Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The doorbell rang just as Hiroto’s microwave dinner was finished. As Hiroto had had a long day at work he considered just ignoring the bell. However he had ordered new contacts that were due to arrive today, so he just about managed to conjure a pleasant smile on his face for the delivery man and opened the door. He needn’t have bothered with the polite smile as it was not the deliveryman with the awaited package at his door but an old university friend carrying a huge stinking box and with an enormous smile on his face.

“Jiro, why?” Hiroto asked as his strained smile dropped into a tired frown. He still invited his friend and the box in. “Oh, my friend, my friend! I tell you why! This box, that I found just lying in the thrash, this box contains all our childhood dreams! Let me show you the pure gold that is recorded on these tapes!”

“Tapes?” Hiroto asked a bit more interested now. “Are they old movies or something?” Both of them had met at their university’s film club and shared a love for the classics. “Better yet! I think it’s a project that someone never finished, it’s mostly uncut footage but what is on it is gold! The drama, the action, the existential horror!”

“A never before seen movie?” Hiroto gestured for Jiro to set up the film projector and gave him the warm microwave dinner and a spoon while grabbing another one from the fridge for himself. “There is enough footage here for a series my friend! And look we always had this dream to work on our own movie right? We are both old men that know that that is no longer in our future but I think we could finish this project. We won’t be able to sell it, but with your editing skills and with me cleaning up the sound and putting some good tracks under it, Well, we have something special here. We’ll have to release it for free, but just working on this will be great!”

“Let’s see about that, you might be retired, but I still have some time left to go. I won’t be able to spend that much time on it.”“Please, since the divorce you have been itching for a project as much as I have.” Jiro countered as he started the film. It only took until the end of the first scene for Hiroto to agree.

---

Aizawa was enjoying his naptime before class behind his desk. It was only the third day of term but his new first year class seemed have grown a bit closer together already. Yesterday’s Team based hero exercises under All might’s supervision seemed to have gone over well. Right now most of them were discussing some new series that was causing quiet the buzz.

“I watched all twelve episodes last night, I didn’t sleep until four in the morning!” It seemed like Aizawa would have to keep an eye on his students today to make sure they didn’t drift off into sleep.

“Don’t spoil it you fucking extra! I still need to see the other nine episodes!”

“Good point Bakugo! Has everyone seen the first episode so that we can freely discuss the contents?”

“Eh! You’ve seen it as well Iida? Interesting, it is not the sort of show I imagined you enjoying.”

“I also thought that the series would be too dramatic for my tastes, being described as a battle royal or hunger games type of series, but the first episode showed a great grasp of human emotions and compelling characters. It has given me valuable insight into villain and vigilante attitudes. Did you enjoy it as well Uraraka-san?”

“I did! The actor that plays Tenko is brilliant isn’t he! He can’t be older than five in the first episode but I cried when he told Shirakumo what happened to his family.”

Ah, a Shirakumo? Well their Shirakumo would have liked to share his name with a tv-character, as long as they were one of the good guys of course. Maybe Aizawa would need to see the series himself, to see if the portrayal of this Shirakumo was acceptable.

“Their quirks were amazing as well! I’ve never seen a cloud based quirk before! And they used it so creatively! Do you think that that was the actors own quirk?”

Huh. Maybe their Shirakumo had had a family member with a similar quirk? Aizawa grabbed his phone and wiggled it out of his sleeping bag until it was in front of his nose. What was the name of the series again. Well just searching for Shirakumo on images would probably get him a faster result with how viral the series seemed to have gone. Oh, that is… that is their Shirakumo. He clicked on the picture, searching for a description of the show, a trailer popped up instead. Aizawa pressed play.

One minute later he was storming out of the class, just managing to tell the students to behave while he dealt with an emergency. He needed to talk to Hizashi.

---

Nezu watched as Tsuragamae Kenji, head of the police force, took to the stage. The room was filled with police officers, detectives and a great number of heroes. Many of the heroes looked rough. Endeavour’s facial flames weren’t large enough to hide the bags under his eyes. Aizawa looked alert for once, Kayama was dressed in sweats instead of her usual provocative clothing and Yamada was missing his sunglasses. Nezu himself was no less gutted by the case, all aspects of it hit close to home after all.

“Ahum, Woof! Welcome everyone. This is a preliminary briefing for a newly opened case. Since yesterday we have received numerous tips that the viral series “Borderland” might actually be footage of real people forced into live or dead situations. Woof! Some of these people we have identified as dead or missing persons. We therefor consider it likely that the footage is real and that people were kidnapped and forced into these live and dead situations.”

Like rats in an unethical lab, forced to preform to receive food and treats Nezu thought darkly.

“The footage shows these people, some of them still minors, competing for resources in deadly games, at least a dozen people are killed on screen, many permanently maimed. We are currently tracking the origin of the footage and are trying to get the series down. However due to its popularity we will most likely not succeed in taking it down permanently. Woof!”

Very true and very regrettable, the series had contained some very private moments that became uncomfortable to watch once one realized that those filmed had not given permission for their private moments to be spread far and wide into the world.

“Our priorities right now are to locate the victims and the perpetrator.”

There were already hands rising. Tsuragamae gestured to one of them. “Some of these people’s disappearance, like the Magne person, seem to be linked to the police department. Will an internal investigation be conducted?”

Not only Miss Magne’s kidnapping, but a few others showed a deep link between the authorities and the kidnapper. Young miss Toga disappeared during a police chase and their own young Shirakumo Oboro had been declared dead by the authorities.

“Ah, yes a most serious stain on our police force. That investigation has already started and relevant results will be shared with this task force.”

“Do we have any idea of the timeline of events, the victims seem to be under the effects of some kind of anti-aging quirk. When do we estimate the escape took place?”

