Nekomi Kuroshima's POV

"Wake up, Komi, honey. We have to go now. Go get changed, Mom's waiting in the car for us."

I'm not used to being woken up by someone else, much less my dad, because I like being in control, like the predictability of it. That's just how I am, and probably will be for a long time. It's not like me to fall asleep on the couch like this, but I haven't exactly had the best day at school.

I sit up and rub my temples, groaning. The pounding in my head from when I first got home hasn't gone away yet, despite the fact that I've just had a - I glance at the clock - half-hour nap. But it must be serious if they want me to go along with them.

I decide not to complain and eventually gather up enough willpower to pull myself up off the couch. I race up to my room, grabbing a pair of jeans out of my closet, quickly shimmying into them as I pull a pastel lavender sweater over my head. Snatching a satchel off my desk, I start stuffing it with only the essentials - my phone, a bottle of water, a pack of tissues, that book that's been sitting on my shelf and I haven't gotten the chance to read yet. It's a birthday gift from my best friend at school, and even after two months I still haven't found the time to sit down properly and get a good read in.

By the time I get to the car-port at the side of the house, my parents are already deep in conversation, with the windows open.

"Hana, are you sure it's him? Are you sure it's O-Obor-"

Mom's back is turned, so I can't see her expression. Her shoulders rise and fall with every heaving breath she takes, as if she's trying to stop herself from crying. "I'd know that face anywhere. Anywhere."

What on earth is going on?

I run round to the other side of the car, quickly getting in and fastening my safety belt. Dad starts the car and we start moving, turning out the gate onto the street.

"Mom, where're we going?"

"The hospital, honey," Mom replies, sounding a little worn out. She turns around and smiles at me, though her expression looks a little pinched and drained. "It's gonna be alright, so don't you worry your head about it."

"Who's Oboro?" I ask. As Mom immediately flinches at the name, I immediately wish I hadn't said anything about accidentally eavesdropping on their conversation. But I have to know. I have to. Who is Oboro, and why are we going to visit him in the hospital?

"I… think it might be better to explain all the details after we get back. But, Nekomi…"

"Yeah?" I respond slowly, my voice a quiet whisper.

"You… you have a half-brother."

"Wha…" My voice trails off. A half-brother? What does that mean, my mom's got a kid with another man? As far as I've known, my parents have been happily married all my life. Something like this… would have torn the family apart by now. Or maybe I'm the younger half-sibling, and this is Mom's second marriage. Yeah. Yeah, that makes more sense. But why hasn't anyone told me about it? Why hasn't - why hasn't this Oboro visited, ever?

"I'm not sure if you nodded off before the evening news today," my father says, breaking the awkward silence that's begun to solidify into a barrier between the front and back halves of the car. "But you must've heard about the Villain attack downtown, right?"

"You mean… Peregrine?"

"Yes."

A beat passes as no one says a word. Today is a dark day for the Hero world, and for our country. Number twenty-five in Japan, the Pro Hero Peregrine, died this afternoon saving a neighboring agency's two interns. He was pierced by metal spikes and bled out to death. Worse still, he has - had - a wife and two young kids. Like, really young. Five and three. And it's devastating to know they'll grow up without their father. Still, that's kinda random to be bringing up right now, Dad, when I've just found out I have a half-brother who's been kept a secret from me for the first fourteen years of my life!

"Your half-brother - Oboro - was one of the interns; his friend was the other. They were injured at the scene, so we're going to visit them now."

I bury my face in my hands.

I have a brother.

Could this day get any less complicated?

Oboro Shirakumo's POV

After Shota leaves, I open my eyes.

I wasn't really sleeping, and I think he knew that too. I see bright lights shining down on me from the white ceiling, hear the sound of beeping machines, smell that clinical smell you can only find in a hospital. I prop myself up on my elbows and scan the clean ward painted in pastel blue, my head spinning from sitting up fast. Way too fast. I lie back down, turning to the side to face away from the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

The blue walls remind me of the sky. The sky I saw Peregrine hurtle from as he was pierced by a hundred metal spikes.

I stare out the window at the setting sun, which paints the sky golden and scarlet and all the shades in between. It makes me think of crimson blood. Lots and lots of it, splattered across the piercing honey hue of Peregrine's eyes.

No matter where I look, the scene keeps replaying in my head, over and over again.

I see him everywhere. Everywhere.

Peregrine saving me from hitting the asphalt from fifty meters up in the sky.

Peregrine saving Sho.

Peregrine telling me to have hope, because we'll make it out.

Peregrine's look of concentration as we climb up higher and higher into the sky, ready to nosedive.

Peregrine's look of relief as I get Sho and myself out of the danger zone, followed by the

blueyellowblacksilverredredredred that never ends

Peregrine. Peregrine. Peregrine.

"Tell them… I'm sorry."

I'm screaming my throat out, a raw sound of grief and sorrow and regret and guilt and every other emotion that sledgehammered into me when he fell like Icarus from the sky, when he whispered his final words to me, when his trembling hand fell lifeless against the ground, when he drew his last breath.

Curling in on myself, I force myself to quiet down. I choke silently on my own shuddering breaths, my fingernails cutting so deeply into my palm they almost draw blood.

It's my fault. He said it wasn't, but it is. I could've done something different - should've done something different and maybe he'd still be alive right now, joking and laughing with the doctors.

