the uncertainty didn’t leak into his voice. When they first met he’d assumed, as the rest of the league had, that Kurogiri was simply the moniker he used, but now, Atsuhiro knew better, it was nothing more than an experiment designation. But if it was what Kurogiri had been called since he was created, then he supposed it must count as a name in some twisted sense.

“Oh, is that an odd name? I think it sounds odd,” Kurogiri tilted his head, “why did I end up here?”

“What do you mean? You used your quirk didn’t you?” Atsuhiro frowned.

“Yes, I think, is my quirk the mist? Then yes. I just wanted to hide; can I hide here?” Kurogiri’s eyes were still empty of recognition, but finally Atsuhiro saw something other than fear in there, perhaps, hope?

“Of course you can hide here, I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Atsuhiro noticed that Kurogiri’s hands were clutched together tightly, shaking with anxiety, whatever happened at the lab couldn’t have been anything short of horrifying, he reached out a hand on instinct, wanting to comfort Kurogiri like he’d done before.

Kurogiri flinched, and Atsuhiro’s heart twinged in pain, oh right, he wouldn’t have any reason to trust that Atsuhiro wouldn’t hurt him. Atsuhiro sighed, there wasn’t much he could do with Kurogiri in such a state, if only he would remember something, perhaps being reminded of a few things could jostle his memory.

“Come on, I promise it’s okay, we’re friends,” Atsuhiro tilted his head, smiling, “I’m Sako Atsuhiro.” He silently begged Kurogiri to remember, anything at all, to even recognise that he wasn’t a threat.

Kurogiri stared at him, “we’re friends?” He echoed uncertainly, and Atsuhiro’s hopes of being recognised were slowly fading with each word out of Kurogiri’s mouth. But still, at least it seemed that Kurogiri would believe him, he didn’t quite know how to feel about that, this Kurogiri seemed all too trusting, staring at everything with wonder and fear in equal measures. It was sincerely unnerving, seeing the normally strong-willed man reduced to a stuttering, doe-eyed mess.

”Yes, we are, do not worry Kurogiri, the man who did this to you will not find you here,” Atsuhiro knew that for certain, as the only two people who knew of the location of his apartment were Magne and Kurogiri himself. He moved closer, staring closely to watch for Kurogiri to tense up, to shy away, but he didn’t and Atsuhiro wrapped his arms around Kurogiri as best he could, feeling the way that Kurogiri leaned into the hug, almost toppling them both over.

After a moment, Atsuhiro pulled away, “alright then, make yourself comfortable, I’ll be over there,” he gestured to where his dinner still sat on the kitchen counter. He observed as Kurogiri looked around, still with that lost look in his eyes that was so painful to see, before deciding to settle on the couch, every so often sending glances over at Atsuhiro, like he was scared of doing something wrong. Atsuhiro just glanced away, half-wondering if it would be better to speak up and reassure Kurogiri, and maybe it was selfish, but he couldn’t stand to talk to someone who looked like his friend, but didn’t act like his friend.

He glanced back down at his dinner, then back at Kurogiri, he sighed, grabbing another bowl and pair of chopsticks from his kitchen and splitting the noodles evenly between them. Kurogiri glanced up from his spot on the couch, hesitating a moment as Atsuhiro stood in front of him, offering the other bowl. Atsuhiro’s eyes caught the slightest of movement of Kurogiri’s hand down to his pocket, like he was trying to hide something, it was unfortunate for him that the person he was trying to fool was a master at these sorts of tricks. But Atsuhiro thought better of calling him out on it, or trying to snatch whatever he’d pocketed, normally that would just get him a half-hearted glare and a scoff that hid a chuckle, but, well the circumstances were much different.

The two of them ate in silence, one not knowing what to say and the other too scared to try. Atsuhiro’s mind still raced a mile a minute, would this last? Hopefully Kurogiri got his memories back soon, else Atsuhiro was going to have a lot of explaining to do to the rest of the league. But if this was permanent? No, Atsuhiro quickly shoved that scenario right into the furthest corner of his mind. His eyes scanned back over Kurogiri, checking for injuries that he knew weren’t present, else he’d have found them by now, if the first time he’d seen Kurogiri after one of his meetings with Garaki was any indication. Atsuhiro squeezed his eyes shut, willing that particular image back out of his consciousness, it wouldn’t help to be thinking of that right now. He opened his eyes and reached for some of his marbles, fiddling with them by making them disappear, or just shaking them in his palm and watching them roll around.

Atsuhiro felt the weight of a gaze on his head, he glanced up to see Kurogiri staring at his hand oddly, “what is it darling?” He asked, wondering what new question he would be hit with this time.

Kurogiri stared for a bit longer, “I, don’t know, I think,” he shook his head, pointing to the marbles, “do those hold things?”

Atsuhiro couldn’t stop the way a tiny spark of hope flashed through his mind, “yes, they do, why?”

Kurogiri shrugged, “I, I don’t know, I just, had a weird thought, that I’ve seen those marbles before, they poof and suddenly they’re not marbles anymore.”

That was certainly a way of describing Atsuhiro’s quirk, “yes, that’s my quirk, see?” He demonstrated by taking a set of dice out of one of his marbles.

Kurogiri’s eyes widened in that familiar way they always did whenever Atsuhiro showed him a new trick, it was utterly impossible not to find that reaction at least a little endearing, and Atsuhiro was happily reminded that this memory loss might not be permanent. Atsuhiro did a few more tricks before finally, Kurogiri seemed to relax completely, and Atsuhiro was free to go about his routines without someone staring a hole into the back of his skull.

Although, Atsuhiro thought as he put the washed dishes in the cupboard, the quiet wasn’t much better, sure, he could pretend like there wasn’t someone else inside his apartment, but there was still that fundamental wrongness of knowing that his space wasn’t entirely his at the moment. He reminded himself that Kurogiri wasn’t in his right mind, and to send him back to the league’s bar would be stupid and dangerous for the poor man.

Still, he managed to get to the point where he considered calling it a day and going to bed before that wrongness caught up to him. Now, Atsuhiro wasn’t necessarily a paranoid man by nature, and Kurogiri was far from the kind of person who would stab someone in the back while they slept, but...

He stared at the inviting door of his bedroom, then back at the couch where Kurogiri was once again staring at his hands, likely in boredom. He sighed, leaning against the wall and waiting for his uninvited guest to fall asleep.

After a few moments of complete silence aside from the sounds of the night outside, Atsuhiro noticed a faint jingling noise, like a jewellery chain, too close to be coming from anywhere but this living room. He looked around for a moment, and then his eyes landed back on Kurogiri, who was still staring at his hands, or, perhaps, something he was holding. Curiosity won this round, as Atsuhiro creeped up behind Kurogiri, peering from behind his poofy mist hair to see something shiny in his hands. Atsuhiro easily snatched it away, ignoring the shocked yelp from Kurogiri as he examined whatever had warranted such enraptured staring.

It looked to be an earring, the kind with a thin chain hanging from the stud that ended in a dangling pendant or charm. The chain itself was silver and appeared to be very well taken care of, even better than most people took care of their jewellery, and the charm at the end was a cartoony light blue cloud. Examining the connection point showed that, whatever this earring’s original charm was had been removed to attach this new one, and it certainly wasn’t a professional job, with the jump ring looking a little warped. In fact, both the chain and the charm looked like they had been bought from the cheapest jewellery store one could find, although Atsuhiro wasn’t going to judge the quality too harshly when someone clearly put some soul into making this, he could always appreciate a crafty mind.

He turned to Kurogiri, and immediately regretted his actions because Kurogiri looked distressed at the earring being taken from him. Atsuhiro held it out to him, “sorry, is, is this yours?” It certainly could be, even if Atsuhiro had never seen Kurogiri wear earrings, or ear piercings of any kind, he did have clear marks on his ears where earrings would go, and Atsuhiro never really paid attention before, but Kurogiri also had a few more spots on his ears where piercings had clearly been done. Atsuhiro wasn’t knowledgeable enough to name the types, but he had a decent idea of what they’d look like, and, none of them looked healed over, yet, he’d never seen Kurogiri wear any piercings, at least not around him.

Kurogiri took the earring instantly, and then hesitated for a moment, “yes?” That sounded like a question.

“You’re not sure?” Atsuhiro asked, before being hit with the obvious, oh yeah, he’s lost his memories.

“It’s, I think it has to be mine,” Kurogiri waved his hand in thought, “I, found this in my pocket, when I was running away, it was wrapped in a piece of paper.” He fished in his pocket and produced a crumpled piece of paper.

Atsuhiro looked at the paper for a moment, there were some dark spots on it, ink. “Did you ever, unfold the paper?” Atsuhiro asked.

“No?” Kurogiri looked confused, “if you want it go ahead.”

Atsuhiro gladly took the note, unfolding it to read whatever the message was, and he felt bile rise in his throat, it wasn’t a neat little note, instead Kurogiri’s handwriting was scrawled all over the page in frantic scribbles.

‘Don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget, DON’T FORGET.'

It went on and on, covering the entire page, each repetition followed by three symbols, a music note, a heart, and a cat’s head, drawings that got more and more muddled the further down on the page it went. It eventually got to the point where Atsuhiro couldn’t even determine which symbol was which, all of them looking like a scribbled tangle of lines.

He glanced at Kurogiri, debating whether to even attempt to show him the notes, on the off chance it did jumpstart his memory, or if it would just traumatize the poor man further. But, Atsuhiro wasn’t sure how long he could tolerate the way things were currently going. He sighed, “hey Kurogiri?”

“Hm?”

Atsuhiro put the paper in front of Kurogiri’s face, “does any of this look familiar to you?”

Kurogiri’s eyes widened as he scanned the paper, “I, what? But, did I write this? Wait.” Tears began to form in his eyes, and Atsuhiro began to pull the paper away, assuming it wasn’t any help at all, but Kurogiri grabbed his hand, “no, I, I don’t know who they are, but, they’re, important.”

Who? Atsuhiro glanced at the paper, there wasn’t a single thing in the disturbing note that indicated a person, at least not to him, but, maybe there was something Kurogiri would recognise. His eyes landed on the clearest drawing of the symbols, they couldn’t be random, not on a note so desperate to cling to something. He’d have to ask about it whenever Kurogiri properly got his memories back.

Atsuhiro’s train of thoughts was cut off by a yawn that made the tiredness in his body all too evident, he really did have to go to sleep. He thought about it for two seconds, before deciding that he really had no choice but to allow Kurogiri to stay the night. “Hey,” Atsuhiro got Kurogiri’s attention, “feel free to sleep on the couch if you need, I’m going to bed, bonne nuit mon ami.”

Hopefully the morning would bring some answers.

Chapter Text

Atsuhiro’s eyes blinked blearily, face half pressed down into the pillow, the sunlight streaming into the room in a way that fell right on his face for an unpleasant wake up call. Atsuhiro groaned and pressed his face back in the pillow, willing the morning to just go away. And a few moments later he flung off the covers and hopped off the bed, stretching with a yawn and properly waking himself up for the day, no point in laying in bed all day after all, and besides, he needed to get to the league’s base before Magne started calling him to ask where he was. He quickly threw on some clothes and opened his door, walking towards the kitchen to grab something to eat.

Atsuhiro blinked, half tempted to pinch himself to check if he was somehow dreaming, because as soon as he stepped out of his room his senses picked up the sounds and smells of cooking. He was in no way able to identify what was cooking, but the scents of spices and fire and the clinking of pans was unmistakable. He wondered what on earth was going on, because as far as he knew, food didn’t just cook itself. Atsuhiro quietened his footsteps, creeping to the open doorway that separated his living room from his kitchen, carefully peeking inside and...

Oh. Atsuhiro let out the breath he’d been holding, standing up properly as he leaned against the doorway, he’d entirely forgotten about last night’s unexpected guest. He stared at Kurogiri, who seemed completely unaware that he now had an audience, while he went through the practiced motions of preparing what looked like omelettes. After a few moments of remaining unnoticed, Atsuhiro cleared his throat, startling Kurogiri and nearly making him drop the hot pan he was holding as he whirled around to face the sudden reminder of exactly whose home he was in.

“Oh, um, hey Sako!” Kurogiri stammered out, “I, uh, didn’t think you’d be up so soon,” the nervous laugh that escaped his lips left him the utter picture of sheepishness.

Atsuhiro’s eyes widened in relief at the familiarly jovial tone and the almost cartoonishly expressive face that greeted him, oh thank goodness. “Bonjour Kurogiri, I see you are back to your normal self,” he remarked.

Kurogiri shrugged, the forced nature of his cheer given away by his inability to hide his expressions, “more or less? Still got a bunch of fuzzy spots in my memory, it’s fine, they’ll come back, they always do.”

“I’m sorry, they always do?” Atsuhiro asked, quietly horrified, every time he thought things couldn’t get even worse, Kurogiri somehow managed to bring up something newly insane.

“Oh, yeah, this, isn’t the first time Garaki’s tried to wipe my memories, and it won’t be the last,” Kurogiri’s hands gave away the tremor that went through him as he spoke, “don’t worry too much, I’m-”

“Tais-toi, ne t'avise pas de finir cette phrase!” Atsuhiro snapped, cutting off Kurogiri, and even startling himself with the sternness in his voice, “don’t you dare say ‘I’m used to it.’”

Kurogiri stared at him with shock morphing to an indescribable sadness, “I-” tears welled up in his eyes and Atsuhiro had the profound feeling that he’d somehow hit a nerve.

Atsuhiro sighed, “I’m sorry mon ami, I just, please don’t,” he paused, what could he even say? Don’t stop me from helping you? Don’t tell me to ignore your pain when it’s already eating at me? “Don’t act like you’re fine with this,” he finally said, “you don’t have to justify what they’re doing to you.”

“I know that damn it,” Kurogiri raised his voice, but any attempt at anger deflated within moments, “I know,” he repeated, quieter, weaker.

He looked away for a moment, then, he silently slid a plate of food towards Atsuhiro, “I made breakfast, figured that’s the least I could do for you after, well...” He trailed off, unwilling to put any more words into this topic.

Atsuhiro took the hint, settling into silence as the two of them ate what was much better food than what he would have made if he had the time to cook breakfast instead of rushing straight to the bar with a leftover sandwich shoved into his mouth. It was a quiet that buzzed with unanswered questions, but a quiet nonetheless, and one that he knew better than to break, to bring all those questions out into the open air and thoroughly shatter any pretence of peace that Kurogiri could cling onto.

After they were done, Atsuhiro hurried to put on his costume and began opening the window when Kurogiri cleared his throat, “I think this would be faster,” he said, opening a portal with an ‘after you’ type of gesture. Atsuhiro stared at the portal for a moment before the words registered in his ears, and he let out a quiet ‘oh’ as he stepped through the mist.

He found himself on the rooftop he knew so well by now, honestly he could probably navigate the space blindfolded if he wanted to. The portal closed behind him, but he had a suspicion Kurogiri would just warp himself directly into the bar with some excuse of having been called away earlier than anyone had woken up. Atsuhiro would have grumbled about having to parkour the rest of the way down to the street, but Kurogiri was probably trying to save the both of them from some uncomfortable questions and for that he was grateful.

For that same reason, Atsuhiro made himself wait for a few minutes before making his entrance, easily dodging the knife that was sent flying his way, teaching Toga to throw knives might have been a mistake. And whatever chaos was occurring must have been quelled by the disappointed stare Kurogiri was levelling at Shigaraki, who he was currently holding about an inch off the ground by the hood on his hoodie. And yet their leader appeared to still have enough dignity left to glare daggers at Dabi, who was crossing his arms, looking all too smug about the whole situation. Atsuhiro shook his head, he was half certain that the day those two got along would be the day that hell froze over.

“Comme des bambins qui se chamaillent,” he muttered as he walked over to Magne, that got him a glare from Dabi, who shockingly knew a decent amount of French, not enough to be fluent necessarily, but decent.

Atsuhiro mostly stuck to the sidelines as the day began in earnest, keeping a close eye on Kurogiri for a little while, he needed to make sure there were no lingering issues, and if there were, he needed to be able to deflect the league’s attention away. But as the hours flew by, Atsuhiro noticed nothing of significance, and as such, pulled his awareness towards other things, like making sure Toga didn’t stab or bite anyone, which would be a lot easier to prevent if people just stopped forgetting where she was.

Eventually, he was dragged into a game of cards by Twice, always a fun time, if one didn’t mind the indecisiveness, which Atsuhiro certainly didn’t, if anything it made Twice easier to read. What was even more fun was the small audience they’d managed to accrue, Magne had been at the table the entire time, but now she was joined by Spinner and Toga, who really didn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space.

After that he was sent to supervise Dabi on a recruiting mission, given how poorly the last one had gone, and that was a whole bunch of waiting around and hiding away. He twirled his marbles between his fingers, slightly upset that he couldn’t even put on a show for this one, but Dabi was supposed to be alone, and Atsuhiro wouldn’t risk starting a fight just because he wanted to be dramatic. Although if one broke out he would be all too happy to break out all the flair he had to throw in this lovely lady’s face as a distraction to grab Dabi and go. Or perhaps he’d watch Dabi incinerate the woman on the spot and his help wouldn’t be required at all, he never knew how these things would go. Although he did wonder when All For One would be satisfied with the number of soldiers he had in his army, the answer was likely never given what little information Atsuhiro knew about the man.

He whistled quietly as the two of them walked back to the bar, the potential recruit having ran as soon as Dabi began his threats. It was an efficient way to weed out the cowards, Atsuhiro was sure, but he doubted if it was the best approach, he’d certainly have followed the same course of action as that woman if he’d been threatened so. Then again, these weren’t scouts or spies or thieves as his role was meant to be, these were supposed to be fighters, like Spinner and Magne and Dabi, so far be it for him to say how best to find those.

He allowed Dabi to enter the bar first, easier to let him take the hazardous attention of whoever was nearest the door, before slipping in behind him and taking a seat at the bar itself, throwing a quick glance in Kurogiri’s direction. Other than a flicker of light from the golden glow of Kurogiri’s eyes through his mist, Atsuhiro got no real indication that the man had understood his unspoken question of ‘are you doing alright?’ But still, he kept his gaze until, almost imperceptibly, Kurogiri tilted his head in a way that could be considered a nod.

It was late into the day when Atsuhiro finally noticed it. He’d glanced over at the bar for a moment, intending to eavesdrop on whatever conversation Shigaraki and Twice were having, only to realise that Kurogiri was staring at him, not past him as Kurogiri was wont to do when he zoned out, directly at him. Atsuhiro would have thought it creepy if he wasn’t already aware that this only meant Kurogiri was likely deep in thought about something related to Atsuhiro, although perhaps he should be concerned about what that could even mean. Kurogiri quickly averted his gaze once he realised he’d been caught, though Atsuhiro couldn’t find a single shred of embarrassment in that action.

The staring continued, occasionally noticed in side-eyed glances, until the lower floor of the bar began to empty out, with people calling it a night and heading to bed, and Atsuhiro could finally bring up the issue.

As soon as the coast was clear, he opened the window to the fire escape and looked over at Kurogiri, who, oddly, hadn’t dissipated the mist around his body, and he didn’t move, first glancing at Atsuhiro then at the floor. Until he abruptly nodded, seemingly to himself, and waved for Atsuhiro to go ahead, which he did, reluctantly stepping out onto the fire escape and glancing back just long enough to see Kurogiri kneeling down and fiddling with something behind the counter. Utterly confused, Atsuhiro decided it was just better to head up and wait for his friend to catch up, he had a feeling this had something to do with all the staring earlier.

He sighed as he took the last short leap onto their rooftop, sitting down at the edge and taking in the view of the stars that had just begun to peek out of the darkness, today was a rather cloudy day, but he enjoyed what fragments of the night sky he could see anyways. A soft swishing sound, imperceptible even in the quietest moments if one wasn’t actively searching for it, and a light popping in his ears, as if having gone up in altitude, were his clues that Kurogiri had opened a portal right next to him, so close that these faint clues could possibly be noticed. He didn’t bother turning his head as the click of dress shoes on concrete met his ears and the weight of a presence sitting down next to him made itself known, he knew that if Kurogiri wanted to say something, he’d say it regardless of if Atsuhiro was looking at him or not.

“Hey Sako?”

Atsuhiro hummed, letting Kurogiri know that he was listening without taking his eyes away from the sky.

He heard Kurogiri inhale sharply, as if preparing himself for some great challenge, then, almost as quickly, the courage seemed to deflate from him in a soft, low exhale. And that was when Atsuhiro turned to his friend, sensing that something was deeply wrong, Kurogiri almost never backed away from a topic, even his own torture was talked about as if some mere anecdote. And Atsuhiro had to purposefully blink a few times, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

And yet his eyes did not deceive him, he quickly remembered the marks on Kurogiri’s ears, where he’d speculated piercings had gone, and yet, to actually see them decorating the man’s face was another experience altogether. He stared for a moment, cataloguing each one he could see, which was a bit hard when Kurogiri’s bangs kept shifting and covering his ears, but he managed to figure it out. There were the expected earrings, although only one was the cloud earring Atsuhiro had seen last night, dangling from his right ear, the other was a simple black stud. Then one of those thick black rings that went on the upper part of the ear, although that one was only on the right ear, a pair of black spikes decorated the left. Those were all marks that Atsuhiro had noticed, being as obvious as they were, what he hadn’t expected were the facial piercings. Two silver dots near the outer corner of the right eyebrow and, far more shockingly, a thin silver ring hooked into the left most corner of his bottom lip.

Atsuhiro stared for several minutes, jaw agape, before remembering his manners and conspicuously clearing his throat, “ah, well, that’s, unexpected.”

Kurogiri’s concerned expression turned to joy for a fleeting moment, “heh, yeah, I’m not surprised, they’re pretty cool, aren’t they?” However brief, that moment of levity left a smile on Kurogiri’s face, one that was wiped away as an uncomfortable silence rapidly smothered the mood back down, and he returned to staring at anywhere but Atsuhiro.

Atsuhiro took a deep breath, turning away as well and looking back at the stars, if Kurogiri wasn’t going to tell him what was wrong, then he supposed he’d just have to prod at the issue until he hit the right question to get this stubborn idiot to open up. “So, Kurogiri-”

“Oboro.”

Atsuhiro snapped his gaze back to Kurogiri, wondering if that quiet whisper was just a figment of his imagination, and yet, the pure shock on Kurogiri’s face, as if even he could hardly believe what he’d said, told him otherwise. As panic seemed to set in on Kurogiri’s face, Atsuhiro reached out and tapped his arm in a steady rhythm, something that Kurogiri had mentioned helped ground him when he got lost in his head. It took a few moments, but eventually, Kurogiri’s eyes focused back to reality, and Atsuhiro dared to say something, “Oboro?” He asked, parroting the word, the name back at Kurogiri as a question.

“Shirakumo Oboro,” Kurogiri said quickly, as if he was trying to get it over with, then, slower, in a mutter that Atsuhiro had to strain to hear, “my name is Shirakumo Oboro.”

And for the second time that night, Atsuhiro felt his jaw drop, utterly at a loss for what to say, and all he managed in reply was a dumb “what?”

His friend seemed to shrink in on himself, “well, I, um,” he began stammering, clearly uncertain of how to even proceed from here.

After a moment, Atsuhiro gathered the awareness to think of a more appropriate question, “I thought you didn’t have a name,” it wasn’t meant to be accusatory, but his tone must have betrayed his emotions because his friend flinched.

“I’m sorry, I promise I wasn’t trying to be mean, keeping this from you, I just, it was easier not to explain,” there was something else besides the apologetic expression, something that looked horrifyingly like fear, fear of him.

Atsuhiro felt that realisation like a stab in the heart, he’d tried to be nothing but supportive to his friend, what could he possibly have done to warrant such an emotion directed at him? And then, another thought came to mind, why would Garaki name his experiments?

A sudden flinch told him that he must have accidentally said that out loud, “oh, I’m sorry Shirakumo.”

“I think, we’ve been friends long enough for you to call me Oboro,” his friend’s eyes sparked with an indescribable mix of emotions.

Atsuhiro’s mind stuttered, on one hand, the use of given names was far beyond the professional boundaries he liked to use, on the other hand, this was a direct request from a friend. And besides, Atsuhiro couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t already broken multiple of his professional rules for this man already, staying late just to talk, friendly competition as they raced across rooftops, allowing him to stay the night, literally everything he’d done since befriending this ever cheerful, alarmingly friendly idiot. So, what was one more?

“In that case you can call me Atsuhiro,” and then, after a moment of thinking might as well go the whole way, “my closest friends call me Atsu.” In reality, ‘closest friends’ only referred to Magne, but memories of his earliest childhood were also coloured with that nickname, so he supposed he wasn’t lying.

Kurogiri, no, Oboro raised his eyebrows in surprise, recognizing the invitation of something far more intimate that he’d been expecting, before regaining his composure, “well then, it’s nice to meet you, Atsu.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Oboro,” Atsuhiro didn’t miss the way Oboro’s eyes began tearing up, “are, are you alright?” He asked cautiously.

Oboro nodded, “yeah, I’m,” he sniffled, unable to finish that sentence, “fucking hell, it’s, it’s been years since I’ve heard my own name,” the tears flowed freely now, leaving trails down his cheeks and mixing into the pure elation shining from his eyes.

Atsuhiro couldn’t help the way his heart panged at hearing that, nobody should be denied their own name, their sense of identity, he silently held his arms out, offering the physical comfort he knew Oboro relied on. Oboro gladly took the invitation, sinking into the embrace, face buried in the crook of Atsuhiro’s neck and fingers clawing into the fabric of his coat as if afraid he’d disappear the second that Oboro let go. Atsuhiro quietly rubbed circles into his back, “Je suis là, je suis juste là,” he muttered, repeating the same reassurance until Oboro’s breathing slowly evened out.

Then, a quiet laughter reverberated against his collar bone, and Atsuhiro smiled, “there you are mon ami.”

Oboro pulled back a bit, wiping the tears from his eyes, although he didn’t bother to put any real distance between them, the two of them still sat with their shoulders pressed together. “I, I guess I should explain a bit further, huh?” He asked, and while Atsuhiro hadn’t been planning to ask any of the hundred questions that danced through his mind, he wasn’t going to say no to some answers, he simply tilted his head, indicating for Oboro to continue.

Oboro huffed, “so, you asked earlier why Garaki would bother giving me a name?” Atsuhiro nodded. “See, the thing is, he didn’t, that, that’s the name I had before.”

“Before?” Atsuhiro prompted when Oboro trailed off.

“I, haven’t been entirely honest with you, about the nomus, they’re not just made from nothing.”

Atsuhiro furrowed his brow, well obviously they needed materials, conservation of matter and all that, “and by that you mean?”

A pained look crossed Oboro’s face, like it hurt to admit this, “well,” he began, seemingly unsure of how he wanted to phrase his answer, “it isn’t easy to build a functional human body, and impossible to build a consciousness, better to just modify what already exists.”

The implications hit Atsuhiro like a truck. Those beasts were made from real people!? And then further horror, Oboro was once a real person.

Oboro looked solemnly at Atsuhiro’s wide eyed stare, “yeah, real fucked up stuff isn’t it?” He said, trying and failing to lighten the mood, neither of them felt much like joking right now.

Another thought surfaced in Atsuhiro’s mind “so, are all the nomus like you?” He asked, referring to Oboro’s knowledge of his past.

Oboro shook his head sadly, “no, Garaki erases the memories of all his subjects, I, honestly don’t know why I still have mine.”

“How,” Atsuhiro began to ask before realising that he was probably stepping into territory he didn’t want to go.

Oboro shrugged, “pretty easy when your subject is already dead.”

“Wait, what!?” Atsuhiro exclaimed.

“Yeah, all of Garaki’s subjects were dead, I don’t know how he brings them back to life, but he does, and then he fucks around with their anatomy and their quirks and their minds to make the perfect servants for All For One’s plans,” Oboro explained.

“So, you were,” Atsuhiro shook his head, unwilling to go down this rabbit hole any further. “Who were you?” He asked instead.

Oboro’s eyes glistened with tears as he turned to stare up at the sky, “that’s,” he sighed, “I’m not sure it’s an answer you’ll like.”

Atsuhiro shrugged, “I don’t care, I want to know,” they worked with murderers and psychopaths for goodness sakes, how bad could this be?

“I was a hero.”

Oh, oh it could be so bad. Atsuhiro stared in shock at Oboro, a hero!? It would have been better if he said he tortured people for fun!

Oboro sighed, “yeah, that’s pretty much what I was expecting from you, look, if it makes you feel any better, I was only a student, not really a proper hero.”

Atsuhiro was about to snap that no, that didn’t make it better actually, when his mind did some quick maths and realised that either something didn’t add up, or Oboro’s situation was even worse than he thought, “a student? A high school student?”

“Yep, second year,” Oboro shrugged, shoulders slumping tiredly, “it’s only been fourteen years, but, sometimes it feels like forever ago.”

Atsuhiro did some more quick maths, “you were seventeen.” He stated sombrely, Oboro had been barely older than Toga was now, a child.

Oboro’s eyes began to water again, “yeah, back then, it was just me, Cat, Heart, and Song against the world.”

“They were your friends?” Atsuhiro said, recognising what must have been nicknames, and connecting them to the symbols on the note from last night.

“They were my teammates,” Oboro corrected, and Atsuhiro felt as if that word held far more meaning than he could understand. “The four of us were all hero students, none of us had any friends, and we kind of, drifted together, just a bunch of misfits.” He paused, lost in memory, before continuing, “we were unstoppable together, and all we wanted to do was protect people like us, the rejects of society.”

Atsuhiro blinked, “huh, I cannot imagine you being a reject.”

“It was my quirk,” Oboro explained, “not Warp Gate, that’s, that’s just what Garaki twisted my original quirk into, it was called Cloud, and all I could really do was summon, well, clouds. Dense clouds, but still clouds. I was considered too weak to ever amount to anything. I wanted to show the world I was capable of doing something, we all did.” He said, hand clasping around his earring.

That, hit way too close to home, and Atsuhiro couldn’t help but empathise deeply with that sentiment, “yeah, I understand.”

Oboro tilted his head, asking for an explanation, Atsuhiro sighed, “it took me years to learn how to use Compress in a way that wasn’t, ‘just a magic trick.’” He gave a partial answer, not wanting to go on that particular trip down memory lane at the moment.

Oboro huffed with annoyance, “people can be real assholes sometimes,” he muttered.

Atsuhiro noticed that Oboro’s hand still hadn’t left his cloud earring, and that was what had helped bring his memories back last night as well, “is that important to you?” He asked.

Oboro nodded, “yeah, its, the four of us made matching earrings for ourselves, a bit of a DIY job, especially with the actual piercing, but, it was basically our version of friendship bracelets, each pendant symbolised our nickname, a heart for Heart, a cat’s head for Cat, a music note for Song, and,” he took out his earring, holding it carefully in his palm, like it was the most precious thing in the world, “a cloud for Cloud.”

Atsuhiro felt a soft smile pull at his lips, it was impossible not to get caught up in the emotion of being told something so private, so delicate, of being trusted with something like this. He looked at Oboro with a quiet adoration, for someone who’d clearly suffered, and yet, somehow kept going further than Atsuhiro ever would have.

Oboro sighed, “I hope they’re doing alright, with everything that’s going on.”