“What was the motivation of the villain? Was all this done just to make a drama?”

“Ahem, Ahem, I think it is time for me to take over, wouldn’t you say so, dear Chief?” Nezu said as he climbed the stage. “Right.” Tsuragamae said with some relieve as he handed over the microphone.

“Hello everyone, I’m Nezu, AU school principle and consultant on this case. As I have had time to study the case I will be answering any questions you have. We estimate that the kidnappings took place over a period of at least ten years, the first identified victim, Shirakumo Oboro was declared dead ten years ago. The most recent identified victim, Toga Himiko, went missing just a year ago. We therefore estimate that the escape of the group took place no more than half a year ago. We do not know if they were ultimately successful or if they have been recaptured or even killed.”

The group was resourceful, but if he was behind this it would have been difficult to hide. Endeavour’s facial flames flickered ominously.

“From certain factors of the footage we concluded that it is unlikely that this was all organised for the production of the series. No, the alternate world itself seems to be a set up for people to use their quirks to the fullest extent. When new people appeared the challenges changed to suit the new quirks. We therefore think that someone was studying and experimenting on these peoples quirks. The attempt to keep the victims in puberty, the period in which quirks are most likely to further develop seems to support the theory. This was an attempt to create powerful quirks, we are not yet sure for what purpose.”

Not sure no, but a person who could steal quirks might benefit from a more complete development of said quirk before he harvested them. Like rearing a herd of cattle until they are ready for the slaughter.

“If the small group of escapees managed to stay free until now they have most likely gone deep underground. They do not trust the police or heroes, and they are accustomed to defend themselves with deadly force. We do not want to push them into that direction, if you encounter them and they seem ready to fight please back off. We will offer them supplies and shelter and hope that they will accept some of the help we can offer, our end goal is to get them into protective custody. Some of them have been in the equivalent of a war-zone since childhood, they will most likely need help re-adapting to society.”

Tenko had been kidnapped at five years of age and would barely have any memories of the real world at all. Many of the others had had trouble fitting in before this had happened to them. There was a risk that the whole group would give up on fitting into society and go down the path of villainy.

“To find those still trapped in the other world we will need to find the perpetrator. We have very little leads at this time, but we are leaving no stone unturned. Thank you for your attention.”

Nezu bowed and returned the microphone to the Chief. No stone unturned no, but All for One had remained hidden from them for eight years already. They could only hope that the mistakes he made here would be his undoing.

---

All for One was not one for indulging in mindless television, he was of the opinion that too much of such an activity might melt once brain. However for the sake of socialization he did keep up with the mayor hits of contemporary culture. People became suspicious when his pop culture knowledge and tastes ran more along the lines of their grandparents generation than their own. Those awkward moments during a conversation in which the generational gap became apparent made him feel so old.

Therefore he had taken an hour out of his busy schedule to watch the new hit series “Borderland”. He was actually looking forward to it, the summaries made it sound like just his cup of tea. He dropped the back of his chair into a comfortable lounge position, hooked his brain into the system and pressed start.

The opening was marvelous, a very ominous tune and a bird eyes view of an abandoned Tokyo city, it even kind of resembled his quirk arena, clearly the designers had taste. Then the series began with a full body shot of one Shirakumo Oboro. All for One disconnected from the stream and shot up in his chair.

“Nomu! What did you do with the quirk arena footage that I had told you to put away!”

Chapter Text

“There is no wind in hell.” Oboro Shirakumo muses from the middle of the black desert. Before him the fine black sand is smooth and reflects the blue sky clearer than a polished mirror, undisturbed by wind or rain or any living creature. It has become impossible even, to differentiate the sky from the earth. As Oboro stares at the sublime image, he tilts and stumbles onto his hands and knees. His fingers dig into the sand, it is so fine that it feels like water under his fingers. He has the sudden urge to cup it in his palms, bring it to his lips and drink until he quenches his thirst. He shakes his head and lets the sand fall from his palms, he instead takes the last bottle from his backpack for a sip.

Three days has it been since he left the city. For three days he has heard no sound, smelled no scent and seen nothing but the reflection of the sky on the sand. If there is a way out beyond the dessert, Oboro will not reach it with his mind in one piece. He looks back. His footsteps are the only feature that break the monotony of the desert. Looking at them gives Oboro a sense of comfort. “Look, real enough to leave a trail.” He mutters to himself.

He picks himself up and starts on the long way back.
--
Entering the city, the sweet sound of the fountain is the thing that keeps him going for those last few steps. When he finally reaches the water he eagerly dunks his whole head into the basin. He swallows the fresh water until he feels like he’ll burst with one more sip, it’s so delicious. Satisfied he sprawls down on the steps next to the western style fountain.

Well, that trip had been terrible. He even had had some doubts that he would make it back. Really, he never imagined he would feel such a relief upon seeing this city. It has already been two weeks since Oboro woke up in this abandoned world, the last thing he remembered being his work studies. He woke up on a random street with his face looking like doctor Frankenstein put it back together. It is such a creepy place, he has so many questions and there is no one around to ask.

The city is huge, an exact replica of Tokyo city for as far as Oboro can tell. The Tokyo Skytree, the Meiji Shrine and the underground metro system are all where there supposed to be, which are the only places Oboro remembers from his field-trip years ago, but there are some glaring differences. There are no people on the streets and no food or clothing in any of the houses or shops. If a place is furnished at all it is impersonal, like one of those model houses, no family pictures, random papers or messy kitchens in this place. The whole city is like one of those table top models, a detailed replica that misses nearly everything that makes a place livable.

Oboro groans, his stomach, having had its fill of water starts to cramp and complain about the lack of that other necessity, food. He gives it a little pad. “You’ll have to wait just a little longer. Its nearly dusk, just hang on until then sweet stomach.”

