The next day, after classes, Shigaraki stood once again outside Mina's room.
He knocked.
Paused.
Braced himself.
The door opened—no scream this time.
Progress.
Mina beamed.
Kirishima was already inside.
Seated.
Shoes off.
Munching on jelly beans.
Shigaraki squinted.
'He lives here, doesn't he?'
Still, he didn't comment. No point starting a turf war in glitter territory.
Mina clapped her hands like a villainous fairy godmother.
"Onward to Step Two!"
She spun dramatically, revealing the glittery clipboard.
---
🛍️ Operation: Mystery Chic Sparkle Redemption™
Step Two: The Shopping Trip
- Dance Lessons💃
✅ "So you don't crush her feet or look like a haunted mannequin."
- Shopping Trip🛍️
➡️ "We're finding your look. No hoodies allowed."
- Posture & Presence Training🧍♂️
🔜 "You gotta walk like you own the room, not like you're avoiding eye contact with it."
- Facial Expression Practice 😐➡️😏
🔜 "You don't have to smile, but you do need to look like you're not planning a murder."
- Makeover Session💄
💖 "Hair. Skin. Outfit. Aura. We're transforming you into the mysterious heartthrob you were always meant to be."
---
Thirty minutes later — they hit the mall.
Kirishima trailing like an overprotective golden retriever, eyes on Mina.
Shigaraki looked like he was on parole.
First stop: Ember & Ash — a streetwear shop with dramatic lighting and too many mannequins in sunglasses.
Mina held up a black trench coat.
"You'd look like a villain in a romance anime."
Shigaraki blinked.
"That's… alarmingly accurate."
Next: form-fitting suit jacket.
Kirishima gave a thumbs up.
Mina tilted her head.
"Sharp. But mysterious. Like you crash weddings just for the slow dances."
Shigaraki tried it on.
Looked in the mirror.
'Not bad. No hood. No decay. Just edge.'
Mina nodded.
"You're officially no longer haunted hoodie guy."
They'd been at it for hours.
The racks had been combed.
The mannequins judged.
And Shigaraki had rejected no less than six outfits described by Mina as "edgy soft-core goth prince."
But then—
They found it.
Tucked on a display bathed in moody spotlight, labeled "LIMITED. MALEVOLENT. MASTERPIECE."
---
🖤 The Suit
- Crimson velvet blazer, tailored so perfectly it looked like rebellion in fabric. The texture shimmered with intensity—deep red that soaked up the light like fresh fury.
- Beneath it, a black silk shirt, collar relaxed, top buttons undone. There was something unspoken in that choice: authority without apology.
- Silver-thread embroidery crawled across the lapels—like delicate cracks or veins, eerily echoing his decay quirk in a way that felt intentional. Designed chaos.
- Slim-cut matte trousers, black as his usual hoodie, but with quiet dark red stitching at the seams—almost invisible, unless you were looking for it. Like secrets sewn into his silhouette.
- Charcoal boots, sleek, no laces, perfectly villain-coded. They thudded softly when he walked, like distant thunder on a stormy evening.
—-
Mina squealed as he stepped out of the fitting room.
"You look like you just burned a ballroom to the ground… in the most romantic way possible!"
Kirishima gave a begrudging nod.
"I don't love how well that suits you."
Shigaraki stared at himself in the mirror.
Not haunted.
Not crumbling.
Just sharp.
Stylish.
Silent.
'This could work.'
Mina leaned closer, eyes glowing.
"Creasa's going to combust."
(Back in Mina's room)
Mina clapped her hands and pulled a sleek black case from under her bed.
"Ta-da~! Step Two-and-a-Half! New Gloves."
Shigaraki blinked.
"They don't look like oven mitts."
And they didn't.
Not at all.
Midnight black matte finish, tight-fitted to each finger, no bulk, no puff—just clean lines and precision.
Silver lining trims, matching the embroidery in his suit—subtle elegance without sparkle overload.
Embedded quirk-suppressing circuitry, custom-built by Hitsume in the support course, designed for style and survival.
Reinforced inner seams, heat-resistant and pressure-sensitive—tested to handle decay bursts without shorting out.
Minimal stitching across the knuckles kept the look sharp and seamless.
He could even flex his fingers without feeling like he was cosplaying a crash test dummy.
Shigaraki stared.
He slipped one on.
It fit.
No creak.
No weight.
No danger.
"It works?" he asked, skeptical.
Mina grinned. "Yup. Tested it five times. Kiri helped me design it, and Hitsume did all the engineering and tech stuff."
Kirishima nodded. "Had to make sure they looked cool and didn't short out mid-dance."
Shigaraki looked down at his hands.
They looked like his.
Not like a warning sign.
Not like a liability.
Just… capable.
"I look normal," he whispered.
Mina clapped again.
"You look like you're about to ruin someone's night—in a stylish way."
Kirishima cleared his throat loudly.
"Mina."
She winked.
"Don't worry, babe. He's saving his destruction for the dance floor."
Mina planted a hardcover book on Shigaraki's head like she was crowning him King of Rehab.
It was titled: "Villain Vogue: Volume II — From Shadows to Showstoppers."
"Posture & Presence Training begins now!" she declared.
"You gotta walk like you own the room, not like the room owes you rent and you're avoiding the landlord."
