The Class That Cried Werewolf

27 - Mall Crossing

-3rd Person POV-

In the desolate confines of the abandoned bar, Shigaraki leaned over a scattering of photographs spread across the worn-out surface, capturing moments from the sports festival featuring Izuku and Tatsuya. Kurogiri, on the other side of the bar, stood with an air of formality adorned in a suit that seemed out of place in the setting. The origin of these images remained shrouded in mystery as if plucked from the ethereal clutches of secrecy.

The doorbell jingle, an unlikely sound in this forsaken place, tore their attention away from the snapshots. A middle-aged man of unassuming height and build stood framed by the doorway. His attire, a blend of dress pants, a matching blazer, and plain black shoes, exuded an air of casual authority. A shirt, nonchalantly unbuttoned at the top, revealed a hint of non-conformity. Around his neck, a scarf, its fluffy contours resembling intestines, added an eccentric touch. Completing the ensemble, circular glasses adorned his face.

"Shigaraki. Your League of Villains has been the talk of the town for the last several days," the man remarked, his voice laced with a hint of detachment, cigarette in hand. "Word on the streets is you're about to start something big."

"And? Who did you bring, Giran?" Shigaraki retorted, crushing the incriminating photographs with his Quirk, reducing them to decayed fragments in his grasp.

Giran gracefully made way, allowing three figures to enter. Among them was a fair-skinned girl with pale, ash-blonde hair fashioned into two messy buns, clad in a beige school uniform. Beside her stood a reasonably tall young man, his skin marred by patches of gnarled, wrinkled, purple flesh obscuring much of his lower face and neck. Completing the trio was a towering, muscular man, his long white hair cascading alongside a white beard.

"So it's really you, huh? I've seen you in pictures," the scarred man remarked, his gaze lingering over Shigaraki. "But I gotta say, you're way grosser in person."

"It's the weird hand guy! You're friends with my hero, Stain, right? Cool!" the girl exclaimed with genuine excitement, her cheeks tinted with a light blush. Her eyes lit up, reflecting her admiration for the notorious villain. "Let me join the league. I wanna be in your group!"

"Hmph. This guy looks like he needs us more than we need him," the muscular man snarled, his voice dripping with ferocity and a thirst for dominance. The air around him seemed charged with the anticipation of violence. "This better be worth my time."

"Kurogiri, get rid of these three," Shigaraki ordered, pointing at the three. "I can already tell they're exactly the kind of trash I hate. A brat, a guy with no manners, and a psychotic egomaniac."

"Now, now, Tomura Shigaraki. They came all this way; the least we can do is hear them out. Give them a chance." Kurogiri calmly said, attempting to ease the tension in the air. "Besides, this broker is respected in the underworld. They're bound to be valuable assets."

"Like 'em or not, you still owe me a finder's fee in cash. I suppose I can introduce them before I go," Giran replied, casually pointing at the girl with his cigarette. "This one looks like an adorable schoolgirl, right? She's actually the suspect in a series of deaths where the victims all bled out. So far, her name and face have been kept out of the media."

"Toga, here. Himiko Toga!" She introduced herself, her blush deepening. "Life is too hard. I just wanna make it easier to live in this dumb world. I wanna be Mr. Stainy! I wanna kill Mr. Stainy. C'mon, handyman, please let me join your League of Villains!"

"You gotta be kidding me. Is she crazy?" Shigaraki remarked, genuinely perplexed by Toga's demeanor.

"Well, she can hold a conversation. For the most part, at least. Come on, she could be useful," Giran replied before indicating the muscular man. "This guy... well, let's just say he's a specialist in making gruesome deaths. Ever since the sports festival, he's taken an interest in your group."