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The base was silent as Tomura Shigaraki sat alone in the dim light, head bowed, eyes staring blankly into his hands. The emptiness inside him was like a pit, a weight he hadn’t been able to shake since it happened. The life he had barely dared to hope for was gone, as quickly as it had come. He hadn’t told anyone, hadn’t let anyone see him falter, but the emptiness gnawed at him, constant and unyielding. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Shigaraki looked up, already annoyed at the interruption. Dabi and Toga stepped in, Dabi looking as aloof as ever, Toga’s face soft with something unusual: concern. “We got something for you, boss,” Dabi muttered, his usual smirk replaced by a solemn expression. He stepped aside, and Toga stepped forward, holding a small bundle. As she lowered it to the ground, Shigaraki’s gaze sharpened. A tiny Nomu, a little bigger than a large cat, stood there, staring up at him with wide, childlike eyes. It wobbled on unsteady legs, giving a soft, tentative chirp.
Shigaraki’s frown deepened. “What is this?” he demanded, his voice rough. He didn’t want sympathy. He didn’t want pity.
Toga knelt down beside the Nomu, running her fingers over its head. “We thought…” She hesitated, glancing at Dabi, who gave her a small nod. “We thought you might like someone to look after, you know? Since… since it happened.”
Shigaraki’s breath hitched, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He hated that they knew, hated that his pain was visible enough for them to see. But the Nomu chirped again, taking a shaky step toward him, its soft eyes almost pleading. “Dabi and I asked All for One,” Toga continued, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “We thought… maybe it’d make you feel a little better. Even if it’s just a little bit.”
Shigaraki stared at the small creature, his throat tight. It wasn’t the same; nothing would be. But as the Nomu pressed it’s tiny head against his hand, a fragile warmth broke through the cold in his chest. He reached down, fingers brushing over the creature’s head. The Nomu gave a soft, happy sound, leaning into his touch. Dabi stepped back, watching with a slight nod. “Figured you could use a distraction,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “But don’t think we’re going soft or anything.”
Shigaraki scoffed, masking the ache in his voice. “Tch. Soft? Don’t kid yourself.”
Toga’s eyes shone with a quiet relief as she took a step back, letting Shigaraki be. The Nomu curled up beside him, a small, steady presence, and for the first time since the loss, the silence didn’t feel quite so empty.
Shigaraki stood there, watching the Nomu try again and again, his hand still holding its small, trembling fingers as it took a few wobbly steps. The creature chirped each time it managed a step, a soft, hopeful sound that rang out in the quiet of the room. The little Nomu’s efforts were clumsy, its legs still too short to carry it properly, but it kept pushing forward, its determination palpable. “Come on… just a little more,” Shigaraki muttered, almost to himself, guiding the Nomu as it took another unsteady step. The chirping grew more frequent, more confident with each movement. It was almost as if the Nomu was proud of itself, and for reasons Shigaraki couldn’t quite place, that made something inside him tighten.
It was strange. It wasn’t like teaching a child or an animal, and yet… there was something deeply human about the way the Nomu tried, the way it looked up at him with such innocence and trust. With each small step, a warm, fragile sense of pride bubbled up within him, but it was quickly followed by something darker—something heavier. His throat tightened, and before he realised it, his eyes were stinging. He blinked quickly, fighting the rising emotion. He hadn’t expected this—this… tenderness. It was too much, too overwhelming. The creature’s chirping, its small, steady progress, made him feel something he hadn’t in so long: hope. But it also reminded him of what was lost. The Nomu took another small step, its legs almost steady now, and it chirped loudly, its gaze locking onto Shigaraki as if waiting for his approval.
For a moment, Shigaraki stood there, frozen. His chest ached. He had never been one for tears—certainly not for something so small, so insignificant. But he couldn’t stop it. A single tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, and another. It wasn’t just sadness, though. It was something else—something deep and raw, a mixture of grief and the faintest touch of joy. The Nomu’s chirps, its innocent determination, brought the weight of everything he had lost crashing into him all over again, but it also reminded him that there was still something worth holding on to. He exhaled shakily, kneeling down and reaching out to gently stroke the creature’s head. “You did good.” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.
