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A layer of haze hung suspended in the room of the abandoned factory. Dirt swirled through the air, displaced from cracked floor tiles and decaying furniture by the four people who entered and spaced themselves evenly throughout. A coating of filth clung to the lightbulbs, rendering their light weak and nearly useless. Motes shifted in the blue-white glare of a television propped in the corner, the brightest source of illumination in the room. The very air tasted of dust.
It wasn’t the cleanest place the Villain Alliance could have claimed as a meeting place, Shigaraki reflected, scratching at his neck. But it was convenient. And he wasn’t stupid enough to bring an untested recruit to their main hideout. They were too low on members to risk any of them needlessly.
But then, that’s what made a new recruit so valuable. And this one in particular…
Shigaraki gazed at the purple-haired teen in satisfaction.
Oh yes. This one could could be exactly the kind of asset they needed. It was just a pity his joining their side had coincided with such commotion.
Shinsou was staring wordlessly at the news channel displayed on the TV, his arms crossed over his chest. A banner scrolled along the bottom of the screen, screaming in bold white letters on a brilliant red background:
YUUEI HIGH STUDENT SHINSOU HITOSHI SPOTTED FLEEING SCENE WITH VILLAIN ALLIANCE
Above the banner, a trio of reporters gleefully engaged in furious discussion of Shinsou’s character. They dug up the measliest bones of his past, pulling them apart, gnawing at the marrow.
“A Yuuei High student with a brainwashing quirk…”
“…witnessed today approaching known Villain Alliance members during an operation of unknown purpose…”
“…rejected from the Heroics Course after failing the entrance exam…”
“…nevertheless, he had quite a strong showing in the Yuuei Sports Festival…”
“…but mind-manipulation just really isn’t a very heroic quirk…”
“…a quirk like that…”
“It was only a matter of time…”
Shigaraki pushed a button on the remote in his hand, muting the TV. He watched Shinsou closely, trying to gauge his reactions, but Shinsou had not moved from the casual pose. He was holding his expression steady, trying to stay as stoic as possible. Yet, Shigaraki caught the barest curl of a lip into a sneer.
There it was. There was the anger Shigaraki wanted to see. The contempt for the trash currently passing for their society.
Behind the hand that clutched his face in an ever-present comfort, Shigaraki smiled.
“You see how quickly they turn on you?” he said, trying to sound soothing, calming. Trustworthy. “This society, with such a limited view on what it means to be a ‘hero,’ and on what kind of people and quirks are allowed to be heroic, would never accept you. You’ve made the right decision, in joining us. This is your chance to…”
“I don’t trust him,” Dabi said from across the room, rudely interrupting. “He just showed up today out of the blue, and we’re just gonna let him in? Just like that?” Dabi shifted himself off a dusty desk and stood upright, reptilian eyes cold as he turned to look directly at Shinsou.
“You hear me? I don’t trust you as far as I could -”
Dabi stopped talking.
His face went completely blank, as though wiped clean. His jaw went slack, his wide eyes clouded. Shinsou turned towards him, very slowly. A baleful smile crept across his face, so bereft of mercy that even Shigaraki felt a little chilled.
“You know the best part of leaving behind my aspirations of heroism?” Shinsou asked softly.
Nobody answered. Dabi stood, motionless, reduced to a mere puppet.
“I can use my quirk as freely as I want. You should be careful what you say to me.”
Shinsou’s crooked smile widened. The very room seemed to hold its breath.
“But I’ll let you off easy this time. Now, go stand in the corner and think about what you’ve done wrong.”
Dabi walked slowly to a corner of the room and planted himself firmly into it, back facing the rest of them. Just like a toddler in a time-out.
Toga laughed from her perch on a table on the other side of the room, manic joy gleaming in her eyes.
“Oh, well I do like him.”
Shigaraki couldn’t help but agree, despite himself. Where the Alliance’s persuasion had failed with the loud, raucous, violent Bakugou Katsuki, they had apparently succeeded with Shinsou Hitoshi. Of course, it made sense that the overlooked one, the stealthy one, the one constantly pushed to second-class by their hero-worshipping society, that he would be the one to take up their cause. He should have seen this before.
