While the faculty of U.A. High debated how to counter Shigaraki Tomura and his growing influence—
The man at the center of their concerns was hardly idle.
At this very moment, Shigaraki was busy strengthening himself.
"Codename: 'Butcher.'
Quirk: 'Second Mouth.'
Ability: Can store consumed flesh and bone within his body, increasing strength and regenerating injuries.
Status: Serial killer at large. Confirmed victims: nine.
Reason not yet apprehended: The case is high-risk, low-information, and has repeatedly slipped through jurisdictional cracks—no solid lead, no clean capture window.
Inside the dim bar, Shigaraki scanned the intelligence report with narrowed eyes. With practiced ease, he poured freshly prepared juice into a glass and took a slow sip.
"Stores eaten flesh and bones… boosts strength and heals injuries?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Sounds pretty versatile. But where's the 'second mouth'? Neck? Stomach? Somewhere else?"
Casually, he clicked the short video attached to the file.
The screen flickered.
A grotesquely obese man filled the frame—over two meters tall, bare-chested, a heavy chain wrapped around his torso. At the end of the chain dangled a bloodstained meat hook.
Ten meters away—
A woman ran desperately, panic etched across her face.
The fat man didn't hurry.
He simply grinned.
A grotesque, splitting smile.
As the woman neared the exit—almost reaching the door—
He suddenly swung his arm and hurled the hooked chain.
The woman never saw it coming.
Just as hope seemed within reach—
The hook pierced her back.
She crashed to the ground.
Screaming.
Crying.
The hook lodged deep inside her flesh as the chain tightened.
She was dragged back.
Meter by meter.
Back toward him.
Then—
His abdomen split open.
A massive, fleshy mouth tore across his stomach.
And he swallowed her whole.
The video ended.
…
Shigaraki stopped drinking.
Not merely from disgust.
But from anger.
Anger that something like this had been allowed to roam free.
Nine confirmed victims.
Nine consumed.
And no one had stopped him.
Worse—
The reason no Hero had taken the case?
The bounty was too low.
Too little money.
Too much risk.
So they let him continue.
Because it wasn't profitable?
Because it was dangerous?
Is that what being a Hero meant now?
Shigaraki's fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
So this is what "Pro" can turn into.
Professional.
Paid.
Market value.
When heroism becomes a career—
It rots.
A Hero was meant to be an ideal.
A symbol.
Not a regulated occupation.
Not a commercialized brand.
Perhaps—
From the moment society institutionalized heroism, replacing civic duty with licensed spectacle—
The mistake had already been made.
Shigaraki closed the laptop and stood.
If the concept of "Hero" had decayed into this—
Then perhaps the profession itself no longer deserved to exist.
Of course—
At his current strength, he was far from capable of dismantling the system.
He understood that clearly.
Which meant there was only one option.
Grow stronger.
Strong enough to drag All Might down from that pedestal.
Strong enough to shatter the illusion.
Strong enough to break the concept of Hero itself.
And rebuild the world.
He adjusted his collar and stepped toward the door.
"Let's begin."
"Starting with the hunt for the Butcher."
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