Chapter Text
The key to winning any battle was never in strength, neither was it intelligence or strategy– the key… was information.
Every human being, no matter their age or gender or beliefs in life, is a highly advanced machine. Nerves like copper wire, skin like the protective rubber casing around it; the brain was the highest processing computer in existence, the software to the skull’s hardware; the organs were, of course, the cogs that kept the machine chugging, powered by blood– the fuel of the body.
In that sense, Kurogiri was no different from the other fighters in the Underground Masquerade, but in a place where strength was currency, what could possibly give him the edge?
Once upon a time, Kurogiri had been green to the ring– he hadn’t understood these very crucial lessons. The first few bouts in the ring had been utter disasters All for One had to drag him out of, further indebting him to the Demon Lord– not to mention each loss began to tarnish his reputation– which meant he was tarnishing his master’s reputation– and they just couldn’t have that, now could they?
‘You need an edge, my dear. I can’t keep looking out for you forever, you know?’ Those words as a whole had been a threat– but that part about ‘looking out’– that stuck with him: he was always looking out over the fights from behind the bar, quite literally overlooking the most important clue he had.
He needed an edge, he needed something that no other person in the ring had, and that one thing that no one else had… was intel. Not only was Kurogiri in the unique position to watch his opponents move up the rankings, but he had All for One– he had All for One’s intel.
And by the gods had that revelation brought him far from where he had been.
Kendo Rappa– Alias: ‘The Rapper’– Quirk: Strongarm.
Kendo Rappa wasn’t just any ordinary man, and Strongarm wasn’t just any ordinary quirk– even if neither man nor quirk were something All for One had any personal interest in. To say he was ‘ordinary’, to say his quirk was a temporary state? Kurogiri would honestly call that a disservice to the fighter.
The main event of Strongarm was, certainly, that temporary state that grated The Rapper the ability to rotate his shoulders at an impossible speed, storing up all that energy– meaning that whenever he unleashed his barrage of near-endless bullet punches (‘near’-endless because this state luckily only lasted a handful of precious seconds) that was only capped off by The Rapper’s own physical potential– lest he break something.
And that was the caveat: because Strongarm had a passive ability also. It took a while for Kurogiri to notice it, he likely wouldn’t have if he didn’t know to, but Kendo was one of, if not the most, likely person to defend the bar against rowdy or aggressive patrons– sometimes, Kurogiri didn’t need to so much as squint cautiously at a person because Kendo was already on them– except his punches then were far less effective than when he was in the ring and not using his quirk. It was like he had to bring it up at the moment of his battles, or it reacted with a flight or flight response.
That was what Kurogiri knew he had capitalise on– he just had to survive The Rapper’s precursory strength and then the Strongarm barrage, then take him down after that when his opponent was suffering the drawbacks of his active ability–
And yet… he didn’t feel all too particularly daunted by the task…
Having a stockpile of strength was irrelevant when he was essentially invulnerable– it was a fortunate trade-off for his lower constitution; he still had a body under his mist, but finding it would be a task if he completely covered himself in his mist– and that wasn’t accounting for the speed at which he could create a Warp Gate to absorb (or even redirect) attacks.
As a ‘newborn’ nomu, he’d been so weak, like a fawn finding its legs; he didn’t understand his own quirk, or the limits of it, and his body had felt like glass– and he had felt so… alone in the world. Coming out of the other end of that made him stronger than anyone probably knew.
Good.
Kurogiri closed his eyes, only a thin line of golden mist seeping through the cracks, and took a deep, steadying breath. He was in the ring, preparing to fight– this was no time to dwell on what was. Across from him, The Rapper was bouncing on his toes, gearing up in his own way, and–
And something in Kurogiri clicked into place.
Something cold, something certain– something that brought a daring smile over his teeth beneath his mist and a confident squint to his gaze– it must had bled out from him and into the air, because The Rapper turned to him, his expression mirroring that feeling perfectly as they began circling the ring– Kurogiri silent and lithe in his crossing steps, The Rapper heavy and stomping as he adjusted his gloves.
