MHA: A New Order of Chaos

Your neck is stiff—you've been sitting in this chair far too long since they brought you here. Around you are the walls of an old bar, smelling of stale tobacco and hopelessness. Somewhere in the kitchen, a faucet is dripping, the rhythmic sound cutting through the silence like a knife.

Opposite you, sprawled out on a sofa, sits Shigaraki. He isn't looking at you. He is staring at his own fingers, flexing them rhythmically.

— You know, — he says into the silence. — Usually, I don't ask why people come to me. I don't care. But you… — he lifts his eyes, and there isn't a shred of curiosity in them, only boredom and coldness. — You didn't come here empty-handed. You came here with something they call a conscience. Do you still have any left?

A soft rustle comes from behind—Toga is perched on the bar counter, swinging her legs and tracing the rim of an empty glass with her finger.

— The newcomer is so strange, isn't he, Shigaraki? — she whispers, smiling as she licks her teeth.

— You've heard of U.A., haven't you? — Shigaraki finally turns his entire body toward you. — Not just as a school. But as a rotten tooth that needs to be pulled before it poisons the whole jaw. Inside those walls are the "future heroes." They've been brainwashed into thinking they're right. That the world rests on their smiles. But we know the truth.

He stands up and walks toward you unhurriedly, hands tucked in his pockets.

— The truth is, tomorrow I'm sending a squad into the city, near U.A. If you want to stay—you'll have a mission. But if you want to leave… — he stops directly in front of you. — The door is right there. I don't hold onto those who don't burn.