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Oboro Shirakumo was the class clown at U.A. Always laughing, always causing trouble in class, a little too desperate to make people smile. He often directed self-deprecating humor at himself, but Shouta Aizawa and Hizashi Yamada told him to knock off insulting himself. Maybe that was why he clung to them so tightly, even though he didn’t normally make close friends.
Close friends were a risk. Oboro felt desperate to make others like him partly so no one looked too closely at his fabricated ID or fake background. Also, it scared him when people didn’t seem to like him because it reminded him of his father’s dark moods. He’d used humor as a coping mechanism since he’d been a tiny child and first found his father’s collection of severed body parts including his uncle’s entire preserved corpse. The sight haunted him at day and night. He felt a little better when he made other people laugh. They rarely noticed that his own smiles didn’t reach his eyes. His sleepless eyes, the bags hidden with facial powder.
Oboro had insomnia from his nightmares. They’d started after his father had given him Cloud, a quirk to protect him. The quirk ghost came to him late at night to show him the gruesome way its previous owner had died. Then he’d learned of his father’s true identity as the villain All for One by watching him murder a professional hero. He saw that in his dreams every night ever since. He’d been five years old.
Even though Oboro might be shameless in his jesting, he was always willing to extend a hand to help other people. It was the least he could do, after the atrocities he’d seen his father commit. He had to make up for it. (He didn’t deserve to live. He should never have been born.)
Oboro was desperate to stay free and to stop his father. He was tired. Sometimes he wished he could float away into the sky like a cloud and never come back. Sometimes (too often) he just wanted to lie down and stop fighting, but then he’d be caught. He feared going back into that dark vault where he couldn’t die even if he tried to starve himself. Shouta and Hizashi let him feel like a normal boy for brief periods of time. Oboro started smiling for real around them, sometimes. He adopted a cat. They talked about founding their own hero agency after graduation. He let himself believe he could become a true hero instead of a desperate teenager looking for heroes to protect him from his father.
At Tasomiya Ward, when the rubble fell over the nursery school children, Oboro protected them without hesitation. As the rubble came crashing down at his head, he smiled. He told himself that he was smiling to reassure the children. But maybe he just felt relieved that death would free him from ever being taken back to the vault again.
Oboro woke up, but only saw darkness around him. He could not move his body. He couldn’t even feel his body. Was he having another nightmare?
Memory returned in flashes. The rampaging villain. The building collapsing on the children. Sending away his cloud to save them. The horrific pain ripping through him as the debris broke him in two.
Was this death, then? It seemed…anticlimactic.
Light flashed across his eyes, blindingly bright. He could not blink to protect himself. Sparks jolted throughout his body, making his spine arch. He screamed in pain. The sound ripped out of his agonized throat.
He had a body. The pain arcing from every single nerve made him aware of that, even if he still couldn’t move. He felt every stich on his chest and the metal bonds digging into his arms and legs. He appeared to be lying on a flat surface, too hard to be a bed. Through the blinding light, he glimpsed metal walls and shiny glass tanks. Light bounced off a pair of goggles and a bald head leaning over him: Dr. Garaki. Was he in a laboratory?
“Give him another jolt,” his father’s voice said. The tone held an odd note of strain, as if even the implacable All for One couldn’t bear hearing his son’s corpse screaming.
Then the next arc of light took all coherent thought. Oboro screamed until his throat collapsed.
A hand brushed his head. Did he still have hair? He only felt something cold and wispy against his skull. His father murmured, “There, there, little cloud. We’re almost done.”
“I should be dead,” Oboro rasped. “Please let me die.”
“Yes, I was afraid you’d say that,” his father hummed. “You sent away your cloud deliberately. You wanted to die a hero, like your uncle.” The fingers tightened painfully. “I fear there’s something very wrong with you, my dear child. You killed yourself.”
Oboro croaked, “Why did they put a fence around the cemetery? People are dying to get in.” The tired old pun sprang to his lips automatically, a desperate defense mechanism so he could avoid thinking about why his body felt so cold. (Why had his father said “you killed yourself” not “you tried to kill yourself?”)
“Jokes even now?” All for One’s voice held a trace of anger. “I almost couldn’t save you in time. You would have been sent to the crematorium if not for my fast actions.”
“Being cremated is my last hope for a smokin’ hot body.” Oboro whispered the bad joke like a prayer. It was all he had left to cling to. His head felt funny. The world was spinning. He’d tried so hard to die smiling. Maybe he still could if only he could find the right joke.
“Oh, no, little cloud.” His father laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. It rang maniacally throughout the laboratory. “You’re never leaving me. You won’t be able to die again.”
Fear clawed inside Oboro, leaving deep scratches on his floaty mental state. He forced his lips upward. “I’m not afraid of death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”
“But you were there when you died,” All for One said. “I brought you back, and now you’ll never die again.”
Oboro’s last ugly attempt at a smile faded away. “What have you done to me?” he screamed. He thrashed against his bonds, but he could not move his neck enough to look down at his body. He only felt coldness. Florescent lights overhead beat against his eyelid-less sockets. “I wanted to die!”
“I know, my poor son.” All for One sighed. “That’s why you require a bit more fixing, so that you’ll never attempt suicide again. We’ll take care of those nasty heroic tendencies, too. By the time we’re done, you’ll no longer remember the friends who got you killed. You’ll listen to me when I tell you what is best for you. Doctor?”
The looming dark shadow with goggles brought a laser scalpel down on Oboro’s forehead.
This time, he didn’t feel any pain. He felt nothing at all. One last time, he tried to throw out a joke to shield himself from the world, but his ability to think also fell away from him, consumed by the darkness.
Kurogiri never laughed.
OMAKE TIME!
Omake: The Trigger
All for One: My kid wants to kill me, but that’s normal for our family. I’ll let him have his little rebellion. See, I’m a cool parent. I’ve learned from my past mistakes with my little brother.
Oboro: Dad, I have two boyfriends now. One of them has spiky hair.
All for One: …Little cloud, this “free will” thing didn’t work out so I’m going to have to take it away from you.
#
Omake: The Confrontation
Yamada: How dare you turn my friend into a Nomu!
Dr. Garaki: Not that I usually have any medical standards, but in that case he was a minor and I had parental permission.
Yamada: …Wait a moment…
Dr. Garaki: Yes, it’s what you’re thinking.
Yamada: You’re Oboro’s father!
Dr. Garaki: No!
Yamada: Now I understand why Oboro once told me that he had the worst father in the entire universe. His most cherished dream was committing patricide. I’ll fulfil his wish on his behalf!
#
Omake: The All for Ones Club
Sad Clown All for One: In today’s meeting of the All for One’s club, I’m here to talk about new methods of control for rebellious family members. I present: zombification! On the upside, zombie relatives are completely obedient, don’t try to run away, have no love lives, and become villains. Also we get undead minions just like our favorite Demon King. On the downside… (Holds up his arms covered with bandages.) Zombies bite.