Rough Hands - A T.ShigarakixReader Story

Chance.

You sit in silence, refusing to move, keeping your arms pinned to your sides and your legs clenched shut as Nakamura tries with little grunts to get your shirt over your head.
"C'mon." He grunts, relenting and letting go of the bottom of your shirt, a surprising lack of anger on his face as he looks at you a little exasperated.
You can't remember when you took a vow of silence. How long had it been now? You can't remember. You weren't letting up. You weren't about to allow someone to beat you to try and get you to use your Quirk to benefit them. You especially weren't about to allow someone who claimed to be the cause of your mothers death to do that, especially with the deal you made her as a child. It'd be like spitting on her grave.
"Y/N." Nakamura sighs, sitting beside you with a loud thump. "Please. I don't exactly want to have to do this either."
You do reluctantly, feel a little bit bad for him. Since you'd been lumped with him after pissing Kenji off majorly time and time again, he'd been incredibly patient with you, and even though you wouldn't respond in any way, you found him talking to you very candidly about how he truly felt about Kenji.

It turned out that if what Kenji said was true, then it turned out that he had a business partner at one stage that also used women in his establishments with 'useful' Quirks for the powerful children they could produce. Nakamura was one of these children. You were yet to see what Quirk it was he actually had, and not particularly wanting to find out, you had tried to keep him as placated as possible. Luckily he had a better temperament towards you than your true captor did.
Your cold, dead eyes keep his in their gaze as he looks at you intensely, as if his silent stare was going to be enough for you to agree to him putting you in the bath against your will.
He sighs eventually, looking away to the bathtub that he was trying to urge you in, as per Kenji's orders after your last beating for refusing to talk or use your Quirk. You'd rather sit in your own bloodied clothes than have a bath in front of Nakamura, even if you were beginning to feel more comfortable with him than any of the others that worked for Kenji.

"How about I make you a deal, princess?" He asks, looking back over at you.
You remain wordless, staring straight back at him with an intensity that may have rivaled Dabis stare. You still hadn't moved past the hatred of that nickname, it reminding you of the time you were referred to as a 'pastel princess' while you were trying to help Dabi, as well as it making you feel like a child.
"If I let you do it all yourself, will you behave?" He asks, one of his fingers moving to tap the handcuffs that had been moved to the front of your body this time. You cock your head distrustfully at him, and he immediately seems to catch your drift. "I'll keep my back turned to you."
You consider it for a second. A bath sounded good. You were in so much pain. There wasn't the same leniency here that you had with Tomura, no-one knew the issues you had with your joints, and you doubted anyone would care even if they did. The smarter, more analytical side of you reminded you though that Nakamura, as friendly as he'd been being with you, was one of Kenji's workers. Kenji couldn't be trusted, which meant Nakamura couldn't be, purely by association. Being entirely naked in front of a stranger was not a thought that sat well with you either, whether it was your anxieties about being looked at somehow, or the knowledge that being naked made you vulnerable. And given the nature of the business you were in, and the circumstances between you and Nakamura, you weren't about to be comfortable with that.

You shake your head silently, making Nakamura breathe out slightly, his tongue moving to the side of his cheek, likely in frustration.
"Alright. Fine." He grumbles. "Fuckin' creepy I'm having to do this anyway."
He stands, and you watch as he clatters around in the cupboards of the fancy bathroom, all kinds of medical kits, ointments and tablets falling to the floor as he carelessly looks for something, eventually pulling out a small plastic bowl. Your pink eyes follow him as he leaves the cupboard doors open, going to the bathtub, dipping the bowl into it and taking it back out again, grabbing a face towel that had been hanging on the side of the tub and settling back down next to you.
He mutters to himself as he dunks the small towel into the bowl, wringing it slightly before reaching to press it against your cheek. You'd seen yourself briefly in the mirror before snapping your head away. There were grazes over both of your cheeks, likely from being scraped against the asphalt as Kenji beat into you. Your nose had been broken again and you could feel one of your teeth had been loosened when you poked it with your tongue. You had looked tired, your hair disheveled and your eyes dull and dead.