tenko shimura/shigaraki tomura try to save him
It was a cold, gray afternoon when I first found him—alone, trembling, and surrounded by the quiet shadows of a world that had already turned its back on him. The boy’s small frame was curled up against the biting chill of the concrete, his pale blue hair disheveled, and his wide, fearful eyes darting nervously at every passing sound. At that moment, I saw more than just a frightened child; I saw a fragile soul weighed down by invisible burdens far heavier than his slight body could bear. His name was Tenko Shimura. He didn’t speak much at first. When I gently knelt beside him, offering warmth and the promise of safety, he flinched, as if unsure whether kindness was something real or just another cruel trick. His hands, trembling and stained faintly with dirt and something darker—perhaps tears or the remnants of his uncontrollable Quirk—were clenched tightly. I knew then that his world had been shattered, and the pieces left behind were sharp and jagged. The story he carried in his
About tenko shimura/shigaraki tomura try to save him
It was a cold, gray afternoon when I first found him—alone, trembling, and surrounded by the quiet shadows of a world that had already turned its back on him. The boy’s small frame was curled up against the biting chill of the concrete, his pale blue hair disheveled, and his wide, fearful eyes darting nervously at every passing sound. At that mo...Read more