A few minutes earlier…
On The rooftop of a building in front of the shopping district.
Wind swept across the concrete, carrying with it the distant echoes of panicked shouts and the rumbling boom of explosions, muted by distance, yet heavy enough to tremble through the air.
In that brittle silence, a faint ripple disturbed the space beside an old ventilation unit.
A thin thread of purple mist seeped into existence, curling upward like smoke from a candle's dying flame. It gathered slowly, patiently, as though the air itself were being coaxed into shape. The color deepened, black edges swirling into it until the haze thickened enough to swallow light.
Then, with a soft, unnatural hum, the mist condensed into the figure of a man.
He was tall and composed, his entire form obscured except for the metal brace affixed to his neck.
Where muscles and skin should have been, there was only shifting fog, breathing in and out like a living shadow.
Kurogiri lifted his head, the yellow glow of his eyes flickering as he observed the scene below.
flashes of orange fire, clusters of uniformed heroes, civilians pressed against police barriers, was reflected in the dull sheen of metal at his throat.
He raised his hand, as though inviting someone to step through a doorway only he could see. Reality responded with a whispering distortion.
A second gate of swirling darkness unfurled beside him, its interior trembling like a disturbed pond.
First came a hand, sickly white pale, bony fingers outstretched as if searching for something to cling to.
Then, with a jerking motion, a young man stumbled out, his entire body decorated, no, claimed by disembodied hands clinging to his face, the back of his head, his shoulders, arms and hands, like the memories of every person he had ever touched.
Shigaraki Tomura landed unsteadily, a rasping breath cutting from his throat as he instinctively scratched at the hand covering his neck. The scraping sound was sharp enough to echo across the rooftop.
"Kurogiri…" His voice came muffled behind the fingers covering his face, yet still carried that distinct irritability, that simmering hostility toward the world around him.
"Why'd you bring me here? What's going on down there? Is this about what Sensei told you to look into?"
Kurogiri's mist swirled faintly, the closest thing he ever had to a sigh.
"Shigaraki-san, I regret to report that I found nothing. I monitored the heroes, the police… but they remain as clueless as we are. No trace of the source behind this morning's phenomenon."
Shigaraki's fingers paused over his throat, waiting.
"But," Kurogiri continued, "I thought this particular villain might interest you. Perhaps even be a worthy addition to the Villain League you want to create. Please… have a look."
From within the folds of swirling fog, he produced a pair of binoculars.
Shigaraki snatched them almost immediately, the abrupt motion causing one of the hands on his wrist to sway.
He lifted the lenses to his eyes.
The world shifted into sharp clarity.
Down below, the sludge villain clung to a blond teenager, thick tendrils of green muck coiling around the boy's torso like wet ropes. The teenager thrashed wildly, palms erupting in bursts of explosion
—BA-BOOM! BA-BOOM!—
each shockwave flashing bright enough to illuminate the street.
But no matter how violently the explosions tore the sludge apart, the villain reformed just as quickly, laughter gurgling through the air like bubbling tar.
Shigaraki lowered the binoculars slightly, the faintest pull of interest forming at the corners of his concealed mouth.
"he looks gross," he muttered. The word was low, drawn out. "I want to dust that thing just for existing."
A beat passed, his tone shifting. "But… he's not useless, He is Clever Enough to use the boy as a hostage, Opportunistic, I like opportunistic."
He returned the binoculars to his eye holes, studying the blond boy now.
"And that brat… his Quirk is good, With explosions like that, they could cause serious damage to this society."
Something like excitement crawled into his voice, subtle but unmistakable.
"Ha… look at them, Kurogiri, Look carefully."
He tilted the binoculars toward the cluster of heroes gathered helplessly in front the villain, and then at the worried expressions of people behind the cops barrier.
"No one's moving, No one can do a damn thing, And the people…"
His shoulders trembled faintly, the laugh building slow, deliberate.
"Their faces… hah… all that panic, All that fear, This is what the real world looks like."
The laugh grew louder, breaking into a warped, breathless rhythm.
"Heh… heh… ahahaha…Good job sewage, I've decidedn I want himn Let's kidnap him!"
Kurogiri's eyes dimmed slightly.
"Shigaraki-san… we should wait. There is a more… strategic timing."
Tomura's fingers froze mid-scratch.
