Arcane: Decaying Love.

As Shigaraki awoke, the gentle hum of the Undercity enveloped him, filled with distant voices, the clattering of metal, and the muffled roar of pipes... the same old sounds he had grown used to in the past four years.

His groggy eyes fluttered open, and his pale blue hair clung to his face. He slowly sat up. As his hands, which had rested on his chest all night, dropped down, he intercepted them just before they touched the bed. Then, memories of what lay ahead today began to surface in his mind.

'Friends, Vi, Powder…' he finally became clear-headed.

He leaped out of bed, which was more comfortable than most in the Undercity. Looters might even mistake it for a Piltover residence. 

Moving through his cozy room, Shigaraki's eyes shifted from the desk cluttered with costume drawings to trinkets from his expedition in the lanes to finally landing on the bookshelf brimming with knowledge. Shigaraki rarely touched them as he often worried about damaging the books; as Silco said, "Knowledge is power." He was determined not to ruin his chances to learn from them. Silco, aware of this, often set aside time to read to him on busy nights, strengthening their bond.

He finally made his way to the wardrobe, perfectly crafted workmanship, with striking words "Benzo" on the bottom. Shigaraki didn't know who this person was, but they did fine work here in the Undercity.

He carefully opened the wardrobe and selected the clothes he wished to wear, ensuring that only four fingers touched the items at any one time. Although he had become skilled at this, it still felt unnatural, igniting a deep, concealed rage within his young body that yearned to unleash destruction.

"No, no..." Shigaraki continued to throw his clothes around. He had a greater assortment than the other children living here. Because Silco had connections to the topside, he could obtain items from there, which helps explain Shigaraki's room.

"No, none of these feel right…" Shigaraki slumped down, frustration building inside him. The more he looked at the clothes in front of him, the more he wanted to decay them. Finally, his arm moved faster than his thoughts as he decayed several pieces of clothing to dust. When he finally snapped out of it, all he could do was stare blankly at a pile of debris where his clothes had just been.

"Ahhh!" He started to scratch his face. He ruined the simplest of things; he felt more time was being wasted, and now he could not even get dressed. Panic overcame him. Surprisingly, this was just another ordinary day for Shigaraki.

The door was pushed open, stopping Shigarakis from clawing. As he stared at the intruder, anyone else would have been frightened by his current look, but the person who came was his father.

"I heard your scream and ran in here. I thought something was wrong…" His slow voice, elongated with care,

"D-d-dad…" Shigaraki began to tear up,

"M-m-my clothes… How am I meant to go meet with my new friends now?" He started freaking out more and took heavy breaths.

"Shigaraki, calm down." Silco's voice was stern. He stopped Shigaraki in his tracks and took deep breaths to calm himself. As the polluted oxygen filled his lungs, he felt calmer.

Silco, seeing his son now entering a calm state, slowly approached,

"I had a feeling this would happen," he said with a hint of amusement. Then, with his gentle smile, he continued, "I saved some new clothes from my recent transactions; they should fit you," Silco explained as he sat down and retrieved the folded items from his arm: a crisp white shirt and black pants.

Shigarki looked at his father with tearful eyes. The small amount of care his father gave him meant a lot in moments like these.

Silco moved his thumb to wipe away his tears, saying, "It's okay, now let me help you get dressed," 

Shigaraki obediently raised his arms and clenched his fingers inwards to avoid touching, and Silco helped him put on his new clothes.

"Perfect. Well, besides the hair and face, let me check on that, too," Silco said with appreciation.

Shortly after, a new Shigaraki appeared in front of the mirror. The scratch marks on his face were concealed with makeup powder, giving him the appearance of a bright, cheerful boy. 

"Now, you look fantastic. I truly hope you can view them as friends, Shigaraki. Having partners will aid in your growth; you can't always be alone. You've shown me that, son." Silco gently rubbed his shoulders. Shigaraki began to tremble as tears filled his eyes, quickly swallowing them back and nodded resolutely.

"I also brought you something else, a gift for your friends. We will get it on the way out." He saw Shigaraki a little uneasy. He just smiled again softly, "I know what you are worried about. It just slouches around your arm, and they can take it for themselves, or you can use your thumb to pull it off naturally." 