“If they were hero students, I presume they’re pro heroes now? Couldn’t you check the news?” Atsuhiro tried, but understood that such a thing would never be able to replace a simple conversation between friends.

“It’s not that, it’s,” Oboro seemed to be debating whether to say something or not, he glanced at Atsuhiro, searching for something, then, his gaze grew softer, like he knew he could trust his friend. “My, teammates, are Yamada Hizashi, Kayama Nemuri, and Aizawa Shouta, or as you might know them, Present Mic, Midnight, and Eraserhead,” he looked at Atsuhiro with an exhausted sorrow, and Atsuhiro understood completely. Three heroes he was certainly familiar with, for they were three of the teachers at UA, three of the people on the league’s list of threats, and three people who’d already been involved with this conflict, one of whom almost died for it.

“I’m so sorry,” was the best Atsuhiro could seem to offer, and yet it felt like nothing but a drop of water in the desert, hardly enough to quell anything.

“I just wish I could have gone back, wish we could be a team again,” Oboro just looked utterly exhausted, like he was mourning a life he never got to live, all because All For One took it from him prematurely.

He stood up, opening a portal, “I’m going to bed, goodnight Atsuhiro.”

Atsuhiro watched the mist dissipate before heading home himself, the barrage of new information he’d learned swimming in the forefront of his mind, between Oboro having used to be hero of all things, to the connection between him and the three UA teachers, and finally, the look of defeat and sorrow on his features, as if he’d already given up on ever regaining what he used to have.

That last thought simply wouldn’t leave Atsuhiro’s mind, even as he ate dinner, and showered, and got ready for bed. His head was laying on the pillow and still heavy with that image. And despite himself, Atsuhiro wished there was a way to make his friend smile once more, to bring back whatever light All For One had stolen.

And then, an idea came to mind, a stupid, awful, utterly horrible idea, but, he had a good idea of the rough location of where Oboro kept his earring, and it would be a simple matter of shadowing to find the three heroes. He shook his head, why was he even considering this!? They were heroes for goodness sake! But, hero or not, Oboro was his friend, and Atsuhiro couldn’t deny him a chance at happiness.

Chapter Text

At first, Atsuhiro bided his time, he couldn’t just put his plan into action, no, there were so many factors that could go wrong, he needed to make sure this was the safest possible plan he could go with. So he waited and observed, mentally cataloguing times he’d already been tangentially paying attention to, when did the others go to sleep, and when did Oboro most often leave the bar unattended and for how long, and how long would it take him to snatch the earring and get out. And then there was the riskier tasks, not particularly that much riskier, the chance of him being noticed at nearly half a block away from his target was slim to none. But still, he was quiet and careful as every night he left the bar, which was right on the edge between Hosu and Musutafu, he’d then creep further into Musutafu, trying different areas until by happenstance he’d managed to catch a glimpse of his target.

But finally, after almost two weeks of preparations and planning and mapping out the exact perfect route and timing to make sure he wouldn’t get any trouble for doing this, he was ready, today was the day.

He woke up that morning with a spark in his eyes and the same restless fluttering in his soul that always accompanied the execution of a well-planned heist. He sorted through his masks for a moment, grabbing his favourite, then checked the marbles hidden in his coat pockets, sorting through by order of usefulness to this plan. He smiled, grabbing something to eat as he noted the time, six AM, perfect. A timer began in his mind, and he began his journey to the bar.

Twenty-three hours left.

He measured his pace carefully, intending to reach the bar at the time right after breakfast when most would be unoccupied, the chaos should allow him to slip through the cracks mostly unquestioned. The ground flew by under his feet, he’d chosen to take to the alleyways today, going between navigating the maze of the city and sprinting across the open air of the rooftops. He let instinct guide him through the familiar pathways as his mind continued running through the plan. He had given himself about a half-hour worth of leeway to account for possible detours, but that also meant that he’d have to purposefully wait that time if he got to the bar early.

The alleyways of the part of town he lived in were truly where the life of the area occurred, where it was the norm to hear muffled shouts and screams, perhaps the occasional gunshot, or see dried blood spattered on someone’s door, even very rarely a body hidden in a trash bag. Oh sure the place liked to pretend it was an upstanding neighbourhood, but there was a reason Atsuhiro lived here, if you didn’t ask about anybody, nobody would ask about you, and he kept his mouth shut. Besides, even if he did interfere with affairs that weren’t his to mess with, what could he do? He didn’t know how to fight, and a single bullet aimed correctly would put an end to him faster than he could blink, no, best to leave well enough alone.

He got to the bar and stopped just short of actually opening the door, the seconds ticking by until he heard the familiar noise of yelling and name-calling that accompanied Shigaraki and Dabi’s spats, reliable as ever.

Twenty-two hours left.

He opened the door, ducked under the blast of flame, avoided tripping over Spinner’s tail, hugged Toga, and slipped into the corner, waiting for his chance. He sensed the weight of a gaze land on his shoulders, and he looked out of the corner of his eye to see both Oboro and Magne staring at him, although Magne was far more intense about it, ah, they’d cottoned on to his excitement no doubt. No matter, he expected this from his sister, although Oboro noticing it was about a fifty-fifty shot, perhaps he should have made those odds higher given they’d been so friendly for nearly two and a half months now.

He interacted and conversed with the others, helped break up fights and patched up what few injuries had resulted, went on errands and gave excuses as to why he couldn’t do certain things. The time seemed to slip by him as he continued his charade of normalcy, and yet his mind never lost track of a single second, counting in time with the faint ticking of the clock on the far wall of the bar.

Eight hours left.

People started filtering out of the bar, the seconds continued to tick by as Atsuhiro exchanged good nights with everyone, each person going in the expected order. Dabi went first, ever the early bird, then went Toga, mostly by the insistence of the adults, after that Spinner, Shigaraki, and Twice usually called it a night at roughly the same time, Magne would follow soon after, staying behind mostly to talk to Atsuhiro. And then it was only him and Oboro in the bar.

Seven and a half hours left.

The two of them spoke for a while, Atsuhiro smoothly pushed the timer a bit further back in his mind, focusing more on retaining the energy of their usual routine rather than allowing his thoughts to wander for even a split second that could be noticed. He carefully kept the topic of conversation away from anything to do with Oboro’s teammates, he’d learnt a great deal about them over the last two weeks, or, as much as one can learn from old high school stories. But today was the last day he’d want Oboro’s mind on these things, to have him talking for longer than necessary, or worse, keep a closer eye on his earring. So instead he heard about stories of Shigaraki’s childhood, stories which their dear leader would probably kill him for knowing, but it was always a delight to see the way Oboro’s eyes lit up when he talked about the person he thought of as a son in all but blood.

Six hours left.

Oboro let out a quiet yawn, exhaustion creeping up right on time. Atsuhiro smiled sweetly, “perhaps it’s about time that we get some rest, I will see you tomorrow.” He tilted his head sideways towards the stairs. Oboro glanced at him, blinked, then nodded.

“Yeah, I should probably sleep before I faceplant onto the floor,” he chuckled, and Atsuhiro recalled a story he’d been told of one of Oboro’s teammates doing just that after being stubborn and refusing to rest. Oboro headed up the stairs, to the room which Atsuhiro had previously been using, or rather, not using. When he’d learnt that Oboro had no room of his own within the building, Atsuhiro had easily offered the room that he had been given and yet never stayed the night long enough to justify having it, it was a simple arrangement, and a relief for the both of them. This day in particular, Atsuhiro was incredibly glad that he’d given Oboro the room, for it meant that he now had free rein of the lower floor, and he knew exactly where he needed to look.

He ducked behind the counter, eyes scanning the lower cabinets for any hint of a false back or locked case. Nothing. Atsuhiro huffed, of course it couldn’t be the easy option. He checked the wood between the cupboards for seams, tapped at the walls for a hollow noise, and then looked at the floor.

Ah ha! There, right where the floor met the wall, one of the floorboards had many scuff marks around it, yet it was in a spot that should have been impossible to accidentally touch on account of the liquor cabinet attached to the wall above it. Atsuhiro ran his fingers around the edge of the board, carefully checking the seam until he found a solid grip where his nails could dig into small grooves in the wood, no doubt made over years of being handled in the same place, and he managed to pry up the plank.

Looking underneath, there was only a few centimetres of space, and a small cloth wrapped around something, Atsuhiro picked it up reverently, careful to treat it exactly like the precious memory that it was to Oboro. He unwrapped the cloth and lo and behold, there was the earring. Atsuhiro marbled it for safe keeping before very carefully putting everything back in its rightful place, to make sure that if Oboro did wander down here in the night, he wouldn’t immediately notice that something was wrong. He then opened the window and stepped out onto the fire escape, looking at the starry sky, which seemed to be even dimmer this night, before setting off to exactly where his target would likely be.

Five and a half hours left.

He stopped right at one particular intersection, staring at the rooftops about a block ahead of him, waiting patiently until...

An agile blur of movement sprung between the rooftops, a hero on the hunt, and one of the most dangerous ones in the city at that. Atsuhiro really would have chosen either of the other two over this one, if only they didn’t work almost exclusively during the day. Eraserhead was a truly terrifying hero, which said a lot considering most heroes had a baseline air of frightfulness to them, and yet, they were the one that he’d have to follow if he had any hope of this plan working out.

And he certainly hadn’t spent two weeks finding the best location to intercept their patrol just to decide that now was the time he couldn’t keep doing that. He knew the best distance to maintain so that he wouldn’t get spotted, while still being able to keep track of them. The distance was so great that he could only just barely see Eraserhead as they moved, and he followed with much difficulty.

They quickly reached the last row of houses that could truly be considered to be within ‘the bad part of town.’ This was the furthest Atsuhiro had ever dared to follow Eraserhead, this was his last chance to turn back, to put the earring under the floorboard and go home, maybe try convincing Oboro to seek out his teammates on his own.

He looked back, in the direction of the bar, his feet took a step backwards, then two, then several more until he was actively running further from the hero. He couldn’t do this, his masked visage was on every wanted list in the country! They’d just arrest him as soon as he made himself known. He already had plans to run away as soon as any one of them showed signs of hostility, why not just cut his losses and run now? That way nobody would ever know he was in the city, nor that he was working with the league. He was just a thief, there was no need to get himself caught up in the business of heroes of all people. And besides! No matter what Oboro said, heroes were still heroes, whether past, present, or future. Self-righteous, holier than thou soldiers who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt anyone in the name of ‘justice.’

But then Atsuhiro remembered just how utterly defeated Oboro had looked, he’d spent fourteen years living a life he was never meant to live, and all he wished was to see his teammates again. Atsuhiro looked at the marble clutched firmly in his hand, this was for Oboro, this was the one thing he could do for his dear friend. Was it worth the risk?

Atsuhiro looked back over the rooftops, the figure of Eraserhead no longer visible in the distance. Atsuhiro took a deep breath, he had to have faith in his own plans and skills to get him out of trouble, this held little risk, not when he was holding something so valuable hostage. He ran back towards the direction he remembered Eraserhead going in, hoping that he might catch back up. He scanned his surroundings desperately as he ran, begging for a sign of the hero he’d meant to be tailing. He heard the harsh bangs of gunshots in the distance and, against his better judgment, moved closer to the commotion, if anything could lure a hero, it would be the sounds of trouble.

He waited patiently, and just as expected, the silhouette of Eraserhead appeared, leapt down from the building, and disappeared. Atsuhiro heard screams and more gunshots, and then Eraserhead reappeared, continuing down their patrol route. Atsuhiro followed at a distance until they began to slow down, gradually going from a loping run to a jog, and he was more than happy to slow his pace as well, legs silently screaming for rest.

Atsuhiro observed as Eraserhead dropped down onto the fire escape of a building, climbing down and disappearing below where the other buildings hid them from view. And after a few minutes, Atsuhiro followed suit, carefully and slowly making his way to the same fire escape, there he scanned the building below. And it seemed like nothing, there weren’t any lights on that he could see, and unless Eraserhead had night vision, which they didn’t according to Oboro, then there should be a light on in one of these windows. Then a thought struck him and he looked over at the windows of the opposite building, perhaps the hero had jumped across from the fire escape to their windowsill.

It barely took a cursory glance to know that only one window had light shining through. Atsuhiro dropped onto the fire escape and scampered down to the level that the window was on. From there, it looked like a diagonal jump to make it to the windowsill. Atsuhiro strained his eyes to maybe catch a glimpse of the inside of the apartment.

It seemed to be a window to the living room, a dim yellow light illuminating just enough that Atsuhiro could make out three distinct silhouettes in the room, it seemed that he’d managed to catch all three heroes at once. His hand automatically went through the motions of twirling something in his fingers despite there being nothing to twirl, his other hand gripped the marble containing Oboro’s earring like a lifeline, and truly, it was. If this went wrong, then Atsuhiro had nobody to blame but himself, and this stupid compulsion to make sure Oboro was happy.

Two hours left.

When Atsuhiro finally managed to steady his racing heart, he looked back at the window to see the three heroes appeared to be facing away from the glass, if there was ever a time to make the leap, it was now. He took a few deep breaths just to give him time to think, gauged the distance that his mind had instinctually calculated for, pocketed the marble securely enough that it couldn’t fall, and jumped.

The sound of his rubber-soled boots thudding against the windowsill made Atsuhiro wince, the sound was loud enough that Eraserhead automatically snapped their gaze over to the window, eyes darkening when they saw him just standing there, their slight smile quickly turning into a teeth-bearing snarl. The other two quickly followed their teammate’s eyes, and their reactions were equally shocked, although far less threatening.

Atsuhiro tried to stay calm as the window was yanked open, dodging the fist that tried to grab him and quickly dropping into the heroes’ living room, making a beeline for the furthest corner before turning to the heroes and holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright, before you try anything-”

Atsuhiro cut himself off with a yelp as he was forced to dodge Eraserhead’s scarf thing, Oboro had called it a capture scarf, truly a baffling choice of weapon, “who the hell are you and what do you want?” The hero demanded as the other two began to flank him, attempting to cut off his escape.

Atsuhiro wasn’t sure whether to be offended or thankful that they hadn’t yet recognized his mask, but it appeared he’d thought too soon as Midnight’s eyes lit up, “wait, that’s that villain, the one that literally every law enforcement agency in the country wants behind bars? Um, Mister, something.”

“Mr. Compress,” Atsuhiro muttered, before remembering that he really should get to the point before he got the cops called on him, “I’m not here to hurt you, or steal-”

Once again he was cut off by the capture scarf, this time the dastardly thing managed to hook around his ankle, wrapping around it in a way that he wasn’t sure was possible for fabric to do, then again, considering it was being used as a weapon, it was likely not fabric. He was helpless as the weapon was pulled, sending him tumbling to the floor. Eraserhead began to speak, but Present Mic held a hand to their mouth, glancing at them as a silent conversation passed between the three heroes. Eventually, Eraserhead and Midnight nodded, letting Present Mic move closer to Atsuhiro, “alright dude, you get one chance to explain before we call our good pal the detective to come take you away in cuffs, ya dig?” His tone was about as threatening as a particularly annoying pigeon, and yet for some reason, Atsuhiro felt a shiver run down his spine, probably at the actual words of the threat, after all, this fool didn’t even look or sound half as threatening as the other members of the league.

“Je le ferais, si je n'étais pas interrompu,” Atsuhiro muttered, and for some reason that got a laugh from Present Mic, did he know French? Whatever, that was besides the point. Atsuhiro reached into the pocket of his coat, seeing the way the three heroes shifted into combat stances, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, always so eager to fight. He pulled out the marble, decompressing it to reveal Oboro’s earring.

He heard several gasps, and looked at the heroes’ faces to see wide eyes, shock mixing with fury. Eraserhead twisted their capture scarf so that it now wrapped around Atsuhiro’s whole torso, yanking him close enough to grab by the collar as Midnight snatched the earring away.

“Where the fuck did you get that,” they growled, eyes locked onto the earring.

Atsuhiro coughed as the pull on his collar threatened to cut off his air flow, “its, complicated, but I know the person it belongs to,” he said carefully, mind racing as he tried to navigate the precarious situation he was now in.

“What do you mean you‘know’ him?” Present Mic’s voice kept the jovial tone, but underneath it Atsuhiro was starting to hear an icy sharpness.

“Oboro,” Atsuhiro was starting to struggle to get his sentences out from under Eraserhead’s iron grip, “he’s, my friend.”

Midnight’s eyes sharpened, catching onto something that made her brow furrow in confusion, “you mean, was your friend?” She asked suspiciously.

“No, I mean is, Oboro isn’t dead,” he managed to squeak out that sentence before breaking into a fit of coughs as Eraserhead tossed him to the ground.

“What kind of mind games are you trying to play villain?” Present Mic asked, façade completely dropped.

“Non,” Atsuhiro said, “I was not trying anything, I just wanted to tell you he’s alive.”

“Bullshit.” Midnight snapped, “if Oboro was alive, he would have found us a long time ago, but he isn’t, all three of us saw his body get dragged away in a bag so if you’re just going to keep lying...” She trailed off, tears beginning to flow down her face, and the other two weren’t faring much better.

Atsuhiro smiled under his mask, realising something, “but you don’t really think I’m lying, you haven’t even tried to call the police yet, besides, you must understand that I could not have known the earring’s significance if Oboro had not told me himself? And how would I know that your nicknames are Song, Heart, and Cat? Or about how the four of you were a team? Or that you have a cat named Sushi that Oboro found on the first day of school?”

The three heroes once again shared a look, then, Present Mic stared at him cautiously, “what do you want?”

Atsuhiro sighed, “he’s given up on ever seeing you three again, at least on friendly terms,” he turned his head away, “stubborn fool doesn’t even think it’s remotely possible.”

“And you want to prove him wrong,” Midnight said, eyes widening in realization.

“I want my friend to be happy, yes,” Atsuhiro nodded, “even if you three are, ugh, heroes, I’m willing to overlook that for Oboro’s sake.”

And yet again, that shared look that Atsuhiro was sure only Oboro would be able to decipher, “and how would we arrange this?” Eraserhead asked suspiciously, loosening their capture scarf ever so slightly.

Atsuhiro took the chance to grab another marble he’d prepared a few days ago, this one held a map of the city’s north side, he’d mapped out where his and Oboro’s rooftop was and marked it with a circle, “here, meet us here at ten-thirty on Saturday night.”

Present Mic reluctantly took the map, studying it intensely before nodding to Eraserhead who fully released Atsuhiro, “we’ll see you there, and if this is a trick, you’ll be very sorry.”

Atsuhiro nodded confidently, aware that their fears, while reasonable, were unfounded, and therefore, he had no reason to fear that threat. He moved to the window, before looking back at Midnight, who still held Oboro’s earring, “I’m going to need that back you know, have to return it before Oboro realizes it’s missing.”

Eraserhead muttered something that sounded like various curses on Atsuhiro’s name, or, well his villain moniker actually. But Midnight reluctantly gave him back the earring which he quickly marbled, she gave him a look that said nearly every threat under the sun in one glance. And he very quickly scurried away before the heroes decided they’d turn him in anyways and go find Oboro on their own.

As soon as he was a safe distance away, Atsuhiro let out a long sigh and felt his limbs go almost completely limp, that was technically a success, but he wasn’t ever going to do something that stupid again. For now, he had to return the earring to its hiding place under the floorboards and get out before Oboro woke up.

One hour and forty-five minutes left.

Atsuhiro raced across the rooftops, ignoring the whining from his already tired muscles, he needed to get back before time ran out, thankfully, the return trip would be shorter, as he wasn’t following a meandering patrol path.

One hour and thirty minutes left.

He nearly missed a jump in his hurry, he scrambled to get back on the roof, arms screaming in protest.

One hour left.

He reached familiar buildings, where nearly everything was abandoned, not far left to go now.

Thirty minutes left.

He was on their rooftop now, just a few more jumps.

Twenty minutes left.

Atsuhiro did his best to stifle the noises he made as he dashed into the bar, ducking behind the counter and scrabbling to pry up the floorboard. He managed it, taking the marble out of his pocket and quickly wrapping the earring in cloth before laying it back in its hidey hole. The board slipped back into place and Atsuhiro sprinted out through the door, shutting it behind him as softly as possible right as he heard the swish of a portal, signalling that Oboro had woken up for the day.

Zero minutes left.

Atsuhiro glanced at the still dark sky, knowing that the dawn would be in a mere hour. He looked back at the bar, before deciding that he’d rather just get some sleep and show up late, he could always make the excuse that he was sick, or busy with a heist. He walked back to his apartment leisurely, looking up at the stars as they seemed to twinkle happily in the night sky.

Chapter Text

The days seemed to drag on endlessly while Atsuhiro waited for Saturday to come around, occupying himself with menial busywork when there wasn’t anything truly helpful to do. It was only three nights, and yet, he could have sworn that it had been weeks. But finally, finally, he circled that golden date on his calendar, now he just had to wait for nightfall, and somehow convince Oboro to come to the rooftop tonight, he wasn’t sure the man would agree, not if he knew who they were meeting, but Atsuhiro was confident a little lying would get the job done.

Of course, despite his impatience, there was nothing he could do to speed up time, so he didn’t bother hastening his usual routine, whether he got there by seven or eight wouldn’t matter since the meeting would happen at the same time regardless. So he walked rather unhurriedly to the bar, allowing his mind to wander around as it pleased, flitting between the birdsong high above and the rattle of buses and cars below. There was nothing particularly interesting around, which was quite the shame, he would have loved something to snatch to get his mind away from the impending meeting, which, the longer he thought about it, was making him all the more anxious.

He blinked, forcing himself to focus on the buildings ahead of him before he became a splotch on the pavement below. He paused the tune he’d been whistling, jumping down to street level and walking the last few metres to the bar. He paused before he opened the door, somewhat concerned about the silence, surely someone should be yelling in there. He braced himself for the worst and carefully opened the door, not even having to dodge the typical sharp object.

The sight that greeted him was stranger than anything he could ever have predicted, everyone was off in their own corners, either talking with a friend, or just passing the time with a book or board game. This wasn’t exactly an unusual sight, but it only ever happened if the kids weren’t around to start petty fights, and yet, the only person who seemed to be missing was Shigaraki. He turned first to Magne, then Oboro, hoping either one of them had some sort of explanation as to what on earth was going on. Oddly, Oboro wasn’t even looking around the bar as he normally did, instead simply staring off into the distance, and if Atsuhiro knew the man half as well as he thought, Oboro looked royally ticked off.

Magne was the first to pick up on his utter bewilderment, laughing out loud and startling nearly everyone in the room. “Hey Atsu! You’ll never guess what happened!” She said, in that cheeky tone that meant she wouldn’t answer until he’d at least tried.

Atsuhiro sighed, “somehow everyone just agreed to get along for the day?” He said, making sure he was being as sarcastic as possible.

“Nope!” Magne glanced at the couch where Dabi was silently reading a book, although he looked about ready to fry the next person who tried to talk to him, “Shigaraki and Dabi were being idiots.” She got glared at for that.

That, didn’t explain anything except that this peace somehow had something to do with the two most volatile team members they had. Atsuhiro glanced around again, desperately trying to figure it out, when Twice seemed to take pity on him. “Apparently all their arguing finally got on Kuro’s nerves, we’re all in time out until those two apologize to each other. It’s stupid and dumb, those two started it!” Twice coughed, quieting his other voice, “I mean, I can’t really blame him, those two were really going at each other’s throats.”

“And now Shiggy’s gone off somewhere to sulk!” Spinner complained, “we’re not getting out of time out until he gets back!”

“And you’re all just going along with it?” Atsuhiro asked, slightly surprised, especially since several of them were starting to look fidgety.

“You weren’t there Mister!” Toga exclaimed, eyes wide, “Kurogiri was scary, like, really scary, he threatened to warp us all into the ocean!”

Ah, right, Atsuhiro held back a laugh, thankful for the mask concealing his expressions, Oboro certainly looked scary when he got mad, Atsuhiro remembered the first night he’d started poking his nose where it didn’t belong, he’d gotten quite the fright. Now he knew better, Oboro was about as threatening as a puppy, that wasn’t to say he was incapable of harm of course, he did used to be a hero after all, something which still left a sour tase in Atsuhiro’s mouth. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Oboro got the chance to turn his back on the league. Atsuhiro thought, perhaps naively, that he’d stay, if only for Shigaraki, but the more rational part of his brain knew better, once a hero, always a hero.

Atsuhiro took a seat at the bar, somewhere that everyone else was apparently too terrified to go near, “are you honestly going to keep them there until our dear leader stops being a child and apologizes?” Because there was no way on earth that the one apologizing would be Dabi.

Oboro huffed, annoyance somehow filtering through the usually impassive mist, “I say it’ll be at most another ten minutes before he caves,” he muttered. Atsuhiro hummed, well, Oboro knew Shigaraki better than anyone else here did, so, who was he to question.

And sure enough, almost exactly ten minutes later, Shigaraki slinked back into the bar, muttering an apology to Dabi who, surprisingly, managed to give an apology back, both were through gritted teeth and glares, like children being forced to get along by their parents, but it worked. And then it was as if a spell had suddenly been lifted, as the bar went right back to its usual bubbling chaos, although nobody had the nerve to start any more arguments that day for fear of Oboro’s retribution.

By the time he and Oboro were alone, Atsuhiro was desperately trying not to look like he was buzzing with the anticipation that seemed to crackle under his skin. He glanced at the clock, twenty minutes to go, Atsuhiro smiled, he had twenty minutes before the heroes showed up, plenty of time to convince Oboro to go to the rooftop tonight.

“You know,” Atsuhiro said, taking off his mask, “you didn’t have to scare them that badly.”

Oboro chuckled, the mist around him dissipating as he took off the neck brace, he crouched down to retrieve his earring from behind the bar, actually, as far as Atsuhiro was aware, that was the only jewellery Oboro ever took out for longer than it took to shower. He’d said something about only doing that when he knew he would be in the labs, he’d only begun taking them out aside from that to keep up the façade around Atsuhiro, and now that there was no more reason for that, he’d gone back to his usual habits.

“Maybe, but I know Tomura, he’s a real stubborn jerk most of the time but, he’ll always listen to me, eventually,” Oboro sighed, smiling softly, “I swear that kid has everyone fooled into thinking he’s the toughest one of them all.”

Atsuhiro smiled as well, always finding Oboro’s emotions to be infectious, whether happy or sad, it was impossible not to empathize with him at least a little. “Well, at least somebody here can control that arrogant idiot,” and at Oboro’s frown Atsuhiro scoffed, “ne me regardez pas comme ça! He might be your son but he’s old enough to drink! He must be capable of more emotional maturity than this!”

Oboro sighed with the air of someone who was fully aware of how much of a thorn in everyone’s neck his kid was, “he is, trust me he is very capable of talking to others like a normal person, I wouldn’t raise him to be any other way, and even All For One encouraged that he learn how to handle meetings and such, he’s just being obstinate with you lot in particular.”

Atsuhiro rolled his eyes, of course, if he had to guess it was something to do with suddenly being directly in charge of a group of people that he couldn’t just kill if he wanted, “and I guess he’s met his match in attitude with Dabi?”

Again Oboro sighed, “who knows, maybe they’ll knock some sense into each other?” He said, the optimism in his voice belied by the tired look in his eyes.

“Or they actually end up killing each other,” Atsuhiro suggested, earning him a glare, “what?”

“I’m trying to not think about that possibility you know!”

Atsuhiro laughed at the whining tone in Oboro’s voice, as much as he tried to pretend like he was actually upset, it was clear he wasn’t all too concerned about the idea, apparently trusting either his or Shigaraki’s ability to keep things from going that far.

Then, Atsuhiro glanced at the time, oh dear, he should probably get to convincing now. He slinked away from the bar and headed to the window, “it’s a nice night you know, les étoiles sont sorties,” Atsuhiro said, sliding open the window.

Oboro looked a bit bemused at the sudden change of topic, blinking slowly as it took him several seconds to translate from the scattered bits of French he’d picked up from Atsuhiro, “uh, are they?” He asked, not having gone outside since the morning.

“Mhm!” Atsuhiro hopped out onto the fire escape, “besides, I think some things are best discussed with some fresh air,” he threw a pointed look in Oboro’s direction, which seemed to make it click.

“Ah, right,” Oboro hurried behind Atsuhiro as the two of them made their way to the rooftop. Perhaps it would be faster to have Oboro warp them both, but, being cooped up in the bar barely gave him any chances to really stretch his legs, and as Atsuhiro quickly found out, getting Oboro to stay still for any length of time was a herculean task. So they both preferred making the quick jumps to get to the rooftop on foot, although Atsuhiro maybe had a bit more haste in his steps tonight, considering that he really didn’t want to make the heroes angry enough to follow through on the numerous threats they’d left him with.

Atsuhiro glanced around nervously as soon as he landed on the rooftop, putting his mask back on, by his calculations, the heroes should be here any moment, his hand went to his pocket, where he’d kept marbles full of knockout gas, just as a precaution. He might trust Oboro’s judgment of his friends, but there was no way that Atsuhiro, as a highly wanted villain, was going to show up to a meeting like this defenceless.

Oboro clambered up to one of the taller rooftops, he looked down at Atsuhiro and frowned, pausing as he saw his friend’s apparent discomfort, “is something wrong Atsu?”

But before he could answer, both of them were startled by a sudden movement on the one side of the rooftop that wasn’t hidden. Three figures landed on the concrete, although only two made any discernible noise, nevertheless, it was the three heroes. Atsuhiro noted that the only one who had a visible weapon was Eraserhead, as all three were in civilian clothing.

“Alright thief, we’re here, now where-” Present Mic was quickly cut off.

“Hizashi?” Oboro landed right next to Atsuhiro, eyes wide as he stared at his teammates, “Nemuri? Shouta? What? How?”

The severe expressions on all three of the heroes’ faces melted away the moment they realised who was speaking, turning into something between visible relief and suspicion. Midnight took a step forward, “Oboro?”

There were tears already gathering in the corners of Oboro’s eyes, “hey,” he whispered, almost as if he was afraid this was a hallucination, and the dream would end the second he said something wrong.

Atsuhiro nudged him forward, it was an ineffective nudge, but it got the message across and Oboro took a step closer to the heroes, still seeming to be at a complete loss for words, then, it was as if a spring had released. Oboro swept up the nearest hero, Present Mic, into a tight hug, one which the hero returned just as fiercely, that seemed to break the ice, and remove any doubts in the others’ minds that this was their teammate, Midnight and Eraserhead quickly joined the hug, clinging tightly to their lost friend. It was silent, a simple reassurance that this was real, that this wasn’t some kind of trick; there were definitely tears, although none of them seemed willing to let them fall. Atsuhiro smiled under his mask, happy that Oboro was happy again.

“How?” Present Mic finally broke the silence, voice cracking as the tears filled his throat, “you, the fight, we were all there, you were...”

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later?” Oboro asked, pain flashing through his eyes in a way that made Atsuhiro nervous about if these three would push the matter. Luckily they all seemed to understand that it wasn’t something light, and just resumed their silence.

After a moment, Oboro pulled away, looking directly at Atsuhiro, “what did you do?” He narrowed his eyes.

“What on earth could you mean?” Atsuhiro asked innocently.

Oboro barked out a laugh, “yeah, okay, you absolutely did something.”

