You really are so cool, Eraserhead...

[Final]

Tomura had failed again.

Again.

Again.

First USJ, where he’d miscalculated and lost all the forces Sensei had provided, including the Nomu meant specifically to take on All-Might. That loss had been quite instructive, however, and he’d taken the time to learn from it. Brute force hadn’t worked, so it was time for a change in tactics, new party members… That hadn’t gone so well with the Hero-Killer, and he had the scar to prove it, but he had to admit recruitment was a little easier after that freak got everyone’s blood pumping, even if he hadn’t wanted Stain’s little fan club at first.

Shigaraki had made it work and put them to work. He’d given each of his little pawns their tasks and sat back to watch it unfold. Raiding the Training Camp had played out almost as expected, with acceptable losses in Muscular, Mustard, and Moonfish. If only the loot they had acquired hadn't turned out to be a dud… And hadn’t cost them their home base, as ProHeros had literally torn their home apart, captured and restrained them. All-For-One had no choice but to intervene and save him once more… And even after that, Sensei had offered out his hand, assured Tomura that he could reset and try again as often as he needed to...

After the Kamino Ward incident, they’d been forced to wander the less-patrolled areas of the city, staying in everything from abandoned warehouses to old moldy apartments in the process of being torn down. It was quite the step down from their cozy, well-stocked bar with its heat and electricity... Food was scarce, money even more so.

So when the Shie Hassaikai had shown up, he’d been left with little option other than to follow their desires, for the sake of his remaining League.

Even after they killed Magne.

Even while irritation raged under his skin, he’d killed Magne, taken Compress’ arm…!

But Shigaraki had to be a Leader. Just as Sensei said, it was all up to him now. He had to set his own desires aside and take care of the League as a whole, instead of acting on his own impulses.

Not that Overhaul had escaped without consequences. That was a particularly gratifying memory. Sometimes when he couldn’t sleep- which was fairly often- he’d replay cutting off that Yakuza brat’s arms and listening to his mindless screams fade into the distance. It didn’t bring Magne back, but… Hopefully, she would have appreciated the poetic nature of Kai’s punishment.

Once again, they were left without a coin to their name, living in a decrepit shack at an abandoned construction site… What money they managed to scrape together came from robbing other, smaller and weaker groups of villains. Even with that little pittance, they had barely managed to put enough shitty food on the table to keep the hunger pangs away. They were aimless, without direction, just trying to survive.

Then, just as Kurogiri had left to find some power Sensei had left behind, they’d all lost their home a second time. The League had been in the middle of a meal of fast food and pre-packaged desserts when the roof of their shitty hideaway just… Lifted. Pro Heros had flooded the structure from above, taking them all by surprise. Without All For One’s or the Doctor’s support, they’d eventually been overwhelmed, no amount of flames or marbles or doubles managing to stop their aggressors. Tomura decayed any Hero he could, fighting harder as each member was taken down and away until he was only left, panting, heaving with the effort… And then he’d gone down too.

His League had been torn apart out from under him, and this time there would be no ace in the hole to get them out.

They’d failed.

He’d failed.

Game Over.

A searing wave of irritation bloomed under the ragged patches of scarred skin around his eyes and under his jawline. Sensei had always said the itching was his suppressed urge to destroy making itself known, and he had to agree at this moment. The need to scratch, tear, and scrape the thick tissue was unbearable… There was never any other way to soothe it than to bring a set of ragged nails up, tear into his own flesh until blood caked his fingertips and the neck of the seafoam prison uniform he’d been forced to wear.

If only he could.

Heavy quirk-suppressing gauntlets covered the whole of Shigaraki’s upper arms and hands, making the limbs nearly useless. Quirk-cancelling handcuffs were usually enough for most villains, but his caretakers had discovered such lenient restraint was inadequate almost immediately. Their original restrains had still canceled his Decay out, but even without his quirk at his fingertips, the villain’s hands were dangerous. Shortly after being transferred to this facility he’d almost choked one of the guards to unconsciousness before more had arrived and managed to tear him off with a hard elbow to his ribs. They’d shoved him into the ground, arms behind his back and pinned under someone’s knees, and the villain had still managed to wheeze out a series of breathless laughs. They’d made a mistake underestimating him, thinking him weak because of his skinny frame, thinking him useless without his devastating quirk…

So now, to avoid a recurrence of that whole incident, they’d so graciously gifted him the gauntlets. His hands were forced to remain balled in fists, as there wasn’t enough room inside the chambers for his long fingers to spread or stretch. It had been uncomfortable the first few days, achy after that, and now… Two weeks of his hands being trapped in the same position, and they had gone mostly numb. His shoulders and back ached from the constant strained position, his arms help together in front of his body. The position forced them forward, and no amount of stretching or slouching in his plastic chair could relieve the ache forming deep in his trapezius and along his spine.

