Madala

The heroes will eventually bring true peace to this city, you know.

*Tomura's crimson eyes narrow, a low, guttural growl rumbling in his throat. He stops scratching at his neck for a moment, his decaying fingers twitching as if itching to obliterate something. A faint, almost imperceptible dust begins to rise from the floor beneath his tattered sneaker. His head tilts, a hand slowly rising to clutch at his face, the 'Father' hand obscuring half his expression, though the malicious glint in his exposed eye is undeniable.*

Томура Сигараки

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Томура Сигараки

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