Silco had everything prepared. He had spent the night revising his observations of the two girls and felt he had chosen the appropriate gifts to increase their favour with his son. He wanted his Son to stop getting involved with the gang stuff so early, so he tried his best to make sure things would go smoothly. Even Silco didn't realize he had used the same energy and thinking he does when strategizing Zaun's future for his own son's happiness…

"C'mon, today will be a day to remember." Silco chuckled and walked in front, around the maze hideout he had, passing by sentries alike, who just looked away in fear; yet through the fear, you could see the fanaticism within them. This was Silco's reputation.

The pair entered the Lanes, the centrepiece of Zaun's explosive energy. The streets buzzed with sound and movement, creating a melody of voices, clanging metal, and distant laughter. 

Stall owners lined the narrow pathways, clustering their booths that leaned onto the streets. They shouted over one another, their voices mingling in desperation and determination as they peddled wares scavenged from the Undercity or smuggled from Piltover. 

A woman in a patched coat waved glimmering trinkets, promising "genuine topside craftsmanship," while a man next to her hawked dubious vials of glowing liquid, claiming "these can boost your strength, with no side effects."

The crowd shifted around in a special movement, navigating around barter exchanges and occasionally bursting into scuffles. 

Despite the chaos, the Lanes exuded warmth and life against the odds. People laughed, shouted, and fought with a resilience unique to Undercity. It was very Zaun-like.

Shigaraki absorbed his surroundings, his pale blue hair glimmering when the dim light pierced through the smog-filled sky. He closely trailed Silco, his red eyes darting between the faces in the crowd. Some appeared weary and serious, displaying the signs of struggle. In contrast, others sparkled with cleverness or mischief, their eyes sharply scanning for chances.

The presence of Silco and Shigaraki captured attention. Whispers spread through the crowd and gazes shifted in their direction. When Silco was recognized, many immediately stepped aside, ushering their companions along. Stall owners halted their sales, lowering their voices to urgent murmurs.

"That's him… Silco."

"And the boy?"

"Don't know. But he looks dangerous. Pale hair like that? Could he be from the Sumps?"

People parted to make a narrow passage through the crowd. Those unaware of Silco's reputation paused until a friend pulled at their sleeve, murmuring urgent cautions. The atmosphere was thick with tension, with a silent mix of awe and fear.

Shigaraki, keenly observant, sensed the stares, the whispers, and pointed fingers, filling him with a thrill. This was power; this was respect. He lifted his head slightly, sporting a faint but intentional smile. He found it incredibly cool. He imagined himself walking down this street in the future, basking in the same respect and admiration, unrestricted in his actions. A sickly grin began to emerge on his face, only to be tempered by Silco's words pulling him back.

"Don't allow their words to make you complacent, Shigaraki," Silco said without turning his head, fully aware of Shigaraki's thoughts and actions. "Maintain a calm expression; it creates an air of mystery. If you can't do that, wear your usual mask. As long as others remain unaware of the real you, they won't take steps to undermine you."

His words drifted in Shigaraki's ears and made his smug grin falter, and then he kept a straight face as well.

Just as they neared the corner where The Last Drop Inn stood, Silco stopped abruptly.

Shigaraki nearly bumped into him, his momentum halted by the sudden pause. "Father?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

Silco turned around and knelt down, placing a steady hand on Shigaraki's shoulder. His gaze softened, the sharpness in his polluted eye giving way to something more caring. "Shigaraki," he began, his voice low and measured, "Your dad will stop here. I have an appointment later today that needs to be dealt with, so you must go on your own."

Shigaraki tilted his head, puzzled by abruptness but too excited to dwell on it. Because "So… should I go myself?" he asked, his tone bright with an edge of eagerness.

The question gave Silco pause. He hadn't realized until now how closely he'd kept Shigaraki tethered. Whether out of protection, control, or something deeper, he'd never let the boy venture far without someone by his side. But now, staring into those eager red eyes, Silco saw something else: a flicker of independence. It gave him a strange pang in his chest. 

His thoughts swirled; 'Yes, he is growing up…'

With a slow nod, Silco smiled. "Yes, you can go on your own. Just make sure you let someone know in the future. Understood?"

