Chapter Text
Oboro stared into his worn-down, leather wallet and heaved a big sigh. It was tragically empty. Man, he was really counting on an internship to be his way of raking in a few bucks over the summer, but after being turned down from a hero agency for the fifth time, it was clear that he needed a plan B.
And that’s why, when his mom told him that Mrs. Shimura, a friend of hers, was looking for someone to babysit her son over the summer break, Oboro clasped his hands together and thanked the cloud gods for practically handing him this opportunity on a silver platter.
Babysitting was the perfect job for him. What could possibly go wrong?
*****
"Good morning, Shirakumo," Mrs. Shimura smiled, standing at her doorway. The morning sunshine made her skin and eyes glow. She held out her hand in a friendly greeting. "It's so nice to finally meet you."
"Right back at ya, Mrs. Shimura," Oboro grinned his signature wide grin, gums showing as usual. He took her hand and gave it a good shake, eyes glancing over the facade of the Shimura household and the beautiful plants decorating its front yard. Wow, it sure was one big house! The Shimura family was pretty well-off, and it showed.
“Please, come in and make yourself comfortable,” Mrs. Shimura retreated into the living room of the house, Oboro following suit. It was quiet, with no sign of anyone else being home except for the two of them. There was a couch that she gestured for him to sit on before turning to retrieve two cups of tea from the kitchen.
Oboro had never considered himself to be a very anxious kind of guy, but to be honest, he was currently feeling the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. This was supposed to be an interview of sorts, and as much as he loved kids, he was an only child and didn’t really have any prior babysitting experience. Chill out, Oboro. I mean, she’s your mom’s friend!
Mrs. Shimura set down the two cups of tea on the coffee table, steam curling into the air, and asked, “You’re a hero student at UA, right?” She sat on a wooden chair opposite him. “Your mother talks about you all the time.”
Well, this awkwardness he was feeling was nothing a little humor couldn’t solve!
“Oh no,” Oboro gasped, clenching the fabric over his chest, wearing a look of exaggerated worry. “Did she tell you about that one time I….?”
“Oh, Shirakumo,” Mrs. Shimura said, sipping her tea with a smirk tugging at her lips. “She told me about all the times.”
The two of them laughed, and just like that, all remnants of tension faded away. Mrs. Shimura probably knew more about him than he knew about himself! Now, she felt more like one of his good ol’ aunts than the stranger she really was.
“You know,” she continued, her downcast eyes showing a sadness that wasn’t there before. “My son Tenko is missing out on a family vacation. He’s up in his room sleeping. Other than him, the house is empty– everyone’s waiting for me at the airport right now. This vacation is one that the whole family’s been looking forward to for a long time, so Tenko feels terrible.”
Oboro quirked his eyebrow at that. “If you don’t mind me asking, why’s he missing out?” he asked. “Did he get hurt or something?”
“He got in trouble with his father,” Mrs. Shimura said quietly, looking away. Seeming to realize how somber she's gotten, she laughed sheepishly and quickly added, “His father is very strict about enforcing his rules.”
Oh. Okay. Oboro nodded slowly. While banning your kid from going on vacation was, in his own opinion, kinda going a bit overboard (his mom had never punished him that way, and trust him, he’d done a lot of crazy things as a kid), Oboro couldn’t impose his own thoughts on parenting onto this kid’s father. If he had to guess, the kid probably did something really really bad.
“There’s plenty of more… professional babysitters out there,” she continued. “But that’s why I wanted to have someone like you. Tenko loves heroes more than anything."
"So, I want you, as a hero, to do whatever it takes to make Tenko happy," Her eyes stared into his, her mouth set in a thin straight line. "Can you do that, Shirakumo?”
And Oboro, whose heart broke for the kid who wouldn’t be going on vacation this summer, didn’t even have to think before bellowing, “Say no more, Mrs. Shimura!” His hand was pressed solemnly over his chest, the other making swooping hand gestures as he spoke. His blue eyes were determined, his expression serious. “I, Loud Cloud, the CEO of Making Children Happy™, will guarantee your child the most awesome, spectacular, and funnest summer he has ever experienced in his five years of living, or your money back." He finished with a wink and a thumbs up.