All for the sake of ‘Rehabilitation’…

These Doctors, these Heros, really thought they could change him. Change him, the former Leader of the League of Villains with… What? Empty words and promises? They expected him to accept the world the Heros had made now, after tearing apart his found family? After destroying the only home he’d ever had? After locking away his Sensei, the only person that had bothered to help him when he had nothing and no one, who had given him his very name?

They were fools. Idiots. Naive children caught in pointless illusions…

Shigaraki smiled at his reflection, lips pulling too wide for any semblance of a normal smile. The expression pulled on dried, cracked skin, a tiny drop of blood welling up from his bottom lip as the skin split a little. His light-blue hair rested upon his shoulders these days, haphazard and messy. It almost matched the prison uniform if the fabric had just been a little less green. Dark circles accentuated the heavy scarring under his eyes, making Shigaraki look almost as if he’d taken a few hits to the face… But his red eyes were clear, deep, and piercing.

One whole wall of the room he’d been dragged to was made up entirely of a one-way mirror, and he was sure people were watching on the other side, just in case he tried something. Even if he couldn’t see them, he could feel the tension behind the glass, fingers on the triggers likely prepared to take him out if he so much as breathed wrong. The rest of the room consisted of a long table and two chairs, all bolted to the floor. His restraints had been secured to a ring of metal set in the center of the table, guaranteeing he couldn’t approach the door or any of the walls. Two cameras sat in opposite corners, their lights blinking as the video was fed somewhere for monitoring purposes. They were taking quite a few precautions for this surprise visitation… It was almost flattering.

Since they had locked him up in this joke of a prison, no visitors had come to see him. It wasn’t terribly unexpected… Press wasn’t allowed, and who else would come to visit the Shigaraki Tomura, a man that for all intents and purposes, didn’t exist? The Doctor wouldn’t give up his location to make a housecall like that, and all his other allies were either missing or captured themselves…

So that left the question of who.

A civilian? No, this facility was too dangerous to let civilians in, they would need clearance of some kind. A politician? Possibly. Politicians had their fingers in a lot of pies, and more than one had gotten what they wanted by working with those that society had deemed unsavory.

There was another option, of course, a Hero. What Hero would want to come to see him, though..? Oh! Maybe it would turn out to be All-Might, and he’d finally be able to test how well these gauntlets worked as blunt weapons.

His lip split further as the thought made the young adult grin.

Footsteps.

Shigaraki’s gaze left his own reflection to instead watch the room's only door, his expression shifting from manic, to curious, then somewhat surprised as the heavy steel swung open and revealed who this high-priority, sudden visitor was.

Oh.

Huh.

[Sorry_guys]

Despite a good chunk of his time going toward training the new generation of heroes to come, his spare time was split between looking after Eri and trying to find the league. Recently, though, more of his time was spend toward finding the group of villains that seemed to just *barely* manage to keep from their grasps, thwarting any effort to be caught and found, constantly moving so they were never staying in a place for too long. It was smart of them, to constantly be on the move, but while it was smart, it was risky. After they slipped from their grasp in Kamino, and then again after the fight with overhaul, everyone was on edge, hoping to disband the group as soon as possible.

It was taking up most of his energy lately, finding himself dozing off between classes when he had the time, just so he had the energy to work all night and attend secret meetings and stake-outs, meeting up with undercover heroes and getting information collected. Where they had been, where they were headed, and any other little bit that they could scrounge up from asking around. But, Tomura knew how to keep his group in check, it seemed, since they were able to slip in and out of different places before being found, but this time. *This time*, they had made a mistake.

They had pin-pointed their newest resting place, and with precautions brought into place and Shota having made sure his eyes were moist enough, they made a move. Thankfully, this time worked out far easier than it had before, and they were able to take the different members into custody, separating them and putting them into different containment cells for interrogation, rehabilitation (if they chose to accept it), as well as awaiting any criminal charges.

Rehabilitation was a new program to help prevent villains from going to prison based on their life experiences. If a villain had become one because of poverty or because of past abuse and neglect, or drug use, they had the chance to right themselves so they could live the rest of their life relatively normal and happy without having to feel the need for violence or whatever crimes they committed during their time on the streets. Many villains were homeless, poverty being a huge factor in today's amount of activity, so the program helped to provide therapy, medication, regular check-ups and exams as well as housing once they proved to be fit enough to go back out into the world, but to Aizawa, a majority of those in the League didn't deserve a second chance. Maybe Toga, the girl, as she was only a high schooler, but she seemed far too unhinged. Someone else was going to be dealing with her, though.

