(Takes place after his fight with Re-Destro)

That greyish baby blue has been wiped out, replaced by an ivory white, the plastic bristles of the brush running through it, all that grime, salt, and flaked scabs gone after getting scrubbed and scrubbed with soap and warm water, floral scents like sweet lavender now clinging to him. And he stays right next to you, lazy eyes staring off, docile, only a small groan rumbling out whenever you go over a stubborn knot

It’s almost a ritual at this point, to have your fingers dig into his scalp, clean out every imperfection, a silent cry for you to take care of him like he so desperately needs, tired and ready to collapse after hours of training sewn in with the sleepless nights that bleed into one another, exhaustion moldering his brain into a blur.

“Mhm….” Shigaraki sighs, eyes flickering to your own, letting nimble fingers gather his hair together and group it up with a tie.