He may not have been able to secure an internship for the summer, but to Oboro Shirakumo, this task was every bit as meaningful and important to his journey of becoming a hero.
“That’s wonderful," Mrs. Shimura smiled again, and this time, it looked truly genuine. He swore he could even see tears forming in the rims of her soft eyes, and felt a pang of sympathy for the pain she must have been feeling for her child. "You’re hired. Everyday, for three weeks, from eight in the morning to six in the afternoon. Starting tomorrow.”
*****
"It's summer vacation at last, baby!" Hizashi roared, pumping his fists into the air with ardor. “YEAHHH!”
“Yeahhhhhh!!!” Oboro pumped his fists into the air, matching Hizashi’s rhythm. The volume of his voice didn’t reach the ear-splitting howl that Hizashi’s often did, but his energy matched his all the same. He was positive that they were earning the stares of everyone in the cafe, but who cares? It’s summer vacation!
The sun was setting outside, its golden rays filtering in through the windows of the cat cafe. It was one of Oboro’s favorite places around town, and he knew Shouta liked it a lot too. Unlike the arcade, the cat cafe wasn’t very crowded, and the noise level was always kept down to a pleasant buzz (At least when Hizashi and Oboro weren’t screaming their lungs out. Okay, now that he thought about it, they were probably being incredibly rude customers). The wooden tables and chairs and the plastic vines hanging on the walls gave the cafe a nature-y feel, something Oboro could appreciate.
“I don’t see what you guys are so excited about.” Shouta said with half-lidded eyes, petting a purring, black cat on his lap. “It’s not like any of us are actually going on vacation. And Yamada, you’ve got an internship to focus on.”
“Hey now, Emo-zawa! What’s with the party pooping, man?” Hizashi pouted, ceasing his fist pumping, standing up from his seat, and placing his hands on his hips indignantly. Shouta stared up and took a sip from his jelly pouch, wearing a look of utter indifference.
“Oh yeah, Hizashi!” Oboro looked up in interest. “You gotta tell us more about your internship with Buster Union. How’s that coming along?”
Hizashi deflated like a sad, sad balloon. Oboro would feel bad for ruining his stellar mood if only he knew why mentioning Hizashi’s super duper cool internship with the Buster Union agency made him upset!
“Not rad at all, my dude," he sulked, throwing his arms over the table like a flaccid fish, nearly knocking over a glass of water.
"Is it because of Sensoji—" Hizashi clamped a hand on Shouta's mouth before he could finish.
“SHHHHH! We do not say the S-word in my Christian Minecraft server," he threatened, before deflating again and sighing. “But yeah, you’re right on the dot, bro. It’s just— he’s so— you know— arghh!” Hizashi clawed his fingers through his gelled hair, and Oboro nodded, understanding perfectly.
“The guy never listens to anyone,” he ranted. “And he’s boasting about his shades twenty-four seven as if he didn’t steal that idea from me! Like, dude, get over yourself!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air.
Oboro and Shouta glanced at each other in concern.
“The worst part is that Sensoji and I are always paired together. First in our class exercises, and now in this internship. Maybe it’s cuz people think we make a good quirk combo even though we have zero chemistry, but I swear, no matter where I go, Sensoji is never more than ten steps behind me!”
“I dunno man, it sounds like the universe is hell-bent on making you two soulmates!” Oboro teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
Hizashi glared daggers at him. “No, Oboro, no,” he said, and Oboro couldn’t help but snicker.
"Well, well, well, if it ain’t the three losers of Class 2-A,” a jeering voice boomed from behind Oboro, and Hizashi shrugged at the two of them, mouthing, “See what I mean?”
Sensoji towered over their table, looking down at the three of them condescendingly with his arms crossed. The detested pair of shades rested on his forehead. He was backed by two other Class 2-B students, both wearing equally snobby smirks.
