Mailins POV

It’s the first day back from winter break, but the air is heavy. The new year had barely begun when Shota, Hizashi, and I were summoned to Tartarus prison. Shota received the call early that morning, his face darkening with every word. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

I sit beside him in the car, the silence between us thick. Hizashi is in the front, chattering nervously to fill the void, but Shota remains stoic, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Hey, we don’t know anything for sure yet,” Hizashi says, turning in his seat to look at us. “This could all be a mistake, right?”

Shota doesn’t respond. His grip tightens on my hand, though, his only sign of unease. I give his hand a gentle squeeze in return, trying to offer what little comfort I can. I know how hard this is for him. Tartarus isn’t just any prison. And what they’re asking him to confront today… it cuts deeper than any wound.

When we arrive, Naomasa Tsukauchi and Gran Torino are already waiting for us. They greet us somberly, their expressions grave, as if they know the weight of what they’re about to reveal. I can feel Shota’s tension rising beside me, but he keeps his face neutral, not letting anyone in.

We’re led into the depths of the prison, the cold walls echoing with every step we take. Finally, we reach a heavily fortified cell, and that’s when Naomasa drops the bombshell.

"Kurogiri’s Warp Gate Quirk bears an uncanny resemblance to Oboro Shirakumo's Quirk."

My breath catches in my throat. Oboro... the name alone feels like a punch to the gut. I glance at Shota, his expression hardening as Naomasa continues.

"We believe Kurogiri was created using Oboro’s body as a base."

There’s a long silence, and for the first time in a long while, I see Shota falter. His eyes, usually so sharp, dim with the weight of the revelation. Hizashi is equally shaken, his usual energy drained. The memories of their past—of Oboro, their friend, their classmate—hit them hard. They had dreamed of becoming heroes together, and now they’re standing here, being told that their friend has been turned into… this.

Gran Torino explains how the Nomu are created, how Oboro’s body might have been taken before it was cremated. It’s twisted, cruel, but it’s the reality they’re facing now.

“Why us?” Shota’s voice is low, gruff. I can tell he’s trying to keep his emotions in check, but the tremble in his tone betrays him. “What do you expect us to do?”

“We need you to try to reach him,” Naomasa replies. “See if any part of Oboro’s consciousness remains.”

Shota scoffs. “You want us to bring him back through the ‘power of friendship’?” There’s bitterness in his voice, a mask for the deeper pain underneath.

But despite his words, I know he’ll do it. Shota never lets his emotions show, but I can feel the storm raging beneath the surface. I take his hand again, grounding him, and he doesn’t pull away. Not this time.

As we enter Kurogiri’s cell, the familiar black mist of his Warp Gate swirls lazily around him. The sight of him sends a chill down my spine. Shota steps forward, activating his Erasure Quirk, and the mist dissipates slightly, revealing the figure within.

“Kurogiri,” Shota begins, his voice steady despite the emotions he’s wrestling with. “Do you remember me?”

Kurogiri’s hollow eyes turn towards Shota, and for a moment, there’s no recognition. But then something flickers—something small, almost imperceptible.

“I’m here because of Oboro,” Shota continues. “Do you remember him?”

I can see the struggle in Shota’s face, the pain of dredging up old memories he’s tried so hard to bury. Hizashi stands beside him, his usual loud persona gone, replaced with a quiet determination. And me—I stay close, ready to support him in whatever way I can, even if that just means being there.

Kurogiri doesn’t respond right away, but there’s a hesitation in his movements, a subtle shift in his body language. Shota presses on.

“You used to be Oboro Shirakumo,” Shota says, his voice softening, a hint of desperation creeping in. “We were going to start an agency together. You, me, and Hizashi. We had plans. You were always pulling us forward, always optimistic. You wouldn’t just disappear like this.”

Kurogiri’s head tilts slightly, as if he’s listening, but the black fog remains.

Shota’s voice grows firmer. “If there’s any part of Oboro left in you, fight. Fight to come back.”

Tears sting my eyes as I watch Shota lay his heart bare, something he almost never does. He’s always been the one to stay in control, to remain detached. But not today. Today, he’s pleading with the ghost of his past.

For a moment, I think I see it—a flicker of recognition in Kurogiri’s eyes. His body trembles, and the black fog shifts. The face beneath the mist becomes clearer, just for an instant, and I hear it—Oboro’s voice, weak and distant.

“Hospital…”

It’s all he manages before the black fog reclaims him, and Kurogiri slumps, unconscious once more.

Shota stands there, frozen, staring at the figure that was once his friend. Hizashi has tears streaming down his face, and even I can’t hold mine back anymore. I step forward, wrapping my arms around Shota, pulling him close. He doesn’t resist.

“You did everything you could,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “Oboro knows you tried.”

Shota doesn’t speak, but his grip on me tightens. Hizashi moves to join us, his usual bluster gone, replaced with the quiet understanding of shared grief.