But he's not. And it's my fault.

"It's not your fault, kid. It was that big toad's, you hear me? Not yours. I've been in the Hero game long enough to know that dwelling on these mistakes is the worst thing you can do." His words ring in my ears, ricocheting around inside my brain.

The cornflowers in a vase by my bedside bloom vibrant blue, my favorite color, the brightness a respite from my own frazzled head-space. I brush my fingers against the petals and breathe in their scent; they're soft against my skin.

I've always liked cornflowers because they symbolize hope. Which is all I need right now.

Peregrine… was right.

I smile as I sit back up again, slowly and more carefully this time, to read the note attached to the flower bouquet.

My head immediately starts spinning again.

Mom?

Shota Aizawa's POV

Who is this girl, and why is she waiting outside Oboro's ward?

She seems harmless enough, so engrossed in her book that she doesn't even notice me standing in front of her. Only about fourteen, fifteen maybe, with jet-black hair that tumbles down her shoulders, and… are those cat ears?

"If I were you, I'd give the poor guy in there some time to himself," I remark to her. Her head snaps up in surprise - she nearly drops her book on the tiled corridor floor. Her eyes are… unique, to say the least. One purple, one golden, unlike any I've ever seen before. "Who're you?"

"Poor guy's half-sister, apparently."

"He's never talked about having any half-siblings - or any siblings at all," I say.

"Mm." She huffs out a small laugh laced with disbelief, as if this day has completely and utterly overwhelmed her. Which probably isn't untrue. "I found out he exists only just now. On the way here."

"Huh." I take a seat on the bench next to her. "What's your name?"

She fidgets in her seat. "Kuroshima. Nekomi Kuroshima."

"I see. Oboro's last is Shirakumo."

"We couldn't be more different, huh? Black and white."

"He's a good guy. Really."

"I never said he wasn't."

She stares at me for a second more, then opens her book back up again and fixes her eyes back on the page. But I don't see them move, or the page turn, for another five minutes. And I doubt she's this slow of a reader.

"What's he like?"

"Hm?"

"What's Oboro like?" she asks, finally meeting my gaze again. "I intend to make up for all the time we've spent apart. I could start with getting to know him better. It's… it's the least I could do."

"Maybe if you stop being so curt." I stand up, looking back over my shoulder. "Come on. Let's take a walk."

Nekomi Kuroshima's POV

The pale-looking kid with the raven-black, shoulder-length hair leads me from ward 5-17B and walks with me through the hospital garden. I feel the cool night breeze on my face, spot the tiny stars twinkling in the midnight-blue sky.

"Once on the way to school, I found a stray cat on the street and propped an umbrella up over it. It was raining, and the poor thing was freezing." Aizawa smiles fondly at the memory, a pleasant change from his otherwise stoic demeanor. "Then Mister Genius had the bright idea to bring it with us to class and showed up completely soaked at not our classroom door, but our window. Our classroom's on the fifth floor."

"Now that's what I call dedication," I quip.

He chuckles, looking up at the sky to admire the stars with me. "Oh, I'm not done yet. He tried to change into his gym clothes in the classroom. With everyone watching."

I laugh so hard I double over, clutching at my sides as I wheeze. "He seems… like a fun guy."

"He is."

"So what happened to the cat?"

"Sushi? We put him up for adoption the next day. As our teacher might say, being a Hero comes with many commitments."

I head over to a nearby bench, and he follows me. "So. How was your day?"

"Me? I, uh…" It's more than a little jarring when a near complete stranger - supposedly your secret half-brother's best friend - asks me how my day has been. This coming from a person who has had to watch someone die today. I feel guilty that everything bad that's happened to me today, or in the past week or month, is trivial compared to what he's seen today. And he's asking me how my day has been.

"It wasn't great, I guess. But it wasn't the worst either."

"I-"

He's cut off by a shrill ringing from my phone - my special ringtone for… Mom's number.

"Sorry, it's my mom, I gotta take th-"

"No, sure, go ahead."

I accept the call. "Komi!"

"Is everything okay?"

"O-Oboro's finally awake! We just got back from the cafeteria and he's finally awake. You can come and meet him now!"

I hang up and take off running, Aizawa hot on my heels. I bolt up the stairs - the elevator's taking far too long - and race back down the corridors to the ward.

5-16B.

5-17A.

5-17 B.

I can already hear my parents talking inside the ward, asking how he's been, that it's been too long since they last saw him, that they were so worried for his safety. And the unfamiliar voice that responds must surely be Oboro.

I hear the fatigue in his voice even from the other side of the door, but other than that, an unwavering positivity that things will get better.

I place my hand on the doorknob and look back at Aizawa, who hasn't even broken a sweat. He nods. I turn the knob and take a deep breath.

And push the door open.

Oboro Shirakumo's POV

The doorknob jerks downward slightly, before the door's tentatively pushed open by… a girl. Black hair, one purple and one gold eye. She gulps nervously as Sho rushes forward to hug me tightly, and I don't miss the slight tremor in his voice as he tells me that I'm an asshole for pretending to be asleep when all he wanted was to have a heart-to-heart talk with me-

"I managed to take care of that myself, so all's well that ends well." I shrug, turning my attention to the girl with the different-colored eyes.

"Oboro," she mumbles.

I smile.

"Nice to meet you, sis."