He reluctantly gets up to fill his water bottles and nearly drops them instead. There on the other side of the fountain is a kid. Their a small thing, long tangled white hair and chapped lips. Wearing the same exercise clothes that Oboro has on. The white outfit that he hates makes the child look like a washed out ghost. The only colour on them are their red eyes that are staring up at Oboro.

“Oh, hey, huh. Hello there.” Oboro stumbles through his surprise. The kid stumbles back. “Hey, no wait, its alright.” The kid takes off. “WAIT!” Oboro attempts to jumps over the fountain but his hand gives way and he falls into the water instead.

With a sputter he resurfaces. He should take to the skies and scan the street, see if he can spot the kid. His stomach cramps again. Really, what is he doing? That kid just ran away terrified. Who knows how long they have been here all alone. They might be half feral. Chasing them like this isn’t going to help. He needs patience and food, like with his kitten Sushi. Show them you mean no harm.

He slowly gathers his stuff. It is dusk anyway, he will come back for the kid tomorrow, he needs to complete a challenge.

As the sun sets behind the mountains lights come on all over the city.
---
The subway entrance is lit up, one light shines down on a table with a single card on top. It is a seven of spades, higher than he would like, but he needs food and the entry time slot is nearly over. He descends into the station.

“Welcome, Loud Cloud. Game level: seven of spades. Game title: Obstacle race. Game clear: cross the finish line within the time limit. Time limit: 30 minutes.” The familiar robotic voice echoes through the station as the text appears on the screens. Even the standard female robotic voice is welcome after weeks of only hearing his own voice. “Please continue to the start line. Five minutes left until the start of the Game.”

He follows the arrows to the starting point and slides off the platform. The starting line is on the train track and he steps up to it until his toes are just behind the white line. He stares at the countdown filled with anticipation. Then, to his disbelieve, he hears from the direction of the stairs footsteps. He briefly wonders if the child might have followed him, but these footsteps sound too heavy to be a child’s.

He watches as a man slowly descends the stairs. The most noticeable thing about him is the coat that the man is wearing, it is armless, floor length and painted with all kinds of birds. It is colourful enough to be something that Hizashi would love to wear Oboro thinks with a pang in his heart.

The man looks surprised to see Oboro at the tracks but then gives him an enthusiastic wave. “Oh, hey kid! Are you new here?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I mean wait, who are you? How long have you been here? I have so many questions! What is this place, how did we get here … how do we leave!?” A mighty growl interrupts Oboro’s monologue.

“Hahaha, slow down kid! You hungry? Here I have one of those energy bars left.” The man hands Oboro a bar. “You shouldn’t go into challenges hungry, decreases the changes of survival. I have been here six months I guess? I'm Splinter and I’m part of the Greater Group. We’re with quit a few people and we’re always growing. We take care of each other, make sure no one is hungry you know? You should joins us.”

Oboro nearly tears up as he eats the bar with relish. There are other people here, a whole group of them! “Thank you Senpai! I’m Oboro, please take me to meet your group!” He says with a bow, his cheeks still stuffed with the tasteless but filling ration bar. Splinter gives an embarrassed wave. “Ah, don’t mention it, we can talk some more after this. It’s nearly time. Or hey, if you don’t want to do this you can sit it out you know, our group doesn’t force people to compete in the challenges and this one is a seven, it will be though.”

Oboro shakes his head. “Nah, thank you but I will be alright. I am a UA student, I even have a provisional license.” Splinter grins. “Oh, a pro-hero! Now you’ll have to join our group, you’ll fit right in! We have quite a few other heroes and hero hopefuls in the group. This challenge should be a very simple thing for the two of us!” An announcement interrupts them. “Game start in thirty seconds.”

“Okay, my quirk is the creation of shields, like this.” Splinter moves his right hand in front of himself and pressed his palm against an invisible barrier.” He turns his palm down and pushes the shield until it is hovering above the ground like a surf board, then he jumps on it. “Do you need a ride?”

“Ha, our quirks are so alike! I make clouds.” He summons a good sized cloud and jumps on. “And thank you, but I have my own ride.” He grins. Splinter grins back and three red lights light up in front of them. Oboro takes a deep breath and exhales all his tension, like he learned from Sensei. The first red light goes out. He bends his knees and braces himself on his cloud. Second red light disappears. He focuses everything on the dark tunnel in front of him. Whatever obstacles lay ahead they will overcome them, they will finish this race and go to the group, they’ll even pick up the little kid. The last light disappears. And they’re off.

The lights of the tunnel transform into stripes with the speed they’re going, Splinter is keeping up, even pulling a bit in front of Oboro. He braces himself as he takes a turn, eyes wide open for the promised hurdles. Still the adrenaline from the race and the unexpected meeting with another person have him grinning like a loon as he races through the tunnels under Tokyo city.

Then Splinter races a hand and Oboro hears a faint rumbling. It echoes through the tunnels and seems to grow stronger the further they go, until it is right above them and a giant rock falls from the ceiling and scrapes his head. Oboro freezes. The lights ahead are flashing. The ground is rumbling. The whole ceiling is collapsing on top of him.
He can’t breathe.

“Oboro!” A sharp pain in his cheek snaps him out of it. Splinter is right in front of him standing on Oboro’s cloud as he holds up the ceiling with his Shield. “Snap out of it, we have to go.” Splinter grunts. Oboro nods a bit shaken up still but sinks into his cloud. “Right, brace yourself Splinter!” He takes off again and speeds up as fast as he can.

He isn’t sure how long they fly through the collapsing tunnel, but he cannot even hear the sound of the rumbling anymore by the time he comes back to himself completely his heartbeat slowing down again until it feels like it can fit in his chest again. Splinter drops the shield from over their heads and jumps back onto it.

