He did recognize the man-shaped mist, dressed in a clean white shirt, black vest and pants, and leather shoes, who introduced himself as Kurogiri.
(Kurogiri. Black Mist, his mind supplied helpfully. The name suited him.)
Kurogiri was not an enemy.
He'd asked Kurogiri for help, and Kurogiri had helped him.
Kurogiri seemed kind.
Kurogiri had offered him a place to hide.
Kurogiri had lied to Them.
Kurogiri talked to him gently.
Kurogiri was not his enemy.
Still, he had a gut feeling. Something — Kurogiri's reaction was off.
Kurogiri had seen the Black Ghost impale Them, but had not so much as flinched.
Everybody else had screamed and ran away.
He thought... Perhaps Kurogiri understood who the bad people were and who the victim was.
He was the victim, They were the bad people, the murderers.
Still, could he trust Kurogiri?
Not yet.
Not completely.
He had trouble understanding some things, he knew that.
He also knew he couldn't remember so many things that he should remember.
But he was not naive.
When he made the choice to follow Kurogiri, he mentally prepared himself to get it out. He'd gotten the hang of it, back there. Summoning it and controlling it was just like moving another limb. It was simply invisible and deadlier and ever-so-slightly moody and unpredictable at times.
(It had killed before, without his approval.)
He followed Kurogiri to an inconspicuous building. There was a wooden door, leading to a dark room. Kurogiri closed the door behind them, turned on the light and, when it was lit, he saw a place with warm tones, with wood furniture and a counter with bottles and glasses behind it.
(His mind, once again, supplied the information: it was a bar. You could buy and drink alcohol there.)
He breathed in the smell of cold tobacco and alcohol, and something else, fainter, but familiar.
(Kurogiri was saying something, he was not listening.)
He was still trying to figure out what it was when, out of nowhere, Kurogiri grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside of the mist which made up his body. For a second, he was completely surrounded by darkness. Then it was over and he was left unbalanced on a white-tiled floor.
In the corner of his eye, he saw where Kurogiri was, and Black Ghost burst out of nothingness, launching itself at the mist, arm and claws ready to strike and tear the man into shreds.
"Once again, I apologize for the rough treatment." At the apology, Black Ghost froze in place, its hand one inch away from Kurogiri's face, black sand dripping all over the floor. As if Kurogiri wasn't noticing anything wrong, he continued, "I assumed you would prefer to get cleaned up as soon as possible so that we can deal with more important matters before long."
He let out the breath he'd been holding.
"You scared me," he said, feeling breathless. "Please... Please don't do it again."
Black Ghost slowly turned its head towards him. Behind the bandages, what looked like empty eyesockets stared at him, silently, unmoving.
Then it vanished.
"I should not have used my Quirk on you so suddenly."
(A Quirk, his mind helpfully supplied, was... It was a... Some kind of...)
He shook his head.
Weird.
"Are you feeling unwell? Sick?" Kurogiri asked, sounding almost concerned.
He shook his head again. He was fine.
"This is the bathroom," Kurogiri explained, as if nothing had happened. "Take a shower, I will bring you a clean set of clothes. If there is anything you need help with, tell me. I will be close by."
Bathroom? One look around confirmed it. Tiles. White sink and a metal faucet. A rectangular mirror above it. And, on the opposite side of the small room, a shower stall. It smelled like lavender.
In the mirror, he saw a child he did not recognize even though he knew that was himself. Dirty, tangled curly hair that was green-ish in color. Pale complexion from not seeing the sun in months, presumably. Freckles over his cheeks. Wearing stained and smelly clothes, torn in places, fresh blood speckled on them.
He did not know what the child's name was.
He did not remember what the child's parents were like.
They'd stolen this from him. Memories, his own identity...He wanted them back. It was low on his list of priorities but it was there.
It was there, right below "Find a safe place to live" and "Never ever go back there".
He gave the clothes a whiff before piling them in a corner. He'd gotten used to the smell, outside, but here, it was stronger, a little unpleasant. Did it bother Kurogiri?
He stepped into the shower.
He knew how it worked, technically. It couldn't be too difficult to operate, could it?
Too hot, too cold, the water stung. His hands and feet pulsated with pain as grime and dried and fresh blood were rinsed from his skin and disappeared down the drain.
It was unpleasant, but he knew how to fix this problem. Fortunately, the shower should be easy to clean.
Reset.
About fifteen minutes later, he was sat at the counter of the bar. He felt refreshed and smelled of strawberries and even though his new clothes still didn't quite fit him, they were comfortable and clean. A long-sleeved black t-shirt and a pair of washed out jeans with red sneakers.
In front of him, on the other side of the counter, Kurogiri was preparing some kind of soup with leftover vegetables and broth. Kurogiri looked professional in his outfit, with an apron and rolled sleeves and confident moves.
The first thing Kurogiri had asked after making him sit on the high stool had been, "When was the last time you ate something? If you eat too much, too soon, you will be sick."
He'd burst out laughing at the question.
(It really wasn't funny.)
He didn't remember the last time he'd eaten something, at all.
A long time ago, in his oldest memories, he remembered Them feeding him things to see how his body would react, how long it would take him to become delirious and either ending his suffering immediately or letting him agonize for hours.
(Spoiled food, poisons, chemicals and other things he couldn't even name or remember, that had made his stomach lurch and his guts twist.)
There had been no need to bother with proper food otherwise.
When the hysterical laughter started dying down, he apologized between two wheezes and answered, out of breath, "I... can't remember."