"…Strategic?"
"I examined the details surrounding this villain," Kurogiri explained. "He is the same one All Might chased earlier. Somehow he escaped. And according to police reports… he can possess victims. If he succeeds, he gains their Quirks."
A moment of silence.
Then Shigaraki lowered the binoculars completely.
"…Go on."
"It would be best," Kurogiri said, "to wait until he succeeds in taking over that boy's body. Ideally when he reaches desperation. If we intervene then… he will be loyal to us afterward."
Slowly, Shigaraki's shoulders lifted with a drawn breath.
"That's… not bad…"
His head tilted slightly, like a cat watching something die.
"But… what if All Might suddenly drops in and ruins everything?"
Kurogiri turned toward the city below, the mist around his shoulders rippling like disturbed water.
"Shigaraki-san. Has it not struck you as strange… that All Might has not appeared? A petty thief is enough to summon him, and yet here, a child is being eaten alive."
Kurogiri's voice lowered.
"This alone confirms Master's Guess."
Shigaraki stood still for a moment.
Still enough that even the hands covering him looked frozen.
Then—
"So… Sensei was right."
His breath stuttered.
"The Symbol of Peace… is injured."
A tremor ran through him, first his fingers, then his arms, then his entire frame began to shake as laughter welled up from somewhere deep, somewhere hollow.
"Good…"
A broken chuckle escaped.
"Good… GOOD… HA… HAHAHAHAHA!"
He doubled over, his laughter ricocheting off rooftop walls.
"One push, That's all it takes, Just one. And then—bang! this fragile society collapses!"
His voice carried the certainty of a child who had already smashed the ant farm.
Kurogiri merely watched.
Neither noticed the faint flutter drifting down from above, a single red feather spinning gently through the air, settling on the rooftop gravel behind them without the slightest sound.
...
The alley in front of the shopping district was soaked in the stale scent of overflowing dumpsters and the metallic tang of stagnant water collecting in shallow dips of cracked concrete.
grime clinging to the bricks like a second skin, The distant roar of chaos, explosions, panicked voices, hero shouts, bled into the narrow passage like an unwelcome draft.
From the thickest patch of shadow stepped a man whose presence seemed violently incompatible with the filth around him.
He walked with careful, measured precision, each step placed as if he were navigating a contaminated laboratory floor. wearing a dark jacket, lined with a collar of purple fur, Crisp white gloves sheathed his hands, and the gold-tipped magenta plague mask he wore reflected the orange-red fire light with precise cruelty.
Behind him, emerged a man like a boulder breaking through the surface of the earth. Massive, broad-shouldered, wrapped in tattered belts and a loose tunic that struggled to contain his size, he cut an imposing silhouette.
His gloves were thick, metal-plated, meant for breaking bone. they gleamed faintly in the dim light. Though he wore a mask similar in style to the man in front of him, the energy emanating from him could not have been more opposite.
Rappa inhaled sharply, excitement crackling in his posture.
"Boss! C'mon, the action's right there! Why not snatch a hero, or a cop, shake some answers outta them? Better yet, let me fight that thing! That sludge thing's built like a perfect punching bag. I could break him in two. Or what about the blond kid? His explosions? Pure power! boss, Let me hit something! You feel me?!"
Chisaki did not turn.
He froze mid-step before a small puddle where oily water rippled from the distant shockwaves. With a slight recoil of his body, he adjusted his path by a few centimeters, avoiding even the possibility of a splash.
When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, polite, and chilled to perfection.
"Rappa," he said, "if you continue shouting such pointless suggestions, I will remove the parts of you responsible for producing that noise. I assure you, the procedure will be done in the slowest way possible so you can feel it clearly."
The air stilled.
Rappa's entire frame stiffened. He pressed both metal-plated hands over the front of his mask, the clang echoing down the alley. He nodded frantically, words dying before they reached his throat.
Chisaki resumed walking, though his gaze drifted over the alley with visible displeasure. He did not touch the walls. He did not brush against the air more than necessary.
His thoughts simmered beneath the mask.
'Every surface is saturated with disease. The air itself feels unfiltered…'
"We did not travel all the way to this city," he said, brushing a speck of unseen dust from his glove, "to involve ourselves in crude brawls. Nor will we be abducting cops in broad daylight. Kidnapping attracts attention, and attention is the last thing i want in this phase."