“You have no proof!” Atsuhiro crossed his arms, knowing full well that Oboro wasn’t that much of an idiot.

“Uh huh, so you just happened to drag me out here for some secret reason the same moment these three show up somewhere well outside of any reasonable wandering?” Oboro raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Midnight hummed, glancing at Atsuhiro like she still wasn’t sure what to make of him, “he showed up at our apartment with your earring about three days ago, told us to meet the two of you here tonight and left.”

“I guess he’s a friend of yours ‘Oro?” Eraserhead asked, staring at Atsuhiro with the same suspicious look that Atsuhiro was throwing at him, not that he’d be able to see it, before his gaze flicked back at Oboro, eyes narrowing a bit.

Oboro nodded rapidly, “yep!”

Atsuhiro tipped his hat to the three heroes, before speaking to Oboro, “sorry I didn’t tell you about this, but...” He twirled his hand in lieu of an explanation that the heroes would understand.

“But I would have told you not to bother, I know,” Oboro said, and Atsuhiro was a bit miffed that he’d just go out and say it, wasn’t he worried that those three would get mad that he wouldn’t even try to contact them?

Atsuhiro glanced at the others, waiting for the awful reaction, but instead, his eyes locked on Eraserhead who seemed, oddly interested in the clothes Oboro was wearing, eyes darting between that and the mist that made up his hair, oh no, “Oboro...”

Oboro faltered at the suspicious tone in the hero’s voice, “yeah Shou?” He then realised where Eraserhead was looking and visibly shrank back, “oh, um, I can explain?”

Midnight and Present Mic shared a confused look, after a moment, Midnight spoke, “uh, Shouta, hon, what’s he talking about?”

Eraserhead began to speak, “you were there-”

“I’m sorry!” Oboro cut him off, “I really am so,so, sorry.” Atsuhiro tensed, eyes narrowing at the three heroes as he recognized the rising panic in Oboro’s voice, his hand clutched the marbles in his pocket.

“For, what?” Present Mic asked, seemingly concerned.

Oboro took a shaky breath, “um, this,” he closed his eyes tight and summoned his mist, it swirled up from the collar of his shirt like a vortex, quickly settling into its usual place around his face and hands.

There was a sharp gasp, although Atsuhiro couldn’t tell who it was from, he took out the marbles, concealing them in his palm, it didn’t matter, the heroes’ attention was fully on Oboro. Present Mic and Midnight both looked cautiously at Eraserhead, the only one of them who’d been in the battle at the USJ, they all looked somewhat betrayed.

“Oboro,” Present Mic finally said voice filled with disbelief and sorrow, “why?”

The mist dissipated as quick as it had appeared, revealing tears flowing freely down Oboro’s cheeks, “it’s, it’s a long story,” he muttered.

“We have time,” Midnight assured him, but the sternness in her voice made it clear that she wanted answers.

Oboro took a deep breath, “well, you know the story of Frankenstein’s monster?” He gave them a sheepish look, “basically that, but, like, if the mad scientist was also working for a century old villain.”

“I’m sorry what?” Eraserhead voiced the thoughts clearly visible on all three of the heroes’ faces.

Oboro shrugged, “like I said, complicated,” he gave them a lopsided grin, but unfortunately his eyes betrayed his distress. Atsuhiro stepped closer to him, close enough to either comfort him or marble him and run if things got ugly, but Oboro just shook his head, “I’m fine, I just, wasn’t prepared to explain, well, everything.”

“So,” Oboro began explaining everything, talking slowly at first then picking up speed, “I guess, first thing is that, I’m technically a nomu? You know, like the monster at the USJ, but, well apparently they didn’t need to fuck up my body for what they wanted me to be, and somehow I kept my memories? And, the big bad guy who did that and also ordered the attack on the USJ is called All For One. I’m pretty sure he’s immortal and he has some kind of generational grudge with his brother’s protégé and their protégé and so on, that’s gone all the way to All Might, and presumably whoever All Might mentors, that’s why All For One wants him dead.” He paused for breath and Present Mic took the chance to ask a question.

“So, immortal supervillain who’s got a bone to pick with the number one hero, I’m guessing that’s not the weird crusty one who was ordering you around?”

“I’m sorry!?” Oboro blinked, seemingly unsure whether to be offended on Shigaraki’s behalf or laugh at the accuracy, “no, Tomura is All For One’s, well, I’m still unsure, protégé? Heir?”

Atsuhiro frowned underneath his mask, pulling Oboro aside to whisper in his ear, “um, Oboro, are we certain telling them everything is a good idea?” He glanced cautiously at the three heroes.

“Why not? It’s not like they’re going to use it against us, they’re my teammates!” Oboro huffed. That really wasn’t enough of a justification in Atsuhiro’s opinion, but technically he did bring these heroes here, so he was partially at fault, still, he’d thought that Oboro would have a little more discretion about all this!

“Need I remind you that we’re villains!? And that you and Shigaraki nearly killed their students?” Atsuhiro hissed.

Oboro frowned, “well, yeah, but...”

He glanced at his friends, “hey guys?” He called hesitantly.

“Yeah Cloud?” Present Mic answered.

“You, you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

Midnight frowned, “why not? If we get a few other heroes involved, we could get you out of here and-”

“No!” Oboro waved his hands in a panicked gesture, “no, no no, you can’t do that!” Atsuhiro tilted his head, really? Surely Oboro could see the golden opportunity staring him in the face?

Eraserhead narrowed his eyes, “why? Does he have some kind of leverage?”

“No,” Oboro began, then, sheepishly, “well, yes, but he doesn’t know that!” Atsuhiro had a pretty good idea of what Oboro was talking about.

“So he’s had this on you for how long?” Midnight asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest, I was resurrected about three months after I died, and, I swear I wanted to see you guys, I just, I couldn’t leave,” Oboro admitted.

“So if he’s had this over you for, fourteen years, how the hell does he not know!?” Present Mic asked disbelievingly.

“Um, so, remember how I said Tomura is All For One’s heir? Well, the reason they wanted a nomu like me was to take care of the kid, I think he was six at the time,” Oboro sighed, “it didn’t seem like a good idea to leave a child with a supervillain, but every time I tried to get us both out, All For One would get suspicious and I had to give up.” He shook his head, “I know you guys can get me out, but I’m not leaving without Tomura, I’m not leaving him with only All For One as a mentor.”

Eraserhead huffed, “you really have a habit of picking up the weirdest strays huh?” His expression was unreadable, and Atsuhiro couldn’t tell if he was making a joke or insulting Oboro, or both.

It must have been a joke of some kind because Oboro burst out laughing, “damn it Cat!”

“It’s true!”

Oboro rolled his eyes, “yeah fine, I mean,” he glanced at Atsuhiro, “should I count the rest of the league in that as well or?”

Once again, Atsuhiro really wanted Oboro to be more careful about what he said, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen where his teammates were concerned, he hoped none of them had caught on. But Present Mic noticed the slip “um, ‘the league?’”

Oboro froze, “uhh, so, technically, the force that attacked the USJ were, disposable, the League of Villains on the other hand, is made of eight people if you include me and Tomura, when All For One decides to do anything else, that’s probably who you’ll be dealing with.” He sighed, “I don’t really think they’re going to be so on board with the whole ‘destroy all of Japan’ thing that he’s got planned, at least, I don’t think Twice and Magne will be, plus, me and Compress,” he nodded at Atsuhiro, “we’re definitely not going along with it willingly. But...”

Atsuhiro sighed, “the four younger members will be easier to sway to such an act,” he admitted hesitantly.

The three heroes looked tense, processing the revelation, Midnight and Eraserhead both looked at Present Mic, waiting for him to say something, he shook his head, “that’s, a lot. You’re really going to stay here ‘Oro?” He asked.

Oboro nodded, “yeah, I am, I’m pretty sure this lot would get themselves killed without me,” he smiled genuinely for the first time that night, “but I appreciate the offer.”

He looked up at the sky, frowning when he saw how low the moon was hanging in the sky, “speaking of which, I think I should get back to base before someone wakes up and starts a fight.”

Midnight nodded, “right, we should probably go home as well, I don’t think any of us want to deal with the first years on zero hours of sleep.” Present Mic visibly shuddered at the idea, and Eraserhead seemed to look more exhausted, if that was even possible.

“You guys still live together?” Oboro asked.

Present Mic nodded, “same apartment too, if you wanted to visit...” He trailed off, leaving the invitation unspoken.

Oboro smiled, giving all three of them a look that Atsuhiro couldn’t possibly comprehend, but seemed to be a satisfactory answer for the heroes, seeing as they turned and left. He then looked at Atsuhiro, “you want me to portal you to your apartment or?”

Atsuhiro waited for several moments, then, when he thought the heroes were out of earshot, he whispered, “non, merci. I’ll walk, it really is a nice night.” Oboro nodded and warped himself away. Atsuhiro sighed in relief, the anxiety over the meeting leaving him, and began making his way home.

He got about two rooftops away when a shadow dropped next to him, despite his best efforts Atsuhiro couldn’t disguise the flinch that went through his whole body. Eraserhead stared at him for a while, then, “Compress, huh?”

Atsuhiro bristled at the abrasiveness in the hero’s tone, “shouldn’t you be going home?” He hissed.

“I will, just wanted to clarify something.”

Atsuhiro wasn’t sure he liked where this was going, “go on...”

“Why’d you do this?” Eraserhead asked suspiciously, “set up the meeting I mean.”

“Perhaps unlike you heroes, I’m willing to deal with people I dislike if it means someone I care about is happy,” Atsuhiro began backing away, taking the marbles out of his pocket.

Eraserhead’s eyes flashed red and his hair began to float, and suddenly Atsuhiro nearly threw up from the sensation of something being ripped from him akin to what people described losing a limb felt like. He nearly tossed a marble before realising, the marbles in his hand felt dead, he couldn’t tell what was in them anymore, and the others scattered around his coat completely disappeared from his senses. He glared at the hero, remembering what Oboro told him Eraserhead’s quirk was, “give it back.”

“Put the marbles away first, I assume that’s something that can neutralize me,” Eraserhead said, glaring fiercely, and Atsuhiro fully understood why this was the most feared hero in Musutafu.

He slowly put the marbles back in his pocket, concealing one in the back of his glove as he did so, “alright, fine,” Atsuhiro held up his hands to show that they were empty.

Eraserhead deactivated his quirk, and Atsuhiro felt like the air had returned to his lungs, “I’ll find out your real reason for all this soon enough, in the meantime, remember this,” he wrapped up Atsuhiro in his capture scarf and got right up in his face, practically snarling out his next words “if you hurt Oboro, the rest of us will personally hunt you down. Understood?”

Atsuhiro nearly scoffed at the audacity of this hero to assume he’d hurt his own friend, but he got the sense that such a gesture would be a very bad idea, “understood,” he kept his voice as even as possible, he wasn’t going to give Eraserhead the satisfaction of having scared him.

“Good.”

The hero left as quickly as he’d appeared, and Atsuhiro decided to take the long way home that night, just in case.

Chapter Text

Atsuhiro had never seen Oboro cry as much as he did the day after he got to reunite with his friends. As soon as he could, he’d whisked Atsuhiro away to the rooftop to thank him profusely while trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears. Atsuhiro had ended up comforting him, as evidenced by the tear stains on his coat, not that he minded, because the smile that Oboro gave him right after, well, it was fully worth all the trouble he’d gone to in an effort to make the meeting happen. He simply smiled and shoved away the fear that had built in the back of his mind after the threats he’d had to deal with from those louts.

Today however, was a normal day, or as normal as things got with the league. The usual fights and threats and people just trying to avoid whichever idiots had picked a fight this time, while card games and drinks and whatever other things people could think of to entertain themselves could be seen all around.

Atsuhiro, while carefully picking his way through the mess, approached the bar, where Twice and Dabi were having an animated conversation about, something to do with siblings, Atsuhiro didn’t care to listen in. He leaned against the counter, apparently just observing the rest of the room, but underneath the mask he was keeping an eye on Oboro, who’d been acting rather oddly as of that morning. Not that anybody else noticed, but his eyes, or rather, the projection of his eyes on the mist over his face, had begun flickering. And while they normally turned on and off when Oboro blinked, that usually looked like blinking, not a broken streetlamp in a horror movie.

However, Atsuhiro would have to wait to get answers on what was troubling Oboro until he could get him alone. Instead, he looked around, noticing Spinner and Magne slink away from the group and head outside, he frowned, now what could that be about?

He glanced over at Oboro, tilting his head towards the door, he didn’t see his friend’s response, but figured that was enough warning that he’d be on his own for a while. With that, Atsuhiro slipped out the door, glancing around before spotting a scaly tail disappear around the corner, he followed silently, putting every bit of stealth he could pull off into his steps as he followed the pair into an alleyway.

They were muttering about something, but Atsuhiro couldn’t quite make it out, though if the slump in Spinner’s posture was anything to go by, this was going to turn into waterworks rather quickly. Atsuhiro was torn between turning around and leaving, not wanting to surprise Spinner when he was clearly vulnerable, or making himself known and assisting Magne in dealing with the emotional crisis that seemed to be brewing. He fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment, logic warring with compassion as to what he should do. In the end, it was decided for him, when Magne glanced up and spotted him peering around the corner.

“Atsu!” She called, “come over here for a second would ya?”

Atsuhiro stepped fully into view now, looking over at Spinner who, somewhat unsuccessfully, was trying to hide the fact that he was close to tears. Atsuhiro’s eyes narrowed behind his mask as he walked closer and took in his teammate’s dishevelled appearance, his scales were scuffed up and a few seemed to be missing, not to mention the unevenness in his hair as if some of it had been cut off, he looked like he’d gotten in a fight. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed before, but remembered that Spinner had been wearing a hoodie that covered most of him, said hoodie was now in Magne’s hands and Spinner was left in a t-shirt that showed the damage in his arms and hair.

Atsuhiro sighed, “what happened darling?” He asked, looking over the places that had been scuffed to see if he could spot any bruising, “I don’t suppose you happened to win this one seeing as you weren’t gloating about it earlier.”

Spinner just shrunk into himself, wrapping his arms around each other as if he could hope to conceal the damage, “n-no, I won...”

The tone of his voice, that quiet hiss that could barely be heard, made Atsuhiro pause, glancing back at Magne who had a silent warning in her eyes, ‘don’t push it.’

Normally, Atsuhiro might have been more keen to listen, his teammate was clearly in distress, and some part of him could never stand seeing that, like a tugging pain that he had to keep tucked away, lest things end up worse. He knew his sister was right, that there was nothing he could possibly say in that moment to ease the tension binding Spinner’s body, he took one more look at the situation, if Magne had it handled, he should trust her. Trusting her had gotten him out of many a predicament, including the ones he got himself into, ones like the situation staring him in the face right now.

Instead he turned back to Spinner, “do you mind telling us what happened?” He softened his voice from the light-hearted tone he’d used earlier to try and dispel the suffocating mix of fear and anguish blanketing the three of them.

Spinner was quiet for a moment, all Atsuhiro could hear were barely audible sniffles, he waited patiently for his teammate to gather himself, understanding that he was unwilling to show that level of emotion in his voice. “Just some quirkist assholes,” he muttered, which wasn’t much of a description, but it began to paint a picture for Atsuhiro, who once again looked over the missing scales and unevenly cut hair, and decided that the picture was a very sombre one indeed.

“Ah, I see,” Atsuhiro reached into one of the pockets of his coat, releasing some plasters from a marble, moving closer so that he could apply them to the scrapes, “and I suppose they weren’t happy with simply fighting you, were they?” He asked.

Spinner once again seemed to droop, he shuffled in place, then, “no, they weren’t.” He hissed quietly at the stinging from his injuries being touched.

Atsuhiro checked for any bruises, it really was difficult to figure out if Spinner was injured, his scales hid any discolouration or swelling, and that often meant that he’d end up being fussed over far longer than the others after fights because simply identifying the problem took nearly twice as long. Although it seemed that there wasn’t many hidden injuries, as the assailants had seemed single minded in their despicable motives, Atsuhiro sighed, his eyes going soft behind his mask as he thought about the pain Spinner must be in, both physically and mentally.

Eventually, he managed to get the last of the injuries, or at least the ones that Spinner would let him address. And after that, he and Magne waited patiently until Spinner finally just sighed and gave them a grateful look, hugging Magne and giving Atsuhiro a mock salute before slinking back to the bar.

After a moment, Atsuhiro turned to Magne, who had a strained smile on her face. He sighed, knowing exactly what she was going to say, but let her say it anyway if only because he wasn’t in the mood to do their usual back and forth.

“You didn’t even hesitate,” she said, as if it was something to be worried about, well, for her it was.

“Well, I wasn’t going to stand there and do nothing after you called me out!” Atsuhiro exclaimed, “what kind of gentleman ignores his colleague’s woes right in front of them!?”

Magne sighed, muttering under her breath “and yet you refuse to use their names, two decades and I’m still baffled by your mind.”

“C'est une question de courtoisie!”

“No it’s not!” Magne snapped, “you do this every time! Honestly, why can’t you just accept that we’re fine now!”

Atsuhiro unconsciously flinched back at the suddenly raised voice, he opened his mouth to argue but then shook his head, turning around and walking out of the alleyway. “J'ai survécu jusqu'à présent, n'est-ce pas?”

He knew it wasn’t a proper answer, but at the moment, he was far too exhausted with this particular argument, the one thorn in their relationship. He’d never understand how she managed to move on so quickly, and she’d never understand why he refused to.

“Atsu! Atsuhiro!” He ignored her calling for him, instead setting his shoulders and continuing to walk away.

“Little hare…”

Atsuhiro froze in his tracks, all his bravado vanishing at the sound of a nickname he hadn’t heard in years, he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his body slump into a far meeker form, “sœur aînée, s'il te plait,” he practically whimpered, “just, don’t start this.”

He ran off before Magne could say anything more, he couldn’t hear it. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he stumbled down the street, he couldn’t let anyone see him like this, he needed to find a place to hide. His legs guided him to the nearest familiar place, the rooftop, he glanced around, before collapsing against the old generator, concealing himself from most angles by putting himself between it and the ledge. He hurriedly ripped off his mask and balaclava, dropping them beside him as he pulled his knees up, resting his chin on them and staring out at the skyline, he knew Magne would be worried about him, but she knew there was very little chance of finding him if he didn’t wish to be found. She knew he’d mope around for a bit, and then come waltzing back like nothing had happened, he knew she didn’t like how easily he brushed it off, but how could either of them ever stay upset at the other? They couldn’t, not when they only had each other.

He stayed like that longer than he’d been planning to, unable to find the willpower to stand back up and go to the bar, and before he knew it, the sun had gone from high in the sky to beginning to dip below the buildings. And just as he thought he might be able to go back, he heard footsteps on the rooftop, barely a metre away, he pressed his back to the generator even more, as if trying to sink into the machinery, scrambling to put his mask back on once he realised just who it was.

“Atsuhiro? Buddy? Are you up here?” Oboro’s concerned voice rang out in the silence, the click of his shoes the only other sound on the rooftop as Atsuhiro held his breath, “c’mon, Magne said you’d gone off wandering, but you’ve been gone a long time and, well...”

Atsuhiro stayed silent, every fibre of his being begging for his friend to go away, to not see him in this state.

Oboro sighed, mumbling to himself “I guess he’s not here either.”

Atsuhiro couldn’t help but feel guilty for making his friend worry, especially since he’d looked so troubled earlier, he closed his eyes for a moment, before forcing his posture to relax and springing up from behind the generator, clearing his throat to catch Oboro’s attention.

Oboro spun around, eyes wide and relief painted across his face, “there you are! I figured that if you weren’t at your apartment, or any of your usual haunts, then you’d be here!” Atsuhiro blinked, how many places had Oboro gone around looking for him? It just made the guilt all the stronger.

“My apologies mon ami, I didn’t mean to worry you, I was simply doing some mild pilfering, staying in practice and all, tu sais comment c'est,” he easily slipped into his usual tone of voice.

“Oh!” Oboro seemed to have fallen for the façade, “I hope you weren’t just snatching things from random people!”

Atsuhiro rolled his eyes under his mask, “no, of course not, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me now would it?”

“I’d argue stealing in general isn’t ‘gentlemanly’ but sure,” Oboro shrugged, and Atsuhiro was hit in the face with the reminder that his friend was a hero.

“Yes, well,” Atsuhiro coughed conspicuously, “I believe we should be heading back, no?”

Oboro shuffled his feet, “um, actually, there was, something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Atsuhiro supposed this was the reason that he’d been acting so strange that morning, oh well, anything to take the attention off of himself, “quoi?”

“It’s, something of a favour, actually,” Atsuhiro managed to keep himself from immediately turning it down, he really didn’t like owing people favours, but he knew that Oboro didn’t mean that way, “I need you to give this to someone.” Oboro held out what looked like a hastily folded piece of paper.

Atsuhiro took it, looking at it curiously before tilting his head, waiting for Oboro to elaborate. His friend seemed to realise that he hadn’t quite given Atsuhiro enough information, “oh, um, you know how to find Shouta, don’t you?”

Nope, nope nope nope, Atsuhiro was not interacting with that uncouth ruffian of a hero again. “Does it have to be them specifically?” He asked, desperately hoping that the answer was no.

Oboro shrugged, “or either of the other two, it’s for all of them, so it doesn’t matter, I just thought Cat would be easier since they aren’t constantly being hounded by paparazzi.”

True, having too many people see him interacting with heroes would be atrocious for his image, not to mention get him in chains faster than he could blink, but at the same time, Atsuhiro would rather take his chances with that than with Eraserhead’s snappish temper.

He sighed and pocketed the, he presumed, letter, “I’ll see what I can do.” Oboro wouldn’t have asked if he could do it himself, for the last week and a half the man had been practically pouncing on every chance he could find to see his friends again. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been any safe options so far, and Atsuhiro hadn’t let him try anything even remotely risky, he wasn’t about to let his friend get himself killed or get his memories taken.

Atsuhiro glanced at the time, one side effect of having memorized the heroes’ schedules was that he instantly knew that he had just enough time to try and catch the tail end of Midnight’s patrol. He grabbed his hat from where it had dropped while he was panicking earlier, dusting it off with the care of someone who was perhaps a bit too attached to the item, and nodding at Oboro, “I shall return forthwith with whatever response is given!” He said, taking off across the rooftops.

It didn’t take long for him to find Midnight, and she appeared to be speaking with someone on the phone, although he couldn’t hear what was being said. Atsuhiro tailed her from the rooftops for a few minutes before deciding that he was getting impatient. He waited until she went near an alleyway and threw a marble into it, releasing the lit firecrackers inside, he always found they made the loveliest distractions, especially if people mistook them for explosions or gunshots. Midnight turned towards the noise, she sighed and said something to the person on the other end of the phone before hanging up and going to investigate, furtively glancing around for trouble. Atsuhiro waited until she was fully in the alleyway before making his way down and landing behind her.

She immediately whipped around, violet already dusting her hands, but she froze the moment she realized just who had lured her into this alleyway. “You!” She exclaimed, still in a fighting stance, but Atsuhiro noted that she’d relaxed just a bit.

“Apologies mademoiselle,” that was a lie, he felt no remorse in the slightest for startling the hero, but he’d rather not get punched for being rude, “but I have been asked to deliver a message,” he said, fishing the letter out of his pocket.

Midnight looked at it for a moment, her eyes narrowed and her mouth in a frown, “from our mutual friend I presume?”

Atsuhiro nodded, holding out the paper, “he has been attempting to contact you, unfortunately that has proved impossible so far, so he sent me instead.”

“I don’t suppose you’re happy about that,” Midnight muttered as she snatched the letter away, opening it and briefly scanning the words, her eyes softening as she read whatever was written. Atsuhiro couldn’t say he wasn’t curious, and he didn’t particularly care about giving a bunch of heroes’ privacy, but honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to read whatever kinds of things heroes would write to each other about.

After a few moments, Midnight noticed that he hadn’t left yet, “what?” She asked impatiently, crossing her arms and holding the letter close to her chest as if afraid Atsuhiro would steal it back.

“I did tell Oboro I’d return with a response of some kind,” Atsuhiro said, tilting his head as he waited for her to say something.

“Hm,” Midnight’s eyes narrowed at him, but he just kept still until, “alright, tell him that the note was lovely, and that the sentiments are returned.” That made very little sense, Atsuhiro supposed that the letter would provide context, but once again, he couldn’t be bothered to subject himself to that heroic kind of pompous arrogance, even in written form.

“Very well, I shall take my leave then,” he curtsied at her and scampered back up to the rooftops, beelining for the bar, a shudder running through him as he shook off the crawling feeling on his skin from having interacted with her so cordially.

By the time he reached the bar, it was already getting late, he slipped past the others with little notice, ignoring Magne’s concerned glances. He seated himself at the bar counter and silently gazed out across the room, seeing what the others were getting up to. He glanced over at Spinner, who seemed to be hiding his injuries rather well, and appeared to be tempting fate by trying to hold a conversation with Shigaraki, shockingly, he hadn’t been threatened with disintegration yet, so Atsuhiro figured it was probably not something to be too concerned about. His gaze then flicked over to the other main troublemaker, Dabi was lounging languidly on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. With the bar seeming rather dead at the moment, Atsuhiro was all too happy to hear the click of familiar shoes approaching from the kitchen.

Oboro seemed to still as soon as he walked into the room holding Toga, who had gauze wrapped around her hand, he glanced at Atsuhiro, who could almost see the sheer nervousness radiating from him like his mist, and his eyes flickering oddly again. Oboro set Toga on the couch, instructing her to please just ask him the next time she wanted something to eat and not to go messing with the stove on her own. He then returned to his place behind the counter, occasionally glancing at Atsuhiro, who pretended not to notice; honestly, how had this man fooled everyone around him for nearly fourteen years? Atsuhiro sighed quietly, gratefully accepting the glass of wine Oboro set next to him, a silent apology for making him deliver that letter he supposed as he pushed his mask up just enough to sip at the drink.

There appeared to be very little commotion going on, he supposed that, between Spinner’s current state, Toga’s injury, Shigaraki’s shocking lack of death threats, and Dabi’s apparent apathy, there wasn’t much trouble to be had. So it wasn’t really a surprise when nearly everyone turned in early for the night, and Atsuhiro was inclined to follow suit and head back to his apartment, but first he had a message to give.

He glanced over at Oboro and cleared his throat, gesturing at the window, Oboro nodded and the two headed out to the rooftop, and Atsuhiro was determined not to let his exhaustion show, lest his friend start fussing over him. When they landed, Oboro immediately spun to face Atsuhiro, the mist dropping from him in an instant as he buzzed with anxious energy, “so? What happened?” He asked, voice barely able to contain his excitement.

Atsuhiro huffed in amusement at his friend’s behaviour, “I gave the note to Midnight, she told me to tell you that ‘the note was lovely and the sentiments are returned,’ whatever that means to you.”

Oboro’s eyes lit up and a bright grin graced his face, “she said that, she said,” he made a sound that was halfway between laughing and crying, “that means,” his eyes began to water, “that means we’re still...”

Atsuhiro almost wanted to ask what Oboro had been about to say before he trailed off, but one look at his friend’s jubilant expression told him this was a moment of emotion not to be interrupted, instead he took off his mask and smiled, “je suppose que cela signifie quelque chose de positif?”

Oboro laughed, “Atsu, I have no idea what you just said.”

Atsuhiro shrugged, “I was simply observing that you appear to be happy about that news,” he said, watching as Oboro paced the length of the rooftop.

“Mhm!” Oboro exclaimed, “it’s great news, I, honestly thought that they might have changed their minds, about me, after all, fourteen years is plenty of time to move on.”

Atsuhiro once again felt like he was missing a key piece of the puzzle that would make every other outlying connection click into place, but without it, he could only smile and nod, glad that his friend was happy.

Oboro paused in his pacing for a moment, “um, if, if I ever had another letter to give my teammates, would you...?”

“Maybe,” Atsuhiro conceded after several seconds of contemplative silence.

Oboro looked overjoyed at that, pulling Atsuhiro into a tight hug. Atsuhiro just accepted his fate at this point, Oboro would let him go whenever he remembered that bones were fragile things and proceed to apologize profusely. After a moment, Oboro did just that, “ah, oops, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Atsuhiro shook his head, “not really, don’t fret over it-” He was cut off by a quiet yawn escaping his lips.

“Oh shoot, I should let you go home now, yeah?” Oboro asked, already opening a portal to Atsuhiro’s apartment, and Atsuhiro smiled, grateful that he wouldn’t have to take the long way home.

He stepped through the mist and practically flopped onto his couch, mentally going over the day’s events, skipping over his, conversation with Magne, and finally settling on what he’d just agreed to. If it had been anybody else asking, Atsuhiro would have shut down that question immediately, he was a gentleman thief for goodness sakes, not some kind of carrier pigeon! But unfortunately for him, Oboro was the one asking, and Atsuhiro had begun to realize that he’d do anything to get his friend to smile in that way that seemed to light up every corner of a room.

Chapter Text

The sun was low in the sky by the time Atsuhiro finally got out of the meeting with Giran, apparently there was some information All For One had tasked the dealer with gathering. And because Atsuhiro was the least busy, and the least likely to murder someone for being obnoxious, he’d been sent to collect whatever Giran had found. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the man, no, he’d forever be grateful to him, and besides, he wasn’t quite as awful when not trying to be a businessman. All that said, Atsuhiro was personally rather glad to be out in the fresh air after that, Giran’s words had a tendency to cling to people’s brains like grime, and the meeting place was not what one might call ‘well kept.’ He looked at the map in his hand, he knew a lot of places, but this just looked like some random forest in the middle of nowhere, although the scrawled words all over it made it clear this was a headquarters of some kind. Oh well, he was sure that whatever it was, either Shigaraki would brief the team on whatever the plan was, or he could just ask from Oboro later.

When he got back, the bar was disconcertingly quiet, Atsuhiro paused, hand hovering over the doorknob; he sighed, bracing himself for whatever awaited him, and opened the door.

At first, it seemed that nobody even noticed him, all huddled around a table, or rather, two tables pushed together to make something everybody could stand around. He immediately glanced at Magne, who looked concerned, and Oboro, who was unreadable with the mist surrounding him. Twice was wringing his hands together anxiously, Spinner’s tail flicked about in anticipation, Toga had a giddy grin on her face, and Dabi’s expression was nothing short of pure bloodlust. Shigaraki was the only one who didn’t seem high-strung in some way, quietly muttering to himself as he scribbled something on a piece of paper.

Atsuhiro cleared his throat, causing everyone in the room to snap into haphazard fighting stances, he looked between all of them, “que se passe-t-il?”

Oboro was the first to recover, “oh, Sako, do you have the information?”

Atsuhiro nodded, “yes, I assume you mean this map?” He asked, walking to the table and putting himself between Magne and Twice. Now that he could see the papers scattered across the wood, he noted that they looked like a list of weaknesses and strengths of each person in the league, he also noted that Dabi’s list had almost nothing on it.

Oboro nodded, looking over the map and turning to Shigaraki, “then it seems everything is in place for the plan.”

Shigaraki smiled, “yeah,” he said, “those brats won’t know what hit them!”

