Tomura's day began like any other. His mother, tired but always gentle, held his tiny hand as they walked the familiar path to Gotham's Sunshine Nursery. Despite the grim streets that surrounded them, the little building stood as a beacon of hope for struggling parents like her.
"Be good today, Tomura," she said, kneeling down to adjust the red cape she'd given him for his birthday. It was his favourite thing in the world.
Tomura nodded, gripping her hand tighter. "Okay, Mama. I'll be a hero today!"
She smiled, though the bags under her eyes told a different story. "That's my boy." With a kiss on his forehead, she sent him off into the colourful world of toys, paints, and laughter.
Inside, Tomura quickly found his usual spot by the toy cars. He loved the bright colours and the way they zipped across the floor. As he played, the noise of the room melted away. He was in his own little world, imagining grand adventures with his toy car racing to save the day.
But then something strange happened. As he pushed the car with all five fingers wrapped around it, the plastic began to crumble beneath his hand. Confused, he picked up another car and it, too, began to break apart, its vibrant paint peeling and turning to ash.
His heart started to pound. "What's happening?" he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. He backed away, accidentally knocking over a wooden block tower. When his hand brushed against the blocks, they disintegrated into dust.
The other children noticed the commotion. Some screamed, others cried, pointing at the growing pile of ash and broken toys surrounding Tomura. The noise was deafening, and his small chest heaved with panic.
"Tomura!" called one of the teachers, Miss Hannah, rushing towards him. "It's okay, sweetheart. Let's figure out what's wrong."
But the moment she reached for his hand, her fingers decayed before his eyes. Her body trembled, her face frozen in a mix of pain and confusion, and within seconds, she crumbled into a heap of ash.
"Miss Hannah?" he whispered, staring at the spot where she once stood. His tiny hands trembled as he looked down at them, the tears now streaming down his cheeks. "I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to!"
The other children screamed louder, running for the door. Tomura reached out instinctively, wanting to stop them and say sorry, but the moment he touched the nearest child's arm, they too decayed.
"No! No, no, no!" he wailed. His body shook as he fell to his knees.
The sound of hurried footsteps filled the air. His mother burst through the door, her face pale with worry. "Tomura!" she cried, rushing towards him.
"Mama!" he sobbed, holding his arms out to her. She hesitated for only a split second before wrapping him in his red cape, holding him tightly to her chest.
"It's okay, my baby. It's okay," she whispered through her tears. Her hands stroked his hair, her voice soft and soothing despite the chaos around them.
For a moment, everything seemed like it would be alright. Tomura felt safe in her arms, the warmth of her love shielding him from the terror of what had just happened. But then he looked up and saw the tips of her fingers beginning to turn grey.
"Mama?" he said, his voice barely a whisper.
She smiled at him, her tears falling freely now. "It's okay, Tomura. I—" Her words were cut off as her body began to crumble. She tightened her grip on him, her last act of love, before she too turned to ash.
Tomura screamed. He screamed so loud it felt like his throat would tear, but the sound of his anguish drowned out everything else. He stumbled away, covered in her ashes, his small body wracked with sobs.
He ran. Out of the nursery, through the streets of Gotham, he ran. His red cape billowed behind him, a stark contrast against the grimy alleys.
The city's shadows closed in around him, and before long, he found himself cornered by a group of criminals. Their sneers and mocking laughter echoed in the alleyway.
"What's a little kid doing out here all alone?" one of them said, crouching down to his level.
"He's got a fancy cape," another sneered. "Bet we could sell it."
Tomura backed away, trembling. "Please… leave me alone."
"Aww, the little hero's scared," the first man mocked, reaching for him. But the moment his hand touched Tomura's shoulder, he decayed. The others froze, staring in horror as their companion crumbled to ash.
Tomura looked at his hands, horrified. "I didn't mean to! I swear I didn't mean to!"
The other criminals lunged at him, their fear turning to rage, but one by one, they met the same fate. Ash swirled in the air as Tomura stumbled out of the alley, his body bruised and his spirit broken.
He didn't know how long he ran, but eventually, he found himself standing in front of an old martial arts dojo. The warm light spilling out from its windows felt like a beacon in the darkness. Desperate and scared, he pushed the door open and stumbled inside.
An old man looked up from the centre of the room, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the trembling, ash-covered boy.
"What happened to you, child?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.
Tomura collapsed onto the wooden floor, sobbing uncontrollably. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, memories, and fear.
As he lay there, a fragment of his past life surfaced. He remembered sitting in a dimly lit dorm room, one of his friends passionately describing an anime they loved.
"My Hero Academia," they'd said, their eyes shining with excitement. "The main villain's name is Tomura Shigaraki. He's got this Quirk called Decay. Everything he touches just… falls apart."
The memory faded, leaving Tomura staring at his trembling hands. The weight of his new reality settled over him like a crushing wave.
"What am I?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The old man stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "You are a boy who has much to learn," he said. "But for now, rest. We will figure this out together."
And for the first time that day, Tomura felt a glimmer of hope.