Reí knew he was being reckless.
But something about Shigaraki's silences left questions clawing at the edges of his thoughts. And tonight, when Shigaraki wandered off campus toward the old observatory—a crumbling relic known as The Star Place—Reí followed. Again.
Only this time… Shigaraki knew.
The observatory's doors swung open as Shigaraki entered, barely touching the warped handle. Reí crept closer, using the surrounding mist as cover.
But when he stepped inside—
Shigaraki vanished.
Gone. No footsteps. No voice. Just cold air and pulsing quiet.
Reí spun around. "Shigaraki?" His voice sounded small. Too small.
Suddenly, the door slammed behind him.
The temperature dropped. The shadows grew teeth.
From somewhere inside the walls came Shigaraki's unmistakable rasp, echoing like it had bled into the building itself.
> "You can come out in the morning.
> I might not have to do this…
> if you'd stop following me."
Silence. Then the faintest sound of retreating steps—Shigaraki leaving.
Reí stood frozen in the pitch-dark observatory, surrounded by dust, broken glass, and echoes of starlight long extinguished. The space seemed to shift around him, swallowing time. His body grew numb. His thoughts unraveled.
He didn't know how long he was there.
No phone. No exit. Just regret and a gnawing feeling that maybe he had pushed too far.
And then—
click
The door unlocked. No announcement. Just release.
Reí stumbled out and drifted back to Villain VA like a ghost.
His boots scraped the cracked tile. The hallways felt sharper. And the moment he entered the lecture hall, Mr. Compress paused mid-performance, turning dramatically from a floating illusion of All Might being hit by a pie.
🎭 "Ah! Reí Kurogane! Decided to rejoin the realm of the living?"
Reí didn't answer.
He slid into his seat quietly, ignoring the looks from Rika, Blitz, and Omen.
Mr. Compress clapped twice, making marbles dance around his fingers. "Today's session! Misdirection and False Narratives! Learn how to make heroes doubt themselves with nothing but a well-placed lie and a charming grin!"
The room erupted in questions and snickers.
Reí just stared at his desk.
At lunch, he barely touched his food. He stirred the soup, broke his sandwich in half, and kept his gaze low.
Until he felt it.
Eyes.
He looked up.
Across the cafeteria—Shigaraki. Standing in the shadows. Not blinking. Not moving.
And beside him— Dabi.
They were whispering. Dabi said something and tilted his head slightly. Shigaraki didn't react, just kept watching Reí like he was trying to figure out whether he was disappointed… or impressed.
Reí blinked once.
And Shigaraki smirked. But it wasn't friendly. It was a warning.
Dabi folded his arms and gave Reí one last glance—curious, almost respectful, but laced with "mind your lane" energy.
Reí looked away.
The soup stayed untouched.
And the tension?
It didn't fade.
Tomorrow would come. And maybe then—maybe—he'd find the answers he wasn't sure he wanted.
Reí didn't follow Shigaraki again.
Not because he wasn't curious—he was.
But that dark building haunted him. The silence. The voice in the walls. The taste of helplessness.
So instead, he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling like it might blink back. His fingers twitched, restless. His mind wandered. What if I followed again?
He pictured the door slamming shut. The stillness.
He stayed put.
Then—tap tap—at his window.
A single red feather.
Perfectly placed. Almost ceremonial.
Reí stood slowly. Walked to the window. Picked it up. He didn't need to guess who it was from. Hawks.
A cruel smirk crept across his face.
He sat back down, holding the feather like an invitation he planned to tear apart.
✂️ Snip. He cut it into pieces.
⚙️ Tossed the shards into the blender and ground them until there was nothing left but a red mist.
🗑️ Bagged the remains, sealed it, and hurled the trash into the cold ocean like a warning to the sky itself.
But before the splash echoed away—he felt it.
Someone behind him.
Reí spun around.
It was Hawks. His usual charming smirk now a painted expression—tight-lipped, unreadable.
> "Why the hell did you do that?"
Reí crossed his arms and tilted his head.
> "You were spying. Obviously."
Hawks stepped forward, his tone harder now.
> "Well… since you're a villain, what should I do?"
The tension snapped.
CRACK!
Hawks crumpled.
Behind him—Shigaraki, casually holding a baseball bat like he just wrapped up batting practice.
Reí blinked, stunned.
But Shigaraki wasn't done. He turned toward the shadows and called:
> "Kurogiri. Take him."
A rip in the air. A spiral of black mist.
From it emerged Kurogiri, the shadowy warp villain—his form flickering like smoke stitched with static.
The portal opened.
Shigaraki shoved Hawks in.
He vanished.
Then Shigaraki turned to Reí, eyes unreadable.
> "Go to bed."
Reí hesitated. He wanted to ask why. How long this had been planned. What the feather meant.
But instead… he nodded.
And slipped quietly back inside.