— — START — —
They first met Sorashi on a late afternoon visit. Sunlight spilled through the windows of the living room, golden beams lighting up scattered toys and the soft carpet where Sorashi had been crawling just minutes before.
"What're you doing just standing by the doorway so awkwardly, Shota?"
Shota Aizawa stood awkwardly near the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes flicking nervously between the small boy toddling around and the man standing beside him.
"…That's him?" he asked quietly, voice low.
"Yep!" Oboro said proudly, grinning as he'd just won some invisible contest. "This is Sorashi. My little brother."
Sorashi stopped mid-step and stared at Shota. Long. Unblinking. Judging.
"…He's looking at me," Shota muttered.
"That's 'cause he knows you're cool," Oboro replied easily, leaning closer.
As if to prove it, Sorashi toddled up and grabbed Shota's sleeve. "Hi!" he said in a small, firm voice.
Shota froze. "…He has a strong grip," he murmured.
Oboro laughed. "Guess he takes after me."
Sorashi clutched his sleeve for a moment, then let go and pointed at Shota's goggles. "Wow! Goggles!"
Shota looked away, quietly relieved. "…He's fine," he said, quieter than before.
Then came Yamada. Loud. Dramatic. Inescapable.
"OOOHHHH! IS THIS THE LEGENDARY LOUD CLOUD JUNIOR?!"
Sorashi's eyes widened, then he clapped his hands and squealed. "Yur face is funny!"
"HEY! He likes me!" Yamada declared triumphantly, crouching low and waving both arms like a conductor. "YOU GOT GOOD TASTE, LITTLE DUDE!"
Sorashi wiggled, bouncing on his feet. "More! More!"
"This dude knows how to have fun!" the loudmouth added as his movements became even more comedic.
Shota chimed, "Yeah, he's most certainly laughing at you, not with you."
Oboro nearly doubled over in laughter, holding his brother's tiny hands so he wouldn't topple.
"Careful!" their mother called from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, amused. "Don't knock over the vase again."
"I got him!" Oboro replied, still laughing. "He's fine!"
Sorashi toddled over to Kayama, who had quietly entered behind Yamada. She crouched to his level, hands out. "Hello, Sorashi."
"Hi-hi! Yur very prittie!" he said, stumbling slightly into her arms.
Oboro's grin softened just a little, a faint flush coloring his cheeks as he watched her cradle his little brother.
The girl added, "I can't believe you've only introduced this little guy to us now, Shirakumo."
"Uh… well, there wasn't an appropriate chance," he muttered, voice barely above normal.
Sorashi laughed, patting her shoulder. "Tickle!"
Yamada gasped. "Ooooh! Looks like big brother's got competition! You better watch out, Oboro!"
Oboro groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, giving him a quick, embarrassed glance. "Shut up, Yamada!"
The toddler ran off again, tiny feet pattering across the hardwood, arms flailing with excitement. "Clouds! Clouds!" he shouted. Oboro summoned a small patch of floating cloud just above the floor, and Sorashi jumped onto it with squeals of delight.
But then something unusual happened.
As Sorashi bounced, the small patch of cloud seemed to ripple, stretching and curling around his little feet as if it were alive. A wisp of mist drifted up toward his hair, lingering there for a moment before dissolving into nothing.
Oboro noticed it and frowned slightly. "Huh… that's weird," he murmured, reaching out as if to steady the cloud—but the movement stopped as quickly as it began.
Shota, standing nearby, barely reacted, but the faint lift of his brow suggested he had seen it too.
The rest of the afternoon passed in laughter, chaos, and playful scuffles. Sorashi toddled, climbed, and floated across the house, his tiny voice shouting and squealing as clouds drifted lazily around him, sometimes lingering closer than they should have, twisting gently as if following his excitement.
The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the walls in shades of gold and rose. Oboro's grin never faded, except for the fleeting moments when he glanced at Kayama, cheeks warm, as if she had unknowingly stolen a small piece of his attention.
And through it all, Sorashi laughed, with joy bright enough to light up the whole house.
- - - - -
Somewhere far from the laughter and sunlight of the Shirakumo household, a shadowed figure lounged in a dimly lit room, the faint hum of machinery echoing softly.
His eyes, sharp and calculating, studied a profile on the desk before him. The young hero-in-training was unremarkable at first glance: average height, average build, a quiet demeanor. Yet the quirk he wielded—Erasure—was magnificent.
"Such a remarkable ability," the figure murmured, voice low and smooth, "and it landed on someone so… ordinary-looking."
A soft cough came from the corner. A man in a lab coat stepped forward, adjusting the strap of his glasses. "Master, if I may suggest—"
The shadowed figure waved a hand. "I already have something planned, doctor."
His thoughts were dark and calculating. To acquire this power, to bend it to his will… he needed a tool. Something massive. Something capable of creating chaos, of drawing the young hero out, of testing the limits of his defenses.
A screen flickered to life before him. A figure loomed within it: massive, grotesque, and amphibious. The creature's movements were slow but deliberate, each ripple of its enormous body radiating strength and menace.
"This one will do the job," the figure said, referring to the screen. "We know where they're stationed, yes?"
The figure's companion adjusted his glasses, "Yes, master. According to my assessments, this neighborhood is where they'll be deployed."
A red highlight appeared on the screen that showcased a map of Japan.
A large smile appeared on the dark figure's face, "Great! As this one stirs the city, the boy will most certainly be drawn out. And when he comes… well, we'll see how easily his quirk bends to my will."
The doctor nodded silently, making notes on a digital pad. "Shall I prepare the containment measures for the extraction?"
"Of course," the figure replied, fingers drumming on the desk in a rhythm like a heartbeat. "Timing is everything. One misstep and the opportunity is lost. But if executed perfectly… that quirk will be mine."
Outside, the wind rattled the windows, a quiet prelude to the storm that was already gathering.
And somewhere, unseen and unaware, a young boy laughed, unaware that his life was about to be touched by tragedy.
— — END — —