Ashes Of Fate

Tomura Shigaraki never believed in fate.
Not until the mark on his skin began to burn.

It happened near Aldera Middle School just a dull glow at first, then a sharp, aching pain that stopped him mid-step. He clutched his arm, confused, until something in the air pulled his gaze upward.

And there perched on the edge of the school's rooftop, wind whipping through tattered clothes and burnt curls-stood a boy.

Young. Bruised. Barely hanging on.

And Shigaraki knew, deep in the pit of his soul,
That boy was his.

Before he could think, the boy jumped.

Shigaraki didn't hesitate.

He called for Kurogiri. He caught him.

He didn't care who saw, didn't care what it meant. All he knew was that the pain in his mark stopped the moment the trembling body landed safely in his arms.

And that the boy this small, broken thing was the one fate had chosen for him.