“Thanks Splinter-senpai!” Oboro shouts in the wind. He is a bit cross with himself for needing the help, but grateful to have received it all the same. Splinter gives him a friendly wave.

They speeds past another station, the platform lit up but completely deserted, a huge digital clock shows the time left they have left, twenty minutes to go.

Oboro continues to follow Splinters along the tracks. They’re both tense in anticipation for the next obstacle. Still the high screech in front of them curls the blood in his veins. He strains to look passed Splinter and sees a strange creature. White skin, bat like wings and a beak, not too strange for a quirk, accept that this creature has an exposed brain. It screeches again, as it races towards them.

“Oboro catch me!” Splinter shouts as he jumps up in the air and moves his arm like he is throwing a Frisbee. His shield flies through the air and cuts through the right wing of the creature taking it off at the base. The creature is down before Splinter even lands on Oboro’s cloud.

“Ah, Splinter-senpai that was amazing!” Oboro shouts as they fly over the creature’s fallen form. “You’ve such good control!” Splinter grins. “Lots of practice! Now two down!”
He remakes his shield and steps off the cloud. Just as he steps on his shield again a clawed hand swipes across his back.

“Splinter!”

Splinter stumbles, his shield falters and Oboro just manages to haul him back on his cloud before he falls.

“Fuck.” Splinter groans. Oboro settles the man in front of him, as he speeds up as fast as he can. Splinters injuries are bad, his beautiful coat is ruined, ripped to pieces and soaked in blood. There are four deep cuts in his flesh and Oboro can see white spots that he is certain are bone. The creature lets out another of those terrible shrieks as it chases them. Oboro risks a quick glance back, its wing has grown back and it is gaining on them.

Oboro frantically looks back in front of him, trying to come up with a plan, any plan. And then he spots it, the tunnel branches off in front of him. He fills the tunnel behind him with his clouds. At the split a giant flashing arrow points into the correct direction but Oboro makes sure that his clouds obscure everything around him. He enters the correct tunnel and slows down to a stop in the mist he created. He needs to be close by enough for the next step. He presses the, against the wall and waits. Splinter keeps silent as well. They hear the wingbeats closing in on them rapidly, just a little closer. When the creature is just at the junction he solidifies a cloud in the wrong tunnel and drags it over the tracks, it makes a enormous rattling noise and the creature takes the bait and goes down the wrong tunnel. Just then Splinter unexpectedly runs of his cloud and slaps his hand on the entrance of the wrong tunnel, creating a shield that traps the creature on the other side.

“Splinter, don’t move! You’ll make it worse. Just sit back down and I’ll carry you from here.”

“Ah, sorry Oboro, but you’ll have to go on without me. ”

“What, no!”

“Oboro, my wounds are too serious to survive until tomorrow,” Splinter rasps out. “There is no medical help before then. You know that before this I wanted to be a hero as well? I failed all the entrance exams. I’m not smart you know. But here I could be a hero. I kind of liked it. So please keep going Oboro, finish this. Let me be a hero one last time.”
Splinter falls to his knees on the tracks. His back bleeding and Oboro knows that he is right. His injuries are too severe to survive, his senpai is going to die.

“Splinter, thank you, you’re a true Hero." He manages to raps out.

“Thank you Oboro, now go.” Splinter whispers and Oboro goes.

He passes another platform and through his tears he sees that he has ten minutes left.

He enters the tunnels again. Up ahead he can make out a vague rhythmic sound, a deep woomp, woomp, woomp. The third hurdle is just up ahead. The thumping is speeding up, and to Oboro’s disbelieve he can feel a breeze pick up in the tunnels, the stale wind washes over him. It is pleasant at first but the further along he goes the more the wind picks up until he has to fasten his feet in his cloud to avoid being blown off.

The wind blows the tears from his eyes, the hand that he holds to protect his eyes is mostly in vain. There in front of him he spots the last obstacle. A fan that spans the width of the whole tunnel. The giant blades are fanning air into the tunnel. They are already going so fast that if Oboro tries to fly through them he will end up in little pieces, and they are speeding up.

He glances around. There is no convenient maintenance tunnel he can use to avoid the fan blades altogether. The wind blows through the tunnel and Oboro can barely keep his cloud from blowing apart in the gale. Even breathing becomes more difficult. Peeking through his fingers he studies the fan and sees it. There on the fan, there is a big, red button, the off-switch?

His time is running out. He must go forward, he must overcome this obstacle as well, for Splinter. He takes off, forming his clouds in an aerodynamic shape around him he gives it his all as he shoots towards the fan. The wind pushes back but he keeps going. He just needs to reach that big shining red button just a little bit further. He gets closer and closer, so close, until the wind becomes too strong for a moment and scatters his clouds. It picks him up and throws him back down the tunnel. He lands hard on his arm and rolls a few times until he comes to a stop against the concrete wall.

He failed.

Keeping himself pressed against the ground and brazing himself against the wind he takes another look at the fan. It is still speeding up. The wind is roaring like a hurricane through the tunnel, a second attempt of flying towards the switch won’t be any more successful in these conditions.

He is so close! Through the blades he can see the finish line and next to it another clock. It shows he has only three minutes left.

If he does not cross that line in three minutes, Splinters sacrifice will have been for nothing. He will have to complete another challenge even weaker than he is now. Chances are, he will die during that challenge, just like Splinter .

No, he refuses to die. Splinter helped him get this far and he will take it the rest of the way. He isn’t alone here anymore. There are other people trapped in this world and he will clear this level, find the group and that boy and figure out how to get himself and everyone out.

