Shattered 1.08

[A/N: Word count: 2600 words]

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After Izuku and Ochaco left an hour ago, Oliver found himself hunkered down on the living room couch between Nigel, who was wearing some sort of exotic face mask made of black volcanic rock and infused with snail mucin—underneath a read-light therapy machine attached to his head. 

And Brandon, to his right, was watching Japan's version of Family Feud as if it were an NCAA championship game. They even had their version of Steve Harvey—a bald Japanese man with pearly white teeth and a thick mustache, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit. 

Atop Oliver's head was a cat as black as midnight with piercing yellow eyes. It sprawled comfortably on its stomach, paying no attention to Sohvi, who was trying her best to goad it with a bag of cat treats that had to have cost a couple hundred dollars.

"So," Oliver started, peering down at Nigel with a raised eyebrow. "I know you've been holding your tongue. Go on and say what's on your mind." 

Nigel lifted the red-light machine slowly and said with a curled lip, "Well, since you're begging me for my opinion—"

"No, no." Oliver interrupted. "Never that. Asking." 

"Phrase it in whichever way that makes you comfortable, my dear Ollie." 

"Brandon. Your thoughts?" 

"Wait—" 

"A club?" Brandon shouted at the TV. "Who the hell wants to have their funeral there? Man, this show is something else… What were you saying, Ollie?"

"What's your opinion of Izuku and Ochaco?" 

"Oh, that girl that went all googly-eyed when you took your shirt off, and the skittish boy?" 

Oliver nodded. 

Brandon shrugged. "Eh, well. They cleared Sohvi's check, so at least they don't have any ulterior motives. They seem like good enough kids. The boy needs to loosen up a little and get some confidence in his step, and the girl needs to shut that crush all the way down, or she'll be in for a rude awakening, but yeah, I think they're cool." 

"A haircut would do that boy some good, too," Nigel inserted. "Something that framed his face and showed off his eyes instead of hiding them. As the late iconic Karl Lagerfeld said: 'When you look good, you feel good. So dress like a—'"

"'Boss bitch,'" Oliver completed.

"Period," Nigel said with a nod. "Just give me a day with him, and I promise he'll be a whole new person. Oh—And that girl. What's with those dreadful bangs? Does she really think that's a look? I guess I need to work my magic on both of those lost souls." 

"Lucky them… Just don't forget about the million you owe me." Creases formed in Nigel's face mask.

 "If you keep frowning like that, you'll need to top up your Botox earlier than usual." 

Nigel rolled his eyes but lowered the red-light machine and turned it on full power. "Please. That's pennies to me. And I already had my refresh sesh with Wilhelmina before we came here. I'm good for another six months." 

"Whatever you say, Nige." Oliver turned his attention to the trained killer, now waving a wand toy at Salem, who was still ignoring her. "And you, Sohvi? I know what you said earlier, but do you have anything else to add? Any other thoughts?"

Sohvi sighed and tossed the wand on the sectional since she was getting nowhere with the cat. Leaning back and crossing her legs, she said, "Nothing I haven't reported earlier." 

Oliver nodded at that. 

"But," she continued. "You were quite liberal with the information you shared today." 

Oliver lifted his hand to scratch Salem's head, who purred in pleasure. "Was I?" 

Sohvi looked at Oliver, unimpressed. "You brought complete strangers to your house, showed them your quirk, and even explained how it worked." 

"I didn't say or show anything that won't be public knowledge in a few months, and they signed NDAs." Oliver countered. 

"That's not the point," Sohvi said, crossing her arms matter-of-factly. "Even if you didn't mean to, subconsciously, you were trying to impress them. Either that or you wanted to see if they'd be jealous of your quirk and become distant. You care too much about what others think of you, Ollie. You're too nice."

"I'd say I'm a moderate amount of nice."

"Brandon? Nigel?" Sohvi moved her gaze between the two. 

"She's right, man," Brandon said. "I mean, I know you want friends, and I know you want people to like you—hell, we know firsthand what you've been through. But they're the ones who need to fight to be your friend. You don't need to put on for anybody—us included, and I mean that. Just be yourself, and the people who are meant to be in your life will gravitate toward you. Those that aren't, well… fuck 'em all the way to hell."

 "… Okaaay, well, that's a bit excessive." Nigel shifted under his blanket. "But what they're saying holds some validity. Anyone would be lucky to know you—you're almost as kind as me, selfless, almost as handsome as me, tall, almost as rich as me, smart—"

"Okay, I think I got it," Oliver interrupted, hearing more than enough. 

"—have an iconic godfather who is rich and named the sexiest man alive by People's magazine last year and… Oh, did I say all of that already?" 

Oliver raised a brow. "Dementia?" 

Nigel scoffed. "Disregard everything nice I just said about you." 

Oliver smirked, but his tone was sincere. "I hear y'all, and I appreciate it. And, yeah, I know I care what people think. It's hard not to, ya know? But after yesterday—" memories of his father—no, Hiroshi (no more calling that man father) flashed through his mind. 

