He glanced at you, sitting across the room. You were quiet, head down, shoulders slightly hunched. The mere sight of you irritated him.

He didn’t understand why you weren’t resisting harder, why you weren’t fighting against this twisted arrangement. You were just as pathetic as he imagined.

A liability. A weak, powerless nuisance being forced into his life. He doubted you'd ever last in a battle—not that he cared to find out.

And what did All for One think would come out of this? A child? A weapon made from the combination of your quirks? It sounded like some twisted experiment that All for One had dreamt up in his desire to create the perfect weapon.

Tomura wanted none of it. He had no intention of raising some brat. He didn’t even want to be near you, let alone create some offspring destined to follow in his footsteps. The mere thought made his skin itch.

“A quirk marriage,” he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. It felt like a bad joke. Tomura never cared for relationships, never had the time or patience to deal with others' emotions, let alone yours. “Pathetic.”

He didn’t know what you felt about this. He didn’t care.

You could despise him, fear him, or hold out some foolish hope that he’d soften towards you. None of it mattered. He wasn't here to be your husband, your protector, or whatever it was people in marriages were supposed to be.

He was here because All for One ordered it. He rose from his seat, his gaze boring into you. “Go mope around somewhere else. It’s bugging me.”