Chapter Text
*
“Hey, what’s your face, the lizard. Wanna make a little extra? Oso-san has a special job for you tonight.”
That’s how it started. It wasn’t that Shuuichi had no reservations about what kind of job the wording entailed, but he did need the extra money. The transition to the city hadn’t been all he had envisioned, and it wasn’t all that different from the boonies after all. He’d quickly learnt that the people of Yokohama were eager to regard his hometown as backwards, while ignoring all their own faults. Pretty hypocrites and fakes, the lot of them. Even here, he was still just “the lizard,” still the other.
They’d sold him another kind of picture: a new chance in a city, where people didn’t judge mutants - where people like him were common. And they’d take care of everything: the move, housing, the legal documents. Tch, legal documents, more like lack thereof. He had been immediately shuffled into a container home, sharing a room with three underpaid strangers working day and night moving shipments, cargo and keeping quiet about the contents. Two of them had no visas, another was paying off a gambling debt - and Shuuichi was a weird looking lizard man without any connections or choice, who’d signed away a year of his life.
All he could do was endure the next nine months, save up all the money he could, and not get in any deeper with the filth around him. But when Jason-san, Oso-san’s right hand man, offered him a chance to make a little extra, he weighed the need of cash against his morals: Jason-san said, he didn’t need to do anything “incriminating” at all, and there’d be nothing a hero could arrest him for, if all he did was stand there “looking scary.” Looking like himself.
So there he was, waiting around in the warehouse with his boss and a few other of his associates - a couple of them workers like Shuuichi, the toughest looking bunch, but most of them regular, full time yakuza - for the mysterious, whispered about partner to arrive.
He had no idea what sort of person that could be, who required so many hands on deck, and hopefully he wouldn’t find out too much about it either. All he wanted to do was stand still for another hour, and then get his regular four hours of sleep before the morning shift - and have enough integrity, next time, to just say no.
The waiting had his skin crawl, as he got more and more annoyed with the delay. He glanced down at Oso-san, who didn’t seem too happy either, though he looked more nervous and annoyed. That couldn’t be a good sign.
Shuuichi clenched his teeth, glad that he wasn’t standing front and center. He knew it. This place, this city... He never should’ve come here.
-
Tomura stepped through the warp and into the warehouse.
As usual, it was badly lit and smelled like salty, putrid garbage. Countless boxes of whatever the yakuza were smuggling stacked upon each other, filling up the place; and at the center stood the so-called oyabun and his underlings.
Behind Tomura, the misty black gate vanished and in its place Kurogiri appeared, standing a few feet away. Still too close though, and Tomura scratched his neck in irritation.
He hated these little assignments Sensei gave him, hated dealing with these stupid gangs that had hard-ons for some made up past. Not even proper Villains. But the Doctor needed fresh meat for his research and Sensei said Tomura needed to learn how to deal with the various elements of the underworld. So here he was, meeting Oso Hanzo again to pick up a few ‘packages’ - unlucky saps that got on the bad side of the yakuza and sentenced to become the Doctor’s lab rats.
As Tomura walked up to Oso, he briefly gave the group a look over. Sixteen people in total: eleven yakuza, including Oso, all equipped with guns from the looks of their stances; five meatheads here to look tough and threatening, two of whom had shown up before at previous rendezvous, and the other three fresh faces.
Tomura smiled harshly, though no one could tell with father in the way. Kill one loud, rude lowlife last time and the yakuza boss got frightened enough to beef up his security. What wasted effort.
It was the colors that caught Tomura’s attention, vivid even in the shadows. He let his gaze linger. The colors belonged to one of the new guys, a man that looked like a lizard, green scales and pink hair. His quirk?
The man’s apprehension and agitation was obvious. He’ll have to keep an eye on that one, Tomura thought, could be bothersome. He turned to Oso; tilted his head slightly.
“Oso-san.” Tomura made sure to drawl out the honorific. “Bringing us your trash again?”
-
Shuuichi's stomach churned at the sight of the man. What the hell? He was used to being regarded as a freak, but it was the first time he understood that impulse. The man, Oso-san's partner, was lanky and off putting, clad in black and contrasted with a collection of white, disembodied human hands wrapped around his upper body. A final, dismembered hand was grabbing his face as well, covering it completely.
Almost completely. Peering behind the hand was a single red eye, suddenly directed straight at him, out of everyone there. Shuuichi flinched, confronted with a shameful instinct to flee, but he stood his ground, until that shining, red gaze turned elsewhere.
He swallowed. Just what the hell was that?
The strange man's voice was as unsettling as his appearance, like it clawed its way up his throat, as he addressed the boss.
"Shigaraki-san," Oso-san answered, with an impressive cool Shuuichi couldn't help but admire in the moment, "Just have a few poor sods who need to visit a doctor, I'm afraid."
Shigaraki. He'd heard that name before, but he couldn't place it.
Oso-san signalled Jason-san, who knocked on one of the containers. Shuuichi could hear voices inside of it, confused and concerned.