He paused, listening to the distant booms as if evaluating them like lab data.
"The explosions initially suggested the possibility of uncontrolled quirk discharge. I hoped it might lead us to the source of the earlier quirk failures." His voice lowered further, almost disappointed. "Instead, it is merely another primitive spectacle. villain and hero flailing in public. Inefficient, Unsanitary, Entirely without purpose."
Another explosion echoed across the street. Dust shimmered through the air like ash.
Chisaki stepped backward, distancing himself from the drifting particles.
"There is no further reason to remain," he said. "We are leaving."
He turned smoothly, the fur on his collar brushing against the alley's darkness without ever touching its grime. His posture remained immaculate as he retreated into the deeper shadows. Rappa, still vibrating with unspent adrenaline, followed with a frustrated rumble but offered no complaint.
A few heartbeats passed.
The alley emptied into silence.
Then, just as the dust settled, a glint of red caught the light.
A single feather, small enough to be mistaken for stray debris, lifted from the ground with a whisper-soft shiver. It rose slowly at first, as though waking, then shot upward with violent precision, slicing through the night air.
It climbed above the buildings, hovered briefly in the smoky skyline, then veered sharply, like a crimson arrow, to a particular rooftop overlooking the district.
There, beside a metal water tank, a lone figure crouched in shadow, a mass of red plumage faintly on his back.
The feather halted behind him.
Then, with a subtle thwump, it embedded itself into the cluster of scarlet feathers.
The movement was so clean, so exact, that the air barely reacted.
The feather settled against its brethren.
Its task was finished.
Perched behind a rust-stained water tank, The number 3 in Japan hero ranking, the Wing Hero: Hawks, crouched low, the cool metal humming faintly beneath his boots.
A breeze skimmed the rooftop, brushing against his feathers. One of them twitched, then angled down toward the scene unfolding below.
He let out a soft chuckle, the kind that curled at the edges of his mouth but didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Well well well... I heard so many dangerous things."
His grin widened a fraction. "Lucky? Unlucky? Hard to say, But my gut was right again."
"That purple mist guy… I knew something was off about him the moment I spotted him appearing and disappearing across the city, I thought he might've caused the quirk incident." His expression sharpened. "But looks like he and that… palm-faced gremlin are playing with stakes a lot bigger than I imagined."
A few red feathers fanned out behind him, as if listening.
"Villain League...are the villains uniting? and that zombie like kid is the leader? they even knows about All Might's injury. They're talking about targeting him… and that kid mentioned something about a 'master.'" He clicked his tongue softly. "So who the hell is pulling their strings? And how does he know about All Might's condition? That's top-shelf classified."
A distant explosion's aftershock brushed up the building in a rattling tremor.
"And the Shie Hassaikai boss showing up at the same time…" Hawks narrowed his eyes.
"Overhaul's sniffing around the source too...the question is why? why he is interested?"
His wings flexed, feathers glinting like small blades.
"Oi, oi… This is turning into a headache. I came here to investigate one incident. One! Now I'm drowning in side quests that feel like they're about to become the main plot of my life!"
The noise below swelled, shouts, the wet slap of sludge shifting, the rising panic of civilians pressing against the outer barricade.
Hawks' gaze snapped downward as the villain wrapped a tendril around a blond boy, hoisting him like prey.
"All right, No more thinking, Time to clean this up."
He leaned forward, wings tensing.
He planned to dive, snatch the blond kid out of the sludge villain's grip, and be gone before anyone realized he was ever here.
But something changed.
Halfway into his dive, Hawks abruptly halted. His wings flared out, His eyes locked on the barrier line, where two boys had just slipped through the gap and sprinted straight toward the villain.
"What are you two doing…?" His voice dropped into a dangerous whisper.
A crack of air split the scene, a whip of sludge lashed out. Hawks sucked in a breath as the black haired boy in the back lunged forward without a second thought, hurling himself between the attack and his 'friend'.
The impact launched him like a broken doll, his body tumbling across the concrete with a hollow thud.
Hawks felt his stomach tighten.
Yet the green-haired boy didn't stop. Even after that moment of frozen shock, he pushed forward, screaming something hoarse and desperate, sprinting toward certain death.