Every step was matched despite the difference– neither gave the other an inch, because they were both well aware that if they did, they wouldn’t just take that inch: they’d take a mile– more, if it was possible. Kurogiri knew The Rapper, and The Rapper knew him, knew how his quirk worked, how he used his quirk– but using his quirk… that was rational, right?
I think you need to loosen up a little!
Kurogiri’s head snapped to look out of the ring, chest heaving with… something he didn’t want to name. Anything beyond the ring was blotted out by the show lights– but he knew exactly what he would see if he had a clear view of the bar backing– this cold calm, this daring confidence… it wasn’t his, it was Loud Cloud’s– that click… it must have been the other him waking, gearing up to snag his own piece of all the fun.
And that was when The Rapper made his first mistake: assuming Kurogiri had become distracted.
He pounced across the ring, trying to cash in on some prize he thought he won, and Kurogiri almost let him– only sidestepping at the very last moment as if to say ‘I see you. No matter the move you make’. The Rapper turned to face him again, slowly, like he was marvelling at the move, face lit up like a child’s– he pounced once again, and this time, Kurogiri parried it, pulling his bo-staff from across the room through his Warp Gate.
After that, it probably seemed like a free-for-all. To the laymen in the crowd, The Rapper’s heavy offensive versus Kurogiri’s graceful defence might have seemed disproportionate: a brutal brawler charging a much smaller, fickle frame wasn’t sustainable– especially if he wasn’t striking back– but the veterans had likely long since realised the intent behind his evasiveness.
We’ve got to goad him– we have to get him to waste Strongarm.
A simple trap– a trap perfectly executed.
The air in the ring shifted once again the moment Strongarm was activated– and every thought in Kurogiri’s mind poofed like a child running through fog; he completely gave his body to his instinct– the instinct that told him to fight, not just against the Rapper, but against it all– to live as he wanted to live, even if following the instinct felt no different than following an order.
A complete mental detachment even though he was painfully aware of his entire physical being: the blood striking red hot through his veins, the muscles straining to follow through with each movement, tendons and bones sliding in sync to execute his survival.
Each hit slammed against his bo-staff, lancing shockwaves up to his shoulders and straining down his supplemented spine, the pain dull and excruciating all at once– a juxtaposition: the patchwork of his spine taking the brunt of strikes that were perfectly balanced over the length of the weapon, systematically deflecting each one away without so much of a splinter against the wood.
And even as Strongarm began to fade, that balance of instinct and submission didn’t let up– it wasn’t like he could get complacent just because he survived half the battle– if anything, without the constant barrage, he was better, faster– the grace All for One drilled into every pore of his body filtering through the already silk-smooth martial arts training he knew he specifically had never received.
Just one moment… just a singular gap–
There!
Their final strikes came swiftly, like a viper striking right at the jugular; the first break in The Rapper’s defenses, but it was the only one Kurogiri needed– the jab to the throat, followed by a crack over the neck vertebrae from behind, then a whip to the back of the knees with one last pivot to the front with a vicious ram straight into the diaphragm– all topped off with one last horrific catch across the face with enough force and friction that The Rapper’s mask only hung by a few remaining threads.
The whips began to bleed, the jabs were already bruising, and his opponent collapsed to the ground to the sound of the crowd crescendoing into loud cries of despair and even louder cheers of victory.
Kurogiri was deaf to it all– it sounded like he was underwater, or perhaps had cotton stuffed into his ears. An exhaustion so bone-deep that his heart raced washed over him, and he was forced to lean against the rungs of the ring– but somehow, even through the haze of chalk kicked up from the ring and the blinding glare of the stage lights, his eyes locked with All for One’s, and a deep dread stuck in his throat.
He didn’t bother to address his opponent or commend the effort in trying to beat him, nor did he boast of his win or lack of quirk use, he simply disappeared from the ring and reappeared behind the bar, hands weaving through droughts, mixes and cocktails like he hadn’t just had his wrists take the brunt of a hundred punches per second.