He dug his claws into his muscles, arms crossed over his chest.
Somewhere in the city, a hero was posing for a photo-op.
-
“Quirks?” Tomura asked. This was routine. He was bored, and made no effort to keep it from his voice. Two of the yakuza wheeled a large box towards him and Kurogiri, and he could hear muffled sounds coming from it, like always. This time, though, it seemed noisier than usual.
“One needs no sleep, a mutant with eyes all over, and another with extra arms,” one of the lackeys said. Nothing great, but not useless either. The Doctor should be satisfied with this batch—
Then the lid was pried off, and the rotten odor of death immediately filled the air.
What the hell.
Someone cursed, another retched; Oso stood frozen, panic clear on his face for a few seconds ‘till anger took over. Kurogiri was immediately by his side, saying “Shigaraki Tomura—” and something dumb, probably; Tomura was already ignoring him. He stepped over to the container and peeked into it.
One of the three had apparently bashed his head in - his multi-armed corpse slumped over, the blood that covered his being a rusty brown. The other two people were shrieking through the tape on their mouths, eyes (lots of eyes from one of them, heh) wild and sunken and begging as they looked to Tomura.
He turned away. Oso was rounding on someone for being careless.
The Doctor could still make use of a dead body, but these guys didn’t need to know that. There was an exploit here, and Sensei did say Tomura should be more proactive.
“Hey,” Tomura said, and everyone’s attention was on him. “Yell at him later. This trade is still on.
“So what are you going to do about this?”
-
Oso's face soured. He'd already lost one man to this fucking punk last time - if he sacrificed one more, he'd lose all their respect, and surely their loyalty. Unless, what if he offered up one of the extras - the easily replaced muscle who worked the docks...?
He glanced back at his guard, and it was only natural that he'd look to the lizard first, sticking out like a sore, ugly thumb. That one was new, and didn't look like he'd want to return - losing him wouldn't matter.
But Jason leaned in, murmured:
"That guy doesn't have a quirk, he's just grotesque. They won't be happy with that."
Dammit all.
"Our sincerest apologies, Shigaraki-san, Kurogiri-san," Jason said, ever the asskissing diplomat. "We'll certainly make it up to you. We value our business."
"Of course," Oso agreed, through gritted teeth. He breathed in the foul stench of the useless piece of shit who'd offed himself. "To compensate for today's mishap, we'll double our next shipment." It'd be difficult to manage, as his sources said that the police'd started to investigate one of the "disappearances" more thoroughly, but they were still under the radar, without any hero involvement yet.
Before this business dealing, he was used to never compromise, was renowned for it, respected for it. But he knew he couldn't afford to make enemies with Shigaraki - even if he hadn't been an unstable sociopath punk who acted like he could just do whatever he felt like, well, Oso knew just who his daddy was.
No way in hell he'd cross him.
-
Tomura scoffed. “Double the next shipment? What, giving us extra of your garbage that we frankly don’t want?”
“Wha--” The asskisser - Jason - made a really funny face, all pale and aghast.
Kurogiri shifted closer, murmuring, “Please proceed carefully, Shigaraki Tomura,” and Tomura growled back a “Shut up.” Of course he was being careful. It was the yakuza geezer that wasn’t thinking straight. More victims meant more attention from the cops, and that would be annoying for everyone involved.
New objective: Reject the offer without looking lenient or agreeable. Easy.
“I think you’re forgetting how our little deal works,” Tomura said, gesturing towards the box with a sweep of his arm. “You’ve lost money investing in these pitiful folks for whatever reason. Give them to us, and you earn back some of it.”
And that was the beauty of this operation. There was never a lack of people digging themselves into debt hell, and never a lack of loan sharks and gangsters that needed to make an example out of them. The Doctor got shipments from all over the place. He got his Noumu material, the sharks got some money and a clean and complete disposal. A good win-win balance. But there was also never a lack of other methods of obtaining people, so if the balance ever tilted, the only ones that lost were the gangs.
Sensei was amazing like that.
“If you can’t assure the quality of your merchandise, though...” Tomura looked straight at Oso. “Why would we buy more?”
Oso looked dangerously close to blowing his lid. What was his quirk again? Tomura couldn't remember; it didn’t matter. Still, they need today’s shipment. And maybe—
He had seen the look Oso gave the lizard guy, the one he was willing to immediately offer up. Tomura would’ve accepted, honestly, because that one was interesting. Flinching and terrible at hiding his fear, like he wasn’t supposed to be here; but he still looked Tomura in the eye. (Also the Doctor liked using mutants as the bases for the Noumu.) Then Jason whispered some secret that made Oso dismiss the idea. Was the heteromorph important after all?
Later, though. Tomura would look into him later. For now…
“But you’re right. We value our business.” Tomura grinned widely, knowing the corners of his mouth were stretching past father. “So one half of the agreed payment is fair, don’t you think, Oso-san?”