Shigaraki stood stiff, arms limp at his sides, book wobbling dangerously.
"What's the point of this?"
"Confidence. Elegance. And making people feel like they're underdressed just because you exist."
Phase One: Balance & Brutality
Shigaraki took his first step.
The book slid left.
He tilted sideways like a haunted streetlamp.
Kirishima choked back a laugh from behind Mina's phone camera.
"We're not filming this," Shigaraki warned.
Mina grinned. "We absolutely are."
Attempt two:
He straightened.
Shoulders up.
Chin level.
Walked forward.
Book held.
Spine aligned.
Hands relaxed.
Mina gasped softly.
"You looked like a bored CEO who secretly controls the weather."
Kirishima muttered, "Still kinda looks like he's about to hex someone with eye contact but… progress."
Phase Two: Presence Projection
Mina dimmed the lights.
She tossed him a black coat. "Now walk back in. Like you're crashing a gala."
Shigaraki entered.
He paused at the doorway.
And walked.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The coat flared behind him.
His eyes half-lidded.
Expression neutral—but alert.
Mina clutched her chest.
"Okay wow. That was dangerously cool."
Kirishima squinted.
"I felt slightly threatened. 10/10 presence."
Shigaraki blinked.
"I just walked."
(Short while later)
Shigaraki sat in Mina's room like a sacrificial offering, legs stiff, hoodie officially banned.
His hair looked like it had lost a battle with static electricity, and his skin had the elegant texture of 'I sleep fully clothed under one blanket that's never been washed.'
Mina tied her hair back like she was about to perform surgery.
"This is it. Step Five. The final transformation."
Kirishima stood in the corner, arms folded, fully boyfriend-mode but silently supportive. Occasionally eating skin-safe jelly beans.
Mina applied a charcoal mask to Shigaraki's face so aggressively he thought she was trying to erase his sins. (As we all know, he has a lot of sins)
"This is for detox. You need glow. You're gonna sparkle like angst incarnate."
Shigaraki winced as she rubbed in exfoliant.
"Why does it feel like sandpaper and judgment?"
She held up a jade roller.
"You've never looked more emotionally available."
They rinsed.
His skin?
Glowed.
Actually glowed.
Kirishima nodded.
"Looks less dead. Slightly haunting. I dig it."
Mina stared at Shigaraki's tangled mop.
Paused.
Called in backup.
Jiro appeared. With a detangling comb, three hair ties, and a questionable amount of conditioner.
For twenty minutes, there was grunting, tugging, apologizing, and once, genuine concern.
Eventually—
Shigaraki's hair flowed.
It was soft.
Stylishly chaotic.
An elegant storm.
Mina braided a tiny section behind his ear. Just because.
"This… this is cinematic villain softness."
He stepped out.
- Crimson velvet blazer tailored to silent destruction
- Black silk shirt, collar open just enough to whisper *mystery*
- Silver-vein embroidery
- Slim trousers, storm-shadow boots
- Gloves sleek and sharp
- Hair tamed like thunder wrapped in silk
- Skin glowing like the moon in a fanfic
Mina's jaw dropped.
Kirishima nodded slowly, arms still crossed.
"You look like a tragic backstory I'd root for."
Shigaraki adjusted his cuff.
"I feel like I shouldn't hate mirrors anymore."
(Much later)
Mina and Jiro were wandering through racks of glitter-drenched gowns and silk wraps, the air thick with perfume, excitement, and low-key existential introspection.
"I swear," Mina said, fingering a galaxy-printed halter dress, "UA used to be serious—now it's like... redemption arcs and shopping sprees."
Jiro chuckled.
"Yeah. Villains talking skincare and slow dances. Totally normal."
They paused in front of a mirror-lined wall. Mina held up a shimmering rose-gold dress. Jirō tilted her head toward a deep plum number with asymmetrical sleeves.
"It's kind of nice," Mina murmured, "how... healing everything feels lately. Even the party prep."
Then, as if a thought fluttered in, Mina added,
"Kiri's been so protective lately. During the dance lessons with Shigaraki, I felt like he'd tackle the concept of danger just for me."
She laughed softly, eyes warm.
"I felt... special. Really special."
Jiro smiled but didn't comment.
She didn't mention Denki.
Which was... unusual.
Mina blinked.
Brows furrowed.
"Hey... are you okay?"
Jiro sighed.
Her hand grazed the sequined strap of a midnight blue dress but didn't lift it.
"He's trying so hard, Mina. You know? To look like everything's okay."
Her voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"For everyone. For me."
Mina's expression softened, shoulders dropping.
"That's heavy."
Jiro nodded.
"I know he's hurting. But he just... smiles through it all. Makes jokes. Lights up the room. But it's like... he won't let the cracks show."
Mina reached over, squeezed her hand.
Jiro's voice trembled, barely audible under the hum of store music.
"I want him to talk to me. To let it out. Not hold it in until it burns him from the inside."
Mina said nothing for a moment.
Just stood with her.
Quiet.
Present.
Finally—
"We'll help him. Whatever it takes."
And then—
They picked out their dresses.
Jirō went with the plum gown.
Mina chose the rose-gold.
Because even in the chaos of healing villains and cracked smiles—
They were still two girls
trying to dress up
for a night
that might mean everything.