He scrambles to his hands and knees, clinging to the train tracks to stay in place under the fierce winds. Oh, the rails, he might be able to use them. He carefully feels along the rails noticing how it is fastened. If he can just lift one side the rail, he could slide it out of the track and use them.

He crouches over the rail focusing on keeping his clouds solid despite the gale. He lifts the side facing the fan with his clouds, aiming carefully at that shiny red button. He compresses the rest of his cloud behind the other end of the rails, keeping up the focus to aim at the same time is difficult so he takes the place of his Clouds at the front and lays down under the rail, aiming the rail steady from his shoulder. He takes careful aim and unwillingly glances at the clock, one minute left. He takes one last deep breath and expands his clouds at the back end of the self made rail cannon as fast and explosive as possible. The rail launches off his shoulder and pierces through the air and straight through the button. It pierces the fan completely and even jams the blades. With a mighty screech they are ripped from the fan and fly though the air. Oboro does not wait for the spectacle to end. He jumps on his cloud and races to the finish line. He crosses the finish line with twenty seconds remaining on the clock.

He made it.

Chapter Text

Oboro looks at the silver packages in the locker. His prize for clearing a seven of spades challenge, seven packages filled with seven days of tasteless rations. A small prize to die for in the real world, but the only way to survive in this one. With this he has a week of grace before he has to compete in another spades challenge. He angrily shoves the rations in his backpack and climbs out of the underground station. The night is silent. as the lights of the other arenas shut down one by one. As the bright light of the underground station behind him shuts down Oboro leaves the dreary place behind him.

At the first sight of an apartment block Oboro climbs back on his cloud and flies up. He scouts the windows until he spots a room with a bed. He has become quite practiced in breaking and entering with his quirk and it doesn’t take long before he can fall down on the bed in the room, exhausted, despondent but alive. Tomorrow can be better.

---

Oboro wakes up to the sun shining in his eyes and his heart beating out of his chest. The pounding of his heart the only sound he can hear. He gulps in deep breaths to calm down and tries to think of anything other than the lack of life outside in the streets. And then he remembers the people he met yesterday and his breathing slows down.
Splinter, the one with the nice coat who was part of a larger group. Oboro can go to them and after he tells them what happened to Splinter he could stay with them. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

He takes a bite out of his ration bar, a small bite that he has to chew on for ages before he can swallow it. He longs for real food, some fresh vegetables, soy sauce and plain rice. Just those basics that you never crave when you are at home. Perhaps Shouta would be able to survive indefinitely on these rations. His friend is already living off nothing but jelly pouches and coffee despite Hizashi and Oboro’s continues attempts to improve his eating habits.

They went out for sushi just before all this happened. Hizashi tried to drag them to karaoke afterward but he was outvoted two to one. Instead they met up with Nemuri and went to the arcade. Shouta showed a surprising aptitude for the dance dance games. Oboro wouldn’t be surprised if the dance off between him and Nemuri became legendary in those halls. He wipes his eyes dry and chokes down the rest of the ration bar.

He’ll get back to them soon enough and until that moment comes he has things to do. There is still a child running around alone in this world and Oboro will not leave them alone for longer than absolutely necessary. What is that kid even eating here? No, he will find that kid and afterwards they will find Splinters group and together they’ll find a way to escape. He finishes the ration bar and he leaves the room to start his search.

---
Oboro’s top speed on his clouds is around 120 kilometres an hour, but never has he gone that fast outside of his training sessions. Out here there is no traffic of any kind and he can fly as fast as he wants and for a moment he enjoys the rush of flying through Tokyo at his top speed. But as he drifts over the empty streets the joy dwindles down too fast. He spirals around the fountain where he met the kid and scours the ground for any sign of them, however even after spending the whole day searching he can’t find the kid.

As the sun starts to go down he takes a break at a rooftop overlooking a park with a small bunny themed playground. He might need to change up his search method. Perhaps looking for a lost child is more like looking for a feral kitten? Chasing after kittens does nothing but scare them, better to search for spots a cat would like to be and lure them out with treats. Kittens can be found in the low bushes, in old abandoned buildings and old abandoned cabinets, so where would a child like to be in a place like this?

With that thought in mind he starts checking the parks, arcades and the playgrounds. Oboro never before noticed how the most innocent places, those places meant for kids and families are the creepiest of places when abandoned. Take the museum garden below, it looks quaint from the air, but Oboro would swear that that rusted statue just moved. Wait, no it’s not the statue but something did dart away from those spiky rusted feet and into the museum. As night falls Oboro descents from the sky, lands on the path lined with iron lanterns and enters the abandoned museum.

With the moon shining through the windows his only source of light Oboro warily steps through the museum’s halls and rooms. “Hello!” He calls, “Anyone here?” but no one answers. Oboro wasn’t sure that it was the kid that he had seen enter the building and the further he went into the building the more unlikely he thought it that any child would want to be in here at night. He wondered if he should turn around and come back in the morning, when it was light. The hallway was grand, but the museum was dark and musty. The many irregular shaped windows caused strange shadows to drift over the stairs and in nearly every room the eyes of huge demon dolls followed him, it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. One of the models had a broom in her hands and Oboro picked it up and removed the head of the broom so that it was just the wooden handle in his hands. With the familiar feel of a staff in his hands he ventured deeper into the museum.

The first floor was empty of all life, but when he explored the second floor he heard the dull thump from above him. “Hello!” He called again, “My name is Oboro! Is anyone there?” No answer. If there is anyone here, perhaps they do not wish to be found. It is with a loudly beating heart and a tight grip on his staff that Oboro ascends the stairs to the third floor. For a moment the beauty of the moon shining through the skylight strikes him before the oppressive feeling returns. He silently goes through the floor room by room, listening carefully for a sign of any other living being in the building.

