When Shigaraki's calm voice exposed him, Hitoshi Shinso—caught red-handed—froze for a moment.
The boy with the drooping eyes inhaled deeply, forcing himself to steady his breathing.
Then, instead of trying anything clever, he chose to speak honestly.
"I… I overheard your conversation with that green-haired guy," Shinso admitted. "I got curious. I wanted to know what kind of person you were. That's why I followed you."
"I didn't mean any harm."
He didn't look away when he said it.
But Shigaraki noticed the faint stiffness in his shoulders.
Truthfully, Shinso had considered it.
Just for a second.
He could activate his Quirk.
He could control this blue-haired boy.
Make him forget being followed.
Make him walk away as if nothing had happened.
Clean.
Efficient.
No consequences.
But that thought vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Because following someone like this was already wrong.
It was an invasion of privacy.
If he used Brainwashing to cover up his own mistake—
That would make it worse.
And Shinso Hitoshi wanted to be a hero.
No matter what anyone said about his Quirk.
No matter how people looked at him.
He refused to use it for selfish convenience.
And besides—
If possible—
He didn't want to use his Quirk at all.
Because he hated it.
Yes, it was powerful.
Terrifyingly so.
But he hated it.
The moment people learned what it did—or even just heard the name "Brainwashing"—their expressions changed.
Suspicion.
Disgust.
Fear.
From childhood, he had been labeled:
"Creepy."
"Villain-like."
"Evil."
"Manipulative."
Other kids avoided him.
Parents warned their children not to talk to him.
Even teachers watched him carefully.
There were only two types of people who approached him willingly.
The first type avoided him. The second were the wrong kind.
Shady adults. Delinquents. People who whispered:
"With a Quirk like yours, you could do anything."
"You don't belong with heroes."
"Come work with us."
Because Brainwashing looked like a villain's ability.
And in a society obsessed with flashy, photogenic powers—
Image mattered.
Ice.
Fire.
Super strength.
Flight.
Those were "heroic."
But a Quirk that took away someone's free will?
That was unsettling.
From a young age, Shinso had lived with frustration.
Isolation.
A quiet anger he didn't know how to name.
And yet—
He still wanted to be a hero.
In this superhuman society, almost every child grew up dreaming of becoming one.
He was no exception.
But his Quirk made it difficult.
Every time someone learned about it, they looked at him differently.
As if he was born crooked.
As if fate had already decided his path.
He envied others.
Even those with ordinary, unremarkable Quirks.
Because at least they weren't judged on sight.
But Quirks were innate.
There was no swapping them out.
Today, he had only meant to run an errand.
Then he overheard people discussing the Sludge Villain incident.
Curious, he drifted closer.
And that was when he heard it.
A conversation about what a hero truly was.
Normally, that topic made him uncomfortable.
Because for someone like him—
The road to becoming a hero was steep.
Painfully steep.
He had been about to leave.
Then he heard that sentence.
"The one who gives hope to the despairing—that's a hero."
It was different.
It wasn't about flashy strength.
Or popularity.
Or rankings.
It wasn't about licenses or praise.
It was simple.
Direct.
Almost naive.
And yet—
It felt honest.
That was why he followed.
Because he wanted to know—
What kind of person says something like that?
And then, due to poor stalking skills—
He got caught.
In an alley.
Cornered.
As Shinso finished explaining, Shigaraki's lips twitched slightly.
Following someone for several streets out of curiosity?
That was borderline obsessive.
Still—
The killing intent that had briefly surfaced in his chest faded.
Not because he fully believed Shinso.
But because he had just thought of a solution.
A way to ensure Brainwashing would never threaten him.
Apocalypse.
He hadn't forgotten the system's description:
With the authority of heaven, enlighten all beings. Upon activation, the user gains god-level learning, analysis, and comprehension ability.
If he activated Apocalypse—
Then understanding Brainwashing would not be difficult.
At the end of the day, Brainwashing was simply one form of supernatural phenomenon.
And what was a Quirk, really?
Just a manifestation of this world's deeper laws.
And those laws weren't as simple as the public believed.
The official explanation claimed Quirks came from genetic mutation.
From altered organs.
Specialized biological structures.
But Shigaraki had learned something else.
From his teacher—
All For One.
He had been told a portion of the truth behind this world.
And that official explanation?
It was incomplete.
Convenient.
Even false.
Because no matter how much an organ mutated—
It shouldn't be able to create fire from nothing.
Or freeze entire city blocks.
Or disintegrate anything touched into dust.
The biological explanation was a narrative.
A patch.
Something to satisfy the public.
Because people didn't actually need the truth.
They just needed an answer.
Even if it was full of holes.
Even if it contradicted itself.
As long as it prevented deeper questions.
As for those who insisted on digging further—
Well.
There were systems in place for dealing with "problematic thinkers."
Shigaraki's eyes sharpened slightly.
If Apocalypse truly granted god-level comprehension—
Then learning Brainwashing—
Or understanding its mechanics—
Shouldn't be impossible.
If he could analyze how it functioned—
He could resist it.
Maybe even replicate it.
And in front of him—
Stood the perfect test subject.
Hitoshi Shinso.
Shigaraki tilted his head slightly, studying him.
Perhaps—
Before deciding whether to eliminate the threat—
He should first test the limits of heaven's gift.
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