As we leave the cell, Naomasa thanks us for our help, but none of us feel victorious. The wound is too fresh, too deep. Gran Torino offers a quiet apology for reopening old scars, and Shota just nods, his face unreadable once more.

But I know. I know the toll this has taken on him. And I’ll be there for him, just like he’s always been there for me.

As we make our way back to the car, I hold Shota’s hand in mine, silently vowing that we’ll get through this—together.

---

We return to the teacher’s dorms at Heights Alliance, a somber atmosphere hanging over us. Shota and Hizashi are sitting on the couch, both of them clearly still reeling from what just happened with Kurogiri. I linger nearby, watching them from the kitchen, feeling the weight of their shared grief. I know better than to pry, but the tension is palpable.

Hizashi is the first to break the silence, his voice unusually subdued. “You think the Hero Public Safety Commission knows more than they’re letting on?” He’s not his usual loud, cheerful self. This is the Hizashi that rarely comes out—the one who’s as serious and perceptive as Shota.

Shota leans back, sighing, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. “They insisted on pushing the students into these work studies, knowing full well the dangers out there. They must know something. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

I feel a pang in my chest. Ever since the incident with Kurogiri, Shota has been more distant, his usually stoic nature hiding something deeper. I can see how much this is weighing on him.

“If you find out where the Nomu were created, what’ll you do?” Hizashi asks, though his voice carries a note of sarcasm, trying to lighten the mood just a little.

Shota doesn’t reply immediately, but there’s a hard edge to his silence. His thoughts are always on protecting the students, and now, on Oboro. I know this weighs heavily on him, and it makes my heart ache to see him this way.

Just then, there’s a knock on the door, and we all turn to see Mirio and Tamaki standing there, looking worried.

“Eri’s not feeling well,” Mirio says softly, glancing between us. “Her horn… it’s acting weird.”

The mention of Eri immediately draws Shota out of his thoughts, and he stands up quickly. I follow behind him as we rush down the hallway to find Nejire sitting with Eri, gently stroking her hair as the little girl fidgets with discomfort.

Her big eyes look up at us, full of worry. “My horn feels funny…”

Shota kneels down beside her, his face softening as he activates his Erasure Quirk. The glow from her horn begins to fade, and he pats her head gently. “Don’t worry, Eri. It’s nothing to be afraid of.”

I watch the way he handles her, so gentle despite everything. He’s always been protective of her, and seeing him like this makes my heart swell. I move closer, placing a hand on Shota’s shoulder. He glances up at me, and there’s a moment of shared understanding between us.

“She’s okay,” he reassures me quietly, and I nod, relieved.

After making sure Eri is resting comfortably, Shota heads outside for some air, and I follow him, but before I can catch up, I notice All Might sitting on one of the benches. Shota notices too, and he walks over, curious.

“What are you doing out here?” Shota asks, his voice calm but concerned.

All Might looks up, a faint smile on his face, but there’s a sadness in his eyes. “Not much. Just… thinking.”

Shota sits beside him, and I hover near the doorway, letting them have their moment, but still close enough to hear the conversation. I know how much All Might’s struggles weigh on Shota—how much he respects him, but also worries about him.

“All Might, she’s asleep now,” Shota says, referring to Eri. “I’ll start training her this week. If you want to help, I won’t say no.”

There’s a pause, and All Might looks down at his hands. “I’ve decided to live, but… it’s hard. When I see how much everyone else has grown, I can’t help but feel… powerless.”

His words are heavy, and I can see the pain in them. All Might had been the Symbol of Peace for so long, carrying the world on his shoulders. Now, without his Quirk, it’s clear he feels lost.

Shota, ever pragmatic, leans forward slightly. “You carried the title of Symbol of Peace for so long, it’s hard to see all the other things you can do now. But you’re still here for the students. Being there for them matters. You’re still the person you’ve always been.”

All Might seems to take that in, nodding slowly. Shota has a way of cutting through the noise, getting straight to the heart of the matter. It’s one of the things I love most about him—his ability to see people as they are, not as they want to be.

After a moment of silence, Shota adds, “Naomasa said he has to delay your meeting with Stain, by the way. I’ll let you know when it’s rescheduled.”

All Might nods again, standing up. “Thank you, Aizawa.” He turns to leave, but not before offering a small smile in my direction as well. I return it, glad to see even a sliver of warmth in him again.

When All Might leaves, Shota finally lets out a deep sigh, leaning back against the bench. I take a seat beside him, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the day settle over us.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice soft, but full of concern.

Shota doesn’t answer right away, but after a moment, he places his hand over mine, squeezing it gently. “I will be. Just… a lot on my mind.”

I lean in closer, my fingers tracing gentle patterns on his arm. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine. There’s something unspoken between us, a quiet acknowledgment of everything we’ve been through. And for a brief moment, despite the heaviness of the day, we both find a little bit of peace in each other’s presence.