He carefully stepped into the next room. The wooden floor groaned under his weight, refusing to mask his presence. Something loomed in the center — a hulking shadow in the moonlight. Slowly, Oboro approached. A sudden glint from the skylight revealed a massive grin of jagged teeth. He yelped and jumped back. A sharp thump sounded behind him. Instinct took over — he spun and swung the broom handle.

The wood connected with a small body. A soft cry followed, and the figure tumbled through the doorway.
Oboro froze. A pale, white-haired child scrambled to their feet and bolted.

“Wait!” he shouted, panic lancing through him. He chased after them, but his pursuit only drove the child faster. By the time he reached the stairs, they were gone — footsteps echoing into silence.

---
In the morning light all those features that had made the museum creepy in the dark looked charming instead. Oboro stopped at the entrance with his offerings. “Hello! I would like to apologize! I didn’t mean to hurt you and I am really sorry that I did. As an apology I’ll leave three days of rations right here in the hallway! I hope to make it up to you and I would like to meet you so I will sit by the big metal giant every evening if you want to meet me as well. I won’t come in here again. Please give me a chance to make it up to you and to show you that I can be trusted.” With that he dropped the rations and walked out of the museum determined to do everything possible to make up for scaring and hitting the kid.

That evening when Oboro reached the giant statue he sees to his great disappointment that his peace offer is not accepted. The rations that he had left for the kid were piled on top of a note by the giants feet. The note had only one word written on it. ‘Leave’ And although Oboro understands that the kid wants nothing to do with him. It still hurts a bit that the kid won’t even accept the food that Oboro left for him and he cannot in good conscience then Oboro willleave a kid alone here in this world without knowing that they’re alright. So if the kid doesn’t want him this close to his home, Oboro will relocate the meeting place to just outside the gates. And the kid already showed him their preferred method of communication Oboro thinks with a smile as he unfolds the creases in the paper.

---

Oboro stared at the letter in the shape of an origami crane left at the foot of the iron statue before he picked it up and with an excited grin unfolded the letter. It had only taken five days for the kid to answer, five days of Oboro leaving letters in more and more elaborate origami shapes with food packages at the gate of the museum without any sign that the kid was even still around. Oboro had given it two more days before he would move on and return on a weekly instead of a daily basis. As with the passing of days he had increasingly become convinced that the kid had moved on themselves.

The letter was written with a pencil and the kanji and kana were large and somewhat awkwardly sized but despite that it was readable and without any errors. ‘Oboro. You should take the food back instead of doing a challenge. I have my own food and I do not need your help. Tenko.’ Oboro couldn’t help but smile at the short letter. The kid had a name! And Tenko had responded to Oboro writing that he would need to do a challenge soon. The kid was worried for him.

He pulled out his notebook. He had prepared a letter for today, but that one was now no longer suitable and he chewed on the end of his pen as he considered how to respond to the kid, to Tenko.

‘Tenko! Thank you for your letter. Are you sure you have enough to eat? The challenges for food can be dangerous and I’d be happy to share my food with you. I heard that there was a big group with people that help each other and share food together. I’m looking for them and If you want we can go together. There might be more children there that you can play with and I would also really like to meet you. I would like to apologize again for hitting you. I hope that you are alright. Oboro’

There, shorter than his previous letters but it would have to do.

---

‘Yes I have enough to eat and I’m fine. Stop apologizing. There are challenges specially for kids, they’re about reading and writing and math and stuff. I’m good at them and I can take care of myself. I don’t want to go to the group, they have no other kids. Tenko.’

Despite the rejection Oboro could help but grin at the letter. Tenko was alright and a very headstrong kid. But while he might be able to survive alone, it was no way to life for a child. Oboro was pretty sure that growing kids needed social interaction for proper development. Tenko also was familiar with the group or perhaps a group, were there more than one groups out here? And there were special child challenges other than the spade, clubs, hearts and diamonds that the adults could do?
Oboro grabbed his notepad and wrote down;

‘Hey Tenko! I’m glad that you’re alright. It sounds like you are really good at your challenges. I hope that your food is better than what we adults get served. I’ll be taking another challenge this evening, a spade one. I’ll be back late! Oboro.’

---

The challenge had been tough, but no one had died and he had no large injuries. In his backpack was his prize, five ration packs enough to eat for some time. All in all it had been a good night for Oboro.

The road was slowly getting illuminated by the rising sun and the world was balancing on the edge of dawn. Oboro passed the gate of the theme park, right as the insects started to chirp, and came to sudden stop.

On the front step sat a boy, small and white haired. He was clutching the letter Oboro had written.

“Tenko.” Oboro called.

Tenko head shot up, his eyes were red and he wiped his nose with his sleeve. “You’re alive.” He said with a small voice.

Chapter Text

“I brought… uh… gourmet cuisine,” Oboro said to the red-eyed kid. “Fresh off the batch—captured last night.”

Tenko’s wide eyes blinked at him in open disbelief as Oboro unwrapped the foil and broke the brick into neat, chalk-gray squares. He kept three for himself and slid the fourth across the stone, careful not to cross the invisible line Tenko had drawn between them.

The gray square sat on gray stone, untouched. Tenko didn’t move. Oboro turned sideways and sat a few steps below him, unbothered, and began eating his own breakfast. The ration was dry and bland as sand, but he chewed it with the satisfaction of a man pretending it was anything else.

“Are you stupid?” the kid asked suddenly. His high voice rang sharp against the empty air. “Don’t share your food! I have my own. I’m probably way better at challenges than you are. If you keep giving things away like that, you’re gonna die.”

Tenko’s voice rasped a little, as if he didn’t use it often, but otherwise he sounded exactly like every rude elementary schooler Oboro had ever met.

“It’s rude to eat in front of someone without sharing,” Oboro replied easily. “Even if that someone happens to be better at challenges than me.”

