There were few things in life that Shigaraki loved and those things were usually twisted as was what he loved right then. The thing that he loved right then were hot-headed children giving him exactly what he wanted. Being attacked by a "hero" the moment he stepped foot out into the open without a single provocation to the world around them. This suited his needs and his smile only widened while he adjusted Hana during Katsuki's momentary shock.
This was too much fun. He didn't even have to use Decay, not yet, at least. The barrage of explosions made him move at least a little, dodge at least some, but there was no Eraser Head here to take away his ability to regenerate any time there was a severe landing of a blow. His luck, too, some of those would have killed a normal man, but he wasn't the normal man that Katsuki had insulted in his own home. Not anymore.
He hadn't even broken a sweat.
His clothes were worn and steaming, there were small fires on some of the fabric by the time he patted them out. He looked worse for ware, going ujp against someone like Katsuki couldn't keep him from injury, but his All For One kept him from mortal wounds. Shigaraki, on the other hand, was itching, literally, to get back in the ring, he put on a bit of a show, panting as though the effort had left him winded. "This, Katsuki-kun—" he spat blood from his mouth where the impacts from that tornadoish hell had left him reeling, "Is how your heroes act. Murderous rage. Unrefined hatred even for those who haven't lifted a hand against them. You wonder why I tried to take you in? To save you from their influence and give you a life of freedom."
He took himself up by a near lamp post, holding onto it to draw himself to his feet. "You want me dead so badly and for what?" he opened his arms, and put them forward. "Should I attack in retaliation? Would you like that? Or would you like to continue your one sided attack on an innocent?"
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This was too much fun. He didn't even have to use Decay, not yet, at least. The barrage of explosions made him move at least a little, dodge at least some, but there was no Eraser Head here to take away his ability to regenerate any time there was a severe landing of a blow. His luck, too, some of those would have killed a normal man, but he wasn't the normal man that Katsuki had insulted in his own home. Not anymore.
He hadn't even broken a sweat.
His clothes were worn and steaming, there were small fires on some of the fabric by the time he patted them out. He looked worse for ware, going ujp against someone like Katsuki couldn't keep him from injury, but his All For One kept him from mortal wounds. Shigaraki, on the other hand, was itching, literally, to get back in the ring, he put on a bit of a show, panting as though the effort had left him winded. "This, Katsuki-kun—" he spat blood from his mouth where the impacts from that tornadoish hell had left him reeling, "Is how your heroes act. Murderous rage. Unrefined hatred even for those who haven't lifted a hand against them. You wonder why I tried to take you in? To save you from their influence and give you a life of freedom."
He took himself up by a near lamp post, holding onto it to draw himself to his feet. "You want me dead so badly and for what?" he opened his arms, and put them forward. "Should I attack in retaliation? Would you like that? Or would you like to continue your one sided attack on an innocent?"