Although, Shigaraki almost laughed to himself, Shinsou hadn’t been so quiet in the arena.
“Your comments to Midoriya during the sports festival were quite… illuminating.” Shigaraki paused for effect, as if in remorse, and then continued. “I did consider reaching out to you then, and I now regret my conclusion that Bakugou would be the student most likely to understand our cause. That was my mistake, and one I am glad to be able to correct.”
Toga spoke up again. “Unmute! Eraser’s on the TV!”
Shigaraki hit the button on the remote as Eraserhead’s face filled the screen. Clearly cornered by the media at the gates of Yuuei High, his eyes were hard, his jaw set. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to hit the reporter currently shoving a microphone into his face.
The audio cut in, filling the room with noise.
“ – have anything to say about one of Yuuei’s students joining the villains that our country’s top heroes have been hunting for months?”
The young reporter’s smile displayed every gleaming tooth. She bared them at Eraserhead, the hero who’d been a thorn in Shigaraki’s side since their very first encounter at the USJ.
On screen, Eraserhead scowled.
“No comment.”
The reporter was not daunted.
“The Villain Alliance? The group responsible for the recent downfall of former Number One Hero All Might?”
“No comment.”
The camera managed to zoom in even closer on Eraserhead’s face.
“There’s an inside source reporting that Shinsou might have been working towards re-qualifying for entry into the Hero Course. The word is that he’d been training with you, specifically, possibly as part of a specialized mentorship. Does that make you feel partially responsible for this betrayal-”
Rage flashed, wild in a face normally so bland. There was an edge of despair and pain in that expression that gratified Shigaraki. That anguish convinced him more than anything else Shinsou had done or said in the past few hours.
The reporter took a startled step back from her target, moving out of frame.
“No. Comment,” Eraserhead gritted through clenched teeth. He then turned and slammed the Yuuei gates behind him.
Shigaraki turned to look again at Shinsou, whose face had taken on an expression closer to that of a wounded puppy than a hardened criminal.
“Second thoughts?”
Shinsou shook his head, seeming to shake himself out of whatever Eraserhead’s words – or lack of them – had provoked.
“No. I realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere, despite… despite Sensei’s help.” He shuddered. “I’m done trying.”
Shigaraki awkwardly placed a hand on Shinsou shoulder.
“Here, you won’t have to try. You can just be one of us; a crusader, fighting for the same cause we are. You can simply… belong.”
A glimmer of hope gleamed in Shinsou’s face, in tired purple eyes. Shigaraki smiled again behind his mask.
There was a lot of power in the word ‘belong.’
***
As soon as Shinsou clicked the lock in the dilapidated bathroom door’s handle, he ripped his phone from his pocket. He typed furiously on the small screen, logging in to an email address composed of random numbers and letters that he had memorized by heart.
The browser window loaded slowly, so slowly. His pulse pounded in his ears. He didn’t have much time before some kind of transportation arrived, to take them to the Alliance’s main hideout.
He had done it. He was in. Now he just had to keep from fucking it all up.
The page finally loaded.
One message sat unopened in the inbox. Its sender was a second familiar string of anonymous numbers and letters. The bolded lettering of a new message was somehow both a shot of adrenaline and a balm to his soul.
The message was short. The message was everything.
Good job. Keep in touch as you can, I will do the same. Stay safe.
-AS
Shinsou logged out of the account, and wiped the browser history. Inexplicably, he suddenly felt the urge to cry. That wouldn’t do.
He collapsed onto the closed toilet seat and pressed his hands into his face, as though he could push his emotions back, back down to where they must stay hidden deep in his hero’s heart. He could not give away the scheme. He and the USJ teachers had prepared for this undercover mission too long for him to let them down. He had trained his quirk, his body, and his emotions too hard for him to make a mistake now.
And puffy eyes would be a dead giveaway – he would fail his school. Fail Aizawa, his sensei. Fail himself.
Shinsou took a deep, barely-shaky breath, and stood up. He needed to rejoin the villains.
Shinsou showed no sign of tears as he shoved the phone back into his pocket, leaving the bathroom door creaking closed behind him.