He thought, just maybe, five years would have changed something. He wanted a relationship with him—who wouldn't want a relationship with their father? And it wasn't like Hiroshi was bad all the time. There were good times, too—but the bad outweighed the good. And enough was enough. 

That man, even though he was his father—his blood, the one who had a part in making him—he didn't deserve to be a part of his life. Never. "—and today, I think I'm getting it."

"Thank god!" Nigel exasperated. "Finally."

"And dude, look at us." Brandon held his arms up. "We're the coolest motherfuckers you'll ever know. "Who else do you need?"

Oliver laughed at that. "You're right."

"You know what? Put on Guardians of the Galaxy, Sohvi!" Brandon said. 

Sohvi reached for the remote.

"Oh, my god. Not again!" Nigel moaned. 

Oliver's phone ringing interrupted what was about to be their impromptu movie night. He picked it up from the coffee table and answered. 

"Hello?"

Nigel mouthed, curious. 'Who is it?' 

'Your daddy, Élise,' Oliver replied.

Nigel scoffed, and went back to scrolling on his phone. 

"Oliver!" came a shout over the phone. The voice panicked, frantic. 

"Izuku, what's wrong?" 

"My mom—my mom's in the hospital!" 

Oliver shot up, stirring Salem. 

"What's going on?" Oliver questioned. 

"I—she—she was coming home, she said she was on her way, but she was running late and, then, the news came on and, and someone stabbed her! It was the same guy on the train! He stabbed her and left her on the side of the road to bleed out and die! If I had just called the police earlier when he attacked me or if I—"

"Stop," Oliver interrupted firmly. "This isn't your fault. How is she right now?" 

Izuku took a deep breath, but his voice was still unsteady, distressed. "She's as stable as they could get her, but Recovery Girl isn't available. She's getting pale and coming in and out of consciousness. The doctors are trying their best, but—but... Can—can you please come heal her? Please!"

"What's going on?" Brandon whispered, the frantic yelling catching his attention.

Oliver pulled his mouth from the phone. "His mom got stabbed."

"Oh, wow."

Oliver put his mouth back to the phone. "Of course, I can, bud. What hospital are you at?"

"Musutafu General Hospital!" 

"Okay, I'll—"

"Give me the phone, Oliver," Sohvi said.

Oliver raised a brow. "Why? We don't have time for—Ooookay, here you go." Sohvi's furrowed brows and pointed gaze stopped all rebuttal.

Oliver passed her the phone, and she put it up to her ear. 

"Izuku, sweetie," she started warmly, with every bit of tactical empathy training inflicted on her vocal cords. "Yes, this is Sohvi. So your mom's in the hospital? I'm sorry to hear that… three times, you say? And you want Oliver to heal her? Understood. Well, my prayers go out to you both. I'm handing the phone back to Ollie now, okay?"

Sohvi tossed the phone back to Oliver, who mouthed, 'Did you really have to use your quirk on him?'

"Had to make sure it wasn't a trap. He's telling the truth." 

Oliver put the phone to his ear. "Hey, Izuku, I'm back. I'll get there as soon as I can. Everything will be okay."

"Are you sure? I—I just don't know. I… This was my fault, and if I would have just—"

"Uh-uh. Don't even start with that. This is not your fault. I'm on my way. We'll talk more when I get there."

Izuku hesitated as if he had more to add, but he said, "Okay. Please hurry!"

"I will."

Oliver ended the call and stood up, meeting the gazes of Nigel, Sohvi, and Brandon. "Well, guess we'll have to have movie night some other time."

"Need us to come with?" Nigel asked, starting to get up.

"Nah, I can handle it." Oliver grabbed Salem and lowered him to the couch. 

"Wonderful." Nigel quickly slumped back down and went back to scrolling on his phone. "Send them my regards and well wishes."

Salem meowed and stood on his hind legs, paws up, asking to be picked up again.

"You want to come, Salem?"

"Meooow." Salem pleaded

"We're gonna go pretty fast. That okay?"

Salem nodded. "Meow!"

Oliver lifted Salem back atop his head and mentally sent a negligible amount of stored kinetic energy to the [EQUIP] Inscription on the middle of his lower back, directly where his spine was. An all-black tracksuit and high-top Converse instantly replaced Oliver's All Might PJs. 

"Don't wait up," Oliver said. "It might take a while to figure out what's happening." 

"Be safe, boss," Brandon said. "Call us if you need anything."

"And be cognizant of your surroundings," Sohvi added seriously. "And smart. Don't forget to be smart, please."

Oliver saluted. "Scout's honor"

Icy blue eyes bore into his. "I'm serious, Ollie." 

"Me too, promise!" Oliver sent energy towards the [ᚱ] tattoo—which stood for Reið, or movement and travel in Futhark—behind his left ear, instantly vanishing from the living room and reappearing in the center of his basement beside his cars. The LEDs above flashed on from the motion in the room. [A/N: Shout out to EroSpatula and AHAPPYBEAR for the ideas on incorporating runes.]