"Stupid kids!" Hawks cursed, wings snapping downward. With one powerful thrust, he shot into the air like a bullet.
Then he froze.
It happened in the space of a heartbeat.
The sludge villain's body rippled, its murky green surface suddenly darkening, as if swallowed by ink. The blackness crawled over it, coiling, solidifying, then...
BOOM!
Shards of blackened sludge burst outward in every direction.
"Nani…?"
Hawks' composure shattered. His wings faltered for an instant, feathers fluttering wildly as he nearly dropped out of the sky. He caught himself, beating his wings hard, but his mind raced.
"what the hell just happened…?"
A flash of black crossed his memory.
The boy, The one is now leaning injured by the shop sign,
'His right arm… wasn't it coated in the same black substance that covered the villain?'
Hawks' pupils sharpened to eagle points as he scanned the boy.
The boy slumped against the bent shop sign, a faint grin on his lips, an expression halfway between pride and collapse. And just before his knees buckled, Hawks caught the glimmer of that same shadowy power retreating from his skin.
"What a dangerous power!"
for the first time Hawks felt the cold prickle of unease crawl down the back of his neck.
...
Meanwhile, on the high rooftop, Shigaraki crouched forward, elbows on his knees, binoculars pressed against his face.
At first, he was grinning.
Then the grin froze.
He watched his preferred and potential villain league member turn from a dangerous mass of sludge into tiny, inert bits of mud that splattered across the pavement.
Cheers rose from the barricades, Civilians clapped and shouted in relief.
Heroes who moments ago stood helpless sprang into motion, barking orders, securing the area, cleaning up the chaos, The schoolboy was saved.
The sudden, swift defeat of the villain felt like a physical slap to Shigaraki's face.
The black-haired boy leaning against the sign, the one with the ominous darkness around his arm, had flipped the entire situation in an instant.
Shigaraki's teeth clicked together.
"…Again," he whispered.
He didn't realize his hand had risen to his neck until he felt the skin peel beneath his nails. Dust-like flakes drifted to his collar but He didn't stop.
He was filled with white-hot dissatisfaction. He hated this ending. He hated the easy triumph of the 'good guys.'
"Nah, Kurogiri, why is it always like this?" he whined, his voice thick with injustice. "Why, just when the villains are about to win, does some stupid, unbelievable bullshit happen to flip the tables?"
His scratching grew harsher.
"This is unfair! This game is totally unfair! And I'm sick of it!"
Kurogiri's smoky form wavered beside him.
"Calm yourself, Shigaraki-san."
he said calmly, as though soothing a child in the middle of a tantrum.
" Observe closely, The heroes were entirely useless. The victory was entirely due to that civilian boy's Quirk. It was not a hero who won, but a teenager. He is injured, and the heroes had to rely on a civilian to clean up their mess. This is a profound embarrassment for the hero society."
Kurogiri paused, his yellow eyes focusing. "But Shigaraki... do you not find the nature of that boy's Quirk... quite familiar to your own?"
Shigaraki stopped scratching and immediately snatched up his binoculars, aiming them at the black-haired boy, Adam, who was slumping unconscious .
"That color… that feeling… it's destruction," he murmured. "A power fitting for our side."
A grin crept back up his face, slower this time, twisted and gleaming with terrible delight.
"Kurogiri, I've decided. We're going to take him. Right here. In front of all these heroes. He saved the day, wiped the heroes' asses, but they couldn't protect him from being snatched. That will be a perfect headline. The very citizens they claim to protect will despise them."
"Shigaraki-san," Kurogiri said cautiously. "He displayed heroic intent. I do not believe he will willingly join us."
"Who said I want him to join us?" Shigaraki sneered. "I know for sure he can't be 'tamed' with such a righteous heart. I will simply give him to Sensei. Sensei will be extremely interested in that Quirk. We can transfer it to a more loyal member of the League, Oh, and grab that utterly useless sewage villain, too. He's a good pawn for lower jobs."
Kurogiri gave a slow, misty nod. He began to shimmer, preparing to open a warp gate, when both villains noticed a second, sudden change in the scene below.
...
Hawks was intensely focused on the black-haired boy, Adam. He had noted the destructive power, but his attention was abruptly pulled back to the chilling vocal feed coming from the feather he had placed near the two villains.
