Imagine You And Tomura Are Out On A Mission, When You Hear The Distinct Sound Of Crying— A Baby Crying.

Imagine you and Tomura are out on a mission, when you hear the distinct sound of crying— a baby crying.

You follow the noise and find a baby, lying on top of garbage bags in a dumpster.

You go to pick them up and Tomura stops you, “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“We’re not leaving them here.” You argue, as if he’s stupid.

“You’re not seriously suggesting we take a baby back to the hideout? We’re not babysitters. The league isn’t a place for babies.” He argues back, as if you’re more stupid.

“Tomura, they’re a baby. They’re helpless… defenseless… vulnerable! What if it were you all alone in an alleyway, begging for help?” you ask.

Tomura pauses as he stares at you, his eyes drifting over to the baby, but his mind clearly fixated on something else.

He sees snippets of him walking the streets alone, small, and scared. Begging for someone— anyone— to do something. Like a nightmare, he remembers taking refuge in an alleyway, his tiny hands still covered in dried blood. Why won’t anyone help?—

“Tomura?” You ask, him snapping out of his thoughts. He looks down in his arms, realizing he’s holding the baby.

He quickly places the baby in your arms. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you can’t handle playing house anymore.”

—

Cut to hours later, Tomura is sitting with the baby in his lap as he plays Mortal Kombat. “That’s called a Fatality.”