“Quite the show there, my dear boy.” All for One purred, turning back to face him from the other side of the bar– was this another test? Or was he making light conversation? It was hard to tell sometimes, so Kurogiri erred on the side of caution, sparing his master a glance but not pausing in his movements. “How are you feeling?”
“I am alright.” The response was cold, as detached as he felt– after that wave of exhaustion in the ring, an emptiness had crept in– no different than his usual indifference and at the same time, entirely different; now that he knew what it was like to experience something deeper than the surface, he found himself missing it.
When he dared another glance at All for One as the tickets calmed down, his movements stuttered as he realised that he was looking at Kurogiri through the back mirror, apparently lost in thought– or perhaps waiting for something…?
“Tomura always was your biggest fan.” Kurogiri forced his hands to keep moving through the want to freeze.
He instead gave a forced, rather theatrical sigh. “I suppose I will simply have to do with the sixty-one people cheering me now.” He countered blandly– he didn’t need anyone to cheer for him, even if that person was Tomura, because he cared more about the fact that fighting made Tomura shine with true excitement and winning made him genuinely smile.
“I wonder… how many other children would be willing to cheer for you.” That was the one thing that did manage to give him pause– there shouldn’t be any children around him, let alone any that would have interest in watching and cheering him on, let alone any that All for One would speak of in that tone. “I’m sure there are many lost little souls out there who need a big, strong protector.”
There are more. Tomura Shigaraki wasn’t… he wasn’t the only one.
Of course he wasn’t; of course he couldn’t have been– All for One wasn’t speaking hypothetically. He spoke in certainty, about a current reality or at the very least a close inevitability.
“I would be rather disappointed. I would prefer to have no peanut gallery than one made up of ‘lost little souls’ who can’t pay patronage.” His voice was stern because what did he have to lose anymore by backchatting? The only thing he had was Tomura, and Tomura was gone, and as much as he cared for him, Kurogiri had never once agreed with All for One’s intended purpose– he didn’t agree with using children at all, whether it was as bait, as hostages, or as successors to a criminal empire.
This is no such place for a child.
The pressure of an offended displeasure washed over the room: patrons silenced, the jazz music faded into the background, glasses clinking pierced the air like gunshots.
There was danger here now.
Not the kind of danger people expected stepping into an unrestricted fight club– this was something deeper, pressing into each nerve and every bone.
Everyone but Kurogiri.
All for One was irritated– too above true anger– Kurogiri could see it from the corner of his gaze: the way the skin over his jowls was pulled tight, how his lips pressed into a thin line complimenting the rigid squint in his eyes– down to even the vein in his hand popping out and becoming more pronounced as he gripped his glass tighter.
An intimidation attempt. That is all it is.
If All for One was really intending to do something, he would have certainly done it already. Whether it was clearing out the establishment and dragging him to the doctor, or activating the shock collar wired into his back, or– well… there were many ways to punish insubordination, even if that way was traditionally pleasurable.
“Ahah.” All for One laughed, and those breaths morphed into a genuinely amused chuckle, the tension in the room snapping back to normal. “Your disappointment is what makes you such a treasure, my dear.”
Kurogiri felt his emotions jolt into a stunned confusion– being named a treasure for speaking out of turn was so unlike anything he had come to expect… being brushed off, ignored even, was the usual response for minor things, punishment for major objections– but never a compliment…
Perhaps the loss of Tomura Shigaraki is having an effect on All for One too…? It was the only rational explanation.
“Shinji!” All for One called over the room to the server, not breaking his gaze away from Kurogiri. “Take over from our dear bartender here. I require him for some urgent business.” The words were polite, some may have even said they were pleasant, but the order sparked through him with a pain he had long since gotten used to– he stepped away from the bar with the same grace he always had, slipping past young Shinji without anyone assuming the storm battering the wall of control.