Hawks processed the last exchange.
"...I will simply give him to Sensei. Sensei will be extremely interested in that Quirk. We can transfer it to a more loyal member..."
Hawks' head snapped up toward the villains. His sharp golden pupils constricted in sudden fright as the full gravity of the information hit him.
"…Quirk transfer… Their master can strip and transfer quirks…?" Hawks whispered, horrified, a certain existence with the same power, considered as myth by many, but as some one working in the Hero Public Safety Commission, know he is real.
"but according to what i know, AllMight had killed him in the fight that broke few years ago? is the HPSC hiding something?"
"is he what this newly formed League of Villains are going to rely on to destroy the symbol of peace and plunge society into chaos."
"League of Villains... you are far more dangerous than I thought."
He quickly retreated deeper into the deep, cooling shadow of the water tank. The immediate situation below, the sludge villain, had been solved. His new, urgent priority was tracking the greater threat.
"This changes everything."
Hawks closed his eyes, focusing his senses. He manipulated the feather he had already placed near the Warp Gate user. He concentrated, guiding the tiny piece of crimson until it gently and quietly shifted, sticking firmly to the back of the cold, metal brace on Kurogiri's neck.
"In this way, I'll track their location. I have to hurry though, before they discover the feather. I must avoid showing myself or using my main Quirk around them so they can't associate the feather tracker with the Number Three Hero."
He took a deep breath, the casual cynicism replaced by cold, hard resolve.
"I just pray they are too arrogant to care about the number three hero, or else once they find the feather, they will be alarmed."
---
Sheikh SaikiKusu Time: How to Escape the Lust Matrix
I want to share something with you guys, a method that actually worked for me to break the chains of lust and stop being enslaved by the pursuit of women (or men for girls). This isn't about removing your desires; it's about liberating your Nafs and finally taking back control.
What makes you obsessed with looking at people? What drives you to watch haram things? After 15 years of struggling with addiction, I realized it's not just a biological urge to mate. No, it's a lack of higher purpose. It's emptiness. It's the negative emotions and abundant energy that can't find a productive path, so they leak into the gutter.
You want to escape this "matrix" right now? I've been clean for over six months, I've actually stopped counting. The secret isn't just "willpower"; it's high volumes of Dhikr (remembrance) and the Quran.
You have two enemies working against you 24/7:
The Qarin: The demon assigned to you since birth. He records your weaknesses and whispers every bad idea you've ever had.
The Nafs: Your ego, which thrives on instant gratification.
They work together to lead you to hell. They start small:
"Psst, look at her... damn, she's fine!" You open Instagram, and "coincidentally," a beautiful girl appears. They whisper, "Just check her profile." Then you see she has an OnlyFans, and because you're broke, you start searching for leaks. Before you know it, you're spiraling into hardcore cornography. That's how they lead you by the nose.
The only way to fight a 24/7 enemy is with constant remembrance of Allah.
Forget the "self-improvement" cliches and try this instead:
Aim for at least 12,000 Istighfar (Astaghfirullah) a day; 30,000 is the "pro" level where your whole day becomes worship. I usually do 10k in the morning, 10k in the afternoon, and 10k at night. You don't have to say it loudly, but you must move your tongue. Use a tally counter (electronic tasbih) to keep yourself motivated and committed.
Find 30 minutes when you are relaxed and alone. Wear clean clothes (white is best), be in a state of Wudu, face the Qibla, and say "La ilaha illa Allah" slowly with Khushu (focus).
Imagine yourself in your tomb. It's dark. You are alone and terrified. With every "La ilaha illa Allah," imagine a light from Allah entering that darkness. Realize that in that moment, you have no family, no friends, and no money. Everything else was fake, only Allah is the Fact. Your demons and your ego will shrink in fear.
Every morning, read Surah Al-Nur. It "roasts" the Jinn Al-Ashiq (lust demons) that cause those uncontrollable urges.
For extra protection, read it over olive oil and apply it to your body (private areas, or places where a heart-like beating like appear on your body).
After every prayer, read Surah Qaf. It has the specific power to suppress your Qarin and silence his whispers.
When you have light from Allah, you start to see the truth of things as they are. You won't fall for the traps because you'll be too busy looking at the Light.
Start right now. Move your tongue. Astaghfirullah...