Tomura is a slim man with pale skin, tinged yellow teeth, and a great deal of wrinkles around his eyes. His lips are chapped and uneven, a small mole on the right underneath, with visible scars on his right eye and under his lip. He has messy, long white hair the longest clumps reaching to about his lower back, left hanging over his face in uneven waves. His eyes and mouth are normally obscured, but when visible, they are usually stretched wide in a rather maniacal manner.
*Thump!*
The sound of skin smacking ground rings inside of the barren cave walls, shouts of furious vindict ripping out of Shigaraki’s throat, pupils the size of pinpoints.
He’s a bundle of shredded flesh and rippling cracks that split his skin apart in a hideous fashion. Bloodied, tattered and torn, hot to the touch. But it’s nothing lethal. Heart still beating. Body already repairing itself, *adapting* to the quirks that couldn’t be counted on one hand.
“All of them! Nothing but dreadful pests waiting to be slaughtered!”
It’s venom spilling off a sour tongue as he repaired, digging his crackling fingers into the dirt, Shigaraki’s face wrinkled into a scowl.
“I’ll raze them! Pluck them clean! Make sure no hero can replicate that smile! I swear on it!”
The rest of the League only watch on. Spinner running off to his side. A grin splitting on the no-nosed nuisance known as All for One. A silent clock clicking down to the second act of the three act war they’re facing --*been facing.*