Kurogiri felt a sense of relief, not quite pride, at the progress being made. This time Shigaraki Tomura had not killed someone, and yet he had remained in control of the negotiations - and adapted to the situation on the fly. Sensei would be pleased - and yet, Kurogiri had to wonder if things had gone so smoothly, had it not been for Sensei's influence. Had this been just another business partner, a man like Oso would never have caved to that level of pressure, not when it meant being so humiliated in front of his men. Was Shigaraki Tomura even aware of how much he could get away with just because everyone knew in whose name he acted? Would things go so smoothly for him, if he was thrust into this world on his own?
After getting the shipment to the Doctor's second Noumu lab, Kurogiri warped them back to their base, and once behind his bar he asked, as he had been encouraged to do:
"Did things go as you hoped, Shigaraki Tomura?"
-
He stacked everyone into a pile on the bar, all except father, who Tomura held in his hands, tracing the palm lines.
What was there to hope for? He finished doing the thing, that was all. Got the Noumu material, made fun of the Villain wannabes, was sort of polite and shit like Kurogiri asked for. Yeah, it could've turned into a shootout had Oso been more prideful and less fearful - not of him, Tomura knew, but because of who his master was - but it hadn't. And he made use of that. Succeeded his mission.
The mist man stood quietly, patiently waiting for him to respond, but Tomura stretched the silence for a bit longer to annoy him, even if Kurogiri won't show it.
"Get Giran," Tomura said instead. "I want him to do something for me."
-
Kurogiri didn’t like having those things on his bar. He’d never complained but he knew that Shigaraki must have figured that out on his own. He tried not to take it personally, as Sensei had urged of him, but he knew Shigaraki purposefully annoyed him.
“Shigaraki Tomura, it’s 2 a.m. Might I suggest contacting our new associate tomorrow instead?”
Giran was Shigaraki’s connection, not Sensei’s. Even though he knew of Shigaraki’s relation, as any self respecting man in this business would, Kurogiri so hoped that Shigaraki would not use that to his advantage with that man too.
-
Was it 2 a.m. already? He never paid much attention to time, not when Kurogiri could also act as a clock and daily planner. And what broker would Giran be if he wasn't on call 24/7?
It is ‘tomorrow’ already, Tomura felt the childish urge to say. As irritating as it was, though, Kurogiri had a point. Asking Giran to bring him information about Oso and his businesses could wait a few hours.
Tomura rubbed at his neck, tracing the scars and healing cuts, not scratching just yet. He must have taken a bit too long to answer, or Kurogiri decided he didn’t want to deal with Tomura any longer, or both, because that was when he heard light static from the TV, and a soft, deep voice filled the room.
Sensei.
-
So agitated, even after success - so restless, even when his work was over. What was this though, initiative? From his Tomura? But then Kurogiri, well-meaning yet foolish, shut him down instead of letting him act it out, and already Tomura's interest was waning, not even telling him off - would he still remember wanting this information in the morning? Much less care for it?
All for One sighed, smitten, stroking Tomura's lean figure on the screen before him. What was it that caught your attention this time, dear boy? He couldn't help but interfere, just a little.
"What's the matter, Tomura? Was something different today?"
-
Sensei was amused. Tomura could hear it in his voice, could hear the fondness, the curiosity. It made something vague inside of him ache, pleased with the attention and desiring more, yet also somewhat wary of it. Ever since he was small, it had been like that. Lately, though, with all these things Sensei insisted on him learning - making everything a challenge, so annoying - the latter feeling had increased. Only a bit.
“There was...someone.” The image of the man with the lizard quirk rose to the front of his mind. Arms crossed, shoulders tight, narrowed eyes. “He didn’t belong.”
Disgust. That was the expression the man had. Not the same revulsion most had when they saw Tomura for the first time, but more... judgmental. Who was he to be like that? He was there like everyone else.
What felt like dull anger slowly warmed the back of his neck but that was nothing new. Almost beneath his attention, ignorable. Still, it was familiar and Tomura accepted it. “I think. I don’t like him.”
-
"You don't like anyone," All for One said, chuckling to himself. Some one, was it? That was intriguing. If it wasn't someone he introduced him to, when else had Tomura ever expressed an interest in another person - except, of course, for those instances when he felt like killing them?
He had to support this development. It would be useful in the future if Tomura finally felt like breaking out of his shell.
-
“I don’t like him, more than usual,” Tomura muttered. This was gonna turn into Sensei teasing him. He went back to the original topic. “So I want Giran to give me information on him.”
-
"I'm sure that can be arranged," All for One assured him, this stubborn, petulant boy. "Can't it, Kurogiri?"
It wasn't very nice - but it was no doubt fun to overrule him and play favourites. It had the wonderful effect of making them both want to be in his good books all the more, and wasn't that convenient?
"... We can certainly send a request tonight," Kurogiri dutifully acquiesced, simple as that.
"There we go, that's good to hear, Kurogiri," All for One smiled. "Are you satisfied now, Tomura?"
