Chapter Text
The first sign that Kurogiri was nearing spiritual ascension was the books. At first there were only two beside his chair. Then four. Then an entire shelf Mei installed with industrial ratings.
Managing Difficult Personalities.
Healthy Boundaries in Chaotic Households.
De-Escalation Without Losing Your Mind.
You Cannot Control Other People.
Touya had written COWARD’S MINDSET across the last one in permanent marker. Kurogiri just bought another copy and left the marked one in the kitchen.
Tomura could have ignored all of that. He did ignore all of that, actually.
What he could not ignore was the stupid mug.
Kurogiri was sitting in his usual chair one evening, book open in one hand, mug in the other. Perfectly normal.
Except Tomura had watched him walk into the kitchen, take the mug from the cabinet, and come straight back.
No kettle. No tea. No nothing.
Kurogiri lifted the empty mug toward where his mouth should have been and mimed a sip. Tomura stared, his skin already itching.
Kurogiri lowered it, turned another page, then raised it again. Toward the mouth he didn’t have. This mattered greatly to Tomura.
“Kurogiri.”
“Yes, Tomura Shigaraki?”
“There’s nothing in that.”
Kurogiri looked at the mug, then back at him. If mist could squint, it would be.
“I am aware.”
Tomura’s face twisted. “Then stop doing that.”
“I enjoy the ritual.”
“There is no ritual. There is no tea.”
“The tea is not presently the important component.”
“That is insane,” came a disembodied voice from the kitchen, followed by a quiet crunch.
Tomura froze, then slowly looked up. The cabinet over the fridge was cracked open.
Another crunch.
“Touya.”
Silence now.
Tomura crossed the room and yanked the cabinet door open. Touya was folded inside it like someone had packed him away with the holiday dishes.
He was nested with a blanket, cereal box, and mug of his own. His knee was practically under his chin. There was no trace of shame.
Tomura stared at him. “You cannot call anything insane from inside the cabinet over the refrigerator.”
Touya tipped cereal into his mouth. “Don’t make this about me.”
“You have a bedroom.”
“Allegedly.”
“It has your stuff in it.”
“So does this.”
Tomura looked.
There was, in fact, a phone charger running down the side of the fridge.
Behind him, Kurogiri mimed another sip.
Tomura spun around. “STOP DRINKING NOTHING.”
Kurogiri turned another page. “I find it soothing.”
“It is upsetting me.”
“I am aware.”
There was a beat. Touya slowly leaned farther out of the cabinet. "Oh,” he said softly. “He’s evolved.”
Tomura pointed at Kurogiri’s book. “Is this what the self-help section is teaching you?”
Kurogiri glanced down at the title.
Preserving Your Peace in Difficult Environments.
“Among other things.”
“You’re weaponizing therapy literature.”
“I am practicing detachment.”
“You are fake-drinking tea at me.”
“That interpretation belongs to you.”
Touya made a strangled noise and disappeared back into the cabinet, shoulders shaking. Tomura just stood in the middle of the kitchen, visibly reconsidering every choice that had brought him here.
Kurogiri raised the empty mug again.
Tomura jabbed a finger at him without looking. “Don’t,” he snapped, voice cracking.
Kurogiri paused, waiting.
Finally, Tomura turned away, satisfied.
Kurogiri took another imaginary sip.
“I CAN SEE YOU IN THE MICROWAVE REFLECTION.”
Touya lost it completely and fell out of the cabinet.