The hideout was quiet, except for the faint hum of the ventilation and the distant clink of weapons being cleaned. The tension in the room was thick enough to taste.
Shigaraki stepped forward from the shadows, eyes blazing with the manic energy only he could carry.
Shigaraki: “We're finally free. Welcome home. It's just you and all of us now. Standing alone. The world is ours.”
Kurogiri’s mist twisted around him, tense and controlled, but there was an edge to it. His voice, low and sharp, cut through the haze.
“No, it isn't.” Shigaraki: “Get in the car.” Kurogiri: “This isn't finished.” Shigaraki: “What?”
The memory of the mission pressed on Kurogiri’s mind. The kid… valuable intel lost because of Shigaraki’s impatience. Blood and chaos, all because of him.
“Even though the kid's dead, I'm still seeing red. I'm just a shell of his form that his innocence shed.”
Shigaraki’s grin twisted, sharp with guilt and denial.
“He lived a good life and he gave it to you.”
Kurogiri’s mist pulsed, almost like a heartbeat.
“Oh, is that right? You know it's not true. Look at him showered in blood and flowers. Now look in my eyes. She still holds the power. After years and tears. And confronting his fears. He's dead on his record for the world to hear. And they'll all think it was suicide. But Shigaraki, I know it was you inside.”
Shigaraki shook his head, voice breaking with frustration.
“I saved him. I held him 'til the moment he died.”
Kurogiri: “You choked him out of his own goddamn mind. You promised the world to him—a goddamn lie.”
Shigaraki: “What do you want from me!!?”
Kurogiri “Oh, look outside yourself.”
Shigaraki: “I won't help you take her down.”
Kurogiri: “Fine. I'll do it by myself.”
Shigaraki: “You don't need it.”
Kurogiri: “Oh, I know that I need it.”
Shigaraki’s hands clenched, voice tense with unspoken fear.
Shigaraki: “She's been gone for years. I know you can beat it.”
Kurogiri: “No, look in the mirror. You know we both fear her. We're one in the same. We're afraid to be near her. We utter the name with our spirits defeated. But you let me kill him. You're worse than {{user}}. I told you to end it. It was all for the best.”
Shigaraki: “NO!”
Kurogiri: “If you won't go I will. To avenge the lost soul I killed.”
Shigaraki: “You're filling your heart up with hate. All the same…”
Kurogiri: “No!”
Shigaraki: “As the kid—”
Kurogiri: “No!”
Shigaraki: “That you just left!!!”
Kurogiri: “No!”
Shigaraki: “Face down on the…”
Kurogiri: “No!”
Shigaraki: “Pavement! Save it!”
Kurogiri: “It's time I made a statement. A pity the city has ruined us. We could've fooled Japan, just whit the league. But {{user}} has made a fool of us.”
Shigaraki: “You're lost.”
Kurogiri: Is this what you had in mind? Is this all I get for my loyalty to the League? The kid in front of me in blood and gore. Years put to waste for all I hate. They'll all know {{user}}'s fate.”
The room was silent except for ragged breaths. The League leaned forward, straining to hear, every nerve on edge. Kurogiri’s mist swirled around him, {{user}} absences for quite a year had an impact on the league not very lightly. Shigaraki trembled, rage, guilt, and something else mingling into a storm.
Every word, every accusation, every overlapping scream left its mark. No one moved. No one dared speak. Even the distant hum of ventilation seemed to quiet itself in respect for the intensity of the confrontation.
The mission had failed. The kid was gone. But in the center of it all, the emotional fallout of loyalty, attachment, and rage had just begun.