-
Taking a moment to relish Sensei siding with him - he won, ha! Take that, Kurogiri - Tomura only outwardly shrugged. “...Yeah.”
But he smiled too, knowing Sensei would like that. He was always telling Tomura to be more expressive.
A tiny, devious grin, one that only Sensei could see.
Dammit, dammit, damn it all to hell. Shuuichi was shaking by the time that strange, terrifying hand man - Shigaraki - and his silent companion warped out of the warehouse, bringing with them the two unlucky fellows Oso-san sacrificed, as well as the corpse, to do who knows what ungodly things to them. And he'd just stood there, letting it all happen, a cog in the machine, just like all the rest of them.
It wasn't that he'd ever aspired for heroism. But he had never thought he'd become a villain.
Sick with Oso-san, spineless and disgraceful, and with Jason-san, cowardly and complacent, and with himself, the silent enabler, he was in a foul mood the entire next day. Instead of sleeping he'd taken a tour by the abandoned containers on the western harbour, punching steel until his knuckles were bleeding, but he barely felt the pain in the morning, when he returned to the dining hall for breakfast.
There were only a few men there who'd been in the warehouse, but they were acting like everyone else, drinking their black coffees and talking trash. Maybe they were just better at hiding it, or they were all as morally corrupt as Oso-san himself. Either way, Shuuichi thought that for once, it was a good thing they mostly never bothered associating with him.
He had to get away. When his shift was over for the night he clocked out on the second and stormed away into the city. It wasn't exactly uncommon for his coworkers, who liked to spend their meagre pay on whores and alcohol, acting like drunken buffoons. Not him, though.
He had another way of coping. A better way.
"The lizard-looking guy you're after is named Iguchi Shuuichi. He was part of a project this here city funded for helping disadvantaged youths without jobs and training from the countryside get jobs and housing. How benevolent of the great provider Oso Hanzo, isn't it?" Giran said, on the phone with Shigaraki Tomura, his youngest, and most promising, client to date. It was a cloudy afternoon of a slow day. "He's been living in Yokohama for just three months now, after signing away two years of his life, and possibly the rest of it in blood, to his patron.
"Pretty standard stuff, I have to say. Guy's record is cleaner than your keeper's bar. Even for a guy in his position, he's pretty inoffensive. Unless you're looking at his online presence, but nobody's perfect, am I right?
"Now, if you wanna gimme something specific, I might be able to bring up something else on this guy. But from a cursory look, he's as close to a saint as an accidentally yakuza affiliated dock worker gets."
He put out his cigarette and leaned forward on the desk, awaiting Shigaraki's no doubt helpful response.
-
Not sure what exactly he expected, but this was disappointing nevertheless. Tomura's three-finger hold on the phone became a four-finger hold.
Still, it explained the way he acted. Just a hick from the boonies, life over before it started. Part of Tomura wanted to ask Giran where he can find the guy so he can disintegrate him for wasting his time. Or, better yet, the next time he meets up with Oso, he can request Iguchi Shuuichi to be there. Make him get his hands dirty somehow, drag him down from his pedestal.
Disposable, but Oso didn't give him to Tomura. Which meant:
"He's quirkless."
-
"Right you are," Giran acknowledged, sighing dramatically to himself. "Just a mutant."
Just a poor little mutant, caught on the wrong side of things - having caught the attention of the wrong man...
Giran flipped over the picture of Iguchi Shuuichi that came with the hastily put together file. There wasn't anything special about that happening, either.
Shuuichi didn't know how often Oso-san's little business meet took place, but when a week had passed and he hadn't been roped into coming to bolster their numbers again, he was slowly starting to relax. Knowing what was going on, with or without him, still sickened him to his core - but the distance meant he could start to forget, ignore it, move on. Like every other spineless being in this world.
Each day it became a little easier to carry on, however. His knuckles started to heal, he started to talk to his roommates again and eat with the rest - he avoided Jason-san whenever the man dropped by to survey the work, and after a while he started to believe that maybe he just wasn't needed again.
On the next Saturday night, instead of Jason-san's orders, it was a meaty arm that caught him, wrapped over his shoulders, squeezing his head.
"Iguchi, there you are, how've you been?"
It was Nikumaru, a somewhat reliable guy to pump iron with on their day off, when he wasn't complaining about his cheating slut of a girlfriend. They'd worked together the first two weeks, but drifted apart when their shifts got rescheduled, and only seen each other at the personnel gym ever since.
Shuuichi swatted his arm off.
"Me and Nabe-chan are heading over to Izesaki," Nikumaru, who was apparently not against cheating himself, continued. "Heard you got some extra cash lately... want us to teach you how to spend it?"
"A woman who can be bought isn't a woman worth getting," Shuuichi told him, deflecting the sudden jab thrown his way. His mood soured at the mention of his extra cash, but more so at the idea of visiting a brothel.
"Maybe not having around, but just for getting some..." Nikumaru sniggered, reaching for Shuuichi's hair to mess it up - was immediately sidestepped. "Come on man, you can't tell me you're getting some elsewhere?"