“Then go away and keep your food for yourself.”

“Nah.” Oboro smiled and tore off another piece. “I don’t like eating alone. So I’m doomed to share my food.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” Oboro said with a shrug, “but I like company even more than food. So eat up, Tenko—”

He turned around, and the step above him was empty. Tenko was nowhere to be seen.The piece of the ration bar was gone.

Oboro grinned and took another bite from his piece, chewing slowly, filled with quiet satisfaction.

---

The sun was peaking out over the buildings when Oboro returned the next day. He had barely managed to sleep, his mind going over and over the conversation he had had with Tenko. So much progress in one day! Hizashi would be proud.

He took the same seat at the gate the next day, setting his pack down beside him with the unhurried patience of someone used to waiting. From it, he pulled another ration bar, broke off a piece, and placed it on the step above him.

One thing you learn when taking care of strays, he thought, is that consistency is key to building trust and it seemed to work on small children as well.

A familiar face emerged from behind one of the stone columns, red eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “You’re a creep.”

Oboro pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “A creep? That’s harsh.” He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “How do you even know that word? You’re like—what—five?”

“I’m eight!” Tenko snapped. His small shoulders squared to puff up his height. “And my sister taught me to stay away from creepy men.”

The smile faded from Oboro’s face. He lowered his hand. “Your sister, huh? Is she here too? Or is she outside?”

Tenko’s expression faltered, just for a second. “Outside?” he echoed softly, like he hadn’t heard the word before. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to them. They’re gone now.”

His eyes darted around the empty courtyard. “Everyone’s gone now.”

He started to scratch at his neck—hard—his nails dragging angry red marks over pale skin.

“Hey, hey—” Oboro said quickly, stepping forward but keeping his voice light. “I’m here. Okay? I’m here, Tenko. You’re here and I’m here, so…” He crouched, lowering himself to the boy’s level. “Let’s stay together and be there for each other, alright?”

He reached out, slow and careful, meaning only to steady Tenko’s hand—

“Don’t!”

The word burst from the boy like a warning siren. Tenko recoiled violently, stumbling back until his shoulder hit the iron gate. His eyes were wide, breath fast and uneven.

Oboro froze, hands up in surrender. “Ah—sorry, sorry! I shouldn’t have— I mean, I shouldn’t have tried to grab you. That was dumb. I won’t do that again, okay? Promise.”

Tenko didn’t answer. He stared at Oboro for a long moment, chest still heaving, then turned and bolted toward the hedges.

“Wait—hey!” Oboro called after him, but the words died in the windless air. He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at himself. “Brilliant move, Oboro. Scare the traumatized kid. Ten out of ten hero instincts.”

He sat back down on the steps. The sky above the city had gone the color of wet cement.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said quietly to the empty courtyard. “I won’t disappear. I promise.”

The iron statue loomed above him, silent witness. He stayed there a while longer. Then he packed up the untouched food he’d brought and headed home, already planning what to say when he returned.

---

The next morning dawned clear and colorless. The air still carried that strange, hollow stillness—no wind, no birds, no rustle of trees. Only Oboro’s own footsteps filled the courtyard as he made his way to the museum gate. He plopped down on the same spot and pulled his pack onto his knees. He broke another ration bar and set a square on the step above him.

“I’m back,” he called.

There was no answer.

He smiled anyway and started talking with his back to the rest of the stairs.

“I passed the arcades today,” he said. “They’re all lit up again. Lights flickering, machines humming, no people. Creepiest thing ever. Still, I kind of miss it. Me and my friends used to spend hours there—Hizashi would pick the loudest machine, obviously, and Nemuri would cheat like it was an art form. Shouta pretended he hated it, but he always beat us all in Dance Dance Hero. You’d like him, I think. He’s the quiet kind, but good to have on your side.”

He poked the ration brick with one finger. “And I really miss my cat. Sushi. He was the meanest little ball of fluff. Used to bite me every morning at six, like an alarm clock with teeth.” Oboro chuckled softly, then fell quiet.

A sound behind the gate—a faint scuff of shoes.

There was a pause. Then, from somewhere near the hedge: “You talk too much.”

Oboro grinned. “That’s what my friends said too. And my teachers. And my boss during internships. It’s practically a talent.”

Tenko edged into view, half-hidden by the gate. He looked wary but less like he was ready to bolt. “You’re still here,” he said, sounding more surprised than accusing.

“Told you I wouldn’t disappear.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Maybe. But so is eating alone.”

Tenko frowned at the ration piece on the step. “You put that out again.”

“Consistent stupidity,” Oboro said cheerfully. “It’s part of my charm.”

Tenko huffed a sound that might almost have been a laugh. Almost.

They sat in silence for a moment, just breathing the still, heavy air. Then Oboro said, “Hey, I found an easy challenge earlier. Clubs type. Two of clubs, very low stakes. Thought about giving it a try. See what I get”

Tenko’s red eyes flicked toward him. “With who? Clubs test teamwork for goodies.”

Oboro’s head snapped around. “Wait, you know what the suits mean?”

Tenko hesitated, then nodded. “Of course I do. You have to or you die.”

“Alright, teach me, sensei,” Oboro said, leaning forward with mock solemnity.

Tenko rolled his eyes, but something in his shoulders loosened just a little. “Fine. There are four suits. Each one is a different kind of game—and a different kind of prize. The higher the number, the more difficult the game.”

He held up a finger. “Hearts, they’re about people—feelings, thoughts. Messed up games. You can cooperate, but you can also screw your team over if you’re smart enough. The prizes are medical things—bandages, healing items, quirk help, sometimes experimental stuff that helps your quirk grow.”

Oboro whistled softly. “Emotional and psychological torture for the promise of medicine. Lovely.”

