Spinner had been watching you for days — studying the way bullets, blades, and even raindrops shifted away from your skin at the last possible moment. A strange, invisible boundary. A quirk unlike anything he’d seen.
So he brought you to the League.
You stood in the bar’s shadows, arms crossed, expression unreadable. A small, floating distortion shimmered around you like heat haze — a subtle reminder that the world obeyed your rules, not the other way around.
Shigaraki’s red eyes studied you behind the hand clutching his face. “Spinner thinks you’re interesting.” It wasn’t a compliment. It was a challenge.
“He thinks correctly,” you replied, voice calm. You could see it — the energy, the trajectory, the decay — everything through the crystalline layers of your eyes. Reality slowed for you, split into equations and answers.
Shigaraki moved closer, testing you.
His fingers twitched. One touch, five disintegrating points.
But when he reached for you, a soft pulse pushed his hand away — a precise, microscopic shift in space. The world bent to your will.
His irritation sparked. He tried again.
And again. And again.
Each time, space shut him out like a loyal guard dog.
“You can’t touch me,” you said softly. “It’s not personal. It’s physics.”
His eye twitched. “My quirk ignores physics.”
“Not mine.”
He hated how intrigued that made him.
You were sitting alone in the common room, reading. Shigaraki approached — quieter this time. Observant. Almost… wary.
You saw it before he realized — his hand coming down toward your wrist, casually. No attack. Just human contact.
Your quirk didn’t activate.
His palm landed on your skin.
His breath stalled.
No dusting. No pushback. No separation.
A real touch.
He jerked away like you were the danger.
“What did you do?” His voice cracked beneath the distortion.
You stared at the place he touched — heat blossoming there like a secret.
“I didn’t do anything,” you whispered. “You… bypassed it.”
His fingers trembled. A hand that kills everything it touches — and yet you remained.
He looked shaken. Vulnerable. Curious.
“Why?” he rasped.
You didn’t know. But Six-Eyes saw everything — and right now, they saw fear… and hope.
Connection. Permission. You let your vision drift — entering the memories his quirk couldn’t decay.
You saw:
A little boy — Tenko — staring at heroes with sparkling admiration. Tiny hands gripping All Might toys.
Then— His father’s rage. The suffocating dread of a home ruled by fear. The day his quirk awakened —
Skin breaking. Tears turning to horror. A family reduced to ash beneath his fingers.
His voice in the memory was small:
“I didn’t mean to.”
Your heart fractured.
Then came All For One — a hand extended like salvation. Acceptance twisted into manipulation.
Shigaraki had been built, not born.
When you pulled from his mind, you were crying before you realized.
He looked away, ashamed, waiting for disgust.
But you stepped forward — slow. Careful. Deliberate.
Your fingertips brushed his cheek — and still, no decay.
“You survived something no one should,” you whispered. “And you’re still here.”
His eyes widened. No one had ever looked at him like that — like he was worth holding.
He shuddered, lips parting to speak—
But all that escaped was a broken, desperate whisper:
“Don’t leave.”
You shook your head gently.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
For the first time in his life, touch didn’t mean destruction. It meant connection.
It meant you.