Atsuhiro frowned under his mask, it seemed the league was finally making another move, “is anybody going to inform me what ‘the plan’ is?”

Magne huffed, “we’ve got it on good word that UA’s first year hero course is taking a field trip, and Shigaraki thinks that’s the perfect time to attack.”

“The entire first year hero course!?” Atsuhiro asked incredulously, “wouldn’t it be better to wait until class 1A is on their own?”

Shigaraki shook his head, “nope, ‘cause we’ve got some disposable villains with us, and a nomu! And based on the quirks at play, we’d need an open area anyways, either that or a bunch of gas masks, plus the other two assholes we’re working with are loose cannons at best.”

Atsuhiro sighed, “alright then, so I assume what Giran gave me was a map of the area?”

“Yeah, or, the best idea we’ve got of it, the Pussycats have a base somewhere in the Beast’s Forest, which is where the hero brats are headed for their little trip.” Shigaraki tapped a finger on the map, where it said ‘main rooms’ “that’s gonna be where they’re sleeping, and then,” his eyes scanned the page before pointing at the large expanse of forest that said ‘a very long path,’ “that’s probably where we want to hit, gives us plenty of cover, and we already planned on lighting part of the forest on fire to flush out anyone hiding, but if Dabi starts it here we’re guaranteed to catch someone in the flames.”

“And what of the heroes? I imagine the two heroics teachers are going to be there, and if that’s the Wild Wild Pussycats’ place, then that’s four more.”

Spinner’s tail knocked into the table with how fast it was thrashing now, “who gives a damn!?” He said, “we can take ‘em!”

Atsuhiro shared a glance with Magne, who looked equally unsure about that statement, “just don’t,” she muttered, “they’re set on this plan.”

“Fine, do we have a goal, or is it just that we’re hoping to hurt some people?” Atsuhiro asked, feeling more and more certain that this was not going to end well for the league.

Shigaraki gave him a sharp grin, “see, that’s where you come in Compress! We’re going to kidnap one of those brats, the one with the explosions, all you have to do is get him in a marble and bam! We’ve got ourselves a hostage!”

Atsuhiro felt a sharp panic begin to rise at that, “what!? Why are we kidnaping a hero!? That’s just asking for trouble at that point!” And he didn’t like the idea of being face to face with those fiery blasts one bit.

Shigaraki looked at him oddly, “I know you’re busy thieving and stuff but there’s no way you didn’t watch the sports festival, right?”

Atsuhiro scoffed, nose wrinkling at the mere mention of that absurd display, “what? Watch a bunch of little heroes parading their powers around and competing for attention? No thank you.”

“Geez, alright then,” Shigaraki mumbled before clearing his throat, “for your information, that Bakugo brat was practically a wild animal during the event, he nearly killed one of his fellow students and then went feral because he didn’t get to fight someone he wanted to fight. I’m pretty sure the only reason he stood on the podium is because Eraserhead came down to the arena to keep an eye on him while the medals were being given.”

Atsuhiro resisted the urge to sigh, he wasn’t surprised, he would bet money that the little hero got his ego bruised and now he was trying to get revenge on whoever it was. This was why he didn’t bother with these things, there was nothing to gain by watching a bunch of ruthless buffoons knock each other around for several hours. “So we’re kidnapping perhaps the most dangerous one of the lot, why is that a good idea again?”

“Because we might be able to get him on our side!” Shigaraki said with a grin, “imagine having that kind of firepower with us! Plus, from what I saw at the USJ, he seems to have a hatred for All Might’s brat, we could use that to convince him!”

Atsuhiro felt incredibly uneasy about throwing himself into the line of fire, he was a thief, there was no conceivable way he’d be able to match any of those heroes in a fight, let alone kidnap one! This was a dreadful idea and yet he was at a complete loss on what to say, he wasn’t going to argue with their leader, but this was utter madness.

Once everyone was caught up to speed on the plan, Shigaraki turned to other matters, namely, what they were going to do with the kid once they had him, and how exactly they were going to do the convincing. Shigaraki looked over at Magne, “you think you can try? You’re the least likely to get pissed at the kid when he starts throwing a tantrum.” Atsuhiro was starting to suspect that the hero would fit right in with Dabi and Shigaraki’s cattiness, yet another reason he didn’t want any of this to happen.

Magne agreed, and they began discussing the details while most of the others filtered out and back to their own rooms since it was well past everyone’s bedtime. Atsuhiro did the same, making sure Magne wasn’t looking when he glanced at Oboro and nodded towards the window. Oboro tilted his head in acknowledgement and Atsuhiro hurried up to ‘his’ room. He closed and locked the door before glancing around the space for a moment, he hadn’t actually been in here since he’d given it to Oboro, even if it was late he would always ask to be warped back to his apartment. The place hadn’t really changed much, but now it seemed far more like somebody actually lived here.

After a few seconds, a portal swirled into being and Atsuhiro stepped through and onto their rooftop, he automatically took off his mask and stared at his friend who looked halfway to tears already, pacing across the roof frantically, arms wrapped around himself.

“Oboro?”

He continued pacing, seemingly unaware of how rapid his breathing was getting.

“Mon ami! S'il te plaît, regarde-moi!”

Oboro stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing Atsuhiro’s raised voice, eyes watery as he looked over at his friend, “yeah?”

Atsuhiro sighed, dusting off the top of the old generator and taking a seat before patting the spot next to him, “come over here, I’d rather you didn’t pace around like that so close to the edge.”

“Oh, r-right.” Oboro shuffled over and sat down next to Atsuhiro, who could now see the slight tremble in his friend’s hands as he tried to keep his mind from spiralling once more.

Atsuhiro leaned slightly on Oboro, trying to be a reassuring presence, but that didn’t appear to help much, as Oboro just went deathly still, eyes staring past the ground and into nothing, the only indication of the turmoil within his mind being the wobbling of his lips as he forced back the tears dotting his lashes. Atsuhiro waited a few moments, just staring at the bleak, starless sky as gloomy clouds rolled through the air like a blanket. “This plan isn’t going to end well, is it?” He muttered, “for anyone.”

“No,” Oboro finally said, “it’s going to be awful, those poor kids, they’ve done nothing but be in the same class as All Might’s protégé.”

Atsuhiro would argue that being heroes meant they’d done something wrong, but voicing that seemed like a horrid idea, “I’m sure your friends can protect them, right?”

“Maybe together, but, Shouta? All on his own? He’s skilled, and he’ll have backup, but without knowing what’s going on he’ll be running around in the dark...”

Oboro trailed off and Atsuhiro could nearly hear the gears turning in his head, “we have to warn them.”

Atsuhiro held back a weary sigh and slipped his mask back on, he had a feeling this would happen. “How exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Well,” Oboro began to answer but Atsuhiro cut him off.

“And I sincerely hope the answer isn’t sending me on my own, they won’t listen to a word I say and you know it.”

Oboro huffed, “then I’ll go with you, but you always get fussy when I try to do that.”

“Because unless you have good reason to believe that All For One will not find out about this excursion, it would be far safer to stay put.” Atsuhiro said, a bit of frustration managing to slip into his voice.

“No, we have to tell them, we can be quick about it, I’ll warp us to the apartment,” Oboro stood up only for Atsuhiro to grab his arm.

“No, warp us nearby, not into the apartment itself, we don’t want to startle them, nor do we want anyone to realise where exactly we went,” he pointed out, letting go of Oboro, who nodded as a portal swirled to life behind him.

The pair stepped through and onto an empty rooftop, Atsuhiro was a bit disoriented, but Oboro began running in a direction, so he followed, trusting that his friend knew where they ought to be going. They rushed towards the heroes’ apartment, with Atsuhiro constantly checking their surroundings to make sure they didn’t get caught, since Oboro seemed to be rather single-mindedly focused on getting to his friends.

Eventually, they managed to reach the building that Atsuhiro recognised, and he began heading towards the fire escape on their side of the alleyway, when he noticed that Oboro wasn’t following him. “Mon ami? Tu ne viens pas?” He asked, standing halfway on the steps while Oboro just stared over the edge of the roof.

“You, can go ahead,” Oboro gave him a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I wouldn’t be able to get in through the window anyways.” Atsuhiro was certain there was something more he’d meant to add to that sentence, but he mentally shrugged it off, for all Oboro’s inability to hide his feelings, he was impossible to get to open up unless he wanted to.

“Whatever you say darling.”

Atsuhiro scurried down the fire escape and leapt to the windowsill, unfortunately it seemed like there was nobody awake at the moment as the lights were off, so Atsuhiro began tapping on the glass. He could have broken in, but at the same time, he didn’t fancy getting punched. It took a few seconds, but he suddenly heard a cat begin to yowl, well, that was certainly going to wake someone up.

The lights turned on, momentarily blinding Atsuhiro as a soft yellow bathed the inside of the apartment. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision as he heard the cat calm down. After a few seconds he saw the three heroes standing around in their sleepwear, looking distinctly unpleased with this wakeup call. Midnight opened the window, “what the hell are you doing here at this hour?” She asked, looking very much like she’d throw Atsuhiro off the windowsill if the answer wasn’t good enough.

“My apologies, but there has been a rather concerning development, and Oboro and I saw fit to forewarn you as soon as we could,” Atsuhiro said, noticing how all three heroes tensed at the mention of their friend.

Eraserhead narrowed his eyes, the effect somehow enhanced by the fluffy white cat curled over his shoulders, “and we’re taking your word for that because?”

“You don’t have to, Oboro is waiting on the roof if you wish to speak with him,” and with that, Atsuhiro retreated back to the fire escape, looking up to where Oboro was leaning over the edge of the rooftop, watching the exchange.

He was quickly followed by Eraserhead, who had somehow grabbed his capture scarf within the few seconds Atsuhiro had turned around. Midnight and Present Mic were next, hopping onto the fire escape as soon as the other two had moved out of the way. The three heroes rushed to the rooftop, forcing Atsuhiro to keep up, not all that difficult, but he was rather annoyed at being hurried along like that.

He saw Oboro’s eyes light up at the sight of his friends, then they turned sad as he remembered the news they were here to break. “Hey guys, sorry if we woke you up, but...”

“According to your thief friend,” Midnight shot a leery look at Atsuhiro, “we’ve got another villain attack to deal with soon.”

Oboro nodded, expression uncharacteristically grave, “you guys are planning a field trip for your students, to the Beast’s Forest, right?”

Eraserhead cursed under his breath, “don’t tell me this ‘league’ of yours is planning to strike there.”

Atsuhiro nodded, “the plans are already fleshed out, they’re planning to attack when the majority of the students are on some sort of trail that apparently exists, they’re planning to set a forest fire.”

“A forest fire!? That quickly?” Present Mic exclaimed, “you’ve gotta have someone with a fire quirk?”

Oboro nodded, “yeah, we do, Dabi is-”

Atsuhiro cut him off, “mon ami, maybe we should be a bit careful about our colleagues’ information.”

“No,” Oboro said firmly, “they won’t do anything rash, all they’re going to do with that is protect their students, right guys?” He said, giving his friends a stern look.

The three heroes looked reluctant, but eventually nodded, “alright,” Eraserhead said finally, “just, tell us what we need to know.”

“Well,” Oboro began, “we’re planning to have the league split between the front and the back of the path, with one of All For One’s other lackeys using their quirk in the middle, it’s kinda like Nem’s except it’s actually way more toxic, and you’d need actual medical treatment to get rid of the effects.” Atsuhiro listened to this carefully as well, considering this was the first description he was getting of their temporary allies.

“Can we beat it with gas masks then?” Midnight mused.

Oboro nodded, “yeah, they’re not immune to their own quirk either, so just get their gas mask off and you’re golden.” He then continued, “three of the ones in the back will be disposable, a nomu and two more of All For One’s lackeys one’s got a quirk that makes his teeth metal and makes them extend, yes it’s as horrifying as it sounds, and the other’s an actual villain already, Muscular.”

Atsuhiro saw the three heroes share a glance, but didn’t know that that meant, and judging by the look on Oboro’s face he didn’t understand either, but Midnight filled them in, concern evident in her eyes, “Muscular is the villain that killed the Water Hose duo, and their kid is currently staying with his aunt, Mandalay, at the Pussycat’s base.”

Atsuhiro’s face paled at the implications, Muscular might try to kill the young boy, or the boy would try to get revenge for his parents and get himself killed. Oboro shared those sentiments as he whispered, “keep that boy in sight at all costs.”

Eraserhead nodded, “I’ll keep an eye on him as best I can, and I’ll try and ask Mandalay to keep the kid away from the training grounds, I’ll say it’s because I don’t want him getting near my students when they’re practicing their quirks.”

Oboro sighed, “that sounds good,” he took a deep breath before resuming his explanation. “The other three in the back are Dabi, who has the fire quirk, Toga, who’s not going to be using her quirk, but she’s decent in an ambush and kind of obsessed with drinking people’s blood, and Twice, who can make clones of people, and will be sending two clones of Dabi up to directly attack the main lodges.”

“So they’ll have to fight two fire guys?” Present Mic asked.

“Twice’s clones will turn into goop with a few good punches, but getting close is gonna be an issue since Dabi’s blue fire is hotter than most other flame quirks, still, Erasure should take care of that easily.”

Eraserhead subconsciously gripped his scarf, “so me and Kan have to deal with the clones, what about the other front liners? The Pussycats are probably going to be taking that fight.”

Atsuhiro bristled slightly at that knowledge, but kept silent as Oboro kept talking, “Spinner, a gecko heteromorph with pretty good sword fighting skills, and Magne, she can make people act like magnets, guys become south poles and girls become north, though she can’t magnetize herself.”

Present Mic hummed at that information “so in the case of the Pussycats, or our own Cat for that matter, they would be?”

“Well, considering that Spinner gets magnetized south, I’d assume the same goes for Tiger, as for Shouta, I have no fucking clue,” Oboro admitted.

“They’d be treated like a third magnet, a universal attractant if you will,” Atsuhiro said, inadvertently drawing all attention to himself.

“Ah, right,” Oboro gave him a grateful look before cracking a smile, “although, that’s probably the only time anyone would describe Shou as a universal attractant.”

Eraserhead rolled his eyes, “ha ha, very funny ‘Oro. So what I’m hearing is that the Pussycats are going to have to figure out how to fight while being pulled around real fast.”

“You could just aim for the knockout without even getting close,” Present Mic pointed out, “get Pixie to throw a dirt beast at her and rough her up a bit.”

“Tu ne feras rien de tel,” Atsuhiro hissed out causing the three heroes to give him nasty looks, but he didn’t shut up, Oboro wouldn’t let a fight break out, “none of you are going to dare injure my- er, Magne like that, are we clear?”

“And how do you propose the Pussycats get her to not kill them smart guy?” Present Mic snarked.

“She won’t, the worst she’ll do is knock them around until the mission is complete, then Oboro’s going to warp us all back to the base,” Atsuhiro muttered, glaring at the heroes under his mask.

“That’s nice and all,” Midnight interrupted, “but we can’t do much convincing unless we want people to know we have contact with you two, so they’re going to try and capture her, deal with it.”

“Okay, let’s not get snappy now,” Oboro chuckled nervously as he stepped between his friends and Atsuhiro, “we’re all trying to find a way to keep everyone as safe as possible, no need to start jumping at each other’s throats.”

Present Mic and Midnight backed down reluctantly, and while Eraserhead kept that look of open hostility on his face, he wasn’t holding his capture scarf anymore. “Sorry Cloud,” Present Mic muttered, “anyways, what about you two and Shigaraki?”

“Me and Tomura aren’t going to be in this fight,” Oboro said, “and Compress’s task isn’t hurting anyone.”

“So what are you doing?” Eraserhead asked, still staring suspiciously at Atsuhiro, at least he wasn’t glaring anymore.

“That is, well,” Atsuhiro floundered, trying to figure out the best way to explain without getting throttled for it, unfortunately, Oboro answered before he could figure that out.

“He’s supposed to be kidnaping that Bakugo kid.”

Atsuhiro felt that utterly nauseating tearing sensation again as Eraserhead’s quirk activated, “you’re going to what!?” He growled, looking about ready to lunge at Atsuhiro.

“No, I assure you, if there’s a way to avoid that, I’d take it,” Atsuhiro muttered, stubbornly not letting his voice tremble despite the horrible feeling of emptiness thrumming in his bones, “but the league is determined to take this boy, and I have been tasked with stealing him.”

“Shou, please!” Oboro exclaimed hastily, “he’s not trying to hurt your students, I promise.”

Eraserhead finally dropped his quirk, and Atsuhiro did his best not to gasp in relief, “Oboro is correct, in fact, I’m rather certain that most of your students could handily trounce me if they so choose.”

“Then how did Shigaraki think you could kidnap Bakugo of all people?” Present Mic asked disbelievingly.

“Oh, that?” Oboro chuckled, “Compress’ quirk works on people too, he can just turn Bakugo into a marble, run off, and then release him when he gets back to the base, exactly as he was when he got compressed!”

Atsuhiro coughed conspicuously, why on earth did Oboro have to go running his mouth? “Yes, well, I try not to do that, as it is altogether an unpleasant experience for whoever is trapped, imagine one of those sensory deprivation tanks, that’s what it’s like for a conscious person to be under the effects of my quirk.”

All three heroes shuddered at the analogy, “right,” Midnight shook her head, “what does the league even want Bakugo for?”

“They think they can recruit the kid,” Oboro explained.

Eraserhead huffed, “they’re a bunch of idiots, Bakugo might be violent, but not only is he getting better thanks to Inui, he still adores All Might just as much as Midoriya does.”

“So what’s the plan now?” Present Mic asked, “we’ve got a villain attack to deal with, and students to keep safe, any ideas?”

Midnight frowned, “we can’t get help, the only person who might have helped was Tensei and, well...”

Oboro winced, “shit, I almost forgot about that, how is he? Will he ever?”

Present Mic smiled sadly, “nope, permanent paralysis, he gave his brother the Ingenium title.”

Atsuhiro looked between the four for a moment before remembering that incident, the Hero Killer, defeated. The news had credited Endeavour, but what the rest of the league had gathered from the long rant Shigaraki went on after returning from unsuccessfully trying to kill the Hosu based heroes, was that a bunch of the hero students had gotten in the way of one of his Nomus and ‘stole his kill.’ Oboro had been all together distraught at the whole ordeal, especially after finding out that Ingenium had been one of Stain’s victims, although Atsuhiro hadn’t managed to find out what particular attachment Oboro had to the engine hero.

Oboro sighed and shook his head, “well, I, I suppose there’s nothing that can be done now.”

Atsuhiro stepped closer to his friend only to blocked by Midnight pulling Oboro into a side hug, “it’s alright Cloud, there was nothing you could have done without tipping off All For One, let’s just focus on the problem at hand, yeah?”

Oboro nodded and reluctantly pulled away from the hug, “yeah, well, me and Compress will be doing what we can on our end without raising suspicion, I don’t think it’ll surprise anyone if the marble containing Bakugo somehow gets out of your hands, would it?”

Atsuhiro frowned, “Magne would call me out on it, she knows me too well.”

“We could have Shouta fight you,” Present Mic piped up, “with his quirk, I don’t think you’d stand a chance, and you wouldn’t be able to use yours on Bakugo.”

Atsuhiro suppressed a shudder, he did not like the idea of willingly being walloped like that, but he didn’t think there was any chance he’d be able to worm his way out of this without seeming like an enemy to the heroes. “Just don’t actually injure me if you can help it,” he muttered.

Eraserhead looked slightly shocked that he’d even suggest such a thing, and Atsuhiro gave him a nasty look for that, only because the hero couldn’t see it. But one tired look from Oboro kept him in line, “we’ll just have to trust that our friends and your students can keep themselves alive long enough for us to deal with the bigger threats,” he said.

Midnight nodded, “I’ll see about doing some extra sparring with the kids, make sure they’re ready to face that gas quirk.”

“And I’ll try and talk to the Pussycats and talk about increasing security, maybe I can get me and Nem on the trip to help, if not, I can at least convince them to keep a closer eye on possible trouble,” Present Mic mused, “I’d just call it caution because of what happened in Hosu, which isn’t really untrue.”

Atsuhiro frowned, this all seemed rather flimsy, “Eraserhead,” he looked at the hero curiously, “you can’t expect to be in that many places at once, right?”

“Well it’s not like I’m getting any help.”

“I don’t have to try to kidnap Bakugo right away,” Atsuhiro pointed out, “and that would mean I’d be able to keep an eye on one of the spare villains for a while.”

Eraserhead raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised with Atsuhiro’s cooperativeness, though, really, he was only doing this because of the desperate look forming on Oboro’s face, “that could work, which one?”

Atsuhiro glanced at Oboro, who mumbled some things to himself before nodding, “Moonfish, the teeth guy, he’s unpredictable, but with your quirk you’d be able to keep yourself pretty safe, unlike the other two.”

“Any other ideas?” Midnight asked, already looking like she was calculating some things, “as far as I can tell we’re missing something, we can let Shouta and Kan handle those clones quick, the Pussycats get the frontliners, and then Shouta goes and gets the villain with the poison gas while Compress keeps an eye on another villain, but then there’s Muscular.”

Present Mic sighed, “I don’t think there’s much we can do about that except hope that the little listeners don’t run into him, and we need to keep Kota away.”

Oboro tilted his head, “Muscular’s going to be dropped away from the others, so I can’t keep track of him easily either, but hopefully that means he’s less likely to run into anyone.”

After a few more suggestions got thrown around and shut down, they all realised they’d really have to leave a part of this encounter up to chance, and while it seemed that none of them were happy about it, there was no choice.

Oboro said goodbye to his friends, giving them all tight hugs, and then he warped Atsuhiro and himself back to their rooftop. “Hey Atsu?” He asked as they stepped out of the portal.

“Oui?”

“Everything’s going to be fine, right?”

Atsuhiro took a sharp breath, “I, don’t know mon ami,” anything could happen next week, it could be a miracle and nobody would be injured, but he wasn’t optimistic about that, most likely, something would happen, and all they could do was hope it wouldn’t be them caught in the fire.

Chapter Text

Normally, a walk in the forest would have been a wonderful way to spend an afternoon. Although Atsuhiro wasn’t sure he’d be able to even look at one the same way after what he was about to do.

The league was all lined up as Shigaraki went through the plan one last time, making sure everyone knew their cues before nodding at Oboro to warp everyone to their destinations. Atsuhiro was glad he’d managed to convince Shigaraki it would be beneficial if he was dropped near the front, saying it would allow him to observe the students for a bit before going after the one he was supposed to kidnap. In truth, he’d just wanted to be able to speak with Magne before everything spiralled out of control, as the dreadful feeling coiling around his heart was making him certain it would. Of course, he’d gotten a sidelong glance from Oboro when he made the request, knowing that it would mean he’d take longer to get to where Moonfish would be released.

So, with immense trepidation, he stepped through the cool mist, the clack of wood under his boots being replaced by soft crunching as the leaves scattered about the forest floor were disturbed and crushed. The dappled sunlight shone golden through the verdant canopy, barely reaching the people under its foliage before being swallowed up by the thick darkness flowing between the bushes and saplings that hid under the shade of their elders. Atsuhiro admired the serenity of the scene laid before him for just a moment, a slow sombreness crossing his features as he remembered what was going to happen to this vast and majestic forest. He closed his eyes tight, unable to stop his mind from wandering to all the poor beasts that inhabited this land.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked to his side, Magne stood beside him, face as grave as his own, though for an entirely different reason. “Atsu?” She sounded concerned, perhaps sensing those old habits flaring up in his mind.

Atsuhiro shook his head, “je vais bien, chère sœur.” In truth, neither of them were, the worries circling her mind like vultures were the same ones already pecking at his.

He took a shallow breath, unable to get the air in his lungs to say everything he truly wanted to in the moment, so instead, he settled for what he’d wanted to say since last week, “be careful, I have a suspicion the heroes will not take kindly to you gravely injuring one of their own, please, for your own sake, stay out of the fight when you can.”

Magne nodded, “I know, I’m not about to go giving you a heart attack,” because that was the truth of the matter wasn’t it? Atsuhiro cared for her safety more than she did, and truly, he knew it wasn’t nearly as appreciated as she made it seem. But still, he knew she’d heed his advice, for his sake more than her own.

He sighed and lifted his mask enough to smile at her, “well, I suppose I’ll be off then, going to go get eyes on the jewel,” he said as he turned and walked away

Magne huffed in amusement, “good luck,” she called after him, “if you get blown up I’m going to be pissed.”

Atsuhiro laughed, momentarily feeling the weight of responsibility lift from his shoulders before it crashed back down in full force as he delved further into the shadowy depths of the forest. He had only a few hours before the students would find themselves in the middle of the forest, and that would mark the time when toxic gas would flood the area, effectively cutting the path in half, one end where the pros would be kept at bay, and another where the little heroes would face poison and fire and monsters in their attempts to run away.

If the subterfuge was to work, Atsuhiro would have to be at his post near the other villain by the time the attack started, and while he didn’t like the idea of it, he’d promised Oboro. But first, he had some time before nightfall, and someone he needed to speak with.

Atsuhiro made his way to the place he remembered was labelled ‘1A training area’ on the map, and, as expected, he saw twenty wild little heroes running around and throwing quirks at each other and generally being hooligans. Though it was all rather frivolous in his opinion, when he glanced to the edge of the clearing, he finally saw the person he’d been looking for. Stealthy as a panther, Eraserhead watched their students practice, occasionally barking out warnings for students who were being reckless, or encouragements when they lagged behind.

Atsuhiro shivered at the displays of power being shown by these ruffians, although he was desperately trying to avoid looking at the area where the one he was supposed to be kidnapping was throwing explosions that looked like they’d obliterate him in a matter of seconds.

After a few more minutes, Eraserhead called the training to an end for the day and began rounding up the little heroes to corral them back to the lodges. Now was his chance.

Atsuhiro quietly dropped a marble near the hero as they turned to walk away, he saw them glance at it briefly, before calling out to their students to head back on their own and meet up with 1B’s teacher for the nightly roll call, saying they’d have to clean up some of the things the students had apparently broken during their training.

And after the little heroes were properly out of earshot, they turned to the forest, “what do you want?” They asked sternly, though there was less hostility in their voice this time.

Atsuhiro dropped down from the trees, glancing around the area and feigning nonchalance, “nothing actually, I just thought you might want an update on the league’s current whereabouts.”

Eraserhead raised an eyebrow, “go on.”

“Everyone is in place as planned, but we will not be attacking until later tonight, when your students are in the forest, is there anyone you think would be trouble?” Atsuhiro wanted to know what kinds of wrenches were going to be thrown at him tonight, whether Eraserhead wanted to endanger their students like that or not.

Eraserhead glared at him for a moment, before sighing and looking away, “well, fair’s fair. You gave us information, I’ll give you what I can, but I’ll be honest, most of my students are rather prone to troublemaking. And I’ll be giving them permission to use their quirks when the attack starts.” And more quietly they muttered, “I’m gonna get in so much trouble for this.”

Atsuhiro huffed, he figured as much, “then tell me the worst ones.”

“Well, you’re already dealing with Bakugo, and dealing with Bakugo means dealing with Midoriya,” Eraserhead frowned, “don’t try to fight them.”

Atsuhiro couldn’t help the startled laugh that escaped his lips, “I’m sure I’d be nothing but a smear of blood on the ground if I tried.”

“Eh, they won’t kill you, but that’s beside the point,” Atsuhiro could have sworn that the corners of Eraserhead’s mouth almost formed the ghost of a smile as they spoke, but it was gone in a blink and he was sure he’d been imagining it. “Anyways, there’s Kaminari, who’s good at covering a wide area, Todoroki, same thing, and then there’s Tokoyami and Dark Shadow, the one with the crow head and his sentient shadow quirk, they’re, quite the duo, especially at night, although Dark Shadow finds it hard to control itself when surrounded by too much darkness.”

Atsuhiro thought back to the few moments he’d caught a glimpse of the pair sparing with a girl whose quirk appeared to be cables of some kind on her ears, if they got stronger at night, he shuddered to think what kind of destruction would be wrought upon anyone foolish enough to get in their path. “Noted, I’ll do my best to avoid them,” he said, turning away. He felt Eraserhead’s eyes boring into the back of his head as he scurried off to carry out his true task.

He made his way through the dense forest, realising quickly that climbing into the branches was a much faster way to traverse the terrain. But soon he’d found his target, the one that he’d be keeping a close eye on for the next half-hour or so until he could no longer avoid his own task. He had to pause a second when he saw the man, he’d never expected Oboro’s description of ‘a straitjacket with a mouth’ to be so, literal, truly it was as if there was nothing else under those clothes, no semblance of personality beyond a ravenous desire to bite everything in sight. And perhaps that was going to be his downfall. Atsuhiro might not like them, but even he could acknowledge that those brats were dangerous, with skills learned from survival and far less fear than anyone would ever expect, they were all on a wire’s edge of patience and even the most level-headed ones might not be so calm in the face of certain death.

He glanced at Moonfish, who didn’t seem to have realized that he was being followed, and resolved to keep a close watch over him as best he could.

When night fell, Atsuhiro saw the embers begin to flicker in the distance, and knew that a fog of gas would be covering the middle of the forest right about now. He sighed, wondering what would end up going so utterly wrong like the dread in his gut was telling him it would. He took a quiet breath, attempting to steel his fragile nerves, there would be no point in fretting now, not when there was much to be done and a dangerously unstable villain to keep an eye on.

The night was rather uneventful as far as following went, Atsuhiro knew the others would be in active combat right about now, however it appeared that Moonfish had been unable to find anybody as of yet. However, that quickly changed when two of the little heroes, one with a mutant quirk and the other being the one with the sentient quirk Eraserhead had warned him about, ran into Moonfish’s view, presumably trying to get away from the poison gas that was nearby.

Moonfish saw the trio and instantly bolted at them, teeth shooting out and attempting to skewer the heroes. Atsuhiro observed quietly, not willing to intervene, not only would he be no help, and Moonfish might reveal his treachery to the league, but those were heroes, they knew what they were getting themselves into when they chose that accursed career path. The one with the mutation quirk screamed as one of their limbs was cut off by a stray tooth. And then the other two’s eyes widened at seeing their classmate hurt, the darkness began to spread and grow as rage flickered in the little hero’s eyes, the shadow let out an ear shattering screech and began clawing at anything in its way as it tried to destroy Moonfish.

Atsuhiro took one look at the oncoming disaster and decided to do what he did best when faced with combat, run away as fast as his legs could carry him.

He wasn’t sure exactly where in the forest he’d ended up once his legs gave out underneath him, but it looked like he’d somehow gone uphill. He scaled up the nearest tree in an attempt to get his bearings, but found that he was on a path to some sort of cliff overlooking the forest. He glanced around to see a young boy sitting grumpily on the rocks, poking at a bowl of soup, Atsuhiro wracked his brain, wondering who on earth let a child here, when he remembered Midnight’s words, that must be the orphan boy. Yet again he scoffed, the heroes couldn’t even keep a proper eye on this child? They were far more incompetent than he had given them credit for.

He was about to leave when he heard the little one grumbling about ‘stupid heroes’ and decided that maybe this child wasn’t as hopeless as most were. He stayed in the branches, quietly observing as the boy began to speak to his soup, complaining on and on about the hero students who kept trying to befriend them and that they were all being selfish because surely they had families who’d miss them when they got hurt or killed doing heroics.

