Chapter Text
The door slammed open and Tenko stopped a few steps into the room. “There you two are. We're supposed to be training.”
Shōta lifted his head from the plans spread across the table in front of them. The younger man looked agitated.
Oboro just sounded like Oboro with a thesaurus at this point. “Are you well, Master Tomura?”
“I'm fine.” Tenko dropped into a chair across from them. “What even is this?”
“We must revise our plans to procure the doctor,” Oboro replied. “Ruse will not be able to assist us.”
“Why the hell not?” Tenko glared at Shōta.
Shōta rubbed an eye. “Last time I was there, the doctor gave an order."
Tenko waited for more. “And?”
“Ruse received programming much like I did,” Oboro explained carefully. “Mine was to forget myself in the long term to serve Sensei and yourself, and to act as your caretaker. His was to temporarily forget himself when given directives to kill, continuing until the directive is met.”
“So you're like Sensei's feral hit man?”
“That…is not how I would have described it…” Shōta replied. He put a hand over the top of his pocket, feeling the shape of the auto-injector there. "The doctor's order was interrupted but I have no idea when or how it might reactivate."
“You didn't say anything about any of this before,” Tenko pressed.
“When it's done, I also forget whatever I did,” Shōta admitted.
“So can you actually be sure that you didn't follow any of his orders in the last 18 years then?” Tenko stared hard at the table as he thought.
Shōta waved a hand helplessly, his answer halting. “I…don't know. Remembering…anything at all…it's new."
“That sounds horrifying.” Tenko flinched, shaking his head, and turned to Kurogiri. He reached toward his neck but stopped himself. “Do you remember things too now? Your life before, I mean.”
Oboro leaned forward on one elbow. “Before Sensei?”
Tenko nodded. “I mean, if he's remembering, seems like you could too. And you've been different since you came back.”
Oboro considered Tenko before answering. “Yes, I remember my previous life.”
“So, when it's just us…” Tenko began hesitantly, “should we keep calling you Kurogiri, or should we call you Oboro instead?”
Oboro's hand found Shōta's under the table, his grip crushing. Somehow, he kept his voice level and his face calm. “I would like it if you called me Oboro.”
“Okay,” Tenko said, his body finally relaxing somewhat. “Then you should call me by the name my mother gave me too."
Shōta crushed Oboro's hand in return.
“So Tenko, not Master Tomura,” the younger man added. “Is it weird to have both Kurogiri and Oboro memories at the same time?”
Hizashi had gotten them some fancy juice drinks. They were bright green. Shōta looked from the drink to Hizashi's face, then back down. These things were expensive and he hated the idea of wasting food or money - but green?
Hizashi laughed at him, straw hanging out of his mouth. “I know it looks weird, but it mostly tastes like pineapples.”
Shōta imagined the mostly flavorless, too-chewy pieces from the mixed fruit cups he'd get in his free school lunches back in Sanya. Why would that make this green drink more appealing?
He took a small sip from the straw before leaning back and making a face. “It's sour?”
“Pineapple is sour,” Hizashi shrugged. “I can get you a different one if you don't like that. They have a really good mango one that tastes sweet.”
“No. Thank you,” Shōta said quickly, taking another drink. Pineapple was supposed to be sour? It wasn't so bad now that he knew to expect it.
“How do you want to spend our surprise day together?” Hizashi asked excitedly.
Shōta stirred the drink with the straw and shrugged.
Hizashi bit his lip. Shōta's eyes immediately followed the motion and lingered there. He caught himself after a moment and averted his eyes to the tiny bubbles at the top of the freshly blended juice.
“Unless you wanted to be alone?” Hizashi asked. “I mean…you kinda had all your privacy blown up today, so I'd understand. Just tell me.”
“No, I just don't know what to do with ‘free time’,” Shōta admitted, wincing at how that sounded.
Hizashi was looking at him like he had two heads. Everything about this morning was making him feel like he was dying inside.
“I mean, before…um, before Sunpu,” Shōta choked out. “I was always at school, or classes, or helping at the store around the block…so I didn't really have any.”
“No wonder you always look exhausted,” Hizashi said with a laugh. “You're like a 12-year-old salary man.”
“I'm 13,” Shōta corrected.
Hizashi stared at him. “What? Since when?”
“2 weeks ago.”
“You didn’t say anything?!”
“No…?”
Hizashi pushed his drink aside to lean forward. “Okay, we're fixing this. First, we're going to the comic shop…”
“Yo, Dad?”
A little zap, though not unpleasant.
“What?” Shōta replied.
Naoki squinted at him. “Do you not want me to call you that?”
Shōta stopped with his foot on the roof's ledge. “No, it's fine.”
“Is it?” Naoki stopped next to him and looked over. “Because you twitch every time I say it.”
“I…I like it.” A small genuine smile spread across his face. “I'm just still getting used to it.”
“It's been like a month.”
“We haven't spent enough time together lately. And it took me a while with Eri too. 1-A thought it was hysterical.” Shōta dropped to street level and walked across the road, Naoki at his heels.
“I can't believe you convinced me that this was a good idea,” Naoki said.
“Believe it,” Shōta replied, pushing him through the door.
“You think he's gonna be okay with this, or…?” Naoki asked.
Shōta left his hand between Naoki's shoulders, guiding him toward the living space.
“He's probably going to gripe at first. Stick with it,” Shōta advised.
Naoki stopped with his hand on the doorknob. Voices came through the door.
“I know we retain access to Sensei's funds, but we have other mission-critical expenses,” Oboro scolded gently. “That is the 3rd console in 2 months.”
“You floated in out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me,” Tenko snapped. “I'm going to put a bell on you.”
“Okay, I'm not nervous anymore,” Naoki whispered.
Shōta snorted. “I told you.”
Naoki opened the door and walked in. Tenko's head snapped up. Oboro took the opportunity to walk away with a dustpan full of decayed console.
“What is that vigilante doing here?” Tenko scowled.
“He agreed to help you get the doctor back,” Shōta answered.
Tenko stalked over. “I don’t want his help.”
Naoki stared Tenko down. “I'm not here to help you. I'm here to help Ruse.”
“And you. You didn’t even talk to us about this first?!” Tenko looked at Shōta.
“It's the quickest, easiest substitution,” Shōta responded. “His fighting style and in-the-moment problem-solving is closest to mine.”
Tenko scoffed. “He's quirkless.”
Naoki's face was bored, but his posture was pulled tight. “I could beat your parched ass anyway.’
“Tenko,” Shōta said as he moved between the two young men. “Go find Oboro.”
“What? Why?” Tenko growled.
Tenko did as he was told at the matching unsettling smiles he got in response.