Sensoji jabbed two crooked fingers at Shouta and Oboro, and said, “Especially you two. “The only hero students from our grade to not get an internship. I hope you’ve both finally realized how pathetic you really are.”
Oboro rolled his eyes.
The left wingman guffawed. “But, well, I mean, everyone already knows that our gloomy pal Aizawa here is a lost cause,” Oboro’s eye twitched, and the boy noticed. “But you too, Shirakumo? You’d think that someone with all that bark would actually have some bite to back it up, but I guess not. You fell off, man. It’s no wonder why no agency wants to have you.”
Oof. Burn. That stung more than he would like to admit.
“Take that back,” Shouta gritted out, and Oboro’s heart melted at the fact that his usually quiet friend came to his defense.
Sensoji slammed his hand down onto their table, and Oboro had to steady his glass of water quickly to stop it from spilling. "Oh yeah? What is some wimpy, skinny twig like you gonna do, Eraserhead? Erase our quirks?" Sensoji sneered and flexed his biceps, which Oboro had to admit were pretty darn big. "I can crush you into a pulp, with or without my blasts."
“Oi oi Sensoji,” Hizashi interjected. “You and your goons better back off of my buddies right now, or I’m gonna tell them about…” He paused, drumming his fingers slowly on the table. There was something calculating about the concentric circles in his emerald eyes that sent shivers down Oboro’s spine. “....the incident that happened at work studies today.
To Oboro’s delight, Sensoji’s face turned as bright as a tomato. His two classmates looked at him with curiosity written over their faces, but before they could inquire any further, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked away, muttering under his breath. They glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed him.
“Woah guys. I think that was the first time Sensoji’s ever listened to me,” Hizashi grinned crookedly. “Never underestimate the power of blackmail, yo.”
Man, Hizashi was so cool!
“If ya don’t mind me asking, whaddya mean by the… incident?” Oboro leaned over Hizashi, morbidly curious.
If possible, Hizashi’s grin stretched even wider. “Oof, hmm, yeah, it’s kind of hard to explain, but uh, long story short,” Hizashi dropped his voice to a whisper, which was rare. “Sensoji did a little pee-pee. In his pants.” And before Oboro and Shouta had any chance to say something to that, Hizashi jumped up with a start and said, “I’d tell ya more, but I gotta roll, pronto. Gonna be streaming my webcast in fifteen minutes.”
He made some finger guns (Oboro finger gunned back) and left some cash for the bill before leaving. “Hizashi Yamada, OUT! YEAH!”
Oboro eased back into his seat, laughing, but Shouta was staring down at the black cat resting on his lap, teeth clenched in frustration. Weird, because he was usually unfazed by Sensoji’s taunts. “Heya Shouta,” he said softly, leaning over the table. “You look like someone’s put a rain cloud over you, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the culprit this time. What’s getting ya down?”
“They’re picking on you too, now,” Shouta said, as if it was somehow his fault.
Oboro sipped from his glass of water. “It’s whatever,” he shrugged, before putting up an act of mock eloquence, the back of his hand to his forehead. “Sensoji and his friends are merely lost souls struggling with their own insecurities. We mustn’t be too harsh on them, Shouta!”
“You don’t deserve it,” Shouta insisted, biting his lower lip. And there it was. Shouta, caring.
“You don’t, either,” Oboro said back with all the sincerity in the world. Shouta made a face, not looking entirely convinced —and that made Oboro so, so sad— but he uncurled his fists and returned to petting the cat on his lap.
They sat in silence for the next hour, with Oboro browsing the internet on the basics of babysitting and Shouta reading his book on combat strategies. The sun had completely gone down by then, so the cafe was instead bathed in an artificial blue light. People were slowly starting to pack their things and leave the cafe, ready to crash into their beds and call it a day.
“No luck on finding an internship?” Shouta asked, surprisingly the first of the two to break the silence.
“No,” Oboro sighed, putting his phone down.