Atsuhiro raised an eyebrow at that, clearly the boy held some resentment for his parents’ death, and Atsuhiro couldn’t say he blamed him, the poor child was left all alone because some idiot heroes didn’t know when to quit, when to stop being arrogant and when to realize there was merit in running.

It was after several minutes of listening to the boy complain about and decry the idolization of heroes, when Atsuhiro decided he ought to turn back, and hopefully catch back up to a likely defeated Moonfish. He made his way down the path, hurrying back to where he’d last seen the rather disturbing villain, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye and heard heavy footsteps plodding towards him. He quickly leapt into a tree, concealing himself among the foliage and going as still and quiet as a mouse.

Muscular shoved his way through the trees heading past Atsuhiro, who breathed a sigh of relief before his brain caught up to him and realized that the only interesting thing in that direction was the cliff where the young boy was hiding, the same young boy whose parents that brute had already killed.

Atsuhiro froze for a moment before dashing through the forest, back in the direction of the camp, if Eraserhead was going to be anywhere, it would be with their students, keeping them safe. He wouldn’t have cared if it was literally anybody else on the premises, but he needed to make the images of magic wands and paper crowns flashing through his head stop now.

He ran until he saw a wall of ice form right in front of him, realizing that Moonfish had gone and taken on another two of the little heroes and, much to his dismay, his target was one of them, firing explosion after explosion at the villain. And suddenly, one of the explosions caught the tree Atsuhiro was hiding in, sending him tumbling as the sheer force of it destroyed the trunk. He landed easily, attempting to disappear into the woods before yet another explosion was thrown his way. He scowled under his mask, he’d promised not to use his quirk on the little heroes, but if they were so determined to capture him, he might have no choice. He dodged another explosion, disappearing into the trees before reappearing behind the student, who just about had the reaction time to throw yet another explosion, to which Atsuhiro used one of his marbles and threw out a cloud of dust, using it to hide his escape.

He heard the little hero yell as he chased after Atsuhiro, “get back here you weird mask freak!” Atsuhiro sighed to himself, there really were no manners on this one, not even the decency to pretend like most heroes did.

Instead he compressed some random debris on the ground and once again bombarded the little hero, who, in his rage, didn’t seem to care as he grabbed Atsuhiro by the coat, palm crackling as an explosion was about to mar everything in a several meter radius.

Suddenly, a tearing sensation ripped through Atsuhiro’s very soul, and the crackling sparks fell dead to the ground as the little hero glanced over his shoulder, a scowl on his face as Eraserhead rushed into the clearing, quirk active and their capture scarf immediately tangled around Atsuhiro as they pinned him to the ground faster than he could react.

“Bakugo! Help Todoroki and then get back to camp, I’ll deal with this villain,” Eraserhead barked out, and Atsuhiro could see their eyes begin to water from exertion as the order fell on deaf ears.

“Sensei! That was my fight damn it!” The little hero seemed enraged, and yet, after a rapid glare that nearly gave Atsuhiro nausea from the brief access to his quirk, the student gave them nary a scowl as he stormed away, yelling at his classmate.

Eraserhead turned to Atsuhiro, standing up and unravelling their scarf while blinking furiously, they must have overused their quirk “are you alright?” They whispered tersely, and Atsuhiro nodded, “alright,” they muttered, “Moonfish is about to be dealt with, the clones are mush, and the villains fighting the Pussycats are at a stalemate, and I helped deal with the poison gas.”

Atsuhiro held back a sigh of relief at that, focusing solely on one part of their statement, Magne was alright, for now, but he shook his head as he got to his feet, he’d come to fetch the hero for a different reason. “The orphan boy,” he murmured urgently, glancing around to make sure they weren’t being overheard, “he’s on the cliff and Muscular is headed right for him.”

Eraserhead’s eyes widened, “Kota? But, I thought,” they cursed under their breath, “I told Mandalay to keep an eye on the kid!”

“Well she clearly didn’t do a proper job of it, now did she,” Atsuhiro sneered, earning a quirked glare from the hero.

“Whatever,” they looked around, “lead the way.”

He rolled his eyes under his mask, dashing through the forest followed closely by Eraserhead. The pair made their way to the base of the cliff, and he could see green sparks lighting up the place the young boy had been at. Eraserhead cursed again and dashed off before Atsuhiro could have the chance to ask what that was about.

Now, Atsuhiro wasn’t an idiot, he’d led the hero where they needed to be, and now he was going to get well out of danger. And yet.

“Tell us a story!”

Atsuhiro hid himself among the foliage a decent ways away from the fight, his legs having unconsciously carried him up the path, and observed, heart pounding in his chest, fearing for the young boy within whom he saw a kindred spirit. The two heroes that stared down Muscular, Eraserhead and the one that Shigaraki wanted dead, seemed to be doing alright, despite the fact that Eraserhead’s quirk was wavering and couldn’t keep the villain’s quirk down long enough for All Might’s protégé to land a solid hit.

It was a flurry of blows as the three clashed, blood flying every which way and the young boy having hidden in the back. And then, Muscular roared with anger, charging not for the student, and instead grabbing Eraserhead by the neck and throwing them into the cliff face before turning to the little hero and responding to a question that had been too quiet for Atsuhiro to hear with sadistic laughter, continuing to pummel the little hero who now looked rather worse for wear.

All of a sudden, the young boy moved closer to the fight, picking up a rock in his hand. Atsuhiro’s heart dropped, no, he desperately didn’t want the child to be so foolish to put himself in danger for a bunch of heroes. And yet, the child did just that, throwing a rock at the villain and screaming something, presumably about his dead parents, Muscular shouted that he’d kill the boy after he was done with the two heroes.

Atsuhiro’s eyes darted around the battlefield, locking onto some movement near the edge of the tree line as Eraserhead pulled themself to their feet shakily, their arm was hanging limp and their costume was covered in blood but, like all reckless heroes, they kept fighting, shouting out to their student.

“Problem child! You have two seconds!” They called as they used their capture scarf to yank the young boy out of the way, running past him and looking to the little hero to see them nodding with a grin and begin charging up their quirk, leaping away from the villain before shouting out what sounded like one of All Might’s phrases. Really? And doing a flying kick.

At the same moment, Eraserhead activated their quirk, causing the muscle fibres wrapped around Muscular’s body to retreat for a second as he was hit with the full force of the blow, sending him tumbling into the cliff face and away from the trio. Eraserhead quickly ushered the other two down the path, carrying the young boy despite their own injuries in order not to slow down the little hero who looked like they were already limping hard.

As they got closer to where Atsuhiro was hiding, he heard the little hero speak, “Aizawa-sensei, I think the villains are after Katsuki, Muscular was demanding to know where he is, we need to warn everyone!”

Eraserhead hummed, “I think I saw the villain trying to do that earlier,” they said, turning to the boy and their student, “Kota, stay with Midoriya, the forest is mostly clear, so go find Mandalay and get her to relay that message, and tell her that I’ll be hunting down the culprit.”

After the pair left the scene, Eraserhead sighed and grumbled something about having to search for a needle in a haystack.

Atsuhiro chuckled, dropping out of his hiding place and landing near the hero, “well, that was quite the show, wasn’t it?” He asked, leaning casually against a tree.

Eraserhead scowled, “a ‘show’ huh? Good to know that seeing us heroes get thrown around is entertainment to you,” they bit back with irritation as they put their dislocated shoulder back into place with a pop.

“Incredibly. And, what was that about hunting me down?” Atsuhiro smirked under his mask.

Eraserhead rolled their eyes, “shut up and scram back to your group, I’ll just say you got away.”

“Oh but that wouldn’t be believable now would it, Eraserhead?” Atsuhiro skipped in front of the hero, “I cannot just claim I failed in my duty as you apparently can!”

The hero grumbled something else before sighing, “fine, you get a three second head start.”

Atsuhiro needed no more encouragement as he raced through the forest, followed swiftly by Eraserhead, although, he realized with a spike of terror, he couldn’t hear their footsteps. He tried not to look over his shoulder constantly as he made his way to the designated meeting place, he would not show that the hero could scare him.

Eventually, he saw a spark of blue somewhere in the forest and rushed towards it, stepping into the clearing where the portal awaited and the others, particularly Magne, looked somewhat concerned at the uncharacteristic jitteriness of Atsuhiro’s movements. Though their confusion quickly turned to agitation as Eraserhead’s capture weapon snagged Atsuhiro’s forearm, he struggled against it, what was the hero trying to do? His mind quickly made itself up, they were trying to capture him after all.

But just as he thought that, he felt his body become lighter as Magne’s quirk enveloped him in a blue aura, and he looked to see Spinner holding Toga who was glowing pink, that wouldn’t be enough to break...

Eraserhead’s capture weapon unravelled from his arm, it didn’t snap, and his arm didn’t slip out, it unravelled, they had let him go. Atsuhiro glanced back momentarily as he was pulled into the portal with the rest of the league, and in the shadows, the hero slunk away to reunite with their students.

As soon as the league landed in the bar, Atsuhiro and Toga landing on the floor, Shigaraki was glowering at them, looking furious at the failure of the mission. “What. Happened.” He rasped out.

Dabi was the first to speak, leaning casually against the counter, “sorry dusty,” he didn’t look the least bit remorseful, “it looks like we underestimated the heroes, they were way more prepared than we thought they’d be.”

“Indeed,” Atsuhiro huffed as he stood up, noticing now that the edge of his coat was burnt where the little hero’s explosions had grazed it, that was going to be a pain to patch up without it looking damaged, “the brat nearly killed me.” He was exaggerating quite a bit, he wasn’t out of tricks when Eraserhead had stopped their student, but it was uncomfortably close.

Shigaraki grumbled, “I see, they were expecting it due to our previous attacks, in that case, perhaps we should change tactics for a bit, doing chip damage to their defences while raising our own stats.” Spinner was the only one who didn’t take a second to decipher the video game phrases their leader used.

Oboro nodded, “that would be a very good idea indeed Tomura,” he said as he brought out the first aid kits and began patching the others up. Much to Atsuhiro’s relief, it seemed that while Spinner was bruised and battered, Magne appeared to have kept her promise of not getting too involved in the fight. After everybody was patched up, Oboro sent them all to bed, giving Atsuhiro a glance.

Atsuhiro nodded, following Oboro to the rooftop where the mist dropped from his face, revealing a worry in his gaze, “what happened, is everyone alright?”

Atsuhiro shrugged, “I cannot say the wellbeing of most of the little heroes, nor the ones the others were fighting, however your friend and All Might’s protégé got rather bloodied after a fight with Muscular, though I have no doubt it would have been worse had I not informed Eraserhead of the danger.”

Oboro’s face fell at the mention of his friend getting hurt, but it returned to a weary smile, “yeah, it could definitely have gone worse.”

Atsuhiro smiled back, taking off his mask so that Oboro could see, and getting pulled into a hug without warning as tears streamed down Oboro’s face, “thank you Atsu, thank you so much.” He managed to say between sobs.

Atsuhiro sighed and patted his friend on the back, “tant que tu es heureux mon ami.” He muttered, it was a phrase he’d used before to placate people, but somehow, this time, he knew he’d said it as the truth.

Chapter Text

Atsuhiro woke up to the sun shining into his face like it always did, which was normally a welcome alarm, at least to him, but today he just groaned tiredly and turned around, covering his head with another pillow. He’d thought he was immune to this kind of nonsense after a few runs with Oboro, but it turned out that constantly parkouring through a forest for several hours and then getting into a fight and then running frantically from a hero had left his muscles to sore to move comfortably.

Still, there really was no point in lying in bed, not unless he wished for his mind to wander in a million directions at once unbidden, really, his thought processes could go anywhere if he was unoccupied. So instead he reluctantly rolled out of bed and got ready for the day, eating whatever was left over from dinner for breakfast, and getting dressed in his costume, though, before he left he made a quick glance in the mirror on the dresser. He’d always tried to keep up his appearance, even if he was going to hide his face all day, although, not as much as he’d like to, he thought sorrowfully, sparing a longing glance at the makeup that had sat unused for months. Instead he grabbed the hairbrush and tried in vain to tame the unruly fluff of his hair, it was a losing battle, but he did it every day anyways, one of these days he’d get the unsightly mess to form into some semblance of a hairstyle.

With that done, and his hair decidedly still not fixed, he headed out to the bar, where once again, the children were squabbling.

“Shut the fuck up you crusty son of a bitch!” Dabi yelled, throwing a pillow at Shigaraki, which missed and hit Twice in the back of the head, much to his indignation.

“No, I will not! This had nothing to do with my planning!” Shigaraki screeched back.

Ah, it seemed that Dabi wasn’t particularly happy with the outcome of yesterday’s mission, fairly understandable, though Atsuhiro wondered if this was going to be a problem whenever something went wrong for them. He glanced at the others who were all engrossed in various attempts at ignoring the very loud, very dangerous elephant in the room. Magne was distracting Toga, Twice was trying to read, Spinner was probably the most invested if only because he kept glaring at the pair whenever they got too close to him, and Oboro was cleaning a broken glass off the counter, presumably a casualty of the fight. Although, Atsuhiro worried slightly for the lack of action being taken to stop this from escalating, action typically taken by Oboro, or Magne, and on very rare occasions, Atsuhiro himself, and this seemed to be one of those times.

He sighed quietly and began attempting to find something to get the ruffians’ attention without getting annihilated when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Oboro nodding towards a seat at the bar. Atsuhiro blinked in confusion but decided that the tantrum throwing toddlers could wait if nobody felt the need to do anything yet. So he sidled up to the bar, glancing curiously between the skirmish and his friend, a question clear in the action, ‘why aren’t you doing anything?’

Oboro sighed with a tiredness that suggested this had gone on for far too long, “Tomura’s handling it.” Atsuhiro raised an eyebrow, it really didn’t look like that, but then he listened a bit closer to the insults being slung around.

“You’re just pissed because we lost! Get over it dipshit! We’ll get another chance!” Shigaraki finally said, it was a shockingly mature statement coming from him of all people. Dabi glared at him for a while before wordlessly flipping him off and storming out.

Well then, it did seem like it was mostly handled, although Atsuhiro was incredibly glad that neither one had lost control of their quirks during the scuffle, honestly, they needed to do something about Decay’s distressingly easy activation. He glanced down at his own gloves, since his quirk was contact based as well, he’d used them when he was younger to prevent accidents, in fact, the only reason he could use his quirk with them on was because if they touched whatever he was compressing they were technically attached to the object enough for it to register. It was a bit of a nuisance though, he’d not have chosen to wear gloves with his costume if fingerprints weren’t such an issue, that way he wouldn’t have to mentally exclude his gloves from what he was compressing, every single time. Still, a pair of gloves could work nicely for Shigaraki, if he accepted them that was, considering that their leader didn’t seem to concern himself all that much over really controlling his quirk.

Atsuhiro glanced at his friend again, who just shrugged vaguely and went back to picking glass shards off the counter. At that point he figured he should wander around a bit more, because any more time spent talking to Oboro and Magne would start getting ideas that he sincerely did not want her to get. As much as he appreciated her efforts, he was perfectly fine not being in a permanent relationship, a lover would only slow him down and, well, he just couldn’t, not in the way she wanted him to, not in the way any kind of partner deserved. Besides, not being in a relationship didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with whoever was interested, he was charming, pretty, experienced, he could have almost anyone he wanted for a night if he tried enough, and he was fine with that.

Eventually, he managed to get through the day with only minor incident, and that was only because he got caught in the crossfire of some argument or another and one of Toga’s knives ended up nicking his hand. He scowled slightly at the scratch, it wouldn’t be much of a hassle to put a plaster over the cut, but he’d have to spend some time repairing his glove, which was always such a pain to do without leaving behind obvious lines. But overall, it was a rather uneventful day after Dabi returned from sulking in an alleyway for a few hours and Shigaraki just curled up in a corner glaring at people. Really though, he was just a bit exhausted, not that he’d admit that to anybody, Magne would call him out on it and then he’d have to figure out an explanation for how such a ‘simple’ mission would have enervated him so.

By the time it became dark, Atsuhiro was certain that he ought to head straight back home, or perhaps even sleep on the couch someone had brought into the bar, which, frankly, was looking less and less like and actual place of business and more like a strange living room. Although he didn’t have any particular opinions about the redecorating, other than appreciating the slight comfort of not having to sit on bar stools and wooden chairs all the time, Oboro had been loving it, even without being able to directly contribute.

Speaking of Oboro, Atsuhiro glanced at his friend who was fidgeting with his earring now that nobody was around to notice, although that was probably not what one would notice first if one was not familiar with Oboro’s odd way of walking when he wished to entertain himself. It was a swaying, uneven rhythm, as if each leg was trying to wander irrespective of each other, Atsuhiro once asked why on earth he did that, Oboro had just shrugged and said it was fun to figure out how to stop himself falling, but Atsuhiro always suspected there was something else there.

After a few seconds, Oboro stopped, sighing as he stared at Atsuhiro, “hey, Atsu.”

Atsuhiro simply hummed in response as he fiddled with his coat.

“I’m gonna go out for a bit, I’ll be back in an hour or so,” Oboro said, taking off his neck brace and leaving it on the counter.

Atsuhiro frowned, where could his friend be going alone where he wouldn’t need to hide his face? “Où vas-tu?”

“I,” Oboro sighed, “I’m just gonna go check on my teammates, make sure Shouta’s okay, ask about the students, you don’t need to fuss about it.”

Atsuhiro closed his eyes tight for a moment before shaking his head, as much as he hated the idea of seeing those heroes again so soon, he hated the idea of letting Oboro wander off on his own more. A rather loud voice in the back of his mind admonished that he was getting dangerously attached to this man, that he shouldn’t be compromising himself like this, and while he knew that to be true, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that letting his friend go alone was a bad idea. Besides, he’d already gotten far, far too close the moment he decided to call Oboro a friend and it was too late to back down now.

So he stood up, smoothed the creases from his coat and nodded at Oboro, “I’ll go with you.”

Oboro’s eyes lit up with surprise, gratitude, and finally concern, that last one rankled Atsuhiro’s nerves, “are you sure? I’m not an idiot Atsu, I know you don’t like them.”

Atsuhiro suppressed a flinch at being called out on his, less than favourable, view of his friend’s former profession, though that ‘former’ was pulling quite a bit of weight seeing as Oboro still had all the foolhardiness and virtue of a hero. Really, that ‘former’ was all that had kept him sane about being friends with this man, if that were to disappear, Atsuhiro would have no hesitation in striking the bond between them and leaving Oboro to his teammates.

Still, that hadn’t yet happened, and Atsuhiro never trusted those heroes, or more importantly, he never trusted Oboro’s ability to keep his mouth shut around them, it was as if he couldn’t understand the danger he was playing with. So Atsuhiro had to be there, in order to keep anything more getting to the ears of those who would easily turn around and use the information for harm once they were no longer bound to the obligation of being amicable to their former teammate’s colleagues.

“Cela n'a pas d'importance, I might dislike those louts, but I’d rather accompany you than worry for an hour,” Atsuhiro said firmly despite the trepidation in his heart.

Oboro sighed wearily, perhaps recalling the last time Atsuhiro had spoken with the heroes, “alright, let’s go.”

The two of them stepped through the portal and onto the roof of the building next to the heroes’ apartment, Oboro immediately made his way down the fire escape, while Atsuhiro followed after a moment of hesitation. When they got to the window, Atsuhiro prepared to leap to the sill, but Oboro just chuckled and shook his head, and when Atsuhiro gave him a questioning look, he just smiled and used a portal to knock on the glass. Well, that certainly made things much simpler.

After a few moments, the curtains parted and Present Mic glanced outside, his face lighting up the moment he saw Oboro waving to him. He opened the window and waved back before retreating back into the dim room behind him, calling out, presumably, to the other two heroes, beckoning them to the window.

Beside Atsuhiro, Oboro had a soft look on his face as he gazed longingly at the window, murmuring to himself something Atsuhiro was sure he wasn’t meant to hear, “oh Zashi, there’s that dorky smile of yours.”

But before he could ponder what on earth that could mean, the three heroes appeared in the window, and Oboro moved to the side to allow them to gather onto the fire escape with him and Atsuhiro. Though, the first thing that Atsuhiro noticed were the bandages peeking out from under Eraserhead’s turtleneck, though that clearly didn’t stop him from making the leap, fool.

“Hey Cloud!” Midnight exclaimed as she hugged Oboro, “we were just wondering how you were doing!”

Oboro chuckled, “really? Because I’m pretty sure it’s Cat we should be worried about,” he tilted his head towards Eraserhead who just huffed and tugged at his sleeves, attempting to hide the evidence of his injuries.

“I’ll be fine ‘Oro, let’s just head up to the roof, it’s getting crowded here,” the hero muttered before pushing past Atsuhiro and walking up the stairs, although perhaps ‘push’ was the wrong word as the two of them avoided making contact as if affected by Magnetism. Though it really was rather rude of him to just force Atsuhiro to dodge him like that, no wonder those little heroes had no manners, neither did their teacher.

Oboro gave Eraserhead an odd look that Atsuhiro really couldn’t parse out, he frowned under his mask, he wasn’t sure why that inability irked him so, perhaps it was because he was used to reading people like books, especially Oboro, who was so easy he might as well be a picture book. Yes, that was it.

The four teammates headed to the rooftop, followed closely by Atsuhiro, who made sure to keep Oboro between himself and the heroes at all times, otherwise he would not be able to stop them if they decided he was trouble.

Even once they were in the more open area of the rooftop, Atsuhiro found himself sticking by Oboro, just as a safety measure, it also helped that Oboro had chosen to stand in an area from which Atsuhiro could easily make an escape if necessary. But while he was mapping out escape routes, Oboro had already begun asking questions, “so what happened, are you okay? Are your students okay?”

Eraserhead shrugged, an action that cannot have been painless considering Atsuhiro distinctly remembered the hero’s shoulder getting dislocated at some point yesterday, “yeah, fine, the only one who got badly hurt was Midoriya, and, well, at least they didn’t break any more bones than what Muscular did tossing them around-”

“All thanks to you and your thief friend, might I add!” Present Mic said, interrupting the other hero, for which he earned a bone-chilling glare that didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest, “especially Compress actually, considering he was there and all.” Both Present Mic and Midnight grinned at Atsuhiro, and the gesture irritated him to no end, he wasn’t doing this for them, he was doing it for Oboro, and the idea of them thanking him sent a shiver of disgust through his soul. He didn’t want praise from a bunch of heroes, in fact, he was sure that kind of garbage was something of an insult to his nature, as if he was somehow elevated for helping them, as if it wasn’t dragging him down. What right did they have to praise him when they were already far more debauched for the career they’d chosen?

“Well, that’s great!” Oboro said, smiling brightly, “pretty much no-one got too hurt on our end either, although Spinner got roughed up pretty bad by the Pussycats.”

“Not too hurt?” Present Mic asked incredulously, “didn’t three of your guys get, y’know, arrested?”

Oboro just laughed, “oh, those guys? Like I said the first time, they weren’t part of the main team, All For One recruited them specifically for the mission.”

“Oh, like back at the USJ?” Midnight looked thoughtful, “does he do that for all your missions?”

“No, but we needed the extra firepower these last few times because, well, we were going up against a lot of skilled heroes,” Oboro explained, “I’ll tell you one thing though, it is an absolute pain to recruit these bastards.”

Present Mic and Midnight’s eyes lit up with a knowing look, and Atsuhiro smiled under his mask, once you got Oboro started on people he didn’t like, it was incredibly hard to get him to stop. Not that Atsuhiro minded as he listened to his friend begin to go on and on about how much trouble those three gave him, that he’d nearly gotten eaten while talking to Moonfish, and almost gotten punched on multiple occasions and he was so glad he wouldn’t have to do any more of that for a good while. And then somehow he trailed off into generally griping about how awful it was that most of the people he was sent to try and recruit were power hungry villains with no moral compass of any kind, not even one that drove them to vengeance against the world like the rest of the league had, and what was the point when Shigaraki would probably kill them for being irritating anyway? And it was almost a certainty that the rant would have ended several minutes ago had Midnight and Present Mic not begun encouraging the complaining as if it was some kind of gossip, asking questions and riling Oboro up even more to find out more details, but it all seemed harmless enough, so Atsuhiro didn’t bother trying to stop it, especially since it was getting rather entertaining.

However, while he was paying attention to the conversation, he had apparently forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings, and he paid for that mistake when he noticed someone sidle up beside him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Though, thankfully, his fright either wasn’t too obvious, or Eraserhead wasn’t bothered enough to mention it as he stared at his three teammates chattering at each other about things that seemed rather meaningless.

Then, after a moment, the hero’s gaze turned to him, still, silent, scrutinizing, searching for something, it took all of Atsuhiro’s willpower not to cower under the deathly quiet of it all, to break the silence and demand to know what on earth that look was for. But no, he would not be the one to break, he would not allow himself to falter. The other three were still filling the air with words, but somehow all of that seemed distant behind the unsettling observing he was being subjected to at the moment, and then.

“You didn’t have to tell me.”

Atsuhiro wasn’t sure why, but he found himself able to breathe easier once the hero’s low muttering had dispelled the uncomfortable atmosphere, but that didn’t make him any less confused, “je vous demande pardon? What?”

“Kota, the kid back at the training camp, you didn’t have to tell me he was in danger,” Eraserhead explained, still staring at Atsuhiro with a searching look, though what he was looking for, Atsuhiro couldn’t say.

Instead, Atsuhiro glanced over at Oboro for a moment, futilely hoping that the small action would be enough to get his friend’s attention, but alas, it didn’t work in the slightest. He sighed quietly, matching the hero’s near silent tone, “no, I didn’t.”

“So why?” Now wasn’t that a question? Why had he run off and put himself in the middle of the hornets’ nest in order to warn of the trouble the young boy was in? Atsuhiro knew the answer clear in his mind, but that was not an answer he’d ever give anyone, let alone a hero.

He thought for a moment before saying, “Oboro would have been upset had he found out that I could have prevented the boy from being hurt and didn’t.” That was also true, Oboro was even more of a bleeding heart than anyone had the right to be, and would absolutely have felt betrayed had Atsuhiro not done what he did.

However, Eraserhead’s eyes narrowed, as if unsatisfied with that answer, his gaze boring into Atsuhiro’s soul as if a different reason might be buried somewhere inside, however, there would be no such luck, Atsuhiro’s heart was shielded by years of being a thief. Finally, the hero just sighed and shook his head, “well,” he looked aside, raising his hand in front of his face in what looked like a habitual gesture, pulling up something that wasn’t there, “thanks.”

Atsuhiro couldn’t conceal the way his spine stiffened at the word, his lips twisting into a sneer under his mask, “be quiet.”

The raised voice suddenly got the attention of the three others, Oboro glanced between the pair, worry creasing his brow, “uh, guys, what happened?”

Atsuhiro glared at Eraserhead, whose momentary startle had settled into something hostile, “all I did was thank him,” he growled, shoulders tensing up.

“In case you haven’t noticed hero,” Atsuhiro spat the word with so much venom that Oboro visibly flinched back while the other two got into defensive stances, “I do not want your pitiful gratitude, I did all this for Oboro, not you, so you can take your ‘thanks’ and shove it right back down your throat.”

“Compress...” Oboro’s voice held a tone of caution to it, his eyes darting between Atsuhiro and Eraserhead as if afraid a fight would break out.

“Fine, you don’t want it, I won’t give it,” Eraserhead snarled, “sorry for trying to be nice after you saved my students.” That was the last straw.

“I ‘saved’ no-one,” Atsuhiro snapped, “I am not one of your kind, I do not ‘save’ people, keep your false virtues to yourself you-”

“Please stop fighting!”

Both of them went silent, turning towards the sound of Oboro’s desperate wail, the tension replaced with concern upon seeing the tears streaming down his face. Present Mic was hugging him, and Midnight was standing protectively in front, both were glowering at Atsuhiro.

Eraserhead immediately rushed to his teammate, reaching up to wipe away the tears, “shit, Cloud, I’m so sorry.”

Atsuhiro stood frozen, stuck between wanting to run to Oboro as well, and not wanting to get even remotely close to the heroes currently consoling his friend. So instead he backed away a bit, “Oboro? Mon ami?” He called, worry flooding his voice.

Oboro looked up at him for a moment, just staring before stepping away from his teammates, mist swirling up around him, hiding his expression. Atsuhiro felt his heart drop at the sight. “Let’s go Compress, it’s getting late, even for us.” And with that he wordlessly opened a portal and stepped through.

Atsuhiro hesitated for a moment before following, pulling his coat tighter around himself as he felt the chilling mist brush against his clothes, and suddenly, he was dropped in his apartment, the dark living room far different from the warmly lit bar he’d expected to find. He’d messed up, he’d messed up badly.

Chapter Text

For a few days, Atsuhiro tried to ignore the tension that clouded the air whenever he was in the bar, it wasn’t as if anybody else would notice that he and Oboro weren’t sharing glances or that he wasn’t spending as much time near the counter. And if anybody realised that he’d been taking more missions as an excuse to get out of the uncomfortable situation, then nobody called him out on it, not that they would know to look for trouble, he was just being paranoid.

It was, strange, how easily he’d let this affect him, if this had happened a few months ago, he’d have rationalized his growing anxiety as just how he’d react to any of the league giving him the cold shoulder, ignoring that he didn’t react that way with most people in the first place. But the thing was that it had happened a couple months ago, he’d gotten on Oboro’s bad side, and the man started avoiding him, that was how this whole situation started! And back then, he hadn’t let that affect him, he hadn’t done more than complain to Magne about his job being harder because he had to report directly to Shigaraki, who was significantly more volatile. He’d ask himself why it was different this time, but he wasn’t that oblivious, Oboro was his friend now, and that was causing all the trouble that he knew it would when this all started.

Atsuhiro groaned and buried his head under his arms, feeling the unpleasantly solid wood of the table press into his face. He was starting to regret quite a lot of things, mostly things he’d done that had gotten him closer to Oboro. This was always the pain with friends after all, at some point, he’d end up messing it up and it would be over, there was no fixing a friendship after something like that. And what was the point in putting oneself through the process of creating something so fragile? There was none, he had his rules for a reason, and then he’d gone and broken them, he really shouldn’t have expected the outcome to be any different.

It took several seconds, which was personally an embarrassingly long time, for him to get himself together and get some semblance of composure when his phone started ringing, only for said composure to crumble away the moment he read the caller ID. He Took a deep breath, forced a cheeriness into his voice, and answered the call.

“Bonsoir Mags, que puis-je faire pour toi?”

He heard Magne’s laughter on the other end of the line, and he felt his chest constricting his heart just a modicum less as she spoke, “oh nothing much, just wanted to catch up!” He could picture her carefree smile, and the quiet in the background suggested that she must have gone for a walk, or maybe she was just in the main part of the bar given how late it was, “so, you’ve been pretty busy lately, anything fun?”

Atsuhiro let out a chuckle that hopefully sounded genuine, though the odds of him fooling his own sister were very slim, he’d certainly try, “oh, you know, just errands, meetings, scouting, can’t really trust those things to the children now can we?”

“I dunno,” Magne said, “I think Iguchi’s getting pretty reliable.”