What could All for One want so ‘urgently’? What did he have to prove that required such immediate action?
As they slipped into the back hallway, a whisper in the back of his programming had him automatically opening a Warp Gate against the wall– he didn’t recognise the co-ordinates– they were going somewhere entirely new to him, and that was rarely, if ever, a good thing.
The places he knew? He knew the crowd that they drew, he knew what to expect, and he could make an educated guess as to what their business there was, so as he followed his master through the portal, he didn’t immediately close it behind them, keeping himself on high alert–
The bright colours and warm, seemingly innocent atmosphere did nothing to ease his caution.
“Welcome to Sunnyside Nursery, my dear.” The words were loaded, and it was clear All for One expected some form of extreme reaction from him– and he almost fulfilled that prophecy, but he was in full analysis mode: why could they just waltz in here at such a late hour? Why would this location, its residents, be something All for One had power over? There were very few possibilities, and very few reasons to explain them away, with each one making a weight settle over his chest.
Kurogiri wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t all that proud: he knew that nothing was ‘sunny’ when they were involved– he was merely waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Ah! If it isn’t our wonderful benefactor!”
Nope. No. Absolutely not.
That sunny, happy tone sent shivers through his entire body– it made his skin crawl, his teeth ache, and he took an automatic step behind All for One as the sun-faced newcomer came an inch too close– and even then, he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably– too happy, too bright– unnatural– nope.
“Haruaki. A pleasure to see you again.” Yeah– no. No one who associated this familiarly with All for One deserved to act this happy– Kurogiri refused to believe it– unless it was the Doctor, but that man was an egoistic, perverted, fanatical madman, so did he really count? “I have mentioned my Kurogiri a couple times, yes?” All for One stepped to the side, placing him squarely back in the line of fire.
Haruaki beamed, snatching Kurogiri’s hand from where it was pinned at his side. “Yes, yes, yes! It’s nice to finally get a look at you– you were right, sir– it is a marvel!” It was purely the knowledge that All for One was there and watching them like a hawk that gave him the ability to return the handshake, even when he could feel bile in his throat, even though his veins were popping and bursting like they could dislodge his hand–
This was a test, it had to be a test– unless All for One liked seeing him so disgustingly uncomfortable, which he supposed could be possible–
“I came to check on the situation here.” The man finally decided to come to his rescue. “I hear you have an update.”
Kurogiri felt his blood freeze in a second, hand remaining trapped in midair as Haruaki pulled away– updates weren’t good, especially when All for One sounded less annoyed about the interruption and more eager for the results.
And unfortunately, Haruaki appeared to be sharing that eagerness. “Yes, yes, of course! Right this way, sir!” The man turned heel, shifting forward at a pace that was almost too fast to be normal, glancing back at All for One with each step– not at Kurogiri, who was trailing as far behind as politely possible– he was an inconsequential metric against whatever new development had been made.
At the very least, as the nerves faded, it allowed him to take his time and take in the place they were in: on the surface, it didn’t look all that sinister– it was how one would imagine any old daycare to look, bursting with bright colours and letters the size of his palms so little eyes could learn and read– it drove home that there really were other children here; that whatever the other him had done had been for nothing…
His fears went unsoothed as they stepped into a large common area of sorts, the horror dulling with acceptance that loosened his muscles as he looked around at the children. There were a couple as young as preschoolers playing in a toy kitchenette, whilst others as old as middle schoolers scribbled on papers at a table far too small for them.
Seeing all of it– it made him– it made him angry, made him want to– to–
A scream struck straight through that anger, and before he fully registered it, he was kneeling down on the far side of the room from where he had been, hand cupping the back of a young girl’s neck who had previously been about to crack her head on a dollhouse model– there was a horrible stillness in her terror-filled eyes– and then she burst into tears, curling into Kurogiri’s lap and gripping his vest like a lifeline, soaking it with her tiny tears.