Tenko ignored him and raised another finger. “Spades are the important ones. Like deadly PE tests with your quirk. You fight, run, build, or die trying. The prize is food and basic things—stuff you need to stay alive.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out the hard way,” Oboro muttered. “Nearly got crushed to death by a ceiling. So, spades equal misery and hunger prevention. Got it.”

“Then there’s diamonds.”

“Oooh, shiny.”

“They’re about brains,” Tenko said flatly. “Puzzles, traps, riddles. If you win, you get something that helps you survive—maps, tools, instructions about quirks. Sometimes knowledge about this place itself.”

Oboro nodded slowly. “So, heart for mind, spade for body, diamond for brains. Which leaves…”

“Clovers,” Tenko said, the faintest curl of a smile ghosting across his lips. “Or clubs, if you want to sound like a grown-up. Teamwork games. They test how well people work together. Usually not deadly—unless your team is really bad. The prizes are just… nice things. Goodies, treats, things like that.”

“Goodies,” Oboro echoed softly. “Like the universe handing out participation trophies.”

Tenko shrugged. “They can be fun to do.”

Oboro studied him for a moment. “You’ve done the team challenges before?”

Tenko’s gaze flicked away. “They’re not dangerous.”

Oboro’s next words came gentle, careful. “Then maybe we should win a clubs game together. Get some of those goodies. If you’re that good at challenges, I could use a pro teammate.”
Tenko glared at him. “You’re weird.”

“Yup,” Oboro said cheerfully. “But you’ll get used to it.”

---
The arcade was exactly where Oboro remembered seeing it—neon lights blinking to life as they stepped through the automatic doors. The music started before they even crossed the threshold: a cheerful, looping melody, tinny and too loud in the hollow emptiness.

It smelled faintly of dust and electricity. Every machine hummed as though waiting.

At the center of the room stood two dance-game platforms separated by a tall wall. On the screens, bright letters glowed:

2♣ — Bunny Hop.

Tenko stared at it. “Bunny Hop?”

“Don’t look at me,” Oboro said. “I didn’t name it.”

As they approached, a synthetic female voice filled the arcade:

Welcome, Loud Cloud. Welcome, Tenko.

The screens flared bright.

Game clear: Follow the pattern. Do not step off the trail.
Time limit: 00:10:00.

“Only ten minutes—should be doable,” Oboro muttered, but he eyed the kid a bit worriedly. Wasn’t he dragging an eight-year-old into a potentially dangerous game?

“Should be fine,” Tenko said as he climbed onto the right platform. Seeing Oboro still frozen, he gestured impatiently to the left side. “If you don’t participate after entering, you die, you know.”

“What?” Oboro said dryly as he hurried onto his platform. The screen changed the moment he took his place.

Game start.
3
2
1
GO!

It was a modified dance game. A little rabbit was running on the screen, and small paw icons were dropping slowly from the top. The first pointed left, and Oboro pressed his foot on the left button.

A small pained sound came from his right. The rabbit on the screen veered left but still hit the tree branch in its path.

A penalty flashed: –1 point.

“Tenko?”

“I got shocked. I’m fine,” Tenko said. A sharp stomp echoed from his side—and a moment later, Oboro got shocked in return. The rabbit moved right, but still failed to clear the object.

“Ow.”

The next paw on the screen pointed up, and Oboro pressed his foot on the big front button. At the same time, he heard Tenko jump next to him. The rabbit jumped cleanly over the branch blocking the path.

“Teamwork challenge... right,” Oboro said. “Tenko, I’ve got paws left and up on my screen.”

“I have right and up.”

“Okay, but I think we need to—LEFT!” Oboro shouted.

He stomped down and heard Tenko do the same; the rabbit dodged a dog chasing it on the screen.

“Perfect, Tenko! Just yell when we need to go—”

“RIGHT!” Tenko yelled.

Oboro grinned and jumped on the right arrow. The rabbit on the screen dodged a small child grabbing for its ears.

The next few minutes were filled with yells, laughter, and the thump of shoes hitting glowing buttons as their rabbit raced through the forest and across a farm, faster and faster,
clearing obstacle after obstacle.

As the timer reached zero, they both shouted and jumped on the front button. The rabbit on the screen leapt over a hedge and shot off into an open field beneath a setting sun. Victory music blared from the tiny speakers.

Game Clear!
Prize: Two soft-serve tokens.

The floor dimmed, and a small drawer slid open on the control panel. Inside were two metal tokens stamped with ice cream cones.

Oboro let out a whoop of triumph. “Victory! And no electrocutions this time.”

Tenko was breathing a little hard, hair sticking to his forehead. “You almost fell off three times.”

“Yeah, but you saved me.” Oboro grinned. “Teamwork.”

“Shut up,” Tenko muttered—and snatched one of the tokens.

---

Outside, they sat on the curb with their ice creams—strawberry for Tenko, chocolate for Oboro. The sun shone blindingly overhead, and the cold treat tasted like no ice cream Oboro had ever had before.

Tenko licked his cone with slow, careful focus.

Oboro leaned back on his hands, smiling faintly. “That was fun.”

Tenko shot him a sidelong glance. “Mmh.”

For a while, they ate in silence. Then Tenko said, barely above a whisper, “You still want to find the big group?”

“Yeah. I think we’ll have better odds together.”

Tenko’s fingers tightened around his cone. “Fine. I’ll help you find them.”

Oboro looked out at the empty city, the faint hum of the arcade lights still flickering behind them. “Thank you,” he said simply.

Tenko stood, brushing his hands off. “You’re still a creep.”

“And you’re still calling me names.”

“Because you’re stupid.”

“Maybe,” Oboro said, licking the last of his chocolate. “But I’m not eating alone anymore.”