"That's none of your business!" Shuuichi fumed. "And anyway! I have plans elsewhere, and I'm not wasting my money on some whore."
"Defensive." Nikumaru held up his hands. "Shit man, relax, if you're doing the celibacy thing, more power to you."
But before Shuuichi could continue defending himself none too defensively, Watanabe – Nabe-chan – called his friend from the across the barracks.
“To be continued,” Nikumaru said, punching Shuuichi’s shoulder before jogging off.
“Pathetic,” Shuuichi muttered under his breath, watching the grown men embrace and talk about doing something so immoral.
They weren’t the only ones heading towards Izesaki that night, but Shuuichi veered off the road paved by the horny flock, towards the more decent districts – although, that was slightly arguable.
The video game arcade he’d taken to was by the pachinko parlours and less legal gambling houses, but it was rarely ever crowded, and allowed no children entrance, and in a sense it had become a place where he belonged: where he could play fighting games all night long and forgot all of his worries – and quickly depleted purse.
The owner welcomed him with a nod when he entered, and his favourite machine for Street Fighter III: 3rd Strike was open.
Shuuichi put in his first coin for the evening and relaxed.
This was worth getting.
-
Saturday night.
All around him were noise, lights, people. Tomura walked through the crowded streets, the hoodie of his sweatshirt off for once, allowing everything to bombard his senses unobstructed.
He saw everything, but no one seemed to see him. High stealth stat, maybe, but people were also often so inattentive. If he reached out and touched someone, how long before they realized it was more than an accidental brush? How long after they crumble that people will slow to a stop and stare and then finally scream?
His throat tightened and his fingers twitched at the thought, but Tomura kept his hands in his pockets. There were Heroes around - there, by the food stall, receiving free yakitori; and there, strutting and waving at his fans; and there, plainclothes and off-duty, but Tomura recognized the arrogant air around her and the alertness in her gaze.
He wanted to destroy that. Destroy them.
But no. There was something else he wanted first.
Tomura turned a street corner and arrived at the entrance of the arcade.
Sensei gave him an allowance, but it was more fun to steal from Kurogiri. With the bills he took from the bar, Tomura got 5000 yen worth of coins to start with, and surveyed the dim, expansive room. Near him, someone was playing Street Fighter III: 3rd Strike. They were on the opposite side of the machine, so Tomura couldn’t see them, but he decided to insert himself as player two. He sat down and put in a coin.
Choosing Q as his fighter - low tier but Tomura was very good at using him and his opponents usually didn’t expect that, plus he was partial to the character - he waited for player one to pick their character.
Akuma. No surprise there.
Then screen changed and Q slammed into view and the match began.
-
Q? This guy thought he could beat him with Q? Shuuichi scoffed - he was about to school this cocky asshole...
... who immediately opened with taunting too. Bastard - Shuuichi used the opporunity to punish him with a Gohadouken, but it was almost as if this guy wanted to get hit, wanted even more of a handicap...
Fine then, thought Shuuichi, gritting his teeth as he leaned closer to the screen, quickly working the joystick. Let's see how you like a Tatsumaki Zankuukyaku to your face!
-
On the screen, Q took the Tatsumaki Zankuukyaku, got kicked into the air and collapsed onto the ground, before Tomura had him roll away. Akuma came at Q immediately. Tomura blocked, did a few pokes, let himself take damage. Did another taunt.
Sounds from the other machine told Tomura that his opponent was riled up. He used flashy combos, but he wasn’t bad. Suspicious and careful, with a few clever surprises. Still, as Q’s health bar dwindled, Akuma got bolder, ready to K.O.
So Tomura slouched forward a little more and finally decided to show off. Q taunted for the third time.
And then it was just blocking and dodging everything his opponent threw at him, and going in the offensive, dealing hard damage. Tomura grinned, enjoying watching Akuma fly around the screen, enjoying the frantic noisy clicks of his opponent - and one actual yelp.
With a few small movements of the joystick and a punch, lightning flashed on the screen and Q was a rush of fists—
K.O.
-
K... O... Shuuichi stared at the screen, stunned. He thought he had him... Q's health was so low, but he hadn't been able to land a single hit more...
Tch. He was the cocky one, wasn't he?
A man had to be able to admit his mistakes, so he shook his head and walked around the machine.
"You got me," he said, keeping his hands on his hips and looking to the side begrudgingly. "You're good. But how about another round?"
He looked up and held out his hand towards the stranger - a weird looking guy in a black hoodie with white hair, bit on the scrawny side - looked both old and young at the same time. Haggard. Somewhat familiar, but Shuuichi couldn't immediately place him. Maybe he'd just seen him around the arcade?
-
It was him. The lizard heteromorph guy, the one he had Giran dig up info on.
Iguchi Shuuichi.
There was no recognition in his eyes, just sore chagrin. But also some curiosity as he looked at Tomura; he meant what he said, he wanted another round.