Atsuhiro hummed, “perhaps, though I think that’s only if Shigaraki’s the one ordering him around,” there was a knowing tone to his voice that caused Magne to burst into laughter.

“That’s true enough,” she managed to say between laughs, “but either way, you seem to be running yourself into the ground here Atsu.” There it was.

“Am I? I feel quite fine,” Atsuhiro stamped down the nervousness that threatened to leak into his voice.

Silence.

He could feel the truth pouring out of his closed lips, practiced lies falling apart in the face of one who had seen them be constructed.

“Atsuhiro...”

“D'accord, je cède, mais, I would prefer if we spoke in person,” he sighed, knowing that he didn’t look presentable in the least, “I’m at my apartment.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” a pause, “you want me to grab some wine?”

“S'il te plaît.”

The call ended and Atsuhiro looked around his apartment, at least that wasn’t as much of a mess as he was. His first instinct was to scramble for some semblance of composure, to smooth out the wrinkles in his blouse, to attempt and fail to comb his hair, to put some concealer over the eyebags that had begun to darken his face. But ultimately he knew it was useless, Magne would see through it anyway, and whatever he did would more than likely get undone after some tears and panicking.

By the time he heard the door open, he was lying on the couch and staring at the celling whilst willing the entire problem to disappear.

There was a quiet rattle as Magne dropped the spare key on the table before walking over and tapping Atsuhiro on the nose, “are you gonna keep hogging the couch or...?”

Atsuhiro huffed amusedly, sitting up and glancing at the bottle of wine now on the table, “I’ll get us some glasses,” he muttered, heading to the kitchen and rummaging through the cabinets for his actual wine glasses as well as the corkscrew.

“So, are you gonna talk, or am I gonna have to play a guessing game?” Magne asked, taking a glass and allowing him to pour her a drink.

Atsuhiro sighed, filling his own glass and taking a sip, it tasted cheap, and a little too sour for his tastes, but it was strong enough for the kind of mindless drinking he planned on doing. “I’ll talk,” he stared at the purplish-red swirling through his glass, “j'ai fait une bêtise.”

“You’re going to have to specify you know,” she nudged him with her elbow, laughing at his attempt at a glare after the action almost made him tragically spill his wine.

“I made a friend a few months ago, it went as well as you’d expect,” he muttered bitterly.

Magne’s eyes looked wearier than ever as she downed her wine and poured another glass, Atsuhiro couldn’t blame her, “oh, well, what’d you do this time?”

“I may or may not have insulted someone they care about.”

Magne looked shocked, “did you just, admit it was your fault!?”

Atsuhiro huffed, “juste cette fois, yes, it was at least partially my fault,” he said, taking another sip of his wine.

“So you’re not going to mope about for days calling them a traitor?” She asked, tilting her head with a smirk.

“It was one time! And they deserved it!” He turned away his voice going quieter, “but yes, this time, I’m just going to have to move on.” He chuckled mirthlessly to himself, “je ne sais vraiment pas pourquoi je m'attendais à ce que ce soit différent.”

“Maybe if you’d just learn your lesson and pick a lane, we wouldn’t be having this problem,” Magne muttered into her glass, and Atsuhiro was certain he wasn’t meant to hear that, but it sent a spike of irritation through him nonetheless.

“Learn my lesson, of course I’ve learnt!” He snapped, “I’ve done my best not to get attached haven’t I? This was a fluke, an unlucky circumstance, it will not happen again.”

“Not that lesson idiot,” Magne paused as if she wanted to say something else but sighed, “never mind, the point is that your bad mood hasn’t gone away yet, and it’s kinda worrying me.”

Atsuhiro grumbled, almost admitting that the reason was that he literally couldn’t avoid the problem, but then that would require answering how that had happened in the first place, and while he wasn’t sure he was friends with Oboro anymore, he’d still keep the man’s secret, no matter what. “I’ll be alright, but, I suppose, it would be good to settle things,” he finally said, “though I haven’t the faintest clue how to go about that.”

“Have you tried saying sorry?” Magne asked with a tone that suggested it really should have been the first thing he thought of.

“Good idea, but I feel this needs a bit more than a simple sorry.” Atsuhiro’s opinions on heroes aside, Oboro was one of those monsters at some point, and clearly still held a lot of love for the profession, and then Atsuhiro had gone and said out loud exactly what he thought about it to the face of an active pro hero, who happened to be Oboro’s former teammate.

“Alright, give them a gift?”

Atsuhiro almost laughed out loud at that suggestion, “they’re not exactly materialistic,” there was exactly one possession that Oboro valued, and there was no way Atsuhiro was going to mess around with that earring.

Magne sighed, downing the rest of her glass, “well I’d say just go talk it out, but I have a feeling that’s just going to make it worse.”

“You doubt my charm?” Atsuhiro asked, slightly offended.

“Obviously not, I just assume anyone lucky enough to call themself your friend would know when you’re bullshitting them.” Not entirely true, Oboro hadn’t cottoned onto all of his tricks just yet, but Magne’s point still stood.

Atsuhiro silently turned back to his glass, nursing the drink until it was over, and then he just stared at the little beads of wine still left sticking to the smooth glass as if through sheer stubbornness.

“You know,” Magne began, just a drop too tipsy to control her tongue, “I remember that time you and Etsuko-”

“Pourquoi tu parles de ça?” Atsuhiro’s voice dropped as he stared at her with a dangerous insipidness in his eyes, and Magne froze, suddenly aware that she’d stepped into the middle of a minefield.

“I, uh, just mean, with the teddy bear, the solution, it was...” Her voice trailed off helplessly as Atsuhiro’s eyes stopped looking at her.

It wasn’t his fault! Etsuko was the one who pulled it! He’d argued, staring at the dapper little teddy bear dropped on the floor of the playroom with its arm torn off. The room was divided, one stood behind him, and four behind a girl his age. They were both young back then, and he was new to this place, weaving his way through the complex society that had formed between children and the adults who were guiding them about as gracefully as a newborn fawn. And his inadequacy was clear, nobody believed him, troublemaker that he was, not over sweet little Etsuko. They weren’t unkind necessarily, just confused and trying to find someone to blame when the adults came to check on them, and the adults always found it easier to blame kids like him.

There was a hand on his shoulder, and he’d looked up to see the older kid, the girl, he’d had to remind himself, no matter what the adults said, or what her name was. She’d been the one standing near him. She was frowning at the others, “you’re all being dumb!” She’d said stepping between the two of them.

Etsuko had scoffed, unwilling to accept guilt, “if Atsu had just shared like he’s supposed to-”

“Who’s right or wrong doesn’t matter now, we need to get this cleaned up or we’re all in trouble!” The older girl had picked up the teddy bear and brought out a box from under one of the tables, “both of you apologize to each other, I’ll sew this up.”

Atsuhiro had huffed, turning to Etsuko who looked equally sheepish, mumbling, “I’m, sorry, I guess.”

“Sorry, I could’ve waited,” Etsuko muttered, hugging him in apology and returning to playing dolls with another kid.

Later, Atsuhiro would go up to the older girl as she finished fixing the bear, “thank you,” he’d said, still unsure of his place here.

She’d just laughed, “don’t worry about it little hare, just be careful next time.”

“Atsu?” Magne’s worry cut through the memory like a knife, and Atsuhiro blinked, only just noticing the tears streaming down his face.

“Oh, je suis désolé, were, were you saying something Mags?” He asked as he hastily wiped away the tears.

Magne took one look at him and just sighed, pulling him into a hug, “sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to say, if this is making you of all people so gloomy, it’s probably throwing the other person off too, and you could, I don’t know, reason with them using that?”

Atsuhiro blinked, then, his eyes widened, shining brighter than they had all night, “c'est ça! C'est comme ça que je vais régler ça!” It was for the good of the league after all, and Oboro would never disagree to that, if one person had noticed, who knows how much worse it could get in the near future?

Magne laughed at his enthusiasm, “wow, this must’ve really been bothering you,” she shook her head, “how about you plan later, let’s finish this wine, boy do I have some stories for you!”

They spent the rest of the night gossiping about their colleagues, and by the time Magne left and he managed to get to bed, he had a fairly good idea of what he was going to do the next day. Now he just had to hope that Oboro would be reasonable and accept the apology so that they could at least go back to being professionally cordial with each other, he wasn’t expecting friendship, he’d burned that bridge himself.

That morning he headed to the bar as usual, making sure to act as if everything was normal despite the anxiety buzzing incessantly under his skin. At some point, his gaze drifted to the cause of all this heartache for a moment, making sure not to be obvious as he stared at Oboro, who was putting a wet towel over Dabi’s burns while scolding him for overusing his quirk again. Atsuhiro mentally sighed and tried to keep his head down for the day, making sure not to cause any concern or tip anyone off that he might be planning something. Just going about and running errands whenever he was asked or keeping an eye on the children if nobody else could.

But soon, the sun finally set beyond the horizon, and the others were off to bed, though, Atsuhiro may or may not have tried to hurry them along without alerting Magne of his suspicious behaviour, still, it certainly seemed to work. And then. It was just him and Oboro left. Just like always.

Neither of them acknowledged each other for several minutes, Atsuhiro because he was gathering up the courage to attempt it, and Oboro, likely because he barely even wanted to see Atsuhiro. It was several seconds more when Atsuhiro sighed, reaching up to marble his mask away and turning to Oboro.

“I’m sorry.”

Atsuhiro blinked, why was Oboro apologizing? He stared for a moment as mist swirled and flared, and Oboro’s eyes, they were flickering again, but he still refused to let his mist down. Atsuhiro sighed, “what on earth are you talking about?” He huffed out a laugh before he could stop himself, “I’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

\

Oboro tilted his head, “well, yeah, obviously,” he gave Atsuhiro an unimpressed stare, “but I’m apologizing for not bringing it up sooner.”

“Hm? De quoi parlez-vous?” Perhaps this was going to be smoother than he thought.

Though, to his surprise, Oboro seemed to wince at the sudden at the sudden formality. In all fairness, Atsuhiro had dropped the formal grammar about a month into the league’s formation, mostly just to stop Magne’s constant badgering about it. But surely, informality would be overstepping now? He didn’t want it to seem like he was going to just assume they were still friends after all.

“I, uh,” Oboro shook his head, snapping out of whatever he was thinking, “I mean, we’ve both been, dancing around this like idiots instead of, y’know, talking it out like reasonable adults?” He chuckled to himself as he warped the two of them to the rooftop, “I swear we were being worse than the kids.”

Atsuhiro nearly balked at the comparison, but unfortunately, he could imagine Magne making the exact same joke if she wasn’t privy to his reasons, “I suppose you’re right.” Then, he stared out at the sky, closing his eyes as he tried to gather the courage to say it, only to open them again as he was bombarded with the same hazy memory Magne had unwittingly dragged forth last night. “I promise I haven’t been avoiding you out of some kind of conceit, I am sorry about making you upset, I hadn’t meant for that to happen, and perhaps I should have foreseen that outcome of my actions, but I acted rashly.” He tried to pick out constellations in the clear sky, absentmindedly fidgeting with his marbles, “besides, this animosity is causing us both to fall behind in our duties, so perhaps we should set it aside in our capacity as coworkers, bury the hatchet as it were, so that the rest of the league does not suffer.”

Oboro looked at him, finally dropping the mist around his face, revealing an incredulous, and slightly befuddled, expression, “yeah... Uh, hey Atsu, why the hell are you saying it like we’re not gonna talk anymore?”

Atsuhiro startled at the casual use of his nickname, “because, that, is what is going to happen?”

Apparently that was the entirely wrong thing to say as Oboro’s entire being became like that of a kicked puppy’s, slouched posture, watery eyes, quivering lips, even his hair seemed to respond by becoming flatter, “oh...”

Now Atsuhiro was scrambling, what was he supposed to say now? What did that mean? Why did Oboro look so disappointed? “Is, is that not preferable for you?” He asked, internally cringing at the diffident way his words came out.

“What? No!?” Oboro’s usual energy quickly returned as he waved his hands frantically, “no no no, you’ve got it wrong! Yeah I was mad at you, but, I still think you’re my friend!”

Atsuhiro shook his head in disbelief, “surely not, didn’t I insult your friend and the entire profession of heroics?”

“Well, yeah, but,” Oboro shrugged, “you’re not exactly quiet about not liking heroes, and I don’t really know your reasons, but if I thought that was like, friendship ending, I wouldn’t have asked you to be friends with me in the first place!”

“I see,” Atsuhiro did not, in fact, ‘see,’ but he wasn’t about to dispute it and actually lose himself a friend. “tu me considères toujours comme ton ami?”

Oboro blinked, “uh, I don’t recognise all of that, but if you’re asking if we’re still friends, and that’s what it sounds like, yeah, obviously.”

“Even though we fought?”

Oboro just burst out laughing at that, “buddy, have you had friends before!? That’s normal! Cat used to fight with me, Heart ‘n Song all the time for being idiots, yeah that stopped eventually, but that was like, a year after we became friends.”

Atsuhiro was far too embarrassed to admit that, no, he really didn’t have many friendships beyond his early teens, and all but one of those few that he did have fell apart due to similar or worse grievances. “Yes, obviously, I only thought that, this seemed like a rather irreconcilable issue, non?”

Oboro shrugged, “well the way I see it, there’s a pretty simple solution, if you and my teammates don’t get along, then I just go on my own like I was trying to do that night.”

“Ah, right,” Atsuhiro grimaced as he was reminded that his presence during the discussion that night was entirely his own fault, but how was he supposed to just assume nothing would go wrong? That Oboro would not get caught or allow his friends to harm the league somehow? He simply couldn’t, but, as much as it pained him, he could acknowledge that it was utterly useless to argue against this solution considering it really was the only way short of him attempting to stay his tongue whilst in the presence of those heroes, something he certainly did not trust himself to do.

He held back a sigh as he smiled at Oboro, “of course, I was just, concerned about All For One’s ability to notice if you are not there, but, I suppose,” he wracked his brain to think of something, when it hit him. “If All For One did enquire about you, then it might be advantageous for me to be able to mollify him with a few fibs about asking you to do something for me!”

Oboro looked at him for a moment before the idea registered and his eyes lit up, “yeah! That’s a great idea, it means both of us are way less stressed about getting caught!” His typical bright grin returning to his face after days of blank stares.

Atsuhiro felt himself begin to smile as well, his heart thrumming with a warmth as he realised just how much he’d missed his friend’s smile. It really looked like it shouldn’t suit the man as well as it did, Oboro was intimidating, especially with his mist, after all, he was a rather large man, and Atsuhiro knew well that most of that size was muscle, but really, such a kind expression just looked right on him.

After a brief moment of deliberation, Atsuhiro reached out and patted Oboro on the shoulder, predictably getting himself pulled into a hug, he sighed and fondly rolled his eyes, “mon ami, please, mind your strength.”

Oboro’s face tinged red with embarrassment, “I will! I’m just,” he tilted his head, searching for the right words to say, “I’m just happy we’re friends.”

Atsuhiro laughed, it sounded so utterly simple, but this was Oboro, it didn’t matter how simple or grandiose something was, he could smile at it all. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, Atsuhiro found himself agreeing with the sentiment, although if he let his brain pick apart why, he’d likely find that the statement wasn’t simple in the slightest. But he didn’t want to, because it was enough that it was true, although if Magne asked, he’d say otherwise just to keep her from trying to figure out who his friend was.

“Atsuhiro?”

Oboro’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he realised he’d gone quiet for a while now, “oh, my apologies darling, I was just, thinking.”

“About us being friends?” That doe-eyed look was going to be the death of him.

“Yes, something like that, I was just,” he searched for something less embarrassing to admit and landed on a modified version of a previous train of thought, “thinking how lucky I was to have friends like you, Mags, and Giran,” he said, returning the hug as best as he could.

“Hm.” Oboro pulled a face at that and Atsuhiro wondered why for a moment before remembering that his friend had met with Giran recently about who knows what.

His smile quickly turned into a smirk, “oh? Is there something you want to say?” Maybe he shouldn’t be purposefully inciting an irritated tirade against someone he considered to be a close friend at the least, but it was frankly hilarious hearing Oboro run his mouth about, as he liked to call Giran, ‘that shady little rat-man.’

Oboro’s eyes turned sharp, “oh buddy, let me tell you, I swear, it was just a normal conversation about some possible new lackeys, right? And then out of nowhere he brings up something insanely fucked up that happened in some group one of those guys worked for years ago, like, I do not need to know that, I just need to know if they’re easily manipulated and capable of killing a few people...”

As Atsuhiro listened raptly to the slowly more unhinged ranting, he nodded to himself, yes, he was very lucky indeed.

Chapter Text

The midday sun beamed down on the entire city, the only respite from the summer heat being the clouds that shaded the land wherever they passed. Atsuhiro was not having a good day, firstly, summer was one of his least favourite seasons because, despite certain people telling him that he could just wear less layers, his costume wasn’t that easy to just remove things from, the best he could do was remove the coat whenever he was indoors. Secondly, Oboro had been awfully cagy this morning, even more than he normally was as Kurogiri, he’d barely made eye contact with Atsuhiro, and seemed to be going out of his way to avoid him, which was odd considering that he was the one who saved their friendship just a few days ago. And finally, on a related note, Shigaraki wished to speak with Giran, and normally, Oboro would accompany him to make sure nobody died, unfortunately, Oboro had left earlier, and now it fell to either Atsuhiro or Magne to babysit, and Atsuhiro had volunteered, mostly for his own reasons.

Which was why he was out in this unholy heat in the first place, practically dying under his coat and button-up and wondering what kind of satanic deal Shigaraki had made to be comfortably wearing a hoodie over a t-shirt in this weather. Outside of that, he wasn’t particularly thrilled to be in the same room as Giran during this meeting, he could only hope the dealer would have the courtesy to spare him the embarrassment he could put Atsuhiro through once he realised who’d shown up.

At least the walk there wasn’t much of a hassle, not as much as he usually faced when chaperoning the children, though perhaps not having to deal with Dabi’s trigger-happy personality had something to do with that. Not to say Shigaraki wasn’t prone to violence, if he wasn’t there wouldn’t be a need for this oversight in the first place, but apparently Oboro was right, and his irritability only showed itself to that degree when there was someone equally as fractious in the room, typically Dabi. Although with Giran’s attitude, that patience would probably fly out the window as soon as the meeting started.

They quickly reached the meeting place, some abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. Atsuhiro honestly couldn’t tell what it used to be, maybe it was a house, or perhaps a shop of some kind, but without any furniture left it was hard to figure out. Giran had used it as a meeting point whenever he felt it was too dangerous to use his own apartment, which was always unless he was speaking with Magne or Atsuhiro, he had a few of those scattered around the city. Atsuhiro just hopped onto one of the random boxes and took a seat, knowing that this wasn’t going to take long, on the other hand, Shigaraki was on high alert, as if something would jump out of the walls at him.

A few minutes passed before Giran opened the door, sauntering in like he couldn’t care less that he was late. But Atsuhiro’s eyes immediately picked out the few signs of rushed distress, some strands of hair out of place, his jacket being wrinkled, the slight jitter in his hands as he began talking to Shigaraki about some information regarding the Commission. Atsuhiro was only half listening, it was interesting to know, but ultimately useless to him, and if the league were to make use of that, then Shigaraki would explain it all anyway, so he was only paying enough attention to make sure everything went smoothly.

After a few minutes of talking Shigaraki signalled for Atsuhiro to follow him back out of the building, it seemed that whatever patience he had left had won out and there wasn’t going to be any trouble at all. However...

“You go ahead, I have something I need to speak with Giran about,” Atsuhiro waved him off, and Shigaraki, though reluctantly, left, muttering something about not taking too long. Atsuhiro waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Giran, “more accurately, I need to ask you something.”

Giran smiled, tilting his head, “and what would that be kid?”

Atsuhiro huffed, marbling away his mask, “I’m not a child anymore you know,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Giran just shrugged, “alright, alright, have it your way Atsuhiro,” he ruffled Atsuhiro’s hair, “so, what do ya need from dear old Giran? A bit of information? Something from the market?”

“That depends, are you going to treat this like a favour?” Atsuhiro asked pointedly, he hadn’t much appreciated having that one big favour be dragged out after so long just to get him to join the league.

“Hah! Are you still upset about that?” Giran shook his head, leaning against the boxes and fiddling with his cigarette, “it was only a precaution ‘cause I know what kind of flighty sneak you are.”

“Tu es impossible,” Atsuhiro muttered, before admitting the truth, “I was wondering, do you have an idea of any, less shady tech people? I’m asking for a friend.”

Giran blinked as if processing those words, “a friend?”

Atsuhiro sighed, “yes, a friend, do me a favour and don’t tell Mags, you know how she gets.”

Giran laughed, “yeah, I know, never knew how to mind her own business that girl, though I have to say, it’s about time you figured out the same charm me ‘n your sister have.”

“Oh right, because you’re so charming and everybody wants to be friends with you,” Atsuhiro snarked, words drenched in sarcasm.

Giran shook his head fondly, pulling Atsuhiro closer and giving him a tap on the head, “listen here ya scamp, I’m plenty charming when I want to be, I’m practically the pinnacle of charm.” Atsuhiro burst into laughter at that, causing Giran to lose his composure as well, unable to keep a straight face and keep the joke going.

“In all seriousness,” Giran said once the pair managed to collect themselves, his eyes turning unusually solemn before he looked away, staring forward at the other wall, “are they good to you?”

Atsuhiro froze, not having expected this line of questioning, “I, oui, they’re very good to me,” he stammered out, leaning against the box next to Giran.

“They make you happy?” Giran asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Absolument!” Atsuhiro wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but he knew that Oboro was one of the brightest things in his life.

Giran hummed, “are you good to them?”

Oh, that’s where this was going, “je pense que je suis,” Atsuhiro admittedly did not have the best track record with friendships, but he’d already managed to salvage this one once, he was fairly confident he’d done a good job so far.

Giran finally looked at him, “you think?”

“I, well, we maybe had one fight, but we solved that, and, everything’s fine now, besides, they’re the kind of person who’d tell me if I was making them upset,” Atsuhiro twirled some marbles between his fingers, trying to lessen the stress of this conversation.

There was a long silence, and then, “alright,” Giran reached over and ruffled Atsuhiro’s hair, “as long as you’re happy kid.”

“Not a kid.”

“Whatever,” Giran gave him a toothy grin, “I’ll see about that request, and you,” he put a hand on Atsuhiro’s shoulder reassuringly, “I haven’t seen you this relaxed in years, so don’t fuck this up.”

Atsuhiro scoffed, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Giran shrugged, “you never know, things happen.”

“Right,” Atsuhiro shuffled towards the door, “I should be going before Shigaraki gets cross with me.”

Giran nodded, “good luck kid!”

Atsuhiro paused “not a- oh, peu importe.” He shook his head as he put his mask back on and rejoined Shigaraki outside the building, ignoring the poorly hidden curiosity.

The two of them walked back to the bar in silence, with Shigaraki occasionally glancing over as if to ask what Atsuhiro was even doing back there, but ultimately he chose the wiser option of keeping it to himself. Atsuhiro, for his part, wasn’t too keen on talking, rolling Giran’s words over in his mind, there were many, many times in his life where he wished the dealer would just be silent, and this was one of those. Sometimes he wondered if Giran ever actually saw him as he was, an accomplished thief and responsible adult, rather than the feckless teenager who tried to pickpocket him on that rainy night. He shook his head, whatever that discussion was, he wouldn’t let it disconcert him any further.

They returned, and Atsuhiro’s eyes darted to the counter, there was no Oboro. He ignored the bubbling dread the sight caused him, this was fine, surely nothing bad would happen, except, the last time Oboro had been gone for this long, was the day he came back halfway through a panic attack and covered in his own blood. There might not have been anything concerning, but Atsuhiro wasn’t convinced, especially considering the bout of odd behaviour that might have been seen as Oboro deviating from his ‘programming’ rather than just being upset at a friend.

Shigaraki was speaking, something about the information he got from Giran, but Atsuhiro couldn’t pay attention, seemingly gazing ahead of him at the rest of the league, but under his mask, his eyes hadn’t glanced away from the counter even once.

“Hey! Compress!” The suddenly far too close whisper snapped him out of his thoughts as he tilted his head towards Spinner, who looked at him oddly, “are you listening? This is great!”

“Oh, of course, I just heard it all when Giran was talking, I didn’t think I’d have to pay much attention to the repetition.” Atsuhiro half tuned back in to the conversation, but only enough to recognise that the information was still useless to him, and his mind couldn’t latch onto anything that would occupy it instead of this deep worry. Thankfully, Spinner seemed to believe him and didn’t say anything further, instead raptly listening to whatever Shigaraki was saying.

The evening quickly came, and Atsuhiro managed to perform a semblance of normalcy, speaking with Twice, showing Toga a few card tricks, being the mediator between Shigaraki and Dabi since Oboro wasn’t there. It certainly hadn’t fooled Magne, since she kept glancing over at him like she wanted to ask, but he could just tell her that Giran had said some things that were preoccupying him, she wouldn’t question it.

By the time everyone was starting to head off to bed, Atsuhiro was sure his act was slipping, it had been too long, something had happened, Oboro was in danger, and he couldn’t tell a single person here without making the problem worse. He had found himself glancing over at the counter more and more as the light began to dim and someone flipped the switches for the warm lamps that hung from the ceiling, bathing the bar in an orange glow. And all he could think was that it would turn red as soon as nobody was left. And now that the only people left were him, Magne, and Twice, it became all the easier to visualize the same scene as that fateful night.

At some point, he was dragged into a game of cards with the other two, and he easily forced a carefree lilt into his voice, eagerly filling his mind with whatever gossip it could grasp and laughing as he recounted stories he’d witnessed. Magne ended up winning, to which she remarked that he’d been ‘off his game’ tonight, having expected him to pull one of his tricks, he just shrugged and said that he wanted to be fair and at least give the other two a chance.

And then he was left alone, with no-one to keep his wandering mind from conjuring up the worst scenarios imaginable. He closed his eyes tight, took a deep breath, and opened them again, there was no point in catastrophizing, it would not help Oboro once he returned, so he might as well do something that would. Atsuhiro marbled away his mask and walked behind the counter, opening the cabinet he knew contained the first aid kit. He looked through it, he had some medical supplies on him as usual, but those were plasters, a bit of gauze, a bottle of disinfectant, enough to tend to the minor injuries he could expect to get while on the job, hardly enough for the state Oboro would be in. The kit appeared to have a decent amount of supplies stocked, it was typically more, but a few too many fights had gotten rid of most of the disinfectant and thread, no matter, he could handle that. Now all he had to so was wait.

It turned out he wouldn’t have to wait long as soon a portal opened in the middle of the bar, Atsuhiro grabbed the roll of gauze and stepped towards it, expecting to have to steady his friend, but he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide at the sight in front of him.

*

Oboro stumbled through the portal, clutching his chest and trying to brace himself on one of the tables before falling to his knees. Atsuhiro forced himself out of his shock, rushing over to his friend.

“Oboro, mon ami!” He tried to keep his voice down, knowing that if he cried out like he wanted to the whole league would awaken and come rushing downstairs.

“Atsu?” Oboro’s voice was shaky and hoarse, his eyes darting back and forth, unable to focus as the mist dropped from his body, revealing a bloodstained face and blank expression.

“I’m here,” Atsuhiro reached out, putting his hand over Oboro’s in an attempt to stop him from doing any more damage in his frightened state, he held back a gasp as he realised that the bloodstain over Oboro’s chest was growing, red seeping through the greenish-grey of his vest. Atsuhiro quickly undid the vest, then started on the shirt, apologizing profusely as pained gasps spilled from his friend’s lips.

“Help,” Oboro weakly whimpered, and there were tears streaming down his face.

“Shh, it’s alright darling, you’re going to be alright,” Atsuhiro murmured gently, uncovering the familiar line of stitches, but his focus was on getting to whatever was still bleeding. He was just silently thankful there was less blood in general, meaning that he had some time before Oboro’s life would be in danger from the blood loss.

He finally found the issue, taking a sharp breath as he saw that the line of stitching starting from Oboro’s neck down to the base of his ribs had somehow been ripped open, causing the skin to peel back and expose the sutured muscle underneath. Atsuhiro felt bile rise in his throat at the sight, that was far more than he could handle, but he had to stay focused.

He didn’t have any suture thread on him, he would have to use what little remained in the first aid kit and hope it was enough, he ignored the voice in his head telling him that it certainly wasn’t, because that wasn’t an option. He staggered to his feet, stumbling forward and grabbing at the kit, his bloodstained glove landed on the needle and thread, it was all he could do to stop the tears from falling.

He heard a thud behind him and turned to see Oboro fallen to the ground, unable to hold himself up any longer. Atsuhiro panicked. He clutched the needle and knelt down next to his friend, shaking him lightly, “Oboro, Oboro!”

A murmur of unintelligible noise was all the response he got as he managed to put all his strength into turning Oboro to lie on his back so that the wound was easy to access. Atsuhiro raised the needle to the skin, trying to keep it out of Oboro’s sight lest he send the poor man into even more of a panic. But immediately his friend flinched, and all he could do was offer soothing words as he tried to keep from throwing up at the sensation of having to pull the skin closed, the soft flesh sticky with blood. He knew he didn’t have enough thread to stitch the whole wound up, and there wasn’t a way he could get any more.

He felt tears begin to drip down his face as fear began to overtake him, he couldn’t lose his friend, not like this, if only-

Atsuhiro gritted his teeth, only one idea came to mind at that moment, he shook Oboro again, uncaring of the blood covering his coat as he desperately tried to get some kind of coherent response. “Mon ami, s'il te plaît, can you use your quirk?”

He waited for several seconds before the beginnings of a portal began to flicker to life underneath the two of them, “send us to your friends,” he whispered, they were the only other people who knew what was going on, and they probably had medical supplies considering their jobs. As much as he didn’t like them, and as much as they must hate him after that argument, they wouldn’t allow their friend to die, and he was counting on that.

The portal opened fully, accompanied by a pained whine, but as soon as it did they were both dropped onto an unfamiliar floor. There was a muffled scream as someone called out some names, not that Atsuhiro was paying much attention as he scrambled to close the still bleeding wound with his hands, feeling the warm liquid seep into the cloth of his gloves, unable to fully stifle the blood.

There were footsteps and Atsuhiro’s teary gaze snapped up to see the three heroes, Midnight and Present Mic frozen for a moment while Eraserhead grabbed a first aid kit from a cupboard. Midnight shook herself out of the shock and hurriedly knelt down to Oboro’s side, “what happened?” She demanded as she helped Atsuhiro hold the wound closed.

He tried to respond, but he feared that if he opened his mouth he would just vomit. Still he managed a stuttering sentence, “don’t know, it was Garaki, he must’ve got in trouble.”

“What?” Midnight tried to clarify, but she must have realised she wasn’t going to get a clear answer with Atsuhiro in such a panic, instead she just called out to her friends, “Shou! Zashi! Hurry up!”

Present Mic hurried over, holding a needle and thread while Eraserhead held the rest of the medical supplies, “how bad is it?”

“Looks like it’s just the skin, though,” Midnight shivered, “it’s been separated from his muscles.”

