Seeing the Butcher abandon weapons and charge in for close combat, Shigaraki couldn't help but sneer.
Up close?
That was the worst possible decision.
Yes, he hadn't had years to fully refine Decay yet.
But compared to canon-era Shigaraki at this stage?
He was leagues ahead.
Because this wasn't the ignorant, unstable "man-child" who didn't understand the true horror of his own Quirk.
This was someone who did.
Over the past month, ever since arriving in this world, he hadn't relaxed for a single day.
Training.
Experimenting.
Testing limits.
Because the pressure from All For One was very, very real.
And that pressure had forced growth.
In the original timeline, early Shigaraki's Decay required all five fingers to touch a target. The destruction would start only from the point of contact, and if the damage wasn't severe, it could even be treated.
Now?
That was no longer the case.
He could activate Decay from any part of his body.
He could control it—start and stop it at will.
And while it wasn't yet at the "instant disintegration to dust" level—
It was more than enough to permanently cripple someone.
At minimum?
Life-ruining damage.
So when the Butcher, blinded by rage, tried to drag him into close quarters—
Shigaraki actually felt a flicker of satisfaction.
And contempt.
But he didn't let his guard down.
The Butcher had survived encounters with multiple Pro Heroes.
That meant experience.
Possibly hidden tricks.
This fury—could it be bait?
Was close combat actually his killing move?
Shigaraki's eyes cooled.
Then he surged forward as well.
Schemes didn't matter.
In this world, power decided everything.
Before overwhelming force, tricks were meaningless.
—
"The hell is this kid thinking?!" the Butcher muttered in surprise.
He hadn't expected Shigaraki to charge at him.
But confusion quickly turned into delight.
A meal running into his arms?
He wouldn't refuse.
The next second—
His stomach split open.
The grotesque second mouth widened into a cavernous maw.
Rows of jagged, grinder-like teeth churned inside.
Anything caught would be shredded and swallowed whole.
Shigaraki didn't flinch.
Because this—
Was exactly what he expected.
From the Butcher's intel files, he already knew the pattern.
If the long-range meat-hook failed—
The Butcher switched to close combat.
He would grab the target in a crushing embrace—
Lock them in—
Then drag them into the stomach-mouth.
A move so brutally effective it had earned a nickname in the underworld: the "bear-hug execution."
And now, just as predicted—
The Butcher lunged, arms wide, trying to trap Shigaraki and feed him directly into that grinding maw.
But—
This was precisely what Shigaraki had been waiting for.
Because the moment the Butcher committed to that embrace—
He stepped into range.
And this time—
It was the Butcher who had walked into death.
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