That was all it took for all the horror, disgust, anger and discomfort he had felt to ease from his body. He shifted to cross his legs, lifting the girl in his lap so she could be more comfortable, and gently shushed her as a hand rubbed her back soothingly. “It’s okay… you’re alright…” He muttered between hushes, rocking them gently as a little boy patted her leg comfortingly.
“You were right…” A mutter obviously not meant for little ears caught behind him. “It really is good with children.” Kurogiri almost scoffed– not because he was referred to as an ‘it’, he was used to that by now, but at the fact Haruaki had dared to doubt All for One.
“Of course I was right.” Of course he was– he was always right– it’s what fueled Kurogiri’s hopelessness, knowing he was watched so closely that every action he took was so predictable. “It may have come to me in error, but even trash can shine to become a great treasure. It is useful in every way it needs to be.”
Perhaps this is the reason why I prefer the company of children, he thought bitterly: children were simple.
Sure, they tend to see people as the ways they could help ease their needs, but it wasn’t out of cruelty, it was out of necessity– to these boys and girls, he wasn’t an ‘it’, he was a ‘he’, and he wasn’t ‘useful’ or simply fulfilling an order– he was kind.
He was a person.
And they were predictable– he didn’t have to carefully consider each word he spoke, not really– he could pick up a doll right now and play, and the itching that seemed to be a constant in his life wouldn’t bother him because children didn’t expect anything more of him. He could be a little more carefree, he could help shape the future generation– be that tiny bit of light in the darkness beneath All for One’s shadow, however fruitless that endeavour might prove in the end.
Even now, he could feel All for One’s eyes on him, pinning him there as he continued to comfort a child that was barely even crying anymore, like he had followed an order rather than doing it of his own volition. He wasn’t even sure what could possibly have made the man so enraptured this time? This was nothing he hadn’t done a hundred times for Tomura, so why was he looking at him with the same heat that he got whenever Kurogiri came back from the Doctor’s lab?
Did it have something to do with the other him? All for One had been eyeing the mirror earlier… there was no way he could know– right…? Kurogiri was barely aware! There was no way…
The children– just focus on the children for now. He felt his hold on the girl tighten, trying to ebb the tingling over his skin again– the children were the real victims here– Kurogiri was a lost cause, he had nothing– he was nothing– but these children…
“Hey, look! It’s Mister Sleepyhead!” One of the middle children giggled, and both Kurogiri and the girl in his arms turned to look at the hallway that led even deeper into the facility.
There, leaning against the corner like he was barely able to stand, was a boy who had to be one of the older children here– certainly considerably older than Tomura had been.
He’s burned. Badly. And… Kurogiri hardly dared to think it, lest it be thought into existence, but that white hair and that lost, empty gaze felt like staring in a mirror– the hospital gown he was wearing didn’t do much to alleviate the thought either– he looks like Tomura– or…
Is he attempting to hide?
Probably not, but Kurogiri wanted to chuckle at the thought of chiding the boy– there was no way for anyone so young to know better, especially with injuries that severe: no one under All for One’s thumb could hide– not unless they knew what they were doing, and even then, that wouldn’t last anyone long, not with the sheer amount of people that were on the Demon Lord’s payroll.
“And if it isn’t young Todoroki.” Realisation hit Kurogiri instantly: this boy was the ‘update’ All for One came for– yeah, there was no way hiding would save him. “How are you feeling? You were sleeping for quite a while there.” Kurogiri recognised that tone too: it was the light positivity All for One used when he was trying to manipulate someone– a predator stalking his prey– and here Kurogiri was…
Completely powerless to stop it.
He could only hope that someone older wouldn’t fall prey to it as easily as young Tomura had– that boy had fallen so easily under All for One’s spell– not surprising really, not with how the world had treated him up until that point. He had been so heartbreakingly enchanted that Kurogiri didn’t even know what effect his care was having on the boy’s psyche, or what the other him had done to get him to leave so easily.