"Ahhh, fiiiinally~" A posh, British male voice sounded above him. It was smooth and refined, with enunciation that mirrored royalty. "That woman and her childish toys and cheap treats were beginning to irk me."

"Don't lie," Oliver said as he entered the Pagani and started the ignition. "I saw the way your tail was moving. You wanted that wand, huh, little boy?"

"Little, boy? Please." Salem scoffed and leaped into the passenger seat elegantly, lifting his cute little legs so Oliver could buckle him. "Those human contraptions are beneath me."

"Whatever you say, Salem. Whatever you say." Oliver said as he materialized Scotch tape and a black Sharpie with an extra-thin tip. Tearing off five strips of tape, he wrote a different inscription on each piece: [FLY], [ACCELERATE], [BALANCE], [SILENCE], and [INVISIBILITY], and stuck them on the inside of the center console, about a centimeter apart. 

He hadn't had time to fully customize his cars yet, so Oliver planned to make the inscriptions (along with some others) permanent after tonight. But for now, this would suffice.

The sharpie and roll of tape disappeared, and Oliver looked down at Salem. "Ready?" 

"Hold on," Salem said, reaching down towards the seat. His paw didn't stop at the seat but went through it into the shadow beneath. Lifting his paw out of the shadow, he pulled out the miniature aviator sunglasses Oliver had made him and slipped them on. "Okay, now I'm ready."

Oliver didn't even bother mentioning it was night. That was just how Salem was—aesthetics over functionality. Nigel, but British. 

"Alright," Oliver said, trying to think of a good one-liner. "Let's get this show on the sky."

Salem slowly tilted his head to the side and lowered his glasses. "I give it a three out of ten—you can do better."

"Yeah, not my best," he admitted, opening his phone and connecting it to the car's Bluetooth. He selected "BRAZILIAN DANÇA PHONK" by 6YNTHMANE and let the music fill the car.

[A/N: Recommend playing the song "BRAZILIAN DANÇA PHONK" by 6YNTHMANE for the vibes]

Oliver placed his hand on the console and injected enough kinetic energy into [ACCELERATE], [SILENCE], and [BALANCE] to last five hours—energy that basic movement would replenish in about five minutes.

Salem bobbed his tiny head to the beat.

With a flick of the wrist, Oliver shifted the car into drive and put his foot on the accelerator. 

The car shot off towards the basement wall, accelerating from 0 to 60 in two seconds. Oliver and Salem remained calm despite the looming concrete wall they were about to crash into.

Oliver pressed a button on the steering wheel as they approached the wall. A hidden door, perfectly flush with the wall, lifted to reveal a long tunnel illuminated by LED lights. 

The car sped down the tunnel, hitting 200 miles per hour.

The G-force pressed them both firmly into their seats.

Just as they reached the end of the tunnel, another concrete wall opened, revealing a hidden ramp in the estate's garden. 

Oliver sent energy to the [FLY] Inscription as the car was about to exit the tunnel. The Pagani lifted off the ground and torpedoed into the air. 

"Fuuuuck yeaaaaa~!" Salem yelled in excitement, his little paws waving in the air. 

Oliver cracked a grin and pressed down on the acceleration harder.

The fifteen-year-old boy and his [CAT] inscription, Salem, shot through the sky onwards to heal his friend's mom. 

********

[OMAKE START]

"Here, kitty kitty. Here, kitty kitty." Sohvi teased, waving the wand with the bell attached.

Salem gritted his jaw and closed his eyes, but the bell was like a trance to him. 

"I know you want it. Come here cute, little, Sale—"

Salem couldn't control himself anymore. His eyes shot open, and he rose on his legs, pouncing towards the outstretched wand. "Meow!"

A grin spread across Sohvi's face as she raised the wand out of Salem's reach. "Hehe."

Oliver looked up from his laptop, smirking as he watched Sohvi have a field day with Salem. "That's fifty thousand. Pay up."

Brandon sighed, pulling out his phone and opening the banking app to wire the money to Oliver's account. "How the hell does he break now? Damn, Salem."

Nigel glanced up from his phone, the red light therapy casting a soft glow on his face. "I've never seen Sohvi laugh like that."

Brandon winced as if reliving a painful memory. "Oh, I have."

Oliver raised an eyebrow, pausing his typing. "When?"

Brandon leaned back on the sofa, a frown on his face. "When she tore off the balls of the guy who shot at her in Moscow."

Oliver blinked, processing the information. "Oh."

Nigel lowered his phone, raising an eyebrow. "Oh."

The three looked at Sohvi, who giggled at Salem's antics.

"Note to self: never piss off Sohvi," Oliver said, slight fear in his eyes. 

"Never piss off Sohvi," Nigel and Brandon echoed, nodding in agreement.

"—Here, kitty kitty. Here, kitty kitty."

[OMAKE END]