And so, Kurogiri had elected to make him some hot soup, which would be easy enough to digest and nutritious. In the meantime, he had a glass of water to sip at. The taste of water was strange and new but he liked it.
He felt safe, even though he knew it wouldn't last.
Kurogiri would ask questions eventually and when that would happen, he didn't know if he could give satisfactory answers. He hoped Kurogiri wouldn't change his mind and he did seem good so far, but there was no way to know for sure. So before that happened, he had to make the most out of this situation, starting with a nice shower and new clothes that wouldn't catch Their attention and if he could had something to eat before it all went to hell, it would be great.
He wasn't surprised when, after putting a big bowl of soup in front of him, Kurogiri said, "How about you tell me about what happened to you? I will be hiding you for as long as I can" — at those words, he relaxed slightly, it felt like Kurogiri was telling the truth — "but I need to know more about who I'm harboring."
For a moment, he was silent.
(To give himself some time to reply he drank some of the soup and was amazed at the taste and texture of it. It was so much richer and thicker than water and it warmed him up from the inside out.)
The question was complicated because he didn't remember a lot. The only things he knew about himself were obvious things Kurogiri would have already guessed or things he really did not want to got into details about, like what had happened to him exactly.
Because he didn't have all the relevant information.
Because he would have to tell him about resetting.
Because he would have to explain that They'd hurt him over and over again, physically, and that he had no scars to show for it.
He should be honest. Tell the truth.
"I don't remember," he said.
"... I see."
There was something in Kurogiri's voice that doused him in ice-cold water. Disappointment. Distrust. He didn't want that.
"It's the truth!" He exclaimed. "I swear I don't... I really don't remember anything. I... would you believe the first time I even saw myself was today? Here? They never called me by any name and I can't remember it either. I can't remember my own parents' faces and I don't even know if I even have a family or if I'm just assuming every child has to have them so I do too... I don't even know if I have any friends or family who are worried and are still looking for me right now and I can't even go to the police because they—"
He cut himself off.
There were tears falling down his face and he lowered his head.
"There is only one thing... The only thing I know is that for as long as I can remember I was strapped on a table and they... h-hurt me. Again and again and again and... they never let me rest. Ever since I've ran away I haven't hurt as much and it just feels so nice to be free from the pain and I... I can't go back there, ever, I just can't..."
His voice broke.
He'd said too much and the screaming hadn't made it any better.
He sat back down and wiped at his wet cheeks with his sleeve. His throat hurt. The regeneration did not help with every single issue he had and speaking so much so loudly was hard on his vocal chords.
"I'm not lying, I swear," he added, quietly.
He'd already messed up.
He didn't want to keep talking.
Black Ghost should be ready to go out another time, if Kurogiri's reaction was bad, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"They really hurt you badly, didn't they?"
He looked back up, sniffling.
"Thank you for answering my question, you've done well. I won't insist anymore on this matter."
Really?
"Take your time and finish your bowl," Kurogiri said in a voice that was so reassuring he wanted to believe him on the spot. "Since you don't have a name, think of something you would like to be called. Would that be all right?"
He nodded and wiped again the tears from his cheeks. They just kept falling without his permission and he was thankful Kurogiri didn't mention them. Instead, the man was just busying himself around the bar, not even looking at him.
He put his head in his hands, rather enjoying the warm feeling that had transferred from the soup to the bowl, from the bowl to his hands, and then from his hands to his head. It felt nice.
Meanwhile, he tried to think about a name that he would like, something that would fit him. Maybe something about his appearance?
He remembered when he'd seen himself in the mirror earlier, with his curly green hair and freckles... He wondered if his parents had the same look. He tried to imagine a man and a woman in their thirties or forties, with sunny smiling faces, freckles on their skin, short green hair on the man's head and long, curly green hair that cascaded past the woman's shoulders.
Green hair.
If it was a genetic trait, at least one of his parents must have it too, right?
The color green was a link to his family, even if there was nothing else he knew about them, even if they might not even look like he thought they did.
It was something.
He knew what he wanted his name to be.
"Green."
Unoriginal but it suited his appearance.
Kurogiri hummed approvingly. The kid — Green — had spoken with more confidence than he had so far, that was quite an improvement.
"A good name," Kurogiri told him. "Now, Green, let's talk about the work arrangements."
Green's spoon clattered in the bowl.
"It is not so much work as it is helping around, doing some chores, perhaps running some errands, within reason, of course. Will that be a problem?"
Green shook his head.
"And in exchange, there is a spare room where you can stay, three meals a day, and depending on how we're doing, perhaps even some spending money."
Green's green eyes were wide, but not in fear. After a few seconds, he nodded enthusiastically.
Good.
"When do I start?"
Kurogiri was taken aback at his eagerness. Considering the state the kid had been in, he'd thought he would require some time to recuperate, if not physically then at least mentally.
Still, he would not complain.
He spent the next ten minutes or so laying down some ground rules then explained what Green's first chore was. He only needed to do a bit of sweeping and cleaning in one of the unused rooms. Easy, though perhaps a little time-consuming..
Kurogiri could not waste too much time before going to see Sensei so he only mentally checked that there was nothing Villain-related inside the bar before notifying Shigaraki of the situation. He'd already told him about the child when he'd asked to borrow some of his older, smaller clothes, and Shigaraki seemed desinterested enough, which was probably a good thing.
If Shigaraki decided he hated Green and Sensei did not feel like the kid was useful, then the kid's fate would be sealed.
Kurogiri was already facing Sensei when a thought hit him...
Had he asked Green to clean that room?
Shit.
Well, it was too late to go back now and do damage control.
He could only hope the situation would be manageable when he came back.