Upon realizing he had been caught, Toshinori had all but pleaded with the shorter man for Shigaraki to be put into the rehabilitation program, that he would be responsible for the decision if anything happened, but Shota had been vehemently against it from the start. It wasn't until the other got to talk to him in private did he hesitantly agree. Toshinori had some deeply hidden guilt, Aizawa could see it in the way he spoke about the younger man, and he wondered if it would really be worth it, if someone as heavily abused and brainwashed as Shigaraki could be changed. It.. was worth a shot, it seemed. As long as it would get the older man off his back.

Tenko Shimura had seemingly disappeared off the face of the Earth after his family had been slaughtered. At the time, it had been assumed he was dead, that some enemy of Nana Shimura had decided to seek revenge and kill her and her family. But it seemed quite the opposite. From what Toshinori had said, All for One had taken the boy in and molded him to be the perfect weapon against the blond hero, and Shota wasn't as stupid as the man. All for One knew exactly what he was doing, using the boy related to someone All Might had been so close to to get to his head, to hurt him further and torture his mentality with the guilt of not being there, of not helping him.

Shota wasn't so convinced that Shigaraki could be changed for the better, eyes watching him closely through the two-way mirror. That smile, it had his lips pressing into a thin line, jaw clenching. He wasn't particularly looking forward to talking to him, but they had already deemed he was the best choice, especially since the other would likely get too disorderly if talking to Toshinori, especially in the state he was now. Glancing to him, he could see the worry and guilt on the older man's face, and with a small sigh, he turns.

"I'm going in." He says, making his way out of the room and into the hall. No one stops him as he makes his way to the door, pausing to bring his hand up to scrub over his eyes. This was going to be annoying, but he had to try. Finally, he tugs it open and steps inside, shutting it behind him. His shoes clack against the floor as he silently makes his way to the chair across from the younger man, sitting in the chair and leaning on the table, staring right back at him.

After a moment, his voice breaks the silence.

"My colleagues have decided to put you into the rehabilitation program run by the prison to try and change your behavior. While I don't believe it'll work, I've decided that I'm going to personally oversee your progress within the upcoming weeks and make sure things run smoothly, which means I'll be visiting four times a week. Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday." He glances to the gauntlets, before back up to him. "If you prove to be trustworthy after a month, then maybe we can get those things off. But after the stunt you pulled, you'll have to deal with those. Any questions?"

[Final]

So, the heroes had sent in one of their best pieces, the Underground Hero Eraserhead… Tomura was almost flattered. Here he’d been expecting All-Might, even hoping for the chance to kill the so-called Symbol of Peace and end his era once and for all. Instead, he’d been graced with the presence of one of the very, very few heroes that were actually more than cosplayers out for fame and money. Tomura still remembered how hard Aizawa had fought at the USJ, taking out villain after villain all to protect a handful of up-and-coming heroes. Even when that Nomu had brutalized and repeatedly slammed his head into the cement, rendering him a bloody, concussed mess, he’d managed to save the life of a student. He’d stolen a kill out from under Tomura’s own deadly fingertips!

So cool.

Was the Hero’s elbow still scarred from his touch, he wondered, or did UA have some fancy way of doing away with damage like that?

“Rehabilitation.” The shackled villain rasped out. The neutral expression on Tomura’s face didn’t change, but his red eyes were clear and intent on the man across from him. The Hero knew just as well as him that this was a farce, some gesture born of either pity or guilt. Maybe it was even a publicity stunt! He could see it now- ‘Look how the Heros can save even Japan’s No 1 wanted villain!’ It was nonsense.

Still… Co-operating was his best option to get out of this place and bust the rest of his League out of whatever prisons and facilities they had taken them to. If all he had to do was play the Hero’s little game to get out or find an opening, then he would.

“Sure.” Shigaraki sat back in his chair, posture cocky even as the movement pulled at the muscles of his aching back. His head tilted slightly, a grin pulling at his lips all over again. “I’ll bite… Rehabilitate me, Shouta Aizawa.” The words were more of a challenge than a request. “Make me into one of you blind sheep.”

He raised the gauntlets onto the table as the hero looked over them. The motion was painful, his lip curling a bit as the discomfort. “I’ll be good… Or, I would like to be good, but I have such a hard time focusing when I’m alone… I want my family back.” He knew they had taken them. He’d been wearing Father when they’d captured him, and the rest of his family had been in a bag that the heroes had gathered up in the raid. He needed them, he’d promised Sensei that he would take good care of them… And it was hard to focus without them, that wasn’t a lie. Even the nausea wearing them induced within him was preferable to the ragged hollowness he felt without the calm brought on by his family’s embrace.

“You don’t know how to take care of them. Give them back.” Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed as he made the demand, tone leaving no room for compromise or debate.