This ‘Todoroki’ though… something twinged in the back of Kurogiri’s mind, something like familiarity, and he wondered if it was a reason as to why the boy looked away from All for One– acting all aloof as he instead made eye contact with Kurogiri before his gaze danced away into a random corner.
He wasn’t particularly one for religion, but he thanked whatever god may have existed for protecting the newcomer.
“Haruaki.” All for One continued, short, not one for being ignored. “What’s the project status?”
The man beside him’s voice was filled with glee as he began talking. “Well, the subject has displayed major disorientation, but that is to be expected with his level of oxygen deprivation and the three-year coma. Access to news outlets and social media has been entirely restricted.”
All for One hummed with satisfaction. “Good. Keep it that way for now.”
“Of course, sir.” Simple, like they weren’t talking about a person that was only a fair few feet away from them. “There are some expected mobility delays due to atrophy, but other than that… all physical and neurological abilities seem to be slowly returning to average and acceptable rates. We’ll continue to monitor, obviously, but…”
Haruaki shrugged, before an admiring twinkle shone in his eyes. “It’s all surprising, really. The smoke, the burns, at such a young age… You really did get there just in time, sir! Any later, and I don’t think the reconstruction would have gone successfully enough for your needs!”
All for One gave him a smug side-eye. “You doubted me, Haruaki?” The words almost sounded like a threat.
“No, no, no! Not at all, sir!” The man’s sunshine face beamed as bright as the real thing. “I just marvel at everything you do! Even when it’s within the expected parameters!”
Is that fiery anger within your ‘expected parameters’?
Kurogiri could see it so clearly, even in the absence of clenched fists and sneers and stiff jaws– it was in the way the stitches were pulling around his wounds, the way they twitched– there was anger in that boy, an anger Tomura never possessed– and by the way his eyes were crinkled in the direction of the two offending parties, all of that anger was directed at Haruaki and All of One– clearly, he didn’t like being ogled like some token.
Kind of… like him…
Loud Cloud had a kind of anger– more like a sense for injustice that burned Kurogiri away, that pulsed with a debilitating power– the other him’s ‘awake’ times weren’t all that often, but they were exhilarating, forcing a new perspective on everything.
Kurogiri had never known such anger like that before– stress, panic– disgust for sure– but never anger– it was a useless emotion: thinking was hard, being rational even more so, and acting on it was stupid. He feared the boy would act on his anger, no doubt somehow get them all killed–
And then… Todoroki slumped a little further down the wall…
The anger faded…
Not– entirely, there was still an ember there, but it was doused by a keen glint– one that, to Kurogiri at least, looked like a lighthouse beacon guiding them all away from danger. This boy… he was waiting, assessing– learning before he ever–
“Ahgn–!” The squeal that escaped him wasn’t one Kurogiri could have made; the way his arms instinctively clutched around the girl in equal measures of urgency and care wasn’t the way he would have done it– not when he was dragged to his feet with such force that he bumped into his attacker– All for One still smiling that pleasant smile he always wore though his grip on his bicep was like a vice– he could already feel it bruising.
And to everyone else– itt probably looked graceful, romantic even…
“Kurogiri, meet Touya Todoroki.” All for One introduced. “From this day onwards, he will be under your care.”
Of course– why would you bother? The thought was bitter– his only form of resistance was that he didn’t dare speak aloud as he regarded Touya again, with even more caution this time: if the boy suspected that he was a willing participant in any of this… no doubt that anger would likely burn him to a crisp.
Kurogiri’s blank, golden gaze met that vivid, blue one– both of them quiet and guarded, sizing the other up.
The hand on his bicep began to loosen, but he didn’t move his gaze away, letting the hand slither over across the back of his shoulder. He shifted the little girl to the middle of his chest, using his own arms to guard around her as he was tucked into the side of his tormentor.
“You see, my dear?” All for One pressed his lips through Kurogiri’s mist, right against his ear like doing so could make the words brand into his soul. “No matter what you do, no matter who you save, I will always win.”
The irons clapped down around his wrist again– and this time, they felt tighter than they ever had before…