Present Mic visibly blanched as he and Eraserhead crowded around. Atsuhiro’s gaze drifted to Oboro’s other side, and to the needle, “don’t let him see that,” he exclaimed, moving to try and shove Present Mic’s hand down.

“He’s scared of them?” The hero asked, surprised.

Atsuhiro nodded shakily, “it, makes him think he’s in the lab.”

None of the heroes would understand that as far as he was aware, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain, so he was grateful when they didn’t ask him anything. Instead, Eraserhead carefully applied disinfectant to the wound, and Oboro whimpered and whined in his half-conscious state occasionally letting out what might have been a scream if he had the strength to open his lips. Atsuhiro ran a hand through his friend’s hair, “tout va bien, tout ira bien,” he mumbled, attempting to keep Oboro calm, he must have not recognized his surroundings, he was probably thinking someone was hurting him.

“That should be good,” Eraserhead said tersely as he put the disinfectant well out of reach, “Song?”

“Got it,” Present Mic glanced at Atsuhiro, “if he panics about the needle, is he gonna panic when we start stitching him up?”

“I, I don’t,” Atsuhiro began before taking a deep breath to calm himself down, “probably, we might have to hold him.”

“I could use my quirk?” Midnight offered, but Eraserhead shook his head.

“If we put him to sleep right now he might never wake up,” he muttered, glaring fiercely at the wound as though he might be able to heal it through sheer spite.

Midnight sighed, “alright, I’ll hold his legs, Cat, get his arms,” she glanced at Atsuhiro for a moment before resigning herself to the fact that he’d have to help, “and you, make sure he doesn’t knock his head, we don’t need him getting a concussion as well.”

Atsuhiro took a deep breath, any possible irritation at being ordered around by a hero shoved aside by his fear for Oboro’s life, he shuffled up until he could comfortably rest Oboro’s head on his thighs, cradling his face carefully.

The other two pinned his limbs down a bit more forcefully, and then Present Mic pressed the needle into Oboro’s skin, beginning to stitch him up.

All of them froze at the bloodcurdling scream that spilled from Oboro’s lips, with Atsuhiro immediately whispering reassurances and rubbing his friend’s cheek with his thumb. Present Mic took a deep breath and continued, all three of the others flinching as the screaming started again. Though not as loud as the first one, muffled by a lack of energy, it was still loud enough to fill the room and burrow into Atsuhiro’s brain.

It was too much, the blood, the screaming, the shaky flinches that echoed in his hands. He tasted the salt of tears as he mindlessly apologised over and over again, uncontrollably sobbing as the world around him seemed to blur. The screaming turned muffled and he could hear his own voice weakly mumbling as if much further away than it should be. The tears in his eyes causing the sight in front of him to fade into blotchy purples and whites and reds all covering skin that was slowly starting to look ashen and deathly despite the incessant, horrifying noise being evidence that it couldn’t be.

*

Time ticked by into what felt like an eternity despite likely only being mere minutes, but he couldn’t take it, his friend was bleeding out in front of him and the only thing he could to was just hold him and whisper platitudes.

At some point, he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly until his gaze drifted away from Oboro’s chest and up to meet a worried expression. He felt himself being moved, but he couldn’t let it happen! He had to stay with Oboro! He struggled weakly against the iron grip and tried not to let himself be taken away, sobs building up in his throat only to be swallowed back down as his mouth refused to open.

His coat was taken away and he was sat down on something, it felt soft. Perhaps an armchair? There were distorted voices all around him, one came closer. Were they speaking to him? He couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t answer either, it was like he’d been shoved out of his own body, no longer in control as time passed both far too slow and far too fast at once.

There was a heavy cloth draped over his shoulders, his fingers instinctively grabbed it and pulled it tight around himself, taking comfort in the weight. Then there was something fluffy placed in his lap, he froze for a moment, and then the thing moved, rubbing against his arm and making a noise, oh, that was purring, this was a cat.

Atsuhiro blinked, feeling his sight come back into focus as he looked down at the big white cat looking back at him with sweet blue eyes. “Bonsoir petit,” he said, prying his fingers away from the blanket and running them through the fur of this cat, silently apologizing for staining the beautifully fluffy creature with the blood on his gloves.

There was a shuffling noise to his left, and he turned as Present Mic perched himself on the arm of the armchair, blood staining his knees and hands, a worried look on his face, “hey, you back with us?”

Atsuhiro nodded hesitantly, “yes, I, I’m alright now.”

The hero smiled, “good, you went into shock pretty quickly earlier, practically wailed when we tried to get you off ‘Oro.”

Atsuhiro gasped, “Oboro, is he?”

“Asleep,” Present Mic nodded to the side and Atsuhiro realised there was a larger couch to the left of the armchair where Oboro had been moved to. Eraserhead and Midnight were still fussing over him, trying to wipe away as much of the blood as they could, which wasn’t much overall, and it seemed they’d given up on the floor and their own clothes. “He passed out shortly after we finished stitching him up.”

Atsuhiro noted that Oboro’s shirt had been fully taken off to allow the heroes to apply gauze over the whole line of stitches, not just the part that was ripped. He looked back at Present Mic, “do you think he will be alright?”

“Probably,” the hero shrugged, “he’s still breathing and, well he’s always been a stubborn bastard, he’s not gonna give up that easily.”

Atsuhiro hummed, feeling tired now that the adrenaline had fully worn off. He glanced back down at the cat, “is this Sushi?”

Present Mic grinned, “yeah, she’s an old girl now, but isn’t she beautiful?”

“Yes, she is,“ Atsuhiro smiled, the smile quickly turned into a yawn that, despite his best efforts to stifle it, was very obvious.

Present Mic chuckled, “tired?” He sighed, “yeah, me too, I’ll let you rest,” he said as he walked over to the light switch, turning it off before squeezing himself next to Midnight who had moved Oboro’s legs to be on top of her lap. Eraserhead, who was leaning against one of the arms, glanced over at Atsuhiro, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes suspiciously before sighing and seeming to sleep, though Atsuhiro was sure the hero would stay alert as long as he was still here.

Atsuhiro was about to protest that he was going to go home, and a part of his mind was terrified at the thought of falling asleep in the home of heroes, he couldn’t get the words out before his eyes closed, the sheer exhaustion catching up to him and making him fall unconscious.

Chapter Text

Atsuhiro slowly drifted into consciousness, before snapping to alertness as he heard the noise of other people where there definitely shouldn’t have been. He scrambled to his feet, throwing off the heavy blanket that was covering his shoulders as he reached into his pocket for the marble containing a knife which he held tightly in his hand, waiting to release it if needed. His eyes darted around until it landed on three individuals sitting around a table, staring back at him. It took a moment before his brain recalled the events of the previous night and he forced himself to relax, putting the marble back in his pocket.

“Oh, right,” he muttered, turning to look at where Oboro still slept, a much more peaceful expression on his face than had been there last night. Atsuhiro sighed in relief at the sight, his friend was alive.

There was a quiet tapping noise, bringing Atsuhiro’s attention back to the three heroes, who were all looking at him with a mix of, well it was hard to tell actually, apparently they were all rather good at keeping to a neutral expression. But if he had to hazard a guess, wariness and sympathy, only one of which he appreciated. “Good morning,” he said tersely, though he tried to keep a polite tone to his voice.

“Morning,” Present Mic muttered before trailing off, returning the room to an uncomfortable silence as neither party knew quite what to say.

Atsuhiro cleared his throat, “I presume Oboro is still well?” He asked, glancing back to his friend.

Midnight nodded slowly, “yeah, he is, we don’t know when he’s gonna wake up though.”

Atsuhiro hummed, anxiety spiking in the back of his mind, “espérons que ce soit bientôt,” he muttered, suppressing a shudder as he thought of what would happen if the league noticed Oboro was missing, let alone if All for One suspected something.

The three heroes shared an indecipherable look, then, Present Mic broke the silence, “what, what happened, last night?” There was a sternness to his voice that felt like a demand as much as he tried to seem casual by leaning back in his chair. The other two didn’t seem keen on playing this game, with Midnight slipping a quiet threat into her smile and Eraserhead outright glaring at Atsuhiro.

He frowned, supressing a shiver as he looked back to Oboro, “how much has he told you?” He asked, if his friend hadn’t said anything in his letters, then he wouldn’t either.

“About All For One, the labs, the experiments, the league,” Eraserhead’s glare grew even fiercer, “everything except about you.”

Atsuhiro barely managed to stop a look of surprise crossing his face, Oboro hadn’t told them anything about him? He pushed that aside, determined not to let the heroes see him falter, “in that case you can probably guess,” he said, “Oboro came back to the base from the labs, but he’d somehow managed to rip some of the stitches.”

“Somehow?” Midnight raised an eyebrow dubiously.

Atsuhiro huffed and gritted his teeth to stop himself from verbally tearing these fools apart, “well forgive me for not thinking to ask questions while my friend was bleeding out.”

“So we’ll have to ask him when he wakes up,” Present Mic stared at Oboro with a look of, something. Atsuhiro genuinely couldn’t decipher what the emotion was that kept flickering through the heroes’ eyes.

Midnight sighed, “however long that takes,” she shook her head, turning to Atsuhiro, “are you hungry? Because Zashi made breakfast for you and ‘Oro too.” She gestured at a set of five bowls on the table, four were filled with rice and fish and veggies, and the other was a porridge, likely for Oboro.

Atsuhiro blinked, well, he wasn’t going to say no to free food, just as long as it wasn’t poisoned. He doubted they would do that, Oboro would get upset with them, and they knew it, so he was probably safe to eat it. He reached up to move his mask when, with a sharp spike of alarm, he realised that he didn’t have it on. He silently bemoaned the fact that he’d taken it off last night while helping Oboro, and in his panic he hadn’t even remembered to put it back on before they were warped here. He forced a neutral, and lightly amiable expression on his face as he turned to the three heroes.

“If you’re going to try and arrest me, don’t bother, I’d be out of the city before you could even set foot near my residence.” In reality, Atsuhiro would probably just end up having to take the room at the bar back from Oboro, which would be a shame. Of course even if the heroes did try to go hunting for any of his documentation they’d be sorely disappointed, but just to be safe, he felt the threat was necessary.

Eraserhead rolled their eyes, “we’re not dumb enough to try anything,” they grumbled, returning their focus to Sushi who was curled up in their lap and purring up a storm.

Atsuhiro would believe that the day pigs flew. Heroes were always the ones dumb enough to try something in any given situation. Really he had only one thing protecting him, and that wasn’t entirely reliable considering said protection was far closer to these three than he was to Atsuhiro. Which was still making a very good case for getting out of here as fast as he possibly could. But if there was one thing he knew, it was that it would be very, very stupid to try and run without Oboro. If he did these heroes would probably drag him back here by force since, given their comments earlier, they must suspect him of playing some part in their teammate’s injuries.

The awkward silence began to stretch on again, Atsuhiro couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting with his fingers, not able to use an object for fear of being assumed to be aggressive. His mind ran rampant as his body stood still, a familiar feeling that he really tried not to let linger if he could ever help it, he couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now at least.

A quiet groaning sound caused all attention to snap to the couch. Oboro’s breathing picked up as he began to wake up, hand coming up to shield his eyes from the light. Eraserhead quickly dashed to the window and drew the curtains, leaving barely enough of the morning sun to see by. Meanwhile, Midnight and Present Mic had immediately gone to their friend’s side. And Atsuhiro was stuck standing there like an idiot. He desperately wanted to go, to check on Oboro, to make sure he was okay, but he genuinely couldn’t make himself move that close to the two heroes, so he settled for trying to see past them.

“Hey darling,” Present Mic clasped one of Oboro’s hands in his own, “you alright?”

“Huh?” Oboro blinked sleepily, “Zashi? When did you get here?”

Midnight giggled, “you’re in our apartment silly,” her light-hearted tone was belied by the way her sharp eyes scanned her friend, looking for any sign of lingering distress

“The apartment? How did I,” Oboro’s eyes snapped open, “Atsuhiro?” He called, trying to sit up only to be gently pushed back down by his teammates.

Atsuhiro winced at the use of his actual name, but figured now was not the time to be lecturing his friend on that, “I’m here mon ami, ne tu inquiet pas.”

Oboro breathed a sigh of relief, visibly slumping as the panic left him, “oh, okay, good.”

Eraserhead smirked, “Atsuhiro, huh?” They muttered.

“That’s Compress to you hero,” Atsuhiro bit back quietly, making sure the argument wouldn’t reach Oboro’s ears.

Eraserhead looked like they wanted to retort with something snappish, but just grumbled instead, glaring at him to make sure he got the message of displeasure. Atsuhiro quietly stepped back, returning the sentiment with a smug smile and narrowed eyes. They just scoffed and turned to their teammate, “what happened?” They asked brusquely, and if Atsuhiro were a more confrontational person, he might have yelled at them to be nicer to the man who almost died last night.

But Oboro just laughed, “don’t worry about me, it was nothing really.”

Midnight frowned, “Cloud, the truth please.”

Oboro sighed, “I was in too much of a hurry to get out of the labs and tore the stitches by sitting up too quickly,” he admitted, “and then I panicked and scrammed before Garaki could notice.”

Atsuhiro didn’t know why, but he felt some kind of twisted relief that at least it wasn’t something Garaki was purposefully putting his friend through, that this genuinely could be a one-time incident. There was something morbid about the thought of ‘at least he won’t have to bleed out after being tortured’ that made Atsuhiro’s skin crawl just as much as it calmed his racing heart.

He turned his attention back to the others, sharp eyes scanning the heroes to make sure they weren’t doing anything harmful, even if it was on accident. But so far, they seemed to be, almost fawning over Oboro. Atsuhiro looked away, finding the display of affection from people who almost certainly had little love for anyone else to be utterly repulsive.

“Atsuhiro?” Oboro’s voice made him look back.

He hummed in acknowledgement, still not getting closer.

But that just caused Oboro to frown, “buddy, aren’t you gonna come over here?”

Atsuhiro’s eyes unconsciously darted to the heroes for only a fraction of a second. But that must have been enough to clue his friend in on his buzzing anxiety, since Oboro quietly waved away his teammates who all seemed reluctant, and made that very clear in the looks they gave.

As soon as the coast was clear, Atsuhiro rushed over to his friend, kneeling in front of the couch and hugging him gently, completely uncaring of the awkward position that made it nearly impossible to properly get his arms around his friend. Tears threatened to form in his eyes and he quickly blinked them back, putting a concerned look on his face instead, he could save the crying for when he was back at home and in private.

Oboro chuckled, which was just music to Atsuhiro’s ears at that point, clearing out the last few memories of the screams that had spilled from those same lips only hours ago. “Hey, sorry if I scared you,” Oboro muttered, his golden eyes looking far too happy for what he’d just been through, and it couldn’t even be a façade, Atsuhiro was fairly sure Oboro was fully incapable of hiding anything.

Atsuhiro didn’t return the smile, “tu aurais pu mourir.”

Oboro shrugged, wincing in pain as the action aggravated his injuries, “yeah, but I didn’t die, now did I? So there’s no need to look so gloomy about it.”

Atsuhiro rolled his eyes light-heartedly, “do you always have to be such an optimist?” He asked, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He could fake it, but he didn’t want to, not with Oboro.

“Better than wallowing in misery,” Oboro easily replied, a sentiment he’d shared with Atsuhiro many times by now.

Atsuhiro shook his head fondly, his gaze wandering to the gauze covering the wound. His grip tightened a bit as he recalled just how dire the situation was, he could have lost the only friend he’d made in a long, long time. Oboro could have died never knowing the taste of freedom again. The league would have been in shambles. And Atsuhiro, well, that scenario was something he’d always wanted to avoid, but it seemed his lack of care when dealing with Oboro had finally caught up to him and he was risking repeating the past all over again.

“Hey,” Oboro’s voice dropped to a soft whisper, “I’m alive, okay?”

“Of course,” Atsuhiro murmured, quickly shoving back the loudest thought in his head, ‘but for how long?’

Oboro patted him on the back, “that’s the spirit,” he joked, “now help me up, would ya?”

Atsuhiro laughed as he somehow managed to support Oboro’s weight long enough for him to sit up, “you really should be resting mon ami.”

“You and I both know I can’t be gone for long,” Oboro said simply as he shakily stood up.

Atsuhiro sighed but didn’t push him on it, as much as he never liked having to stop fussing over his friend the very day after he gets back from Garaki’s lab, he knew that there was nothing he could really do.

“Wait, Cloud, you’re just leaving?” Midnight asked, looking incredibly worried.

Oboro nodded, “the others are probably awake by now, and I really don’t need them asking questions,” he paused before adding, “also they may or may not kill each other without supervision.”

“Eh bien, ils vont certainement essayer,” Atsuhiro muttered, which got a laugh out of his friend.

“So yeah, I should get going,” Oboro gave his friends an apologetic look.

Present Mic shared a look with the other two heroes, “Oboro, no. At least stick around until you don’t look like you’re going to keel over any second.”

Oboro opened his mouth to argue, but with even Atsuhiro giving him an unimpressed stare, he relented, “fine, just for a little while.”

Eraserhead quietly cleared their throat, gesturing to the food on the table, “breakfast.”

All of a sudden, Oboro’s eyes lit up, “did Song make that?”

Midnight laughed, “I assure you dear, me and Shou’s cooking skills have not gotten much better since you were last here.”

Present Mic playfully shoved her, “at least I got you two to be able to make something edible without burning down the kitchen.”

Oboro smiled at his teammates, then he noticed that the other four bowls were still full, “wait, you guys didn’t eat yet?”

Eraserhead shrugged, “we were waiting for you,” they said, staying right next to him like they were ready to catch him if something happened.

Oboro hummed and walked over to the table, picking up the bowl of porridge and making a bit of a face, “aww, Zashi, what’s with the special treatment?” He pouted.

Present Mic chuckled in amusement as he grabbed his own food, “sorry dear, you had your insides rearranged yesterday, I’m not giving you solid food.”

Oboro grumbled something about usually being able to stomach it, but acquiesced, momentarily looking at Atsuhiro, “c’mon Atsu, there’s one for you too.”

Again, he wasn’t going to say no to free food, so Atsuhiro snatched one of the bowls and hesitantly took a few bites. He was suddenly very glad he had enough self-control to not immediately begin devouring it, because he had to admit it was delicious, and almost on par with Oboro’s own cooking. He supposed he could give that much praise to the hero, not that he would ever say it out loud because someone like that definitely didn’t need an even bigger ego.

He glanced up at the other four, noting the way they all seemed to be clustered together, the heroes were being protective, he realised with a start. He quickly chided his own mind for being surprised at the fact, of course they were protective of Oboro, the four of them were friends, teammates, and even if Atsuhiro was dubious, Oboro seemed used to it. Well, he supposed he had no real frame of reference, so perhaps there really was nothing strange about this. Atsuhiro shuffled away a bit, not wanting to seem like a threat to these heroes.

He froze as he almost stepped backwards onto something, hurriedly turning around to see Sushi, completely unbothered by nearly being flattened, “ah! Je suis vraiment désolé, petit!” He apologized, bending down to pet the sweet thing, frowning as he noticed that her fur still had bloodstains from last night. In fact, he was still covered in Oboro’s blood, he grimaced to himself as he realised what a pain it would be to get rid of now that it had dried into the fabric of his, well, everything.

Sushi pulled him out of his thoughts by purring quietly and nudging her head into his hand, wiggling in a way that everyone who’d ever been around a cat knew well. He chuckled and set the mostly empty bowl of food back on the table in order to allow her to jump on him, carefully cradling her in his arms. “Hello beautiful,” he muttered, “aren’t you an affectionate kitty?”

Oboro let out a startled noise, and Atsuhiro looked up to see him staring at Sushi in utter shock, “that’s,” he glanced at his teammates, “did she get way nicer in fourteen years?”

Eraserhead shrugged, “not really, she’s still a grumpy little bitch, but apparently she likes him, probably because of last night.”

Oboro blinked, “uh, while you guys were stitching me up?”

“After,” Midnight said, “your friend there went into shock pretty quickly, probably because you started screaming bloody murder, but we couldn’t exactly help him right away because, you know.”

Atsuhiro involuntarily shuddered at the reminder, hugging the cat just a bit closer, Oboro sent him a sympathetic glance, “shit, were you alright?”

“I, don’t entirely remember what happened,” Atsuhiro admitted, trailing off as he looked at Present Mic, the hero who had presumably been keeping an eye on him considering that he was the one there when Atsuhiro snapped out of it.

The hero just gave him an indecipherable look, “Shouta had to drag you off of Oboro, we tried talking to you, but you were pretty unresponsive, just kinda went limp after trying to fight us for a bit.” He shook his head, “good thing we’re trained to deal with these situations, and good thing that we’ve got a few weighted blankets lying around, eh?” if that was an attempt at a joke, it didn’t land. “Anyways, after an hour I just thought to try putting Sushi in your lap, which worked, you asked about Cloud, and then you were out like a light.”

Atsuhiro turned away, “I see.” He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea that he’d been at these heroes’ mercy for that long, but he supposed he couldn’t do anything about it now, and nothing had truly happened, at least as far as he could tell. Upon hearing a little meow, he looked down at the precious furball in his arms, “well then little miss Sushi, I suppose I should thank you,” he said, giving her a few scritches behind the ear.

Oboro chuckled, “aww, well it’s nice to see you get along with somebody here.”

Atsuhiro began to scowl at that before quickly stopping himself and schooling his expression, thankful that he had caught that before anyone else did. Would it kill Oboro to just leave well enough alone for once? In all fairness, that was likely not meant as a harsh jibe at Atsuhiro, more probable was that it was simply a bit of frustration boiling over, which he could certainly understand given his behaviour so far.

Present Mic smirked cheekily at Oboro, “well he was pretty helpful last night, so I'd say he got along just fine actually.”

Oboro hummed, “yeah, I mean,” he frowned, “was that your voice Atsu?”

Atsuhiro tilted his head, “what do you mean? What voice?”

“The one that told me to warp us here?” Oboro raised an eyebrow, “sorry for not recognising it but in my defence my entire memory of last night is, hazy at best.”

“Oh, yes, that was me,” Atsuhiro said, for a moment there he was concerned his friend had been hallucinating.

“Well then I guess I should thank you for that, otherwise I’m pretty sure I’d be dead,” Oboro gave him a lopsided grin, as if that wasn’t an utterly mortifying statement in so many ways.

Eraserhead frowned, leaning closer to Oboro, “now why’d you do that?” They asked, their gaze locked onto Atsuhiro.

Atsuhiro held back an offended scoff, was this hero seriously questioning his motives behind helping his friend!? “For your information, I’d like the people I care about to stay alive.”

Eraserhead gritted their teeth, “so you’d even go to people with ‘false virtues’ for help?” Their eyes narrowed and Atsuhiro mentally flinched at hearing his own words thrown back at him with such venom.

“Ah, that.” Neither he nor Oboro had actually gotten the chance to talk with the heroes after that argument, not that he’d have taken one, “like I’ve said before, if it helps Oboro’s wellbeing, then I’m willing to work with even the likes of you.” He paused, “besides, you were the only people I was sure would be discreet about this whole affair, as nobody else is currently even aware of Oboro’s situation.”

“Well that’s certainly a safe answer,” Midnight commented drily, “but I guess we’ll take it for now, since you’re helping Cloud.”

The man in question pointedly coughed, “would any of you mind not talking about me as if I’m not right here?” He asked lightly.

Midnight smiled, “oops, sorry sweetheart,” she murmured as she casually pressed a kiss to Oboro’s neck.

Atsuhiro froze, nearly dropping Sushi in his shock, “um, I’m sorry for asking, but are you two?” He trailed off, letting the question hang in the air.

“Four actually, but,” Oboro blinked, realising something, “wait, you’re just figuring that out?”

Atsuhiro glanced between his friend and Midnight before calmly setting Sushi down on the table so as not to hurt the poor cat on accident, “was, was I supposed to know sooner!?” He asked, “and what do you mean four?”

Present Mic cleared his throat, “what Oboro means is that the four of us,” he gestured at their little group, “are dating, and have been since high-school.”

Atsuhiro glanced at Oboro for confirmation, to which he nodded, “yep! I’m surprised you didn’t notice sooner!”

“How exactly was I supposed to know that?” Atsuhiro asked in utter bewilderment, “yes you are all close, but that could easily be seen as platonic!”

“Atsu,” Oboro laughed a bit, “Zashi and Nem called me pet names earlier, and that didn’t tip you off?”

Atsuhiro opened his mouth, closed it, and then sighed fondly at the folly of this sweet, sweet idiot, “Oboro, mon ami, you’re talking to someone who uses pet names with literally everyone I know.”

Oboro stared for a moment before, “oh, right, dunno how I forgot about that,” he grinned sheepishly, “I probably should have told you earlier then.”

Atsuhiro shook his head, “you’re fine, I was just surprised is all.” Honestly the revelation caused a lot of things to make much more sense in hindsight. He put on a smile for his friend, “well then, good for you!” He said, patting his friend on the arm.

Oboro’s grin brightened, “aw thanks,” he began to say something else, but the sunlight was already growing, and he frowned again, “shit, we’ve already been away too long.” He shook his head, looking around, “where’d you guys put my shirt?”

Atsuhiro held out a marble, releasing Oboro’s shirt and vest from inside, “I don’t quite remember where your brace is,” he muttered, almost too lost in thought to catch what Eraserhead threw at him. He was about to glare at the hero when he realised it was his coat, which someone must have washed last night because it was clean of blood, well that was one less problem to deal with he supposed.

Oboro winced as he quickly threw on his clothes, “I think I may have left it at the labs, that’s going to be a pain to talk my way out of.”

Atsuhiro shook his head, “well it doesn’t matter, we don’t have time.”

“Yeah,” Oboro nodded, turning to his partners as he opened a portal, “I’ll see you guys later, love ya.”

Atsuhiro didn't follow him through, it wouldn't do for them to appear together, and he doubted that Oboro would remember to warp him somewhere different. So he just made his way to the window. But before he could scamper off, he was stopped by Present Mic.

“You really do care about him, huh?” The hero remarked, something dangerously close to softness in his eyes.

“Of course I do, he's my dearest friend,” Atsuhiro wasn't sure what prompted him to add the 'dearest' there, but he needed these heroes to know he saw Oboro as someone important.

The three heroes shared a look, before Present Mic smiled, “look, I know you don't like us or whatever, but, well, a friend of 'Oro's is a friend of ours, do with that what you will I suppose.”

That, that sent Atsuhiro's mind reeling, were these heroes truly so brazen as to offer friendship to him? Part of him wanted to snap at them, to repeat the argument that he didn't want to be associated with them, but that would cause Oboro far too much trouble, so instead he took a deep breath.

“I'll think about it,” he said simply before running off.

Chapter Text

The league was a mess, well, more of a mess than usual, which when combined with the many short fuses in the room, usually meant things were about to reach a boiling point very quickly. Atsuhiro, for his part, stood off to the side and eyed the others like they were time bombs, perhaps not helping the situation, but certainly refusing to make it worse. Oboro surreptitiously glared at him for that choice while trying to silently wrangle Shigaraki away from committing murder.

He just looked away, mostly uninterested in whatever was going on, his gaze drifted to the television, which was playing mostly hero related news as always, something about keeping tabs on the enemy. Though this time, it appeared to be a clip taken from some frightened bystander’s phone of Midnight roundhouse kicking someone so hard the tip of her heel cut their skin. He shivered, why anyone ever cared for that kind of barbarity was beyond him, though he had little doubt Oboro would be excited to ask his friend, his girlfriend, about the fight. Atsuhiro still had not quite wrapped his mind round that particular bit of information. Theoretically, it wasn’t that hard to understand, he already knew Oboro was close with his teammates, this was just a tiny bit closer than he’d realised. It was more that there was now a tiny bit less separation he could put between Oboro as his friend, and Oboro as an ex-hero.

He reached for the remote and swapped the channel to a different news station, one still showing a hero, as there was little doubt that Shigaraki would throw a hissy fit if it didn’t. Once again, Oboro gave him a look, though this one was much more teasing than earlier. He rolled his eyes underneath his mask before deciding that if he was going to be loitering somewhere, it wouldn’t be the place that was liable to go up in flames and dust with one wrong word. Honestly, those two needed to get a hold of themselves if anything was to be getting done around here.

As he creeped past the bar on his way to the door, he heard Oboro muttering to Shigaraki, lecturing the boy on his behaviour, which was somehow not making things infinitely worse, though it also didn’t seem to be helping. But as soon as he was out of the building, he beelined it to the rooftop, sighing as he sat down on the concrete, leaning against the old generator and watching the clouds go by. A sour look crossed his face as a thought sprang to his mind unbidden, wondering if that was what Oboro’s quirk had looked like when he was still a hero. Atsuhiro quickly shook his head, he didn’t wish to be reminded of that, unfortunate, fact. But his mind was irritating at the best of times, and he just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. What a pity, he used to like looking for shapes in the clouds, he supposed he’d have to stop now if he was just going to think about a stupid hero the entire time.

Eventually he stood up, his frustration boiling over into a displeased noise halfway between a whine and a snarl. Why did his life have to get complicated!? Why couldn’t he have just lived as a thief without getting himself involved in some idiot’s foolish dreams!? Halfway through his mental rant he stopped himself, no, no that wasn’t entirely fair, Oboro was his friend, he was going to help. He ignored the voice in the back of his mind reminding him that he’d had falling outs over less. Maybe it was because of the fact that for some unfathomable reason, Oboro had given him another chance, but, as long as his life was not in immediate danger, he needed to see this through, whatever this was.

He glanced up at the sky, still afternoon, he could easily hop over to one of his haunts, see if there was anyone around with anything of value, and then scurry back here before anyone noticed he was gone. Besides, he had to grab something from Giran, and he’d had little respite between being the league’s errand boy, one of the unfortunate side effects of being the only person in the league who could actually go outside without a heavy disguise. That wasn’t even mentioning his continued role as courier, he often wondered how on earth Oboro had the time to write that many letters. As much as it irritated him to fetch things or speak with heroes, he was quite grateful for the time these tasks allowed him to just be alone for a while. Oh of course he’d gotten used to the crowded hustle and bustle of being in a team, he barely batted an eye at it anymore, but he still truly loved the quiet moments and stole them whenever he could.

He easily found the place he was looking for, where those with and without money intermingled unwillingly. And he didn’t mean people who could afford apartments versus those who were forced to take refuge in the streets. No, here there was a crawling mass of individuals with more money to spend than most would ever see, barely tolerating the poor folk who they’d pushed out of the many apartments here. The sight made him sick just as much as it made stealing from these fatuous slimes all the more gratifying.

He slowly snuck down into the alleyways, knowing the place by heart now, though nobody would know as he was always careful never to allow too many alarms to be raised. He’d just nick something shiny and hand it off to Giran, he didn’t feel the need to pawn whatever it could be and there would be no point in keeping it. As much as he loved pretty things, something about knowing that an ornament was bought from unearned riches made it a horrible thing to have around.

He quickly found his target, an older woman, perhaps late fifties, with a condescending air about her and a sparkling brooch upon her purse. He smiled to himself as he slipped into the shadows, biding his time and waiting until he was utterly certain he wouldn’t be seen, and picking the brooch right from its perch. What a vapid existence, to not even notice such a precious thing being snatched clean from under her nose. He disappeared as he’d arrived, silently and unseen.

