(Before I start in this uh chapter kurogiri and oboro did get separated and are different people, so they were two people in one body and now are separated/this will also be oboro x kurogiri and like I always say if you don't like don't read it's my au please no hate)
Kurogiri meticulously wiped down the counter of "The Afterglow," his bar. The warm amber lighting cast long shadows, reflecting in the polished wood. He was a creature of habit, a methodical being even after his…rebirth. He still remembered the League of Villains, the burning rage of Shigaraki, the unsettling devotion of Toga, the chaotic energy of Twice, and the chilling presence of Dabi. He remembered his purpose, twisted and warped by All For One. But he also remembered Oboro, the bright cloud hero, whose essence had been intertwined with his own.
He'd been given a second chance, a clean slate. Now, he owned this bar, a neutral ground where people could drown their sorrows or celebrate their triumphs. He kept his past buried deep, a locked box in the back of his mind.
For the past week, a certain light blue-haired man had been frequenting the bar. He nursed his drinks, his blue eyes clouded with a profound sadness that resonated with Kurogiri. He sensed a kindred spirit, a fellow traveler burdened by unspoken grief. He knew, instinctively, that this man was Oboro.
Tonight, Oboro was back, slumped on a stool, staring blankly at the amber liquid in his glass. Kurogiri walked over, his expression carefully neutral. "Are you alright? I've noticed you've been here almost every night this past week."
Oboro glanced up, his gaze unfocused. "I'm fine," he mumbled, turning back to his drink.
Kurogiri didn't believe him, but he knew better than to push. Some wounds needed time to heal. He left Oboro to his thoughts and returned to tending the bar.
A few hours later, Kurogiri felt a familiar prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He looked up, his breath catching in his throat. There they were, huddled in a booth in the corner: Toga, Twice, Dabi, and, leading them all, Shigaraki Tomura. His League.
He hadn't seen them since…well, since everything. They looked different, older, wearier, but their auras were unmistakable. Toga's eyes still held that unsettling gleam, Twice still vibrated with jittery energy, Dabi still radiated a chilling intensity, and Shigaraki… Shigaraki still carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, his red eyes burning with a desire that Kurogiri knew all too well.
He forced himself to remain calm, a practiced mask sliding into place. He walked over to their booth, his movements precise and measured. "What can I get for you?"
Shigaraki's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Even reborn, you never forget, do you?"
The others turned, their eyes widening as they recognized him. Toga squealed with delight, Twice's head swiveled back and forth, muttering conflicting opinions, and Dabi simply stared, his turquoise eyes unreadable.
Oboro, startled by the sudden tension, turned to see what all the commotion was about. He froze, his eyes widening in recognition and fear.
Kurogiri spent the next few hours in a daze, serving drinks and exchanging stilted conversations with his former comrades. He learned that they were still operating outside the law, but their goals had shifted. They were no longer driven by destruction and chaos, but by a twisted sense of justice, targeting corrupt corporations and dismantling criminal empires.
Oboro, however, remained silent, his unease palpable. He finished his drink and slipped out before Kurogiri could say anything.
Later that night, Oboro was on a mission, his movements swift and deadly. He was an assassin now, working for Lex, a clandestine organization that dealt in shadows and secrets. Tonight's target was a group of arms dealers, their hands stained with the blood of innocents. He dispatched them efficiently, his heart pounding with a familiar mix of adrenaline and guilt. He had killed thirty people tonight and was about to leave when he bumped into someone.
"Sorry," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. It was Kurogiri.
"It's fine," Kurogiri replied, his voice gentle. Oboro noticed his old friends laughing with a group of people. Aizawa and Hizashi. His mood plummeted.
Kurogiri, sensing his distress, touched his arm gently. "Who are they?"
Oboro flinched at the contact. "Old friends. They think I'm dead."
Kurogiri nodded in understanding. He knew the pain of leaving behind loved ones. "Why don't you go over there?"
Oboro recoiled. "I can't. I don't want to ruin their lives again."
Kurogiri smiled softly. "They deserve to know you're alive. Don't let fear dictate your choices." He then walked over to Aizawa and Hizashi and lead them to Oboro.
Hesitantly, Oboro approached them. Aizawa and Hizashi stared at him in disbelief, their faces pale with shock. For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Aizawa's eyes softened, and a faint smile touched his lips. "Oboro?"
Hizashi let out a choked sob, throwing his arms around Oboro in a bear hug. "You're alive! We thought…we thought we lost you!"
Weeks turned into months. Oboro, cautiously at first, reintegrated himself into Aizawa and Hizashi's lives. He found solace in their friendship, a sense of belonging he thought he had lost forever. He and Kurogiri also grew closer. Kurogiri's old team members came to the bar more often. They would have drinks and chat about missions.
He discovered that Kurogiri had come a long way from the villian he was known as and now has a heart. They would exchange glances, linger a little too long during conversations, and brush hands accidentally. A spark, however small, flickered between them. Everyone could see it, except for Oboro and Kurogiri themselves.
One evening, as Kurogiri was closing up the bar, Oboro lingered behind. "Thank you," he said quietly, his eyes meeting Kurogiri's. "For everything."
Kurogiri smiled, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad you're happy."
"I am," Oboro admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Thanks to you."
He hesitated, then took a step closer. "Kurogiri…there's something I need to tell you."
Before he could continue, Aizawa and Hizashi burst through the door, their faces flushed with excitement. "Oboro! We need your help. There's a situation downtown, a group of villains causing chaos!"
Oboro's face fell. "I have to go." He glanced at Kurogiri, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "I'll see you later?"
"Of course," Kurogiri replied, his voice tinged with disappointment.
As Oboro rushed out, Kurogiri sighed. He knew that Oboro's past would always be a part of him, a constant reminder of the life he had left behind. But he also knew that they had a chance, a chance to build something new, something real. He just hoped they could find the courage to take it.