The Nomu chirped again, pressing its tiny head into his hand, and for a moment, Shigaraki let himself be still, letting the tears come. It wasn’t a cure for the emptiness, and it didn’t bring back what he had lost, but it was something. The Nomu was something to protect, something that needed him. And maybe, just maybe, it was comforting enough.
After a few more attempts, the little Nomu wobbled confidently on its own for a few steps, letting out a triumphant chirp that was so pure, so unguarded, it made Shigaraki’s heart ache. He reached down, his hands gentler than he ever thought possible, and carefully scooped the Nomu up, lifting it into his arms. He held it at arm’s length for a moment, studying it. The Nomu’s wide, trusting eyes met his, blinking slowly as if sensing the care he was pouring into every movement. Its small, clawed hands reached out, brushing against his forearm as if in recognition. The creature was so different from the other Nomus he’d seen—this one was quiet, gentle, even affectionate in its own way.
Shigaraki felt something stir inside him, a rare and fragile feeling that he could barely recognize. He was vulnerable, exposed, and yet, he couldn’t look away from the small creature in his hands. Slowly, he drew it closer to him, holding it against his chest, his arms wrapping around its tiny, warm body. The Nomu nestled into him, chirping softly, almost as if in comfort. Shigaraki’s shoulders relaxed, and he took a deep, steadying breath. He wasn’t used to closeness, to warmth, but with this small, fragile creature in his arms, he felt the emptiness within him start to shift, even if only slightly. As he held the Nomu close, he whispered, “Guess it’s just you and me now, huh?” The words were soft, barely audible, but the Nomu seemed to understand, nuzzling against him with a quiet hum.
For the first time in a long while, Shigaraki let himself be still, holding onto this small life that needed him. It wasn’t everything, and it didn’t make up for what he’d lost, but for now, it was enough.
Shigaraki sat there with the tiny Nomu in his arms, trying to keep himself composed, but he could feel the tears gathering in his eyes all over again. He bit down on his chapped-lip, desperately willing himself to stop. He was a leader, not someone who broke down so easily. But the warmth of the Nomu against him, its tiny chirps of contentment, and the overwhelming mix of gratitude and grief made it impossible to hold back. The tears came quietly, sliding down his cheeks as he cradled the Nomu, one hand gently stroking its head. For a long time, he just sat there, letting himself feel. It was new, letting his walls down even in the quiet solitude of his own space. When he finally dried his eyes, his chest felt lighter, like he’d been holding his breath for too long. With one last steadying breath, he stood up, still holding the Nomu close to him, its small body secure in his arms the way one might hold a child. It nuzzled into him, eyes half-closed as it chirped softly, content.
Shigaraki made his way through the dim corridors until he found Toga and Dabi sitting in the common area. They looked up as he approached, surprised to see him holding the Nomu so tenderly. He cleared his throat, his voice rough as he mumbled, “I… wanted to say thank you. For… this.” He glanced down at the Nomu, which chirped in response, almost as if it understood.
Toga’s eyes softened, a warm smile spreading across her face. “You’re welcome, Shigaraki! I knew you’d love it!” She gently reached out, brushing a finger over the Nomu’s head.
Dabi crossed his arms, nodding slightly. “Told you it’d help.” His tone was casual, but there was a quiet satisfaction in his gaze. “Guess we know a fair bit about you, after all.”
Shigaraki managed a small, grateful smile, one that felt almost foreign to him. “I think… it’s helping. So… yeah, thanks.”
There was a brief, shared silence, a moment of understanding that didn’t need words. Toga’s expression was full of warmth, and even Dabi looked oddly content, like he’d done something right. It was a rare feeling, but in that moment, surrounded by his unlikely family, Shigaraki felt seen. With a nod, he turned to head back to his room, the Nomu nestled in his arms. For the first time, he didn’t feel quite so alone. The weight of grief was still there, but it was softened by this small, unexpected comfort, and the knowledge that, for now, he didn’t have to bear it all by himself.