It was only once he’d gotten to the roofs further from that area did he feel able to stop and release the precious trinket from its marble, nothing mind-blowingly valuable of course, but that was never the point. If he simply wanted to make a living, he’d have taken whatever he could from whomever he could, and sometimes he did, but this, this was his life’s work, to make sure none of these people would ever feel safe in their wealth.

He then made his way to Giran’s apartment, the dealer wouldn’t be all that happy with this intrusion, but he wouldn’t be able to deny Atsuhiro a mere moment to speak.

Atsuhiro knocked on the window, hearing a quiet string of curses as Giran realised exactly who would be doing something as odd as that. Atsuhiro leaned out of the way of the puff of smoke blown at his face as the glass swung open, “Giran! Bonsoir à toi aussi!” He grinned as he stepped inside and took away his mask, casually placing the brooch on the table before turning to the dealer, “I’m afraid I can’t stay to chat long, I simply wanted to retrieve that little gift.”

Giran chuckled, “really? No time for gossip? Ah well, here it is.” He handed the item to Atsuhiro, who examined it carefully.

“And you’re certain it’s clean?” He asked.

“Of course, since you specified,” Giran tilted his head, “you know, you’re going through an awful lot of trouble for this friend o’ yours.”

‘More than you know,’ Atsuhiro thought as he shrugged, “hey, you’re the one who told me ‘don’t mess it up,’ je fais simplement de mon mieux.”

Giran snickered, “first, I’m fairly sure that ain’t quite what I said, and second, are you sure this is worth it?” He paused before shaking his head, “oh who am I kidding, of course it’s worth it if you’re bothering.”

Atsuhiro frowned, “you really ought to stop being so oblique one of these days”

“So I’ve been told,” Giran remarked sardonically, “but hey, if I wasn’t like this who do ya think would’ve taught you how to give people the ol’ run around?”

Atsuhiro laughed, though the reminder made him equal parts sombre and warm as he recalled the many restless nights spent listening to the dealer do business with the foolish and shrewd alike. “I’m not sure that counts as teaching Giran,” he shook his head, “même si j'apprécie cela,” he glanced at the mask in his hand, “and, everything else.”

It seemed Giran had the good sense to leave it at that, changing the subject without prompting, “so, do I get any hints about who this mysterious friend is or am I just guessing blind?” He asked.

Atsuhiro shook his head, “désolé, I’m afraid you’re going to have to keep guessing, I think if I managed to let you get your hands on them I’d never hear the end of it.” That wasn’t actually the reason, though Oboro probably would also proceed to make every single one of his gripes with Giran even more Atsuhiro’s problem than they already were if that happened.

“It’s a damn shame though,” Giran muttered, “I’d like to meet ‘em, just to know what kind of miracle person managed to get you like this kid.”

Atsuhiro bristled silently at the nickname but let it slide this once, unwilling to start this roundabout line of argument when he really did need to get going. “Oui, eh bien, peut-être un jour,” if Oboro ever allowed it. But before he could get dragged into any more unwanted questions he pointedly put his mask back on and walked to the window, making it clear the conversation was over. Giran frowned but didn’t say anything as Atsuhiro hopped out to the sill and then to the rooftops above.

He sighed as he began to make his way back to the bar, putting a spring in his step upon the thought of Oboro’s reaction to the little gift he’d managed to procure. The afternoon sun had begun to dip lower in the sky and though the clouds were covering most of the view, even they were freckled with golden flecks of light that nearly made the whole scene look like a painting. Atsuhiro took a moment to bask in the sight of it before turning and continuing on his way.

About five minutes later, he noticed something odd, pausing to stare before dropping to street level, accidentally startling Twice, who was definitely heading away from the bar despite the time. “Bonsoir Twice,” he called, “I apologise for startling you, but it’s getting late, you oughtn’t to be out here you know.”

Twice laughed nervously, “yeah, well I was just heading to Giran’s for the night.”

Atsuhiro raised an eyebrow, “now why would you be doing that? Last time I checked you had a perfectly nice room at the bar.”

“It’s none of your business. Shigaraki told us to leave for the night, everyone,” Twice said, and Atsuhiro politely ignored his other voice, “apparently the big boss is coming around and he doesn’t want us to do anything stupid in front of someone like that. That’s not fair we would’ve behaved perfectly fine!”

Atsuhiro felt a chill run down his spine, “I, I beg your pardon, did you say All For One is coming to the bar, tonight?”

Twice nodded, “yep!”

Oh, oh dear, that wasn’t good. Atsuhiro chuckled, carefully hiding his nervousness behind amusement, “I see, in that case I’ll steer clear for a while.” And before Twice could respond he turned and hopped back onto the rooftops. He proceeded to try, futilely, to calm his racing heart. But it was no use, the only solace he had was that Oboro would not be physically hurt, not while Shigaraki was in the same room.

He looked over in the direction of the bar, it was not far away, he could make it there in about a minute if he sprinted. So he did just that, fuelled purely by adrenaline he pushed his body to its limits to get to his friend before it was too late.

And when he got there, he quickly hopped over to the window and looked inside, no All For One, not yet anyways, and Shigaraki was standing on the stairs, calling something to Oboro before he went up to the rooms. Atsuhiro tapped on the glass, startling Oboro who turned to the window and seemed to sigh wearily. He approached the window and opened it.

“Hey buddy,” he whispered, glancing around fervently, “now’s not a good time.”

“I know, I ran into Twice a bit ago and he informed me of the, ah, ‘meeting’ you were having,” Atsuhiro shook his head, “I only wanted to ask if you’d come over to my apartment when you’re done.”

Oboro chuckled, “aww, are you worried about me?”

Atsuhiro huffed, “with that monster in the equation? I have every right to be worried about you mon ami. And I’d rather not have to question your wellbeing until tomorrow.”

Oboro tilted his head amusedly, “alright, I’ll warp there whenever I can, now please scram before someone sees you.”

Atsuhiro nodded, wandering away from the bar to make his way back home. The promise did nothing to ease his anxiety of course, but he’d take not having to deal with it as long. He’d thought All For One was mostly letting Shigaraki do whatever with the league as long as they ultimately managed to defeat All Might, however perhaps their recent complete failure in the Beast’s Forest had warranted personal oversight. He certainly hoped this was a one-time thing, it was terrifying enough hearing about what the man could do from Oboro, seeing it first-hand would likely be a whole other story.

By the time he closed the door to his apartment, his body was feeling the full effect of his run through the city. He flopped down on the couch and groaned quietly, when would he learn? After a few moments of wallowing in misery, he eventually forced himself to go through his usual routines, to make himself dinner, change into something more comfortable, and ignore the dread gnawing at every fibre of his being.

It was far later in the night, while he was reading a book in an attempt to keep himself awake, when a familiar whooshing sound sent relief flooding through his chest. He quickly stood up as the portal opened and Oboro walked through, mercifully looking unharmed as he waved hello. “Atsu!” He grinned, “sorry if I kept ya waiting, the bastard wouldn’t leave until about, five minutes ago.”

“Non, ça va, I’m just glad you are alright,” Atsuhiro said, wincing slightly as Oboro hugged him with the usual intensity, “hey! Mon ami! Don’t crush the book!” He said, trying his best not to let its pages get crinkled.

“Oh, oops,” Oboro let him go long enough for him to set the book on the shelf, at which point he was promptly pulled back into the hug. He sighed as he returned it as best he could, knowing that there wasn’t a single thing he could say to get out of it. Not that he minded of course, he’d gotten somewhat used to the bear hugs, as slightly suffocating as they were, it was a comfortable kind of suffocating. That probably also had something to do with Oboro having finally figured out how strong he could be with Atsuhiro, though he’d mentioned offhandedly that it was much less that he was used to being with his friends. Atsuhiro had refrained from pointing out that most of the friends he was talking about were heroes who could take that kind of force without their ribs being crushed.

Oboro paused for a moment, trying to peek at the title of the book, but Atsuhiro rapidly marbled it, much to his disappointment, “aww, rude.”

“Mes choix littéraires ne te regardent pas,” Atsuhiro tapped him on the nose, “you’re far too nosy for your own good.”

Oboro raised an eyebrow, “why? Is it something embarrassing?” He teased, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Yes, actually, yes it was, not the contents of the book necessarily, it was great literature, but he was certain he’d never hear the end of the jokes at his expense if he allowed Oboro to realise what series it was. However Atsuhiro wasn’t about to let any hints of mortification about that possibility slip, “not particularly,” he said easily, “I just don’t want you prying into my hobbies.”

Oboro pouted but didn’t press the matter, instead he flopped onto the couch, going uncharacteristically silent.

Atsuhiro had a decent hunch of what that was about, “did something happen in the meeting?” He asked.

Oboro glanced at him before sighing and looking up at the ceiling, “so, All For One was pissed that the camp raid was a total failure,” his expression twisted into bitterness, “poor Tomura got chewed out pretty badly for that.”

Atsuhiro hummed, finding it rather difficult to find sympathy for their leader if all he received was a reprimand, but what did he know, perhaps the reprimand was horribly disproportionate. Actually that seemed rather likely considered who they were talking about.

Oboro didn’t seem to notice his relative indifference, “so, since our best mission so far’s been the one at Hosu, he ‘suggested’ that Tomura try that again.”

Atsuhiro frowned, “Hosu again? Or something similar in a different city?”

“Different city, Tomura hasn’t decided which one he wants to go for yet, but if All For One has any say in the matter, and he will, it’s gonna be somewhere with a lot of people.”

“Tomura wouldn’t be bold enough to go for Fukuoka, right?” Atsuhiro asked, a shiver going down his spine.

Oboro shook his head, “no, I doubt it, maybe Jaku? Or the main part of Kamino?”

Atsuhiro didn’t think that was likely, “and bring the heroes to our doorsteps? Either one would be a terrible idea.”

Oboro chuckled, “well, I really wouldn’t mind them going for Jaku, maybe someone could wreck the high-end labs.”

Atsuhiro couldn’t help but laugh along, “yes, that would be the best outcome of one of these disasters,” he muttered, before bringing himself back to reality, “no, whatever Shigaraki does it’s going to be destructive.”

Oboro grumbled something under his breath before sighing, “I really don’t want to ask this of you, but...”

“You want me to inform your partners of the threat?” Atsuhiro said snappily.

Oboro winced, “eh, yeah, I’m sorry, I know you guys don’t really get along.”

Well apparently the three heroes were now trying to do just that, if their last conversation was anything to go by, though Atsuhiro would really have preferred they stayed antagonistic. Perhaps this was a trap of some kind, something to lure him into a false sense of security before they stabbed him in the back. Yes, that was probably it, after all, no hero would ever be so kind if it did not benefit them personally. Well too bad for them, he was too smart to fall for their silly little tricks, he was a master of trickery! Far above such menial pests such as them.

He huffed as he took a seat next to his friend, “that’s a bit of an understatement.”

“I don’t know why they’re even doing that,” Oboro stuck his tongue out in displeasure, “they used to be better than that with strangers.”

“Les gens changent tu sais, it’s been fourteen years since you last knew them.”

“But they haven’t, I know they haven’t changed, at least not much,” Oboro insisted.

Atsuhiro tilted his head, “how can you be so certain of that mon ami?”

“Well, other than the fact that we’ve been exchanging letters for weeks now?” He asked amusedly, before his smile turned gentle, “I can still read them like books, everything, every mannerism, their different expressions, it’s all still the same, it all still means the same thing.” He turned to look at Atsuhiro, “I, I don’t know how to explain it, I just know, they’re the same as they ever were, just like I am, we’re just a bit older and debatably wiser.”

Atsuhiro’s expression softened at that. “I, I understand,” he murmured, “as much as I’d like to think I’m not the same person I was when I was younger, recent events have me questioning that conviction, so I suppose, sometimes, you just cannot change who someone is at their core.”

He eyed his shelves, “ah, but we’ve digressed, you might not need me to play messenger for you this time,” he said, a bit more excitement leaking into his voice than intended as he stood up.

Oboro hummed sharply, sitting up straighter with his curiosity piqued, “oh? What do you mean?” He asked, carefully eyeing Atsuhiro as he walked over to a particular shelf.

“I mean,” Atsuhiro said, picking up the gift he’d managed to acquire, “you could tell them yourself,” he said, holding out the flip-phone.

Oboro’s eyes widened, “what, wait, how did you?”

Atsuhiro shrugged, handing it over, “it’s technically a burner phone, untraceable in every way, but I figured that would work well enough for your purposes.”

Oboro stared at the gift with stars in his eyes, “thank you,” he whispered.

“Not a problem, really it’s just as much for my sanity as it is for yours,” Atsuhiro chuckled.

Oboro barked out a laugh as he realised what that meant, “alright, fair enough.” He looked at the phone for a second, “oh, well if I can contact people now,” he trailed off for a moment, “I know you don’t like telling people personal things, but, could I have your number?”

Atsuhiro paused, he hadn’t expected that at all, but, he supposed it made enough sense, if anything happened, it would be beneficial for Oboro to be able to contact him quickly. Though apparently he took too long to answer as Oboro smirked, “what? Do I need to buy you a drink first or something?”

Atsuhiro glared half-heartedly at him, “très drôle mon ami,” he rolled his eyes, “no, I was just surprised.” He wondered for a moment if he was hallucinating because he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of disappointment on his friend’s face, but it was gone in a blink, and he dismissed it as a trick of the light. He held out his hand for the phone, inputting his number and saving it with his name.

Oboro took it back, and quickly edited something, Atsuhiro leaned over to try and see, but Oboro snatched the phone away, “nuh-uh,” he stuck his togue out.

Atsuhiro huffed, sitting back down, “alright then, keep your secrets.”

Oboro stared at him, “did you just quote Lord of the Rings at me?”

“Why are you even surprised?” Atsuhiro asked, “I am not some uncultured swine.”

“I thought you didn’t like movie adaptations of books?”

Atsuhiro scoffed, “I don’t like them when they are poorly done!”

Oboro laughed, “alright, alright,” he turned back to the phone, giving Atsuhiro a quick call so that the he had the number. Then he smiled, “seriously, I don’t think I can thank you enough.”

Atsuhiro shook his head, “like I said mon ami, it’s really no problem.”

Oboro continued chatting for a bit, before he sighed and said he needed to go back to make sure Tomura was alright. Atsuhiro said goodbye and headed to bed himself, hoping that tomorrow would be a bit less stressful.

Chapter Text

It had been exactly three days since the last time Oboro sent him a text, that was fine, considering Atsuhiro had made it very clear the first day after he’d gotten a wall of texts throughout just the morning that his number was only for emergencies. But this morning while he was having breakfast, a nice change of pace from having to rush to the bar since today he wasn’t needed it seemed, his phone pinged with the sound of a message. He looked over, expecting it to be Magne with some gossip, or Giran giving him a tip off to a new thieving opportunity, except instead he saw Oboro’s name, seeming to glow brighter than the screen itself. He hurried to unlock his phone, eyes narrowing when he saw that it was only two words.

Rooftop. Now.

Well, so much for a calm day he supposed, hurrying to finish his food. He half-heartedly debated on whether to bother changing to his hero costume before deciding that even if Oboro brought his partners there wouldn’t be anyone who hadn’t already seen him like this. Though, if Oboro brought his partners, and he would if this was an emergency, he’d still very much like to keep some kind of privacy, so he simply marbled a mask from the mask drawer and ran out.

He was forced to take the streets that day, even with his skill he drew the line at trying to parkour right after the torrential rain they’d had the night prior, a broken clavicle had taught him that lesson the hard way. So instead he weaved his way through crowds of people heading off to work as he tried to make good time on his arrival. There wasn’t much interesting about any of the people, his eyes wandered, trying to pick out anything that could catch his curiosity and ease the stress that seemed so constant these days. However it seemed that nobody had decided to be anything but dreadfully boring today, perhaps the weather had gotten everyone’s moods down, shame, Atsuhiro wasn’t the biggest fan of stormy weather, but he had to admit it had its own kind of beauty.

He noted silently that, despite his misgivings, he’d have to climb up to the roofs and make the trip above for the next part. There was no way he was going to risk one of the other league members spotting him if they were out and about for one reason or another. So he hurriedly scampered to the top of the nearest building and cautiously began making his way towards his and Oboro’s rooftop. All the while, now without the clamour of the morning rush hour to occupy him, he began wondering what this was even about. It had to be an emergency, whatever this was couldn’t even be explained over text, and the only reason he could think of for that would be fear of being caught.

His mind drifted to the conversation they’d had last week, had All For One finally decided which city to make a move on? Or was there something much more dire going on?

He nearly stumbled when he got closer to the rooftop and spotted three other figures approaching. To the heroes’ credit, if he wasn’t up here as well, he was certain he might have missed them entirely, though he did sneer a bit at the fact that he’d spotted them at all, surely they had a bit more stealth than that. He shook his head, quickly slipping his mask over his displeased expression as the heroes noticed him.

The first one to him was Eraserhead, who just tilted his head and said, “Oboro called you?”

Atsuhiro was tempted to snap back that of course there was no other reason for him to even be here, but instead settled for a terse, “yes, he did.” All he got in response was a nod as the hero continued towards the rooftop. Odd. So far, Eraserhead had been the one most eager to rise to a fight, though perhaps he finally had some sense knocked into him and deemed this more important.

“Well no time to waste!” Present Mic reminded them as he and Midnight also ran towards the meeting spot, and Atsuhiro quickly followed, his eyes still scanning his surroundings because sticking in a group like this was a good way to attract unwanted attention.

His eyes brightened when he saw the rooftop come into view, and he hurried up, partially to see Oboro again, and partially so as not to be left alone with these unpredictable reprobates. His gaze locked in on his friend and he beelined over.

Oboro stared at him with a grin, “Atsu! Good, now we just need to wait for, oh, never mind!” He waved enthusiastically at his teammates, “hey there, I’d ask how you guys are doing but we’re all kinda screwed if this goes through so.”

“What, exactly, do you mean by that Cloud?” Midnight asked, her eyes narrowing as she tapped her nose in thought.

“All For One is planning a big attack, like what he did in Hosu, but this time multiple cities are gonna be affected.” It was unusual for Oboro to be so straightforward, but given the nature of what he’d just revealed, Atsuhiro could understand why.

“Plusieurs!?” Atsuhiro exclaimed, “you said last week they were only considering one!” He didn’t particularly care that the heroes were listening, they would get that information from Oboro himself anyway.

Oboro grimaced, “yeah, that’s what I thought too. But I just got out of a meeting with All For One, Garaki, and Tomura, and the idea is that instead of a concentrated attack designed to entirely clear the city of heroes, that we spread out the Nomu, target more cities, and just try to demoralise people, maybe take out a hero or two along the way.” He shuddered, “I don’t even know how the hell we can plan for something like that.”

Atsuhiro saw the harsh expressions on all the heroes, each one of them looking like they were already preparing for a fight, the hooligans. “What is the list?” Eraserhead asked, hand on his capture scarf. Atsuhiro had to resist from rolling his eyes at the display, nothing had happened yet, there was no need to act like they were going into battle.

Oboro ticked the names off his hands, “they’re doing Esuha, Musutafu, and Kiyashi for the first wave, and if that goes well enough they’re moving on to Deika, Naruhata, and Fukuoka.

“Musutafu? Bold of them to just go for us like that,” Present Mic mused, “especially since none of those locations can easily reinforce each other.”

“The nomu deployed at Kiyashi could,” Midnight pointed out, “though Esuha isn’t going to be easy to get back and forth to.”

“Unless you’re forgetting something,” Atsuhiro muttered, pointedly tilting his head towards Oboro.

“But even then there’s the issue of simply having one group surrounded because we could get through all that space between the attack sites to effectively quarantine the chaos,” Eraserhead pointed out. Oboro sternly glanced at his partner, raising an eyebrow and mouthing something that Atsuhiro couldn’t quite see as Eraserhead continued, “though the teleporting should absolutely be accounted for.”

Atsuhiro narrowed his eyes, what was that? Did Oboro just do something to stop Eraserhead from simply dismissing him? He couldn’t think about that right now, he had other things to focus on. Like the fact that this was about to be one of the boldest moves the league had ever made. He hoped that, at the very least, none of their human members would be on the front lines.

Oboro hummed, speaking up, “I don’t know what we’ll do, but we’ve gotta do something, right? There’s no way we can just sit back when we’re the only ones that have communication like this!”

“We will,” Present Mic assured him, “when’s the first wave?”

“In three days,” Oboro grimaced, “not a lot of time I know, but even I only just found out and-”

He was cut off by a look from Midnight, indecipherable to Atsuhiro, but enough to stop the apologies that would surely have come flooding from his friend’s mouth. “We can’t do much in three days,” she began, “but we can make sure that Musutafu and Kiyashi are protected, if we join our efforts with the heroes there once the fighting starts.”

Eraserhead cleared his throat, “don’t you two have a friend in Esuha who’s looking for someone to cover a patrol for them?” He asked, to which the other two nodded.

“Yeah, Ryukyu,” Present Mic confirmed, “she got pretty beat up in a fight recently and broke her leg, I can offer to take her patrol and then make sure the situation in Esuha doesn’t get out of control.”

Suddenly, Midnight’s eyes lit up, “wait, what about you two? Could you help run interference? Or is it too risky with All For One being so closely tied to this operation?”

Oboro shook his head, “I’m not sure about Compress, but I’ve got basically no choice since I’m going to be with All For One and Tomura, helping coordinate.” And by ‘helping’ Atsuhiro assumed he meant that he was going to have to follow exact orders on where he should warp the nomu to.

As for Atsuhiro, “I’d also rather not risk it,” he muttered, “too much chance of Magne figuring me out, and if that happens it’s over for us.” Realistically? He could probably convince her that this was a good idea, thy were siblings after all, and they always had each other’s backs no matter how stupid the idea was. On the other hand, these four didn’t know that, so he could absolutely get away with not being a reckless moron without Oboro calling him out. And when dealing with this lot, he’d like to save his own hide whenever he could thank you very much. That and he’d like to keep this, whatever this was, a secret from Magne and Giran at all costs.

“So we’re on our own,” Eraserhead muttered, “that’s fine, we’ll just have to plan accordingly.” Well at least it seemed that one was too pragmatic to be irritated, or he was hiding his irritation under the pragmatism, either one worked just fine for Atsuhiro.

Oboro sighed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you guys more, I wish I could...” He trailed off, glancing warily at Atsuhiro for some unfathomable reason before shaking his head, “oh, well, I better get going, wouldn’t want the League to miss me.” He opened a portal behind him, glancing at his partners, then at Atsuhiro, and back again, “you guys better play nice,” he scolded, though he was staring firmly at the three heroes as he said it.

Atsuhiro had just about enough wits left in him not to stand there like an idiot, again, what was that!?

However, it seemed his confusion had not escaped the notice of Present Mic, who sighed. “Look, can we talk?” He began, visibly cringing at how unsure he sounded but seeming friendly enough.

Atsuhiro raised an eyebrow under the mask, but nodded cautiously, “alright, what’s this about?”

“An apology,” Eraserhead said simply, “what?” He muttered as Present Mic gave him a look for interrupting, “I’m just ripping the band-aid off before you start stalling.”

An apology? Now Atsuhiro was intrigued, what on earth had happened to finally get these heroes to accept they were completely in the wrong? He thought that if he looked up he might see a flying swine with how this day was going. “Go on,” he said, not even bothering to hide the smugness in his voice.

Present Mic frowned, looking rather less amicable than earlier, quite unfair seeing as Atsuhiro had every right to be smug about this. “We were kind of assholes to you, alright? We probably shouldn’t have just assumed that you would backstab us the first chance you got.”

He’d expected as much for their reasoning, such buffoons as heroes often would never be able to see that he was simply a thief and nothing more, not some cold-hearted murderer intent on seeing Japan burn. “Fine,” he said finally, neither accepting, nor rejecting their apology just yet, “may I inquire what brought on this, sudden change of heart?”

“You mean us not hating you or the apology?” Present Mic asked.

“Both,” Atsuhiro had thought the two had happened at the same time, but now he was even more curious.

The three heroes shared a look before Present Mic sighed, “well, we stopped hating you, honestly it was that day a couple weeks ago, when ‘Oro nearly died.”

That was intriguing, so had the offer for friendship been genuine then? Atsuhiro mentally shook himself out of that train of thought, no, absolutely not, both that and this apology must have been attempts to get on his good side, well it wasn’t going to work!

Present Mic continued, seemingly oblivious to Atsuhiro’s internal thoughts, “I don’t know, it sounds dumb to say out loud but, after he woke up, you were so concerned when you talked to him, you know? You even hugged him. And, well you’d have to be an insanely good actor to fake that kind of emotion so well, I know what fake worry looks like, that wasn’t it.”

Well wasn’t that interesting? While Atsuhiro had no doubt that he absolutely could fool this ditz of a hero any day of the week, it took a certain kind of consideration not to immediately assume he was just faking better than anyone could read. Not that it was a remarkable trait, well, remarkable for a hero maybe, but it was common sense to anyone else.

“As for the apology,” Present Mic said, “that was decided six days ago.”

Six days, the day after Atsuhiro had gifted Oboro the phone, it didn’t take a genius to figure out exactly whose influence had prompted this, “ah, what did he say?” He asked, because there was no use pretending like it was of these heroes’ own volition.

“You want to see for yourself?” Present Mic held out his phone, though he did not give it to Atsuhiro, again, rude, he wouldn’t have pried into anything. The phone was open to a group chat named ‘we’re back baby!’ He heard the hero chuckle, “the name gets changed a lot.”

Atsuhiro didn’t acknowledge that, instead staring at the text messages.

I lived bitch: okay but seriously guys what’s taking you so long?

Overgrown cockatoo: ??

I lived bitch: you’re still treating Compress like a bad guy

SleepyTimeTea: 0‸0? No we’re not? We said we could be friends after that incident!

I lived bitch: well clearly you didn’t communicate well enough

I lived bitch: look, I know why you guys are doing this, but he doesn’t

>:3: so what do you want us to do Cloud?

I lived bitch: talk to him, apologize

Overgrown cockatoo: Alright, we’ll do it next time we see him.

Atsuhiro looked up as Present Mic pulled the phone away, well, that was certainly something. However, something in Oboro’s wording was off, unless he assumed Atsuhiro couldn’t see the obvious reasons why heroes wouldn’t trust him. “What did he mean by me ‘not knowing’ why you were so distrustful of me?”

Present Mic sighed, “look, you know Oboro well by now, yeah?”

Atsuhiro nodded, wondering where on earth this could possibly be going.

“Well what would you do if he suddenly showed up with a new friend?” Midnight asked, and Atsuhiro couldn’t parse that in the slightest, were they jealous of him? Or was there something else hidden here?

“I-” He almost said that he didn’t know what he’d do, when he figured out the correct answer would be to prove them wrong by emphasizing that he wouldn’t be so ruffled over something to trifling, “I wouldn’t care.”

Eraserhead’s eyes scanned him for a moment before the hero huffed, “well, word of advice, you really should be suspicious.”

Atsuhiro tilted his head, confused and slightly offended on Oboro’s behalf, “do you not even trust your own partner’s judgment?” He asked incredulously, how horrid could these heroes be!?

Present Mic sighed, again, seemingly displeased with the turn the conversation had taken, “we trust him, of course we do, but, well it takes a special kind of optimism to be even half as friendly as our dear Cloud is.” The hero shook his head, “it wouldn’t be the first time Oboro got himself a bad friend just because he was trying to see the best in someone.”

Ah, surprisingly, Atsuhiro could understand that motivation well, Oboro was a sweet person, and while he took no nonsense from arrogant clods, until he was openly betrayed he would likely never lose faith in someone’s ability to be better. He hated to agree with a hero, but in this one, singular case, he saw their point of view just slightly, even if he still thought it was an entirely irrational point of view to hold.

He eventually gave in, “he does seem like the type,” he admitted, though it still rankled at his mind that they could assume such things of him

“So yeah,” Present Mic shrugged, “you don’t have to accept the apology or anything, but it’s there.”

Atsuhiro was about to turn around and leave when a tiny voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Oboro’s told him to just go along with it, even if it hurt his heart to do so, it would ensure no trouble came his way from these three again. So after a long pause, “apology accepted,” he muttered, running off before he could hear any response they could possibly have.

He made his way back home, he still wasn’t needed at the bar, and right now he wasn’t entirely sure it would be wise to be around Magne with his mind thrown into disarray. Instead, he pulled out his phone, quietly debating whether to send a text or not, when he unthinkingly clicked the call button on Oboro’s contact. He panicked a little, cutting it almost immediately so as not to alert anyone in his friend’s vicinity.

He sighed, deciding to read a book and try to sort his thoughts out via distraction, but he couldn’t entirely get it out of his head. This had to be a trap, or an utter lie they were saying to keep Oboro happy. But Atsuhiro had thought he was good at recognizing those things, why hadn’t his mind begun ringing alarm bells like it so often did? The obvious answer was that these three were better liars than he could detect. So he’d just have to learn their patterns and tricks, hopefully figuring out what their end goals were in the process.

It was close to evening by the time anything happened to snap him out of his thoughts, that wasn’t good, how long had he really spent pondering this mess? It had only felt like a few minutes, but according to the sky outside his window, at least from what he could see past a gathering storm, it was getting quite late in the afternoon. And there was an incessant ringing nearby. He glanced over to, oh, it was his phone, he had a call. He froze a bit when he saw the contact, Oboro must have seen the missed call and assumed it was important. He silently felt guilty for worrying his friend, but accepted the call to clear things up, “bonjour?”

“I’m just gonna assume that was about the apology?” Oboro asked, sounding worried, “I hope they didn’t fuck it up somehow.”

“No, I don’t think they did...” Atsuhiro trailed off, he tried, had been trying all day so far, to think of anything to clue him into any crumbs of insincerity within the heroes’ words, but so far he’d turned up nothing.

“Good,” he could hear the nervous smile in Oboro’s voice, “I, I’m sorry about them, they’re a bit overprotective.”

Atsuhiro couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement, “that’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one,” he shook his head, wondering for a moment if he should admit his thoughts out loud. “Did you actually have friends who took advantage of your kindness?”

Oboro hummed, “all the time before high-school, and then my partners showed up, I trusted too much, they didn’t trust anyone, it balanced out.”

“But you’re certainly better at judging others now,” Atsuhiro pointed out.

Oboro laughed, though it rang hollow and was tinged with bitterness, “sometimes, I’m not sure I am.”

“What do you-” Atsuhiro began but was cut off.

“Anyway,” though that did nothing to assuage Atsuhiro’s curiosity, what was he talking about? “About the nomu attacks, I have a bad feeling about it all.”

“I think we all have a ‘bad feeling’ about a plan to sow chaos across the country Oboro,” Atsuhiro deadpanned.

“That’s not what I mean Atsu, I mean, I can’t help but think something is going to go horribly wrong.”

Didn’t they all? Atsuhiro tried to lighten the mood, “je suis sûr que ce n'est que de l'anxiété.”

Oboro didn’t say anything but then, “yeah, you’re probably right.”

Atsuhiro smiled to himself, “your partners will be fine mon ami, if there’s one thing I’ll give you stubborn heroes, it’s that you all seem to refuse to stay down for long.”