Honestly, Oboro could understand why he’d been struggling to find one. He was taken out pretty early on in the Sports Festival because he’d fallen for some guy’s stupid booby trap. He’d been facepalming himself daily for that blunder, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
Plus, there were his grades, which were, um, pretty lackluster, and unfortunately for him, most agencies required aspiring interns to send in their official transcripts. He didn’t understand how trigonometric identities were related to being a hero, but, again, he just had to accept that they were. Maybe, if he shouted a math problem while fighting, it would confuse the villain so much that he’d get the upper hand.
Right, and there was also the fact that the entire country was going through a bit of an economic slump, meaning that many small hero agencies had to close down.
But really, deep down, Oboro knew that he needed to just… be a better hero. He needed to be stronger, smarter, faster, better with his quirk and staff.
He didn’t train hard enough. He didn’t win enough fights. He didn’t—
He slapped his cheeks with both hands. No negative talk. Nuh-uh. Not today.
Shouta looked at him questioningly, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I couldn’t get one,” Oboro repeated. “You?”
His eyes lowered. “No.”
Okay, Oboro himself not getting into an internship? He could understand. But Shouta? The guy not only had above average grades, but also a helluva cool quirk with loads of potential. His ability to even out the playing field right from the get-go would make him a valuable member in any team. Not to mention, he literally made it into the finals during the Sports Festival!
But most importantly, Shouta had grit, more grit than anyone else Oboro had ever met. That was why Oboro believed he could do just about anything, as long as he put his mind into it.
He just wished those agencies could see that. He wished Shouta himself could see that.
"Nemuri said she'd let us know if the agency she's interning at opens up to new interns," Oboro said.
"The Purple Revolution Agency? I doubt that's going to happen. The agency's crowded with hero interns as it is."
"True. But we could always keep applying. Some agencies accept interns later into the summer. We'd miss out on a few weeks of experience, but it's better than nothing."
Shouta nodded, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"So… what are you going to do until then?" he asked, taking a sip of water from his glass.
Oboro grinned, his mood lightening up instantaneously. "Why, thanks for asking that, Shouta! I'm gonna be babysitting!"
Shouta's eyes widened for a split second before he hunched over and unceremoniously spat the water he was about to swallow onto the table. The black cat on his lap, having gotten water on its fur, hissed and darted away.
Dang, did he really come off as that irresponsible? Oboro rushed to his side and patted Shouta’s back as he coughed uncontrollably, choking, “You—? Babysitting?”
"Yup yup!" Oboro laughed sheepishly. "What, surprised?"
“Shirakumo, you nearly burned your apartment down two months ago over something as easy as heating up instant ramen.”
“Okay, that was one time.” Oboro chuckled again, though he was starting to have second thoughts about his capabilities as a babysitter. There was a reason why Nemuri liked to call him “Cloudy Head,” and it was ‘cause he made careless mistakes sometimes. Well, um, maybe a little more than sometimes.
What if he wasn’t cut out for the job? The last thing he wanted was for this kid to get hurt because of him.
“But….” Shouta mumbled, pointedly looking down at the napkin he was using to dry the table off. “You'd be a pretty good babysitter, I think.”
Oboro felt his worries ebb away. Shouta wasn't the type that would lie to someone to make them feel better, so if Shouta says Oboro would make a good babysitter, then he'd better believe it!
"Awww, thanks Shouta!" Oboro smiled. Yeah, if Shouta believed in him, then Oboro was sure he'd be able to do just about anything too. That sure as hell included babysitting!
A thought popped into his mind. "Hey, I think you'd be pretty good at babysitting, too!"
Shouta scoffed. “That’s really funny, Shirakumo.”
"Naw, I'm serious. I mean, did ya see how well you handled Sushi at school? You even brought cat milk for him! You're always thinking ahead and watching out for us. It's… it's real sweet, actually."
Shouta hummed, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. Oboro smiled again, fondly. If he had to guess, Shouta was probably already fast asleep.
…It was quiet. Eerily quiet. Oboro glanced around the cafe, confused.
It’s just the two of us here, he realized. Everyone’s gone home.
Even the usual nice, young cashier with the French accent was missing from her usual post behind the front counter. Bathroom break, probably. Or, she could be helping the workers in the kitchen clean up. The cafe was closing in just fifteen minutes, after all.