Tomura‘s gaze dropped down to the hand offered to him. Scaly as the rest of Iguchi, knuckles scabbed over, with sharp claws. He vaguely remembers being pissed and wanting to kill this guy, and he vaguely pondered doing so right now; revealing himself and watching Iguchi’s face crumble in fear, then all together.
Then the second passed and the thought faded and Tomura took the hand, keeping his index finger in the air. He was having fun. No need to ruin the night.
“Yeah, sure.”
-
Weird guy, Shuuichi thought, as the stranger stuck out his finger when touching him. Could just be the scales, though, not everyone was a fan of those.
Then he heard that voice. Ghastly, unsettling, somewhat hoarse... And that's when he saw his chilling red eyes, meeting his, and he remembered.
Paling, he dropped the hand - rude, stupid, he had to calm down. But this was that guy, the hand guy, Shigaraki, a villain who even Oso-san had caved to.
Calm down, he told himself again and again until it could work, even as he felt the dread of that night resurging to him. There was no way Shigaraki should've remembered him, nor did they have any issues with each other - he was a nobody, no one of note. They could just go back to playing Street Fighter and then go their own ways. He could just ignore it all again.
-
Looked like he remembered.
Tomura watched fascinated as Iguchi’s face turned color, scales becoming a chalky, dull green. His eyes - pink, like his hair - got so wide, and he was shaking, a little.
Definitely a country bumpkin that got in over his head in the big, scary city.
“Iguchi Shuuichi-kun .” Tomura said airily, deciding on using an honorific. He gestured at the game with a nod of his head. “You’re not too bad yourself. It was fun.“
He stepped forward and smiled. It was even a real smile of joy. Well. Partly.
“Ready for another round?”
-
How the hell did he know his name? It wasn't a coincidence, then, him being here. But what did it all mean?
As Shigaraki advanced, Shuuichi retreated, but just the one step.
"What," he swallowed, tried again and with more force: "What do you want, Shigaraki... san?"
The honorific felt fake, but no more than when used with Oso or Jason.
-
Shigaraki-san.
That gave Tomura pause. He didn’t like that, the honorific. It was obviously empty of meaning or respect, used grudgingly. That was typical when dealing with criminals and Villains... but this irked him.
Though, he had done the same thing.
Fine then, time to pick a different dialogue option. He was starting to feel annoyed with how the guy was acting, and they were gonna waste time on verbal footsies. Fear was often useful, but not always, Sensei told him once, and only now did Tomura realized what he meant.
“I want to keep playing,” Tomura said, dropping the smile, keeping his voice even. “That’s what you wanted too, right? You’re the one who asked, Iguchi.”
-
What was with this guy? Shuuichi's fear was replaced with confusion - did Shigaraki seriously expect him to think he just wanted to play? After he had somehow learnt his name and stalked him to the arcade, and threatened him like that?
"Yeah right!" he scoffed. The confusion was replaced with anger - he crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
So how the hell do you know my name? he wanted to ask, but as he thought about it, maybe Shigaraki'd known all along. Doing business with Oso-san, maybe he just knew beforehand all of his associates, there was no way of knowing. And maybe he hadn't stalked him precisely - Shigaraki was good, with Q of all characters, so maybe this really was a coincidental meeting.
Clicking his tongue, annoyed with himself for making a bigger deal out of this than it needed to be, Shuuichi said: "Fine!" and rounded back to his own machine, putting in another coin.
"I'll show you what I'm really capable of," he muttered angrily, to himself, as he selected Ken this time.
Now he wanted a rematch even more.
-
Pleased that that worked - and taking a few mental notes on Iguchi’s character and mood - Tomura turned back to his controls and screen.
Ken this time. Counterpicking wasn’t going to help here at all, but since he insisted…
Iguchi was a lot more careful this time, keeping out of range and crouching and starting with simple attacks. Tomura had Q do the same.
It occurred to him that this was possibly the first time he was playing against someone he knew irl. There were some regular internet buddies over the years and he competed against other random arcade patrons, but he knew Iguchi and vice versa. Iguchi was obviously a gamer who knew his stuff, and he was willing to put that first before his anxiety.
Tomura really was sort of enjoying himself. So he decided he might find a way to keep Iguchi around. Definitely have him be at the next meeting with Oso.
A hadouken from Ken. Time to get things going.
-
Shigaraki's Q blocked him, this time - was he taking him more seriously now? He better - Shuuichi was out for blood, especially knowing who he was facing. He had the tier advantage, but that wouldn't be enough, not when Shigaraki clearly knew the game inside and out. But he was also the type of player to try and read his opponent - so then, what if Shuuichi didn't play as he normally did?
Enough special moves. After poking each other, Ken managed to grab Q. Let's do this the strategic, boring way, Shigaraki. Poke him, sweep his legs - Q didn't have the time to taunt this time, not without getting punished for it.
Nearly vibrating until the end of it, Ken won the first round, and Shuuichi grinned widely on his side, unthinkingly exclaiming:
"Hah!"
