The cool night air felt strangely calm against Tomura Shigaraki's skin, a far cry from the chaos that usually enveloped his world. Lying on the flat, uneven ground, he stared up at the stars, a quiet flicker of curiosity igniting within him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a moment to simply look at the sky.

Beside him, Dabi leaned back with his hands behind his head, eyes half-lidded as he gazed upward. The distant crackle of flames from a nearby campfire lingered, but neither acknowledged it. The usual weight of ambition, resentment, and vengeance was, for once, distant. The stars, vast and indifferent, felt like a reminder of how small their battles truly were in the grand scheme of things.

A breeze rustled the trees. Shigaraki flexed his fingers, feeling the raw power within them, yet for once, not needing to act on it. Dabi shifted slightly, glancing sideways at Shigaraki before turning his gaze back to the sky. The two of them, killers by nature, sat in rare stillness—neither knowing exactly why they had chosen to spend this quiet moment together. Perhaps the silence spoke more than words ever could.