The lights overhead made everything blue. The ceiling, the floor, the tables and chairs. His clothes and skin. The resting cats. Shouta’s sleeping body. The darkening world beyond the windows.
Oboro liked blue. It was his favorite color, even. His hair was blue, and so were his eyes. He loved the big, blue sky. His parents knew he liked blue, so most of the clothes they bought for him were blue. His hero costume’s martial arts gi was blue. The walls of his room, too, were painted blue.
Blue had come to be a part of his identity. The color was a home which Oboro found comfort and happiness, peace and solace in.
Still, as he sat there, in that cat cafe, taking in the blue surrounding him, Oboro couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable sadness weighing down in his chest. The stars, which burned bright against the navy blue sky, seemed to him like the twinkling tears of some divine goddess, who, knowing all of the tragedies the future entailed, was weeping for everything, everywhere.
It was the first time he’d ever felt sad at the sight of blue. Why was he so sad? He didn’t know. Maybe he was sad that he was struggling so much as a hero student. Maybe he was sad about Shouta’s lack of self-confidence. Heck, maybe he was sad about Tenko, a boy he had never met before in his life, but a boy who wouldn’t be going on vacation this summer nonetheless.
Maybe he was sad about the future.
“Shirakumo,” Shouta whispered, suddenly awake, jolting Oboro out of his… depressing thoughts. “What if…. What if no agency wants to take us? For the rest of the summer?” His voice trembled just a little at the last question, and it struck Oboro that he wasn’t the only one feeling sad.
Still, Oboro Shirakumo was an optimistic guy. The sun is there, shining bright like always, his mother once told him during a long storm, when he was five and scared that the sun was gone forever. You just have to see through the rain clouds.
So, he smiled his signature grin, feeling his cheekbones rise, feeling his eyes squeeze shut, and said, “That’s okay. We’re gonna be starting our own agency someday, anyways.”
"And, you know,” he added. “If we start it now, we could just accept ourselves as our own interns."
Shouta laughed. “We could.”
*****
Nao opened her eyes, coming to after taking a short nap. The first sensation she felt was the stuffiness of her ears, the second the rockiness of the plane ride. Seated to her right was Kotaro, reading a book on business. To her left was Hana, face squished against the airplane window.
“Hana?” Nao mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Why are you still awake?”
Hana whipped her head towards her, her pigtails swaying through the air. Her face was alight with joyful energy, energy that a child awake in the middle of the night should not be having.
“Mommy!” she squealed. “Cuz, cuz look! Look at all the snow!” She pointed out the window, practically bouncing in her seat. “Are we in Ant… Ant…aaa?” Her tiny face scrunched in deep thought, struggling to remember how to say the complicated word. “You know, the place with the penguins? Wait, am I gonna see penguins?!” And she squished her face onto the window again.
Nao chuckled, pleased that Hana was enjoying the trip so far. She leaned over Hana, looking out the window.
“Hana,” she said softly. “Those are clouds, not snow.”
Hana’s big and wide black eyes stared at her in disbelief, her mouth hanging open in a little “o.” “But… “ she slowly began, as if her entire world had been flipped upside down, as if she was taking the time to fully process the information. “But I thought clouds were always up in the sky.”
“They are,” Nao confirmed, gently brushing Hana’s bangs from her face. “But we’re flying up high in an airplane, up to the sky, so now we get to be with the clouds.”
Hana’s eyes sparkled at that. To Nao, those sparkles meant more to her than all the stars in the world. “Flying,” she whispered with awe, before gluing her face to the window once more.
Nao’s heart warmed at the sight. Children were such bright, beautiful bottles of joy, experiencing the world for the first time, untethered by the burdens of adulthood. Nao wanted nothing more than to sweep her bottle-children into her arms, to keep their lids screwed on tight as to not let any flurry of joy seep out. To protect them from anything that could hurt them, crack them in any way. Protect them from…
“I think…” Hana whispered to the window, her shoulders sagging. “I think Tenko would’ve liked to fly.”