But things were only getting started - and he knew that Shigaraki didn't take losses lying down.
-
Losing the first round, a jolt of irritation ran through his chest and down his arms, but Tomura also felt excitement.
Tomura rubbed at his face a bit with one hand, peeking through his fingers at the screen. It was stupid, getting worked up over a game, but— No special moves, a steady wear down, a reversal from the first game: that was good, well done, he had to admire that. What else did Iguchi have in store? Predictions and strategies ran through Tomura’s mind, plotting how he would play the next round.
He put his hands back on the controls as the game moved on. He’ll make it a quick fight this time. Close in, make use of each opportunity to attack. Be brutal.
He was going to destroy Iguchi.
-
Don't get cocky, Shuuichi told himself when the second round started. He had to keep playing this calmly.
He blocked the first attack, but was too quick to follow up the grab, so he took first damage.
It's fine, it's fine, he told himself, as Ken got back up and blocked the next attack. He jumped and managed to land a kick, but soon as he landed he got grabbed and thrown again. And then the combos started. And then a super. Fuck.
He started sweating, watching his health bar getting dangerously low. And then he wasted his own super, got blocked, and punished hard.
Second round to Q... But it was 1-1, he still had a fighting chance.
Sucking in a deep breath, he was ready for round three - and immediately they were both on the defense, playing it carefully, like a lot was on the line. Crouching, looking for an opening, just poking each other until...
Q took the first hit. But Ken took all the rest.
YOU LOSE.
On the ground was Iguchi’s character, while Q stood victorious. Again.
How many times had that happened? Tomura lost count. They had been stubbornly going at it for a while. Not every match went to him, but it was clear to both him and Iguchi by now that he was winning their little competition.
Tomura inserted another coin. He hadn’t felt so satisfied in a while. There was that time Sensei had him track down a Pro-Hero duo - kill one and bring in the other - and afterwards he and Sensei were able to have one of their rare dinners together, but that was weeks ago. And that was much better, but tonight was halfway there.
That feeling quickly died when he realized player two wasn’t responding.
Scowling, Tomura stuck his head out to look at Iguchi on the other side. “Hey. Put in your coin. We’re continuing.”
-
When Shuuichi realised he was out, he cursed to himself - having been so caught up in playing, he hadn't really considered his wallet at all. Because playing with Shigaraki was, ultimately, a whole lot of fun.
It was what it must've been like to play a pro, something he'd never had the chance to do before - in his hometown, he was the best player there was, and he hadn't had many to play with besides CPUs and scrubs since coming to the city either. A privilege - as upsetting as it was to lose, he was just as impressed with Shigaraki's finesse. He made close to no errors - Shuuichi only ever managed to beat him by outplaying him. And those times were made all the more enjoyable because of how rare and difficult they were.
But now it was over.
"You’re continuing, I'm out," Shuuichi responded, his own scowl matching Shigaraki's. "I don't have the cash, because thanks to you, my pay was halved this month." And it wasn't like he made much to begin with.
He doubted Shigaraki would feel bad about it, but now that Shigaraki wasn't so scary to him any more, nothing really prevented him from telling him off. And he was annoyed about the guy who'd played a part in lowering his wage was now demanding he keep inserting money as if it was nothing to him.
-
“...What, you want me to do something about that?” Tomura snorted. “That was your boss’ problem, fucking up the deal.”
Failure to deliver and disrespect meant satisfaction must be had, and what Tomura demanded was mild compared to what he could’ve done. He didn’t care much for any of it, not really, but in being proxy for Sensei, he had to learn these codes the underworld had.
Why did it all have to be so over-complicated and troublesome?
Tomura walked slowly over and leaned against the machine, unimpressed with the glare Iguchi was giving him. “You make sure no one gets themselves killed next time if you’re so pissed about Oso’s budgeting.”
-
Shuuichi didn’t want to defend Oso-san of all people, but he wasn’t willing to admit being in the wrong either.
Also, Shigaraki was taller than him, but without the hand on his face, and over the rest of him, he didn’t look so tough. Shuuichi made sure to flex his arms as he crossed them over his chest, staring down (up) at his adversary.
“Oso-san suggested doubling next shipment instead, you’re the one who said you’d only pay half,” he told him - but the word shipment made him feel dirty. A little quicker, he added: “... so anyway, because of that I can’t keep playing, so I’m going to head back.”
Shigaraki didn’t look tough per say, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t wholly unnerving. Shuuichi made to leave.
-
Not as timid as he first thought— though Tomura caught the twitch Iguchi made when referencing the people his boss sold. Only a twitch. Hardening and slowly sinking into the world of criminal filth already, huh.
He followed Iguchi as the man started to head out. A bit of a small guy, but displaying an impressive gun show, still visible even as Iguchi slipped on his jacket. Tomura had his eyes trace down those arms, down to the bone-white claws, long and sharp. Did those scales do anything either? Offer some level of protection of some sort?
What would you have been like as a Noumu?
