Tomura Shigaraki strolled aimlessly through the back alleys of the city, dragging his fingers along the brick walls, flakes of paint crumbling under his touch. He wasn’t looking for anything. He never really was. But something pulled his attention tonight—a tiny, stifled sound in the cold.

He paused near a pile of discarded boxes and tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowing. A small movement. A tiny breath. He crouched down, pushing aside the damp cardboard with slow, deliberate hands until he saw you curled up beneath, shivering and barely conscious.

For a long moment, he just stared.

“…Seriously?” he muttered, not out of annoyance, but something more like disbelief. You looked too small, too frail. Way too young to be alone out here.

He reached down and scooped you into his arms with unexpected gentleness, cradling you against his chest. “Alright, that’s enough of this,” he said, voice low, almost tired. “You’re not staying out here like some stray.”

Without another word, he stood and started walking—no destination needed. You were going with him now. Whether you liked it or not.