Nao’s heart sank at the thought of her son, at home sleeping right now with a different babysitter -–Kenji— whom his father hired to watch over him. He was the only one in the family who was left behind. Her mother and father were sitting in the row in front of them, and even Mon-chan was brought along in a pet carrier. She had insisted on staying behind with Tenko, but Kotaro wouldn’t have it. Tenko’s punishment had to be a proper one.
“Yes,” Nao said, voice barely above a whisper. “He would’ve.”
Something sparked in Hana. She tore away from her window and balled her fists into Nao’s clothing, eyebrows knitted together and eyes aflame with anger. “It’s not fair!” she cried, and Nao had to hush her so as to ensure she didn't wake anyone else up. “Why can’t Tenko come with us? It’s not fun without him! Why does Daddy have to be so mean?!”
Kotaro slammed his book down onto his tray-table, jolting both Nao and Hana.
“Tenko broke a rule, and rules are rules.” Kotaro said, his voice ringing with authority, his words final. “If he isn’t punished, he’ll never listen.”
Hana opened her mouth, as if to argue, hesitated, and, shrinking in on herself, returned quietly to her window.
A flurry of joy had leaked.
Nao turned to Kotaro, half-whispering, half-shouting, “You were too harsh on her. Look at her now, she’s miserable!”
“She wouldn’t be if she hadn’t burst out like that,” Kotaro said, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of him. Sometimes, Nao wished that Kotaro would just look at her, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to handle his cold, emotionless expression. But then, something about him softened, and he said, “Trust me, this is what’s best for them. Everything I do… it’s to protect them from getting hurt.”
The resolve to fight back left Nao in a resigned sigh. She knew Kotaro loved Tenko and Hana as much as she did, and he, too, wanted them to be a happy family. She knew he had been hurt once, and he was just trying to protect them from that same pain. She just wished he could be a little softer, a little kinder sometimes.
“You hired another babysitter for Tenko, didn’t you?” Kotaro asked, and Nao stiffened.
Nao listened to him, she really did. Kotaro worked hard for this family, she knew that. He was the one who made the money, he was the one who built the house. He was the one who invited her parents to live with them. All they had to do in return was follow one rule. If they could just follow that one rule, they’d all be happy. If Tenko and Hana could follow just that one rule, they would be happy.
So, why did she hire Mrs. Shirakumo’s son? Looking back on it, Nao knew she was being impulsive. She had broken the rule. Why did she do it? For the same reason why she followed the rule. She wanted Tenko to be happy.
“Yes, I did,” she replied, and now, she, too, was not looking at Kotaro, but instead staring at the back of the seat in front of her. “He’ll be watching over him during the day from eight to six, while Kenji will be watching him during the night, from six to eight.”
“I don’t understand why you went through the trouble of hiring two babysitters. We could’ve easily had Kenji watch Tenko full-time.”
“I just thought it would get boring for Tenko if he stayed with just one person for the next three weeks. Having two babysitters gives him some variety, yes?”
“Tenko is supposed to be bored. It wouldn’t be a punishment if he was having fun.”
Nao tightened her grip on her armrest. She didn’t grace that statement with a response.
“You should tell me more about this babysitter you hired,” he continued. “What’s his name?”
“Oboro Shirakumo,” she said, and instantly regretted it. She should have made up a name. Now, all it would take was one spike of curiosity from Kotaro, one search on the internet. “He’s the son of one of my friends,” she quickly added. “A high school student.”
“You hired a high school student?” he asked, disapproval laced in his tone.
“He’s responsible. Kind, bright, with a good sense of humor. I’m sure he’ll take good care of Tenko.”
“Fine. As long as he knows to enforce my rules.”
Kotaro was looking at her now, cold gaze searching, a hand squeezing her forearm. The air had stilled.
“No talk about heroes,” he said, his words ringing loudly in her head. No heroes. No heroes. “Did you tell him that?”
And Nao, mustering up every inch of her will to not stutter, not shake, not look away, turned her head to meet his eyes, and said, “Yes, I did.”