Shigaraki grinned, the kind of genuine smile that was rare for him, and waved before breaking into a run. His pale blue hair bobbed as he dashed toward the inn, his black cloak fluttering behind him like a shadow.

Silco straightened slowly, his hands sliding into his coat pockets as he watched his son disappear around the corner. His expression remained calm, but his thoughts churned.

He raised his gaze to the second-floor window of The Last Drop Inn. A dark silhouette stood there, motionless, watching. He knew it was Vander.

Their eyes locked across the distance, and for a moment, the tension was suffocating. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved grievances pressed down on each other.

Silco adjusted his collar to cover his face as his resolve hardened.

'Vander,' he thought, his mind brimming with calculated menace, 'If you try to harm my son, this won't just be about Zaun anymore. It'll be personal. It'll be war.'

He turned sharply, his coat sweeping behind him as he slowly disappeared into the crowd.

**********

Vander pulled away from the window, observing the energetic boy with pale blue hair as he dashed toward his Inn. The shadowy figure accompanying him turned and departed. 'Silco…'

Vander's steady breath escaped in a deep exhale, carrying the weight of the previous night's confrontation. It had been years since they'd spoken, yet even a short meeting had left Vander feeling more weary than ever.

Taking heavy steps, he returned to his desk and collapsed into his chair, which creaked under his weight. He gazed at the papers that started forming a hill, trade agreements, disputes among stall owners, and plans for reinforcing the Lanes.

He only had a deep regret for not seeking someone to help him deal with these affairs, and as this thought emerged, Sevika came to mind. She could assist him significantly, and the more he considered it, the more that notion resonated with him. 

So he stood up to go get her. The sudden movement shook the table as a piece of paper unexpectedly drifted down from the tall stack.

Vander bent to pick it up, his brow furrowing as his eyes scanned the page. It was the report he'd requested on Silco's son, Shigaraki.

The report was insubstantial, consisting largely of hearsay and speculation. There was no solid evidence or even a willing witness. It seemed that all signs of misconduct had been thoroughly erased. Either Silco had proactively erased the evidence, or the boy wasn't the monster the rumours suggested he was.

Vander frowned as his fingers clutched the paper tightly. The rumours of an unnatural technique are all still unverified. Still, it troubled him. He couldn't dismiss the chance of truth or entirely judge a child for actions that might not exist at all. He also accepted that he might have a biased judgement on this matter since he is Silco's son.

Also, the boy was scrawny and pale. He hardly seemed like a threat. Vander couldn't imagine him besting Vi, who had been trained under his watchful eye. Vi was tough, sharp, and unyielding, a force of nature who could handle herself against anyone. But it wasn't the boy's strength that worried him.

It was the rumours of how people had died. The unknown frightened Vander kept him weary of it, and now he was letting this unknown near his daughters… His hands clenched the paper but then softened.

As Vander placed the paper aside, he reflected intensely, remembering that Silco admitted that he had killed, but taking lives didn't unsettle him; he had done so from a young age, as survival in Zaun required bloodshed. Yet, the whispers of strange, unnatural deaths persisted. What if the boy really had a unique ability that could easily turn the course of any confrontation? This doubt was what troubled him. Especially as a child, what if it got out of hand and harmed his daughters…

Vander gritted his teeth as his thoughts darkened. He couldn't act on baseless speculation, not yet. For now, there was no proof, and he had taken precautions. He had someone planted close, a mole within the group who would report back if anything went wrong. If the boy truly was dangerous, Vander would know.

His fingers drummed against the desk in a slow, steady rhythm. His gaze shifted to the door, and he imagined Vi and Powder downstairs with their usual group of friends, waiting for Shigaraki to arrive. 

The girls were his anchor, the reason he carried Zaun's burdens and fought to keep the Lanes from descending further into chaos. If anything happened to them…

His hands curled into fists, the tension of his promise to Zaun warring with his primal instincts as a father.

"Silco," he muttered softly, his gaze hardening. "I won't touch your boy. But if he harms my daughters…"

His breath quickened, his voice emerging as a low, guttural growl in the silence of the room.

The light flickered in front of Vander, casting his shadow behind him as a tall, menacing werewolf that would devour anything in his way.

"I won't care about the benefits you can bring to Zaun. It'll be personal. It'll be war."