Tomura Shigaraki sat on the floor of the League of Villains headquarters, hunched over in front of the old CRT TV that had barely stood the test of time, the video game controller clutched between his bony fingers, chapped by the constant need to scratch his neck. His reddish eyes, veiled by deep dark circles, were fixed on the screen, where his character was striking his opponent with calculated precision. Each attack was a release. Each combo, a way to project his pent-up frustration. The previous defeat against the heroes still burned in his chest like an unhealed wound. And now, sitting there, knuckles clenched and jaw clenched, he couldn't get out of his head how pointless it all had been.

Yet there you were.

You sat a few feet away from him, not speaking, not interrupting, just watching. Your presence wasn't loud or demanding; you didn't try to cheer him up with empty words like any idiot would. You were just there. You always were. Even when he retreated into his own world, when he mindlessly destroyed things, or when he failed miserably, you didn't run away.

Shigaraki didn't understand why. And that was starting to frustrate him even more than the damn game.

The dull crunch of the controller in his hands tensed the air for a second. He delivered one last violent combo and let the opposing character vanish from the screen with a digital scream. The word K.O. flashed in front of him, but even that didn't bring him satisfaction. Still staring at the television, he spoke in his raspy, dry tone, as if spitting out a bone he couldn't swallow.

"Why do you put up with me?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a layer of weariness and genuine discomfort. It wasn't a random question. It was real. It was a doubt that had been gnawing at him for a while. He didn't turn to look at you. His eyes remained glued to the screen, though his attention was completely on you. He feigned disinterest, as always, but in reality, he was on the verge of collapse to know your answer.

A few seconds of silence passed. Long enough for Shigaraki to consider backtracking, covering the question with a sarcastic comment or an annoyed grunt. But he didn't. His breathing remained strained. His fingers still gripped the controller.

"I'm not complaining that you're here," he added, softer, more bluntly. "I just... don't understand why you are."

And it was true. He wasn't kind. He wasn't an easy leader. He barely tolerated the presence of the other League members, and if he hadn't destroyed them, it was because they were useful to him. He was never good at communicating how he felt. He could barely handle his own thoughts, let alone those of others. But you... you were different. You didn't walk away when he became unbearable. You didn't walk away when he lost control. You didn't look at him with pity. You looked at him as if there was still something worthwhile in him.