He 's not waiting for him.

Or at least that 's what he tells himself, every time he finds his thoughts straying in Dabi 's direction. When he 's swiping the endless red leaves off the shrine grounds, when he 's out in the forest chopping wood, when he 's airing out the laundry on brisk sunny mornings ' when reality jars him out of the comfortable trance of his routine, and he 's reminded that he 's not just the strange stray a bunch of reclusive monks took in on a whim. He 's not waiting for Dabi, he 's just ' thinking about him an awful lot.

Not even the eccentric character of Dabi himself, but everything he represents in Shigaraki 's life.

It had been easy to ignore it, before Dabi swept in here and utterly upturned all his carefully curated peace and quiet.

He hadn 't been Shigaraki Tomura in months.

The monks didn 't know his name, and he 'd never offered it. They just call him Shounen-kun, in the same affable and welcoming tone they always address him in.