The city lights blurred into streaks of color as Oboro, formerly Kurogiri, drove home. The neon glow painted his blue hair in vibrant hues, a stark contrast to the somber cloud that had settled in his heart. He was Oboro Shirakumo now, a name he hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime. The war was over, the Nomu form shed, the darkness receding like a nightmare upon waking. He was free, and more importantly, he was a father.
His children, Shira, Syren, and Erin, were the anchors to his new life, the very reason he fought to reclaim his humanity. He poured his energy into them, building a life of normalcy amidst the remnants of chaos. As the CEO of a nationwide chain of clubs and bars, he had secured their future, providing them with a comfortable home and the best opportunities he could afford. But the life of a businessman often kept him away, a constant source of guilt that gnawed at his conscience.
Tonight, the guilt was particularly sharp. He had been working late, finalizing a deal that would secure the company's expansion into a new market. As he walked into the quiet house, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He gently peeked into Shira's room. The 14-year-old with her striking blue and purple hair was fast asleep, a small thundercloud subtly crackling above her head, a manifestation of her peculiar quirk.
Next, he checked on Syren. The 16-year-old with the hypnotic quirk was engrossed in a video game, his purple hair slightly disheveled. Oboro smiled faintly, a pang of pride swelling in his chest. He was raising good kids, strong kids.
Finally, he approached Erin's room. Erin, his oldest at 18, with his cloud-manipulating quirk and a maturity that belied his age, was usually the most responsible of the three. Oboro pushed the door open, intending to say goodnight, but the scene that unfolded before him froze him in his tracks.
Erin was on the bed, his usually neat blue hair a mess. Straddling him, lost in a passionate embrace, was Hikuru, Erin's best friend. Hikuru's fiery red hair cascaded down his shoulders, and his crimson eyes were half-closed in a haze of desire. Their shirts were unbuttoned, skin flushed, the air thick with an unspoken intimacy.
Oboro stood there, paralyzed. His mind, usually sharp and calculating, went blank. He felt a strange cocktail of emotions – shock, confusion, anger, and something else, something akin to betrayal. He'd always trusted Erin, relied on his level-headedness. He'd known that Hikuru visited often, but he'd assumed it was just teenage camaraderie.
He couldn't breathe. He backed out of the room slowly, silently, as if any sound would shatter the fragile reality he was clinging to. He stumbled into the living room, sinking onto the plush sofa, his hand trembling as he reached for his phone.
Who could he talk to? He needed someone who understood teenagers, someone who wouldn't judge, someone who could offer advice without the weight of his past clouding their perspective. Mr. Compress. Of course. He had kids of his own, teenagers navigating the tumultuous waters of adolescence.
He scrolled through his contacts and tapped Mr. Compress' name. The phone rang, each ring echoing in the sudden silence of the house.
"Shirakumo? Everything alright?" Mr. Compress' voice was laced with concern.
Oboro swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "I... I don't know, Atsuhiro. I need your advice. Something happened."
He recounted the scene he'd witnessed, his voice barely above a whisper. He could hear Mr. Compress' sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.
"That's... complicated," Mr. Compress said after a long pause. "How close are Erin and Hikuru?"
"Best friends, since middle school," Oboro replied, running a hand through his hair. "I thought... I just assumed they were close friends."
"Teenage friendships can be intense, Oboro. And sometimes," Mr. Compress paused, choosing his words carefully, "sometimes they evolve into something more. Have you ever considered that Erin might be...?"
Oboro stopped him with a wave of his hand, even though Mr. Compress couldn't see him. "I don't know. I haven't. He's never said anything."
"He might be scared, Oboro. Scared of your reaction, scared of how it would change things," Mr. Compress said gently. "You know, acceptance isn't always easy, especially for someone who already bears the weight of a unique quirk."
Oboro felt a surge of guilt. He had been so focused on providing for his children, on protecting them from the shadows of his past, that he had failed to truly see them, to understand their individual struggles.
"What should I do?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
"Talk to him," Mr. Compress said firmly. "Don't accuse, don't judge. Just listen. Tell him you love him, that you're there for him, no matter what. And be prepared to accept whatever he tells you, even if it's not what you expected."
Oboro nodded, even though Mr. Compress couldn't see him. "Thank you, Atsuhiro. I don't know what I would do without you."
"Anytime, Oboro. And remember," Mr. Compress added, "they're still teenagers. Emotions run high, and things can get messy. Just try to navigate it with patience and understanding."
He ended the call and sat in silence for a long time, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He had to talk to Erin, but he needed to be calm, to be supportive. He couldn't let his own shock and confusion cloud his judgment.
He took a deep breath and stood up, his legs feeling heavy. He walked back to Erin's room and knocked softly on the door.
"Erin?"
There was a moment of silence, then the sound of shuffling. The door opened a crack, and Erin's face peeked out, his cheeks flushed and his blue hair even more disheveled than before.
"Dad? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Oboro forced a smile. "Can I come in? We need to talk."
Erin hesitated, then opened the door wider, stepping aside to let his father in. The room was a mess, clothes strewn across the floor, the air still thick with unspoken tension. Hikuru was nowhere to be seen.
Oboro sat on the edge of the bed, avoiding eye contact. "I... I saw you with Hikuru," he said, his voice barely audible.
Erin's face paled. He didn't say anything, just stood there, his eyes wide with fear.
Oboro took a deep breath and looked up at his son. "Erin, I just want you to know that I love you. No matter what. And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything."
Erin's eyes filled with tears. He swallowed hard and finally spoke, his voice trembling. "Dad, I... I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared."
"Scared of what?" Oboro asked gently.
"Scared that you wouldn't understand," Erin said, his voice cracking. "Scared that you wouldn't accept me."
Oboro reached out and took his son's hand. "Erin, there's nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. I might not always understand, but I will always try. Just please, talk to me. Tell me what's going on."
Erin squeezed his father's hand, his tears now flowing freely. "Hikuru and I... we've been friends for so long. And lately, things have been... different. We started spending more time together, talking about things, sharing things. And then, one day, we just... kissed."
He paused, his voice barely a whisper. "It felt right, Dad. It felt... real."
Oboro looked at his son, his heart aching with a mixture of pain and relief. He didn't fully understand, but he knew that Erin was being honest, that he was trusting him with something deeply personal.
"I don't know what the future holds," Erin continued, "but I know that I care about Hikuru. And I hope that you can accept that."
Oboro squeezed his son's hand again. "I will try, Erin. I promise. But you need to be honest with me. And you need to be safe. Okay?"
Erin nodded, wiping away his tears. "Okay, Dad. Thank you."
Oboro pulled his son into a hug, holding him tight. He didn't know what the future held for Erin and Hikuru, but he knew that he would be there for his son, no matter what. He had escaped the darkness of his past to build a life for his children, and he wouldn't let anything, not even his own fears and prejudices, stand in the way of their happiness. He was Oboro Shirakumo, a father learning to navigate the complexities of love and acceptance, one cloud-filled day at a time.