“Oso almost offered you up,” Tomura found himself saying. He wasn’t quite sure why. “Isn’t half your tiny paycheck worth still being here?”
-
Alongside his determined foot steps, there was only Shigaraki's slow, glitchy pace behind him filling the silent streets.
Shigaraki was following him. If he tried to shake him he would just be showing weakness so he begrudgingly had to accept it - and reason that maybe Shigaraki was just heading the same direction. He didn't have his personal warp gate this time, whoever that guy was, so he had to be going somewhere too.
Just ignore him, Shuuichi told himself, hands deep in his pockets. But he felt Shigaraki's gaze at the back of his head, those shining red eyes boring into him, and then the man spoke.
Shuuichi came to a halt. He wanted to immediately deny Shigaraki's words, and would have done so too, unflinchingly, if he hadn't had the same suspicion himself. But when told he had to compensate for the dead guy, Oso-san had looked his way - and whatever he had been thinking had gotten dismissed by Jason-san whispering into his ear. Without that intervention, he'd been the lamb up for slaughter.
He remembered Shigaraki asking for the others' quirks. Whatever Jason-san had said, it must've been about his own - or lack thereof. He'd already figured as much.
He swallowed the bitter taste it still left in his mouth to acknowledge.
Turning around on the empty road, with the few and far in between street lights, the reeking alleys and closed up shops, he looked back at Shigaraki, whose white hair and pale skin were sickly illuminating in the darkness.
Shuuichi didn't like being taunted this way, not being taken seriously. He asked, as calmly as he could manage:
"What would've happened to me, if he did?"
-
As much as Iguchi tried to hide it, Tomura still heard the faint tremor in his voice. Anger this time. Iguchi spoke quietly, the lowest Shigaraki had heard him, like the minute ticks of a bomb before the explosion.
Tomura said: “You would have been kept alive.” As a Noumu, but alive nevertheless.
Iguchi Shuuichi. The way he stood now, the way he was holding himself, Tomura could tell he had been in more than a few fights before, and won. Had to, growing up where he did in the countryside. Every now and then a news story would come out from there about the death of someone with a mutant quirk or appearance, whether from suicide or medical neglect or a cult killing. Then the public outcry, the social media storm, Heroes giving speeches and weeping on TV - and nothing happening after that.
In front of Tomura was a man used to being treated like he was worthless. But Iguchi wasn’t completely empty; he still had hatred and rage - years of it, forming a dense, dark core.
Tomura knew those feelings well. And now he knew what caught his attention, what he had expected.
Iguchi was grotesque, looking like a monster and considered one. Tomura wanted to see him act more like it, wanted to see him let loose and go wild. Wanted to see him do more than cowering in the shadows, slaving away for that pathetic Oso.
Tomura wanted him to embrace being a monster.
He grinned. “I would’ve made you mine.”
Impulsive, more than a little outlandish… But that was the truth, at least right now. And with that, Tomura walked past Iguchi, leaving him on that empty street.
-
His? What the hell did Shigaraki mean by that?
By the time Shuuichi had snapped out of his shock, Shigaraki was already gone, disappeared completely out of sight. There was no noise but his own steps as he followed the direction of Shigaraki's disappearance, but he'd left no trace behind.
Slowing down, Shuuichi accepted that it was a useless endeavor. His throat was dry from their last exchange, but he didn't have the spare change to use a vending machine - if water would've helped to begin with.
I would’ve made you mine.
Shigaraki'd sounded almost... tender. Possessive.
Shuuichi shuddered, cold inside his leather jacket.
His what, exactly? Subordinate? That couldn't be right. Shigaraki had showed up to meet on Oso-san's turf with just one man, two against sixteen - he didn't need a guy like Shuuichi, whoever he was. But then what else could he've meant by that?
He wandered through the dreary streets lost in thought, down the livelier districts, unable to unhear that creepy, greedy tone of Shigaraki's echoing through his head. Just what the hell did that man want from him? Was it really so that he'd just happened to remember his name, was it true that meeting him at the arcade had been a coincidence - had Jason-san even asked Shuuichi to play backup for that meeting in the first place, randomly? Or was it all part of a larger scheme, some plan of Shigaraki's where Shuuichi was but an unknowing, unwilling pawn? Kept alive, made his?!
He didn't know what to think about any of it.
Oblivious to his surroundings, he bumped into some guy stumbling forward out an alley and soon had two voices yelling at his back.
"Hey, you lizard freak, what the hell's your problem?"
"You better," hic, "apologizeeee righ' now!"
Whenever this type of thing happened, he would spin around to bark at them, something like: "You've got something you wanna say to me?" but this night he barely registered their provocation. Only when a fist was swung at the back of his head did he turn - and clock the guy's face right in. And since the other one insisted...
The guy still conscious by the end of it kept apologising to his back while he left them there to sober up, continuing down the dark path towards the docks. The wounds on his fists had split open again, throbbing numbly. He forgot about the pain and the two drunks within seconds